Kaia: Vendetta

[Elven Lord]

Hey folks! I've been working my tail off for about a year now writing a new fanfiction. I still have A LOT of work to do on it before it's ready to be posted in full. However, I've worked really hard on this, and I'm confident that I will be able to finish it inside another few weeks (I have almost sixty pages of content so far). I just wanted to share with you a sneak peak of the opening chapter. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1: Boon

Spoiler Alert!

The sun was low in the sky as a small, ragged party made their way across the barren tundra that the Ruskin peoples called home. These men were not laggards, drunk on their way home to angry wives after a weekend’s bought of revelry, but warriors. Their feet dragged through the snow. A few marksmen trailed behind, eyes downcast. All trudged behind the two horsemen at the front.

One of the horsemen sat straight in the saddle, his bearing giving no indication of the horrendous defeat the party suffered at the hands of the Nords, the Rus’ ancient rivals. The company of five hundred and twenty strong, proud veterans were reduced to one hundred and thirty shuddering, shattered husks slowly making their way to home, hearth, and disgrace. The other, much younger horseman, not much more than a boy, showed no such strength but bent over in the saddle clutching his seal and weeping bitterly the shame he brought upon his proud and ancient house.

“Sire,” said the vigilant horseman, “you must set aside your grief for the sake of your men. You will have the chance to redeem yourself! Jezza wills it. But you must set an example for your men.”

“That rabble?” The lord waved his hand idly behind his back, “could not stand up to a party of no more than four hundred Nords when there was a full company of them,” he said bitterly. Then turned and yelled in frustration, “I should have the lot you FLOGGED!” His voice broke slightly. The men shrank from his rage, though all of them were much older than their seventeen year old sovereign. Wheeling on his vigilant companion, “I tell you, Alexei, you find me one man capable of raising me a proper army—“

“Sire, you are such a man! You are Boyar Borna of the ancient house of Borna, the greatest and most respected boyar house in the entire Principality of Ruskin! Your name alone will bring you such men as you need to return to the Nord lands and give Hersir Colborn the whipping he deserves!”

The anger in the lord’s face subsided and was replaced with anguish and the cloud of defeat, “No, Alexei, my father, he was a true Borna; men flocked to his aid when he called upon them. I can levy an army, true. But it takes so much more than that. Men who are inspired fight with the strength of ten!

"It was in this way that my fathers drove back the Nord raiders from the Miran Cliffs time and time again, keeping our lands free and safe. No one will follow me like that, no one.”

“My Lord,” the vigilant old warrior replied placing his hand on his young lord’s shoulder, “I loved your father like he was my brother and knew him since he was a boy. Believe me when I say that you have the potential to be twice the man he was, and that is saying something! I followed him, and I will follow you.”

Boyar Borna perked up a little bit, though not much. They rode in silence for a time before he broke the silence, “Alexei, I sometimes wonder if Jezza put us here on Alitar to give us a second chance. If so, I have certainly done his gift no credit this day.”

“How do you mean, God put us here on Alitar?”

The young lord threw a sidelong look at his companion, “You know the legends in the old books, the ones that describe how our ancestors first came to Alitar.”

"Stories, my lord, stories. Elves and dragons, man-eating humans and blood-drinking vampires, magic and peril, damnation and redemption, the stuff of stories, my lord."

“Yes, but what if it’s true? What if humanity really did come from someplace else. What if the lost civilizations of Russia, Frankia, China—”

“What?” Replied Alexei dismissively, “What if they really existed? Come now.” He threw his lord’s sidelong look back at him, then replied, “Well, if they really existed lord, then I suppose humanity could have been catapulted across the cosmos and landed on another plain where they slaughtered elves and drakes and all manner of creature until the pangea was purged of them, and then such a cataclysmic event could be lost in only three thousand years of carefully recorded history…”

“Oh yes,” the young lord replied, “I suppose it does sound kind of ridiculous when you put it that way. Though I do wonder just how carefully recorded that history is.”

“Lord?”

“Does it not strike you as odd that all of the history books we currently possess have gone through no fewer than twenty editions by the Cirodean Council in the last thirty years? Why does one council control all of the knowledge in Alitar anyway?”

“Lord,” Alexei replied, “the Cirodean Council of elders is made up of learned men from all over Alitar. They study for decades to earn the right to a seat in the Tower of Gerod in the Cirodean metropolis. They are learned and wise and, by policy and oath, have no allegiances.”

“You are right, of course,” the seventeen-year-old boyar replied, unconvinced. His shoulders slumped again, and his thoughts returned to defeat.

Alexei’s eyes relaxed. His hand returned to his lord’s shoulder, “You are right to question, lord. It is a sign of an active imagination and a strong mind, but I encourage you to trust in the strength of your house, and fairytales only if there be sufficient evidence of it. As for defeat, I would be loath to call it that. It’s not like we’ve come away empty handed. A great many loyal sons of Rus lost their lives, but their sacrifice yielded a great victory. We got what the Grand Prince needed. For a man of just seventeen, you have done well.”

The young lord Borna looked into the old grizzled warriors face and, for a moment, a small smile worked its way across his lips. He didn't know what he would do without the old warrior. Alexei was more than his military counsel, he was also his godfather. He returned Alexei's embrace.

“Keep moving!” He called to the men, and the party trudged on again. The young Boyar Borna’s shoulders still slouched, but he was sitting a little straighter, and held his head a little higher, just one more league to the safety of Stanislao Castle.

A whistling in the night, silence, and Alexei toppled from his saddle. Surprise just had time to register on Borna’s face when arrows flew in from every direction. Wild men rose from where they lay hidden by sheepskins on the frozen ground. No! Not like this! Borna’s thoughts screamed as he realized they were outnumbered three to one. The veterans appeared to feel the same way and, drawing their swords, lay into the bandits like men with nothing left to lose.

The thirty marksmen loosed deadly fire into the oncoming band, and bandits fell silently to the ground, their gurgling gasps the final tribute to their existence. It was not enough. One by one Boyar Borna’s men fell until only thirty remained clustered around their young lord. At least that many of the enemy, still fresh, surrounded them.

“Enough!” The bandit leader shouted, his voice was sharp and cold as the tundra night. “Surrender and you will all be spared, fight on, and we’ll kill you all. It is little to us, we only need young Borna.”

“What for?” Borna demanded, his mind racing. Then he peered a little more closely at their weapons. They were much finer than anything mere bandits could obtain on their own. His hand shifted to his breast and the dispatches he stole from Hersir Colborn.

“That’s right!” The bandit leader cried gleefully, “I am Roan, ruler of these roads, you’ve been a naughty little boy young Valdyr Rushev Borna, and my client is paying a hefty sum to the one who brings them back, along with either your person or your head. He did not really specify. So, which will it be?”

Valdyr looked around at his remaining men. None were unscathed, many were bleeding, all were exhausted and demoralized. Only their training and love for the house they served was keeping their shields up and weapons ready. Reluctantly, he withdrew the dispatches, “Drop your weapons men, and pray you may return to your families.”

Weapons clattered to the ground, and the men sank exhausted right behind them.

The bandits closed in.

Then like a boon from heaven, a war-horn sounded in the black, followed at once by the steady pounding of hooves. It was Roan's turn to be caught off guard as a party of horsemen rounded a bend in the road and descended upon them. None carried torches but rode through the night like they were born in the saddle. Sword and axe rose and fell as though in beat with the wilderness night. Each time a weapon fell a man screamed, and each time it rose crimson blood was flung into the sky, a tribute to the blood moon. The bandits fell like wheat before a scythe. The remnants scattered before the audacious attack.

Roan, following close behind, was dropped by an arrow to the heel. It was fired from the back of powerful Sudanian warhorse. His men abandoned him in their terror, and he cursed their fleeing backs.

The rider guided the desert mare to where Valdyr stood. The very young lord was still trying to take everything in. When he recovered himself, his words came out in a gush, “Thank you for your help, sir! Your timing was legendary! Please! Remove your helmet that I may look upon your face and thank the man who saved my life.”

The rider paused, then shrugged and stepped from the saddle. The rider turned to one of the warriors standing by and spoke some orders in a low voice. The party dispersed and tended to the needs of those still living, both friend and enemy.

“Your thanks are much appreciated,” a female voice spoke from behind the thick visor. Valdyr took an involuntary step back. The other pulled the cowl of her heavy winter cloak back and removed her helmet, “but I prefer to be rewarded."

Chapter 2: Beauty on the Battlefield

Spoiler Alert!

The young Boyar Valdyr Borna, still recovering from the shock of his discovery, and taking in the great beauty of the woman who stood before him managed, “Uhhhh, you’re a woman.”

She laughed unsmilingly and said, “Yes, yes I am. How strange.”

For a moment Valdyr could not reply. He had never encountered a woman such as this. Sure, there were a few tramps wandering around Alitar who could swing a sword, but the woman before him contradicted this, such that for a moment he forgot where he was and what had happened.

At once it was visited upon his senses that she was very fair indeed. Her skin was an olive brown characteristic of the Pelopon people in the south. Her hair was jet black and surprisingly stylish, if somewhat frazzled from hard riding. Her eyes were a bright, intelligent blue set in an ovular face. Furthermore, she could clearly lead a war band quite capably. As he was thinking this and studying her eyes, he found there a clue and at once, most embarrassingly, it dawned upon him that he had stared for some time.

He quickly recovered himself, bowed deeply and said, “My lady, you must forgive my rudeness, for I have never seen a woman as fair as you so arrayed for battle. Please mistake not my meaning, but I wish women may remain untouched by battle, for I believe you are the last remaining keepers of what little gentility and tenderness is left in this war-torn land.”

“Perhaps you may sample the gentle tenderness of my steel, or maybe you would have preferred that of Roan, Ruler of the Roads,” she replied evenly and without malice, as though used to this exchange.

“No! No! I am out of line, my lady. You have my deepest thanks for saving my life. A great stroke of luck for me indeed that you saw fit to take up arms. You have done a great service to me and the Principality. If there is ever any way I can thank you, I will do it if it is within my power.”

The woman’s face softened at this, “You have my pardon, and I accept your thanks. I will see you to your castle, and there take my leave.”

Valdyr looked up surprised, “You will be leaving so soon? But surely you will stay at my hall at my expense until I am able to reward you properly for the service you have done for me?”

The woman paused at this. She looked back on her own warband. They were in far better shape than Valdyr’s, but the weariness of two weeks on the road was evident in their faces and the sagging heads of their horses. She made up her mind. “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose I can stay for a time.”

“Kaia!” A monk came running up to her.

An annoyed look crossed Kaia’s face briefly, but she replied quietly, “Father Giuseppe, I’ve told you a dozen times to address me formally in company.”

Shocked at his own incompetence, Valdyr stumbled out, “My lady, forgive me, but we have not been properly introduced, I am Boyar Valdyr Rushev son of Boyar Horyn of the House of Borna, a vassal of Grand Prince Radovan and the lord of Stanislao Castle.”

Kaia turned to him and replied, “Kaia.”

“Just Kaia? Have you no family?”

“No,” Kaia paused, and Valdyr thought she would say more, but she did not, and instead turned to Giuseppe, “What is it, Father?”

“My lady it is important, and you must not let yourself be distracted when your humble and most capable physician speaks to you.”

“Giuseppe,” Kaia said meaningfully,

“Oh right, yes…of course. The noble here is still alive, the arrow missed his heart, but the shock is bad and removing it will not be easy. We have to get him somewhere safe before I can remove it.”

“Alexei!” Valdyr cried rushing to his god father’s side, but Alexei did not reply. The shock was such that he saw and heard nothing.

“Get him into the wagon, carefully ladies! Kathryn! Ride back to the camp and summon the rest of our party to Stanislao Castle. Have them there by morning. Fatima! Load that heap of filth who thinks he’s sneaking away in there too and watch him.” That last was directed at Roan who was half under a bush by the time Kaia’s warriors reached him.

Valdyr paused at this and realized that a little less than half of Kaia’s sixty-some men were women. What next?

Chapter 3: Medicine and Rest

Spoiler Alert!

The door of the apothecary burst open and Giuseppe, Kaia, and Valdyr came into the room carrying Alexei. The monk and the apothecary quickly cleared the table. Giuseppe ordered the apothecary to bring hot water, clean bandages and other necessities of medicine.

“Who are you to give me orders! I am Domitry, a licensed physician of the old Alitarin medicine, and this is my patient!”

“Ha! The old Alitarin doctors were a bunch of stuffed geese who couldn’t tell the difference between poison and medicine. Better idea, you stay out of my way, the scullery maid will make a better nurse than you!”

“Why you impudent!”

“Silence!” Valdyr bellowed, “My friend is dying. You two can duke out your differences later. Kaia, do you have faith in the ability of your doctor?”

“He has saved me from worse wounds than this many times,” Kaia asserted.

“Then Giuseppe will take the lead on this. Domitry, get the monk what he needs.” Valdyr was begrudgingly obeyed.

“The arrow has not gone all the way through,” said Giuseppe working quickly to prepare a poultice, “turn him on his side.” The others obeyed quickly but carefully. Tearing open the old knight’s shirt, Giuseppe rubbed the poultice on what would be the exit wound, “It’s a coagulant, and will stop him from bleeding out.” With that said he pushed the arrow through. Alexei, still unconscious, did not cry out. Giuseppe snapped the head off and pulled out the arrow.


Valdyr and Kaia waited outside as Giuseppe finished up within.

“Your compassion for your men does you credit,” Kaia said, breaking the silence.

“He is more than one of my men. He is my family. He was my father’s dearest friend as he is mine.”

A long pause met these words. Kaia seemed in no rush to engage him in further conversation, but Valdyr felt drawn to this mysterious young warrior maiden. Her confidence and ability to give her warriors orders, and have those orders obeyed at once with enthusiasm was something Valdyr admired; yet there was something else. Though he was at first taken aback by the thought of a woman in armor, he now questioned that notion. Kaia and her warriors seemed suited to it just fine, and it was strangely attractive. He shook himself; he was staring again.


Kaia noted the stare but did little about it. She was used to being stared at; a woman in armor was not a particularly rare sight in Alitar, yet still one met with unease by the lords of the land. The lords really had nothing to complain about. Thirty years of the most terrible string of wars in the pangea’s history had seen four in ten men killed and hundreds of thousands of women and children displaced, ravished, or killed.

Each lord had different reasons of course, Kaia understood that. Some of them probably even thought they were fighting to end it. Kaia was one of them. She was determined to become queen of all Alitar and bring about lasting peace. Marrying could be a good way to gain some right to rule yet doing so too soon would tie her down; besides she had other things on her agenda.

“Tell me about the battle with Hersir Colborn.”

Valdyr raised his head and his eyebrows shot up in surprise at her forwardness, but the look on her face told him this was no idle chatter; the eyebrows came down in a scowl, and not one that was directed toward the maiden before him. “I had over a hundred of my finest veterans and several hundred recruits with me. We were returning from campaign, laden with spoils from the Nord lands.” He was careful to make no mention of the dispatches which still lay carefully enfolded within his breast pocket. “When an army of Nords ambushed us in Glogskull Pass four leagues south of Everste—“

“I’m familiar with it,” Kaia cut in, speaking evenly, her eyes betraying nothing of her intense interest in the conversation.

Valdyr recovered himself quickly, “Yes, yes of course. I digress. The Nords fell upon us hurling axes into the amassed men, who I foolishly allowed to march at ease because we were so close to Ruskin territory.”

Valdyr paused here remembering, then continued somberly, “They dropped like flies, and scurried about in disarray as the savage Nordlanders fell upon them with those vicious axes they are ever so fond of. The recruits broke instantly fleeing toward Rus territory. I’d have them all hunted down and killed, but they’ve probably already turned to banditry. In the confusion, they knocked into the veterans, frightened or even stole horses, pulling the horse’s riders to the ground. It was as if my army turned against itself.” Valdyr stopped to collect himself and stifle the tears of shame that were filling his eyes.

Kaia saw them and moved forward placing her hand comfortingly on his shoulder, “It is ok. I did not mean to cause you grief. I merely needed to know more about Hersir Colborn’s strength.”

Valdyr nodded, still puzzled, “What interest have you in Hersir Colborn’s movements and strength?”

“I am going to kill him,” Kaia replied evenly and without remorse.

Valdyr was once again taken aback. This maiden was full of surprises. He caught the “You, a woman!?” exclamation on the tip of his tongue and swallowed it. Her ability to command his respect surprised the boy lord.

Instead he replied, “I very much desire Hersir Colborn’s death as well; perhaps it is something we can discuss over dinner. You will join me, will you not?”

Kaia gave the impression of pondering this for a moment before replying, “Certainly, my lord,” being careful to return his respect with the proper moniker.

“Please, call me Valdyr. Come, allow me to be a proper host and have my servants prepare a bath for you.”

Kaia nodded, she was very tired, and a hot bath sounded like an excellent idea. She touched her face and found that it was smeared with dirt and blood…an excellent idea.

She followed the servant to the room that had been set aside for her. She found it had already been furnished with fine velvet, probably imported from her home city of Marsilan in the Pelopon Republic, silk bed sheets, and fully stocked wardrobe, which she noted with a small smile had been graced with the doublet, hose, and fine robes that Rus lords preferred.
Kaia had her own designs though.

She began removing her cloak when her handmaid was permitted to enter the room. “Ah you’re here at last Morgani,” Kaia said in a soft, tired voice, much different from the harder tone she used with Valdyr, “Come, help me get these ghastly things off.”

Morgani came at once with easy strides, her dark orange hair bouncing in a braided ponytail down to her waist. Her green eyes contrasted sharply with her hair and shone with a devilish glow. She helped remove the heavy bearskin cloak which shielded her mistress from the bitter northern winter.

A short while later, the castle servants brought in the bath and filled it with hot water. Kaia eased into it and allowed her sore muscles to relax while Morgani washed her. As the dust and brine washed away Kaia felt herself drifting off; Morgani, with those piercing and mischievous eyes, ever watchful.

She woke to find herself clothed in a nightgown and laying in the most comfortable bed she had slept in for quite some time. She thought to herself how much she really missed this. She had no love for spilling blood, but she had no choice; her sister’s blood cried out for vengeance.

Morgani was shaking her awake. “My lady, it is time to get you ready for your dinner with the lord of the castle.”

Kaia sighed slowly, “His name is Valdyr. You may refer to him as such in private company. Are we alone?”

“Yes, Kaia, we’re alone. No one will see you dress.”

Kaia looked at her quickly and caught that divish look on Morgani’s face. “Do you have them?”

“Oh yes,” Morgani replied pulling a fold of paper from her bodice, “The poor fool was so bent on saving his friend he did not see me sneak these from his breast pocket.”

“You really are a devil. That’s why I keep you around. You replaced them of course?”

“Of course,” Morgani smirked, “you do not think I’m some amateur do you?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Kaia said shortly, “Keep them hidden. I’ll look them over after dinner before you return them to his lordship.”

Chapter 4: The Bastard's Rebellion (Part 1)

Spoiler Alert!

“Are you ready for this, my Prince?”

Radovan did not lift his head from the parchment on the table. The soft flickering of candlelight did nothing for the dire mood in the tent. “Ready or no,” he replied in his deep baritone, “tomorrow the rebellion ends. Either Valikin Valar will die, or I will.”

“It is the honor of my life to serve you, and I will not fail you” The sentiment was repeated around the table from the throats of every lord in Radovan’s service.

“Thank you, Boyar Pavel,” Radovan replied, straightening and looking Pavel in the eye. Pavel was a young man of twenty years. Not the most powerful of houses in Rus, but no one doubted it was one of the noblest. Radovan’s thanks was particularly heartfelt. Boyar Pavel of House Rasimov was one of the first lords to publicly support Radovan’s claim after Valikin Valar’s coup.

After his father’s death, Radovan was next in line for the throne. The official appointment of Grand Prince was up to the court. His uncle, Valikin Valar wanted the seat for himself and offered evidence that Radovan was a bastard. When the near forgeries failed to sway the court, he had simply had them all poisoned and seized the throne. Backed by the Kingdom of the Nords who wanted their old subjects, the Rus, back. Valar secured his position, and declared Radovan a bastard.

Pavel’s unwavering support had brought many powerful houses to Radovan’s cause, including that of Pavel’s childhood friend, Boyar Valdyr of House Borna, whose lands secured Radovan’s southern border trade routes with Frasi and who supplied over two thousand soldiers and three hundred knights currently under the surrogate command of Pavel in their own lord’s absence. Not many lords joined Radovan’s cause, but they were mostly the powerful houses, who had the most to lose if the Nord’s took over.

Even so, their situation was dire. Valar had had two thirds of Rus under his command at the start and the backing of the Nord armies. They would have swept Radovan’s rebellion aside only King Munderic II of Frasi, concerned by the quickly developing instability on his Northern frontier, had at once declared war on the Nords and invaded their southern provinces. Although he refused to directly embroil himself in an internal Rus affair, his invasion had tied up the Nords in their homeland and given Radovan the room he needed to wage his five year war of attrition with Valar.

Now at last, Radovan and his army had cornered Valar and a fraction of his forces in Mahostovis. Valar’s position was good and a siege impossible, but Radovan outnumbered him three to one and Valar’s relief was still a thirty league march from their winter quarters near the Nordse.

Radovan placed a hand on Pavel’s shoulder and looked each of the commanders in the eye in turn. “Your steadfast support of our just cause speaks to your honor. You risked everything to do the right thing. When we see victory tomorrow. Know that it is your victory. It is victory for Rus.”

The assembled lords growled assent.


When they had all left, Radovan sat at the table again. He sharpened a feather quill and dipped it in an inkwell.

He wrote:

Vsevelod,

This may be the last letter I ever write you. I pray with my whole heart that Alyonna is alive and well in your charge. The long absence has weighed on my heart. I do not know that I will ever be able to be with her, which is why I write all news to you.

The longing in my heart is unbearable, yet my fears for her are greater. I am not the man she fell in love with all those years ago. The war has changed me greatly. To defeat Valar, I have had to change. Even when Valar is defeated there is still all of Alitar to see to. Some may say it is not my responsibility. I do not see it that way. thirty years of war have left our lands ravaged and weak. What if the dragon were to descend from Sanjing? It would be the end of us. I fear the consequences of the darkness of our new reality will not bode well for such a gentle spirit as Alyonna. I may need to seek a bride who can abide the world we are about to be cast into at the close of tomorrow.

We will see what the future holds. Perhaps there is hope yet. For now, know that I am deeply indebted to you for her safekeeping, and should I survive the coming battle will see you abundantly rewarded. If I should die tomorrow, I pray you take her to Frasi. King Munderic II will keep her safe.

Radovan

Chapter 5: Dinner with the Young Boy-ar

Spoiler Alert!

Valdyr had also bathed and changed from his armor into finer clothing; a gold chain studded with emeralds was sewn into it. The robes were loose and easy on his tired body. His cup was filled, but untouched as he waited for his guest. His mind still lingering upon the catastrophe that had befallen him.

The chamberlain entered through the doorway and announced that Kaia waited outside.

“Kaia may enter any room in the castle she likes without being announced.” Valdyr said meaningfully.

“Any room?” The chamberlain questioned.

“Petrov.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

A few moments later Kaia entered the room, and suddenly all thoughts of war, blood-shed and loss fled Valdyr’s mind. She was dressed in a floral red velvet dress, which swirled pleasingly around her full figure. It had a modest neckline and diving back. Her hair was done in the same style as before though it was now clean, and the sleeves hung like banners from her arms. She moved with a grace and poise that had been disguised by her chainmail at their first meeting. Only a scar on her right shoulder left by an arrow testified to her warrior profession. A raven’s feather hung from each ear. If Valdyr noted the strange choice of mourning black feathers he made no comment but rose hastily to his feet, bumping the table and spilling his wine.

Cursing under his breath, Valdyr recovered himself and moved around the table. “My lady, you look ravishing! Indeed, your beauty is matched only by your skill on the battlefield, and the bards would do well to sing of both!”

Kaia gave Valdyr a winning smile; all semblance of the hardened battle maiden now hung with her armor high above their heads. She observed that he was younger than she by at least five years, probably more.

Valdyr moved around her and pulled her chair gracefully back and pushed it under her as she sat down. Then he returned to his side of the table. The servants had already cleaned up the mess left by his wine.

The servants filled their cups, and soon brought in the first course. Morgani waited by her mistress’s side and tasted everything that crossed her plate. Valdyr, still in admiration of Kaia’s charisma, assumed it was to protect her lady from poison. If asked, that was the reason Morgani gave as well. Kaia was fully aware that her handmaiden could detect such things without tasting. She simply liked the rich food reserved for the nobility, and Kaia saw no reason to deny her.

Valdyr waived his hand at the bard who was present, who immediately plucked up with a tune about a thousand sleepless knights.

Deep in the mire of old Dragonskull, lie a thousand sleepless knights, entrapped all in ice. Knights were they at the dawn of the fey, but for their evil they lost all rest.

“So, tell me more about my rescuer. How did you come to this side of Alitar? I can tell by your olive complexion that you are not from the north.” Valdyr flinched visibly at his own negligence in talking about Kaia’s skin color.

Kaia only smiled kindly, and decided to indulge his curiosity, “I was born in the Pelopon Republic, in the city of Marsilan where much of the fine velvet enjoyed by Alitar’s nobles is made,” she continued a little quickly, “my father was the head game warden for Baron Galeazzo, and my mother a servant to the lord at his keep.”

“I know Baron Galeazzo well, a good and noble lord he is. Was the material for your stunning dress made in the fine city of Marsilan as well?” Valdyr cut in smoothly, or at least he thought so.

Kaia smiled, and Valdyr was once again surprised by the contrast between this Kaia who smiled easily and the one he had met on the road who did not smile at all. “Yes, Valdyr, like the material for my dress. Indeed,” she continued, indulging in a little girlishness, “the dress was made there as well. My father gave it to me.”

Something occurred to Valdyr and as soon as the look crossed his face, Kaia knew she had slipped. Valdyr’s next words confirmed her suspicion, “For what occasion was the dress made?” Valdyr asked idly but could not keep the suspicious glint from his eyes, “Surely, the daughter of a mere hunter, even a high ranking one, and a maid couldn’t afford something so fine on a regular occasion.”

Kaia sighed, and shadow crossed her face. She had hoped to avoid talking about her family. The shadow lingered as she continued, “It was for my sister’s wedding.”

Valdyr, seeing her discomfort, at once regretted his question and his suspicion. For such an occasion it made sense.

“My lady, I am sorry for prying.”

“It is alright, my lord.”

“Please, call me Valdyr. You’ve earned that right.” The young lord winced at his last statement, but Kaia took no notice. She was somewhere else.

Eager to change the subject, Valdyr asked, “Your name is as uncommon as you are, my lady. Kaia, I’m assuming it’s Pelepon?”

“Indeed, Valdyr, the name is Pelepon and is rarely given to women. You are more likely to run into a Kaioculos, which is the male version of the name.”

“And why is it so rarely given to women?”

Kaia paused for a moment only. Did Valdyr deserve to know the whole truth about her name? Far from it, she decided. “The name means ‘power, strength, conviction, persistence’ in Greco, which was the language spoken when Pelepon was a province of the old Frasian Empire.”

“Not at all dissimilar from Gaia, the Earth titan in Astraeo’s “Cataclysmic Legends” I presume?”

“Yes, Valdyr, it is the same name.”

“And what do you think of these legends?” Valdyr leaned slightly forward to indicate his interest in the conversation.

“What do I think?” Hmm, that wasn’t a question she often heard from men in any context. As a result, she was always a little too open to answering it. “I’m not at all certain they are legends.”

Valdyr smiled slightly. Kaia was certainly not like any woman he had ever met. He was pleased to discover that she held the same reservations about the commonly held histories of Alitar. “They’re just too detailed, yes?”

Kaia nodded, deep in thought, “That, and they aren’t written as legends, are they?”

Valdyr only shook his head, “It depends on what version you are reading. The last few editions of Astraeo’s histories released by the Cirodean Council tell them as legends.”

“And what about those before? I only saw a few pages of one in a library in Marsilan when I was sixteen. Since then, I haven’t been able to track down any in the official libraries of other cities.”

“You won’t find them in the official libraries. All institutions of knowledge in Alitar are funded and controlled by the Cirodean Council. When new editions come out, the old editions are removed from the universities and libraries.”

“Which is only fair. Why keep old knowledge in the public eye when revised information is available?”

Something in Kaia’s voice made Valdyr fall silent, and for one horrible moment, he realized the full implications of her statement. She had said ‘revised’ not ‘fresh.’ Once again, Kaia’s insight took him by surprise.

They ate in silence for a time.

The lord of these men was a terrible king!
He raged and lashed out and overran all the land.
Elves of Fallenthorn, they did fight well
but even the fey could not conquer Fell Gray.

The bard’s voice echoed softly around the hall, softly to avoid interrupting his lord’s conversation.

“The food is delicious,” Kaia said appreciatively.

Valdyr smiled distractedly.

“The bard is awful,” she smiled meaningfully across the table, a spoon of soup inches from her lips.

Valdyr, had been pondering the conversation of history when he remembered the great discomfort and even sadness Kaia betrayed when she spoke of her own. He cocked an eyebrow when he noticed her smiling at him. A moment later, what she said registered, and he waved the bard out.

They ate in true silence then, and not long after the servants brought in the main course. As the servants served a savory roast pig and a wide variety of other rich dishes, Valdyr’s thoughts tracked back to the great vehemence Kaia had displayed when talking about her hatred for Hersir Colborn. Coming to a decision Valdyr broke the silence, “My lady,” he stopped and corrected himself, “Kaia, something distresses you. I would know what it is that I may act to ease your suffering.”

His words were met with thoughtful silence. Kaia picked through her food as she determined the best way to respond. Young Boyar Valdyr at first appeared to be a prejudiced buffoon, but she could already see some of that melting away. She was pleased to see that there was a noble man beneath. She was going to need allies among the nobility to carry out her plan. Killing a lord was a serious offense in Alitar, there were serious repercussions even for lords, and she was technically a peasant.

“Very well,” Kaia replied at last, “I shall tell you my story, though it is not a pleasant one. Indeed, it makes the blood of every noble and decent person boil to hear the wrongs done to me. Would you still hear it?”

“Kaia, I would hear it for I cannot bear to see you remain in distress.”

Kaia took a deep breath, “Five years ago my father moved us to the Nord lands, in a small town called Erling, which you must have passed through on your way here.”

Valdyr nodded assent.

Kaia continued, “The village was quiet and the hunting good. The Nords are less picky about poaching as their lands are plentiful. That is, as long as at least one male member of the family serves in the lord’s army. A fair rule it is. One member of the family gets steady work and decent pay, the others are free to feed themselves from the land. Even during the harshest winter, we were never hungry. It was my two brothers who joined Hersir Colborn’s army and fought in his battle line. They did so for about 2 years and befriended a Nord warrior named Lyting, a fine young warrior who saved their lives many times and was saved in turn. Lyting returned with them to Erling one year, before making his way back home.

“This visit is when my life changed forever. My younger sister, Atlanta, became the subject of all his attention over the course of the visit. Indeed, I believe I would have fallen in love with him had he shown me the attention. I was not jealous to be sure, but he was a handsome, strong warrior, and of gentle demeanor. Three months later, Lyting and Atlanta were married.”

Kaia paused here, and Valdyr, who had been enjoying the story so far, knew the real story was about to begin. “Lyting and Atlanta were very happy for several months, but one day she visited Eanraig Castle with him. The reigning lord was Hersir Colborn. He saw my sister at the feast and desired her greatly. He attempted to seduce her. She resisted, explaining that she was already married. Hersir Colborn backed off, bowing and speaking gilded words that put her at ease. However, Colborn was not a man to be denied, and put Lyting on the front lines of a major battle with the Frasian Empire. He was spit upon the lance of a knight and killed.”

Valdyr appeared very distressed at this but said nothing, carefully taking in every detail.

“My sister and I knew who was at fault as did our brothers. My father and mother were dismayed and aggrieved but swayed my brothers and I to not provoke further conflict. For this I will never be redeemed. Without my knowledge, Atlanta took matters into her own hands. She went to the castle, and convinced Hersir Colborn that she really did desire him, but only refused because she was married. She thanked him for having her ‘vicious and fiendish,’ husband killed, and Colborn did not deny it. I heard all of this from a friend of Lyting who was a servant in the castle.”

Valdyr nodded acknowledgment, and Kaia continued, “When they were alone and Hersir Colborn was vulnerable, she drew a dagger and stabbed him in the chest. Unfortunately, my sister was not a trained killer and the knife hit a rib. Colborn was able to gain the advantage. The maid did say my sister was able to wound him again in the arm, but it is of no matter. Colborn strangled her to death, then hung her body from the walls of his fortress as a warning. By the time I saw it the flesh had been all but torn away by buzzards.”

Valdyr, sat in silence, his body stiff with rage and shock, a look of horror frozen to his face.

Kaia pondered whether to say more and decided she may as well finish what she started, “Hersir Colborn set out the next day to Erling. He had my mother burned as a witch. I don’t know what happened to my father and brothers. I was returning from the castle at the time. When I returned and heard what had been done, I went straight to Konungr Ragjar, but could not gain an audience since I am both a peasant woman and not a Nord. I went to a magistrate, but he told me that it was not a crime for a lord to place what soldiers he wished on his front line, nor was it a crime for him to defend himself. Realizing that even if it went to court the odds were not in my favor, I set out on my own. I eventually met my companions and formed a warband. Soon I will return to the Nord lands and slay Colborn on the battlefield, in a dual, or in his bed, whatever it takes. And,” she added harshly, “I am not some helpless maiden. I will not miss.”


Valdyr sat in thoughtful silence for a long time, taking in everything Kaia said. This was no ordinary woman, but her’s was likely a story shared by a great many common folk in the war-torn land of Alitar. There were some nobles who looked after their peasants, but most preferred to plunder the fiefs of others, rather than protect their own. Still others were too weak to protect what was theirs, too weak or, Valdyr acknowledged guiltily, too apathetic. He set his face in a determined grimace; he, Boyar Valdyr Rushev Borna son of Boyar Horyn Borna, would do better, not just for Kaia, but for all those like her.

“I am not a good man, Kaia,” he finally said.

“Nor are you a bad one,” she said pointedly, not rebuking his statement.

If Valdyr was taken aback by her bluntness he did not show it. Instead he continued, “I am neither a good lord nor a bad one; I am a weak one.”

At least he’s self-aware, Kaia thought.

“I want to take up your cause and join you in bringing Hersir Colborn to justice. I shall join your warband if you will have me and follow you until your quest is completed.”

Kaia’s eyebrows shot up unable to contain her surprise, “My lord, you are full of surprises. Why would you leave the comforts of your hall for the slog of the road? We do not dine on fine wine, bathe in richly scented oils or eat hot food every day. Not to mention the many dangers of the road.”

Valdyr shook his head annoyed, but soon recovered his composure, “I must travel with you and see this done. You have saved my life, and for this, I shall make yours better. Furthermore, I want to learn about the people of Alitar. Their wants and joys, the way they think and feel. I want to protect them and learn to be a better master.”

“Noble sentiments to be true, but as you said, you are weak, and the road is no place for weakness.”

“There is a difference between being a weak leader and being too weak to fight. I promise you, I am quite skilled at arms, and have been on many successful campaigns despite my recent defeat.”

“Many campaigns, my lord?” Kaia asked skeptically, almost derisively, “When did you begin? Age 12?”

Her condescending tone infuriated Valdyr, “Is this how you show gratitude when a lord offers his services to you?”

“I cannot protect my company’s interests with empty promises and oaths,” Kaia shot back.

“Then I will show you in the morning.”

Kaia pondered this, “Oh very well, but it will be a private engagement. Cannot have you getting beaten by a woman in front of your men.”

Valdyr shook his head, “My lady, your forthrightness borders on gall.”

Chapter 6: The Library

Spoiler Alert!

Valdyr was fast asleep in his own quarters when Kaia, dressed only in her evening gown and long fur cloak slipped out of her chamber and walked down the hall. She had exchanged some words with Petrov before dinner and ascertained where the library might be found. The universities and public libraries may all be stocked with the new editions of Astraeo’s works, but she was certain that Valdyr’s skepticism was roused by texts far older than the last three decades, far older.

The guards did not challenge her, and one even offered to escort her to the library. She accepted and soon found herself in a truly exceptional space. The large room could have fit a king’s stable and every inch of the walls were occupied by bookshelves. The shelves themselves were laden with carefully cataloged and organized texts. But it was the center of the room that drew her eye. A beautifully ornate walnut table was placed there. It was small and circular and polished till it shown. On the table was a great book. It lay open, and a candle was lit near it.

Kaia looked around briefly and saw no one else in the room. She went and sat down by the table. The words were hard to make out, so she moved the candle nearer. What she found there captivated her attention for several minutes.

Valdyr was fast asleep in his own quarters when Kaia, dressed only in her evening gown and long fur cloak slipped out of her chamber and walked down the hall. She had exchanged some words with Petrov before dinner and ascertained where the library might be found. The universities and public libraries may all be stocked with the new editions of Astraeo’s works, but she was certain that Valdyr’s skepticism was roused by texts far older than the last three decades, far older.

The guards did not challenge her, and one even offered to escort her to the library. She accepted and soon found herself in a truly exceptional space. The large room could have fit a king’s stable and every inch of the walls were occupied by bookshelves. The shelves themselves were laden with carefully cataloged and organized texts. But it was the center of the room that drew her eye. A beautifully ornate walnut table was placed there. It was small and circular and polished till it shown. On the table was a great book. It lay open, and a candle was lit near it.

Kaia looked around briefly and saw no one else in the room. She went and sat down by the table. The words were hard to make out, so she moved the candle nearer. What she found there captivated her attention for several minutes.

1st of June in the hundredth year from the Great Cataclysm

King Falasfallow lay dying in the dust gazing up into the eyes of Fell Gray. He issued this omen: you have won today. But beware when the last guardian has died and sleeping dearth lies bound no longer. You shall know the heiress of Fallenwell by her golden band and you will know your doom is upon you.”


“What do you mean old king? Answer me!” Growled Fell Gray, the great king of men.


The dying elf only chuckled, a half hearted gasping laugh, “Enjoy your victory Fell Gray. Enjoy your fame and your women and your gold, but your descendants shall curse your name the destruction you have brought upon them. They will curse your name though I do not. Man is left to reap the natural consequence of what you have sown.”

“Bah,” snorted Gray, in half-hearted derision. Even his cold soul was shaken with a moment’s fear. Something inside him knew that he had made a grave error.

King Falasfallow saw King Gray’s hesitation, and smiled up at him warmly. He issued the statement that would resound throughout history, “When I welcomed your people onto this plain, I did so because we had so much to share, and you were in need. I did not understand that your kind lives to consume, not grow. You are only the face of it all Fell Gray. Your wrath and pride and blindness to beauty is only a reflection of that of your people. But I do not curse you. How can I? It is only your nature.

“There is hope for you and your kind in the dark days to come millennia from now. I offer you this last prophecy. Just as I saw this day, I see the birth of your savior.

“Just as the herald of your doom bears the golden band, your hope shall come from a pure, radiant star, a vessel carrying your salvation. Spawn of dove and demon beneath the iron sky, and at his birth a great red dragon waits to devour him. Preserve him from his foe, and he shall restore the balance, reforge the peace you have broken. He will send the great beasts to eternal rest.”

“Fascinating isn’t it?” A soft voice spoke next to Kaia’s ear.

Battle-hardened warrior as she was, Kaia jumped clear out of the chair with sudden fright. A moment later she stood several feet away and took stock of the newcomer.

The woman’s face shown softly in the candle light. She had blonde curly hair done up in extravagant sophistication atop a delicate ovular head. Her blue eyes were difficult to make out but there was something strange about her eyes, feral and…and…. She wore a dark blue dress that appeared to be made of fish scales, but they were larger and craggier looking than any Kaia had seen before. Kaia wasn’t sure but thought her lips were the color of blood.

“Who are you?” Kaia demanded. Everything about the newcomer screamed threat!

“That is neither here nor there,” the woman replied in a soft, sanguine voice.

“Guards!” Kaia bellowed. She had left her sword in her chamber. Stupid!

No one answered the call. “Sweet Jezza,” she whispered in a rare moment of genuine piety, what is this?

The newcomer laughed softly, “Asleep on duty I imagine. Not to worry. I’m not here to hurt you, Kaia.”

“What are you here for?”

That sanguine smile seemed plastered to the newcomer’s face, but now there was a sly twinkle in her eyes, “Why to pass the time with my new best friend, of course.”

This does not make any sense. Who is she? Those eyes; I’ve never seen anything like them! Kaia forced her racing mind to slow, and gradually brought herself under control. She glanced at the book on the table, There’s something important here. What did I just read? She racked her mind for an answer, that cold sanguine smile and sly look boring into her the whole time. Keep her talking.

“What is Fallenwell?” Kaia asked simply.

“Ah, I see you are reading about Fallasfallow’s Prophecy,” she laughed, the mirth tainted by scorn, “Your great ancestors spent four hundred years murdering our oppressors for us, I suppose I owe you a few answers.”

“What?” Kaia’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh yes,” the newcomer laughed; it was almost a cackle, “Your mother was a Greyborn. The name Kaia is so lovely and rare, a shoddy attempt to conceal your family’s true origins to be sure.

“Anyway, you asked a question, a good question it was too. Fallenwell is a large forest far to the east and lies between the Pelopon highlands and the Sudanian desert territories. I suppose you know it as Mavrodosos,” the newcomer flicked her golden hair derisively, “which literally translates ‘dark forest,’ but then no one ever accused you humans of being creative.”

Us humans? Thought Kaia. Is she not?

She noted the blank look on Kaia’s face and shrugged a slight, beautiful shrug that whole volumes on the subject of apathy could be written, “Anyway, I came with a gift.” The newcomer withdrew a small golden locket.

The locket was pure gold, Kaia knew, and her previous attempts to take in what the newcomer was saying instantly fled. “Where did you get that?” Kaia demanded as forcefully as she could manage. Though it was considerable, it bore an uncertain edge to it. This newcomer was like nothing she ever faced before. She knew it. This creature, yes, creature, was far older and more powerful than she looked. How does she have Atlanta’s locket? She put the same question to the creature before her.

“I knew your sister long before Colborn took her for himself.”

“She’s alive?” Kaia gasped.

The newcomer shrugged, “In a manner of speaking, yes I suppose she is.”

“What does that mean?” Kaia’s heart was racing at a thousand beats per minute. Atlanta is alive? Where?

The creature only smiled, those lips aren’t the color of blood, they are covered in blood! A moment later, Atlanta!

Then the newcomer was gone.

Kaia searched around desperately and found the locket on the floor. Within was a single lock of her sister’s hair.

The tears shuddered from her face, and she knelt on the ground. Slowly she reached for the locket. A strange tingling sensation began in her hands. A flash of red lanced across her vision. She screamed in rage and shock and collapsed.

Chapter 8: Mahostovis

Spoiler Alert!

Mahostovis

“I don’t believe it,” Pavel gasped.


If Radovan shared Pavel’s disbelief, he didn’t show it. Valikin Valar was sallying from Mahostovis with his smaller force. In truth, it made sense. Radovan’s forces were drawn up on the valley floor, his right flank anchored by the Pregolya River, and his left by his two thousand cavalry. He had ten thousand infantry drawn up in the center with seven thousand bowman and crossbows on a small ridge just behind them. Even so, Valikin Valar had the high ground and had superior cavalry which he doubtless wanted to bring to full effect. Something they couldn’t do manning the walls of the fortress.


Even that didn’t seem completely plausible. The spring melt was in full swing now. The winter snow softening and moistening the ground. A chill was still in the air, the last residue of the harsh northern winter. No matter, whatever disadvantage the ground posed to his troops, posed the same to his enemy. He would force Valar off that hill.


He watched calmly as his enemy drew up his battle lines. “Archers to skirmish in front of the infantry,” he ordered.


Boyar Pavel immediately called out the orders. The infantry parted into disciplined columns allowing four thousand of the bowmen to trot to the front.


Radovan noted that Valar was doing the same, though his infantry had not completely formed up yet. “Fire in volleys.”


Pavel opened his mouth to say something. Then closed it. Radovan understood his hesitation. The biggest advantage of bow infantry was rate of fire. Forcing them to slow down to make sure every archer was ready for another volley removed that advantage. But Radovan wasn’t interested in killing all Valar’s men, not at this stage at least. He wanted them nervous, cracked, demoralized. And nothing did that quite like a disciplined hail of arrows falling on them in waves with the gaps between volleys giving the victims time to listen to the screams of the wounded and dying knowing another volley was on the way.

Radovan considered himself a good man, but in war he was downright cold-blooded.



Valar was a seasoned commander himself. When the first volley fell he knew what his nephew was doing. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the expedience of volley fire. He had fewer than two thousand bowmen, more like seventeen hundred now, he thought grimly. His nephew’s bowman were good shots. Even with volley fire, which didn’t usually involve a whole lot of aiming.


He knew he couldn’t keep this up, shot for shot with his nephew’s forces, but dammit if he didn’t at least blood them. “Fire!” He ordered.



The return fire from Valar’s position was more ragged, but no less deadly. Three hundred or so of Radovan’s bowmen went down dead or out of the action. The rest prepared another volley. It was difficult to gauge trajectory firing up a steep hill as they were, but the superior numbers and volley fire prevailed. Within a few minutes the ragged remains of Valar’s archers broke and ran back behind their infantry lines. The volley fire then rained on the infantry who turtled to protect themselves with their shields.


“What was the point of the that?” Pavel asked in consternation.


Radovan shook his head, “Stubbornness, Pavel, my uncle will let all his men die before giving up.”


Pavel wasn’t so sure, “Even a stubborn commander can see the folly in putting his archers out like that. Now he has no way to support his infantry’s advance.”


Speaking of which, Radovan noted that Valar’s forces were doing, nothing actually. They were just standing there bleeding and dying while a larger force waited for them at the bottom of the mountain. No flanking maneuvers, no tightly formed advancing infantry, nothing.


“Every moment he waits, victory slips further from his grasp,” Radovan muttered, the calm demeanor he began the battle with starting to give way to uncertainty.


He looked toward his left flank and squinted. A rider was coming, driving his horse way harder than any sane cavalryman ever would. “Damn fool,” Radovan muttered, “how’s he going to deliver his message if his horse collapses and crushes him?”


Instinctively, Radovan turned to Boyar Pavel, “Have Boyar Metzka wheel his pikemen on the East side of the knoll, split the cavalry and send the other half around to anchor the new flank.” Turning to another lord, “Artyom, pull the archers back onto the ridge.”


Both men raced off to carry out their orders as Radovan watched the rider. He noted that Valar was still sitting on the hill though his infantry had broken off their shield wall and seemed to be preparing an advance.


Radovan wheeled his horse and trotted out to meet the rider. He dared not do more than trot, lest he make his men nervous. Veterans had their advantages and disadvantages. The advantage of course was skill, experience and discipline. The disadvantage, it couldn’t be lost on any but the most daft of them that this behavior of Valar was strange. At least the hasty scout had the sense to ride behind the forward facing infantry.


When the rider reached Radovan he was almost out of breath. His horse was in worse shape, foam dripping from its mouth, eyes rolling in its head, legs shaking just with the mere effort of standing still.


“Report soldier.”


“It’s the Sanjing!” The rider croaked.


“That doesn’t tell me anything soldier. Report!”


The man stiffened and collected himself, “An army of the Sanjing approaches quickly from the East, your highness. They fly the dragon banner of Zheng Wei.”


“How far?” Radovan snapped.


“Less than a six hour march. They crossed the Pregolya Tributary this morning.”


“How many?”


“Five thousand at least. And they’re carrying weapons I’ve never seen before.”


“What do you mean?”


“At least,” the rider paused, “I think they’re weapons. I didn’t get a good look at them. They look like little more than iron rods.”


Radovan turned pale. He’d heard reports of new weapons that breath fire being developed in the East, but didn’t believe it, taking it for yet more baseless legends about the Dragon of the East. An army hadn’t crossed the Cirodeon Mountains in nearly two hundred years. Why now?


He shook himself. He couldn’t worry about that now. Turning his eye on Mahostovis, he saw that Valar was still, doing nothing, his troops standing silently like denizen statues waiting for disaster to strike Radovan’s army. Of that, Radovan had no doubts. The only reason Zheng Wei would cross the mountains now was if he was confident of an anchor from which to conquer the rest of the Alitar. Valar’s regime, and especially the critical mountain city of Mahostovis would provide him with that…unless…


Radovan didn’t think about it too long, “Six hours. You’re certain?”


“Yes, your highness, maybe less, but if they force a march it’ll be hard on their cumbersome wagon train.”


“Send out riders to every corner of the realm bearing the news of the imminent invasion. Those five thousand men can't be more than an advance force. The others were probably delayed in the mountains due to the early spring melt. Destroyed in landslides if we're lucky, but let's not count on it. More importantly, send word to Boyar Borna to gather whatever reserves he can from Raveskin and Stanislao castle, hire mercenaries, impress town militias I don’t care, and march here within the week.”


“Within the week sire? We have six hours. What will Boyar Borna be expected to do?”


Radovan smiled grimly, “His orders are to break the siege of Mahostovis. If Zheng Wei wants Rus, he’s going to need a battering ram.”

Chapter 9: Valdyr's Courtyard

Spoiler Alert!

Valdyr woke to the sun shining on his face. It slanted down from the window and Valdyr realized that it must be eight in the morning. He rose and was quickly dressed by his servants.

The chamberlain, Petrov, knocked and entered. Bowing he stated in his typically unenthusiastic tone, “Good morning my lord.”

“It does not sound like it,” Valdyr teased.

Petrov’s face remained expressionless, neither disapproving nor humored.

Valdyr sighed, his chamberlain was once the jovial type, but for some time now presented himself as much less so. “Well,” he continued, “is Kaia still abed?”

“No, my lord boyar, Kaia has been training in the courtyard since dawn.”

Since dawn! Does this woman never sleep? How does she plan to face me if she is tired from training?

Valdyr made his way to the courtyard to discover quite a sight. Kaia was busy putting a force of fifty mercenaries through drills. She was barking out sets so fast Valdyr could not keep up with her, “Lunge! Left parry! Overhead block! Lunge! Left feint, overhead strike, low sweep!” Her warriors obeyed with surprising speed and ease. “Take a break!”

Valdyr thought she would take a break as well and began making his way down to talk to her when she turned to some of his own soldiers who had been watching and bellowed, “You lot take positions!” They did nothing, bewildered. “Move! Move! Move! You show this kind of uncertainty on the battlefield and you’ll be cut down like the dogs you are!” Several of them scrambled for their weapons, and a few others drifted behind.

Valdyr thought there was an edge to her voice but couldn’t be sure. He had not known her long. Perhaps she had just returned to playing the warrior.

A sergeant emerged from the guard house, “What is the meaning of this!?” He demanded, “You do not give orders here! I, Nikelyz, give orders!”

Kaia seemed to relax a little bit, sizing up the new arrival. He was a large man and carried a longsword and buckler slung behind his back. His face and arms were covered in scars, and he had a look in his eye that was not unkind; it was mean. Wonderful, a bully, Kaia thought. Then shrugged, ok.

“Come face me,” she demanded.

“I’m not opposed to killing little girls,” he replied with a vicious snarl. Unaware of Valdyr looking on, he continued, “But my lord’s puppy infatuation with you saves you from a spanking today.”

Valdyr said nothing. He had learnt by now to stay out of Kaia’s way. Instead he relaxed on his elbows, face in his hands, watching the show. Alexei emerged from the keep, his arm in a sling and his face pale. He made his way over to where his lord stood. Valdyr noticed him and was inwardly relieved to see him on his feet; the doctor had done good work. A moment later, both were wrapped up in the scene unfolding below.



She replied calmly, “Well then, since you are too coward to fight a little girl, you won’t mind if I drive a little courage into your men.”

“You want to fight!?” he yelled, “Then a fight you shall have!” He drew his sword and shouldered the heavy round buckler onto his arm. “You first princess,” he snarled.

Kaia let her Pelopon estoc fall from her gauntleted hand.

The sergeant was surprised at this, “Aw, are you too weak to hold a sword? That is alright. Join me for a drink and a little swim, and I’ll call it even.”

High up on the balcony Valdyr shook his head wearily, and muttered, “Idiot,” under his breath.

“Judging from all the scars on your face and arms,” she shot back, “you know not how to block. I wouldn’t want to kill you in this friendly little skirmish.”

“Raaaaah!” He screamed charging at her with a wide sideswipe.

Kaia waited patiently until he was close enough, then stepped inside the attack. She caught his arm at the elbow and slammed him in the gut with her knee, then let him stagger back.

Nikelyz recovered himself after a moment and Kaia waited patiently. Seeing her so calm drove him to his feet and, with a savage yell, he lunged at her with his sword. She side-stepped and swiped with both hands, guiding the sword down and past her. She drove her knee into his chin on his way down. He staggered to his feet spitting blood from his pulverized lips and received a sharp right hook between the eyes; they rolled into his head and he collapsed.

There was silence from the surrounding men and women. She had just taken down a man twice her size in the time it took the soldiers to settle down for the entertainment. She let it sink in for a moment, then wheeled on the men she had spoken to before, “Well? What are you waiting for? Get in formation!”

Their momentary stupor subsided, and they rushed to obey her. Kaia shook her head in disgust, noting that it took them a good five minutes just to line up. She turned and looked at Valdyr with a look that said, []Iwe have so much work to do.[/I]

Valdyr made his way down to the courtyard, his heavy chainmail shaking. “Well done, well done indeed!” He praised her, “I have to thank you for teaching that buffoon a lesson.”

Kaia turned on him, and he took a step back. The sweet smile she had presented him with at dinner was replaced with a disappointed grimace. She stalked over to him and jabbed her finger into his sternum. He felt the uncomfortable pressure through his mail.

She snarled, “Is this how you prepare your men for battle? With lazy, undisciplined sergeants? Any one of my own lieutenants could train these men ten times better. You cannot leave your castle now, what with it guarded by this rabble!”

“My lady!”

“Don’t, ‘my lady’ me,” she said in a dangerous tone, “I am but a peasant, a nobody for all you nobles care, and proud of it. All you lords are the same, you sit in your castles drinking fine mead from ivory cups, safe behind your walls while the rest of the world goes to hell to provide you with your comforts.”

Valdyr hung his head, but she was not done, “Why do you need a peasant woman to deal with your problems? This ruffian should have been food for the crows ten years ago! Maybe I should have just left you to die on the road and saved us all one more headache!” She stopped herself here, fuming.

Valdyr looked up into her fierce, burning eyes. A few wisps of her dark hair had escaped her braid and now hung over her face. “Kaia,” he said at last, “don’t you see this is why you must bring me with you?”

Kaia sighed inwardly. She knew he meant well, but to take him on the road!...Then again, she thought, it may be useful to have one of Alitar’s lords in her warband. Whirling on him she said, “Fine, I’ll take you with me, but I have a few conditions.”

“Anything,” Valdyr said.

“First you will not be able to wear your colors. You may bring your seal,” she said quickly, barely controlling another outburst, and cutting off his protest, “but you may carry neither banner nor emblazoned mantle. Second, this is my warband; you will follow my orders on the road. Failure to do so may jeopardize the lives of everyone in the company. This only works when my orders are obeyed.”

“I agree to your terms my lady and—“


“One more,” she said cutting off the nobleman a second time, “no sleeping with other members of the party. You will hold yourself to the highest discipline while in my camp and keep to your own bedroll. When we enter towns or castles and sleep in taverns you may wench all you like, but not on the road.”

Again Valdyr started to say something and again Kaia cut him off, “Break the rules and you’ll be walking home alone. I hope you know your stars.”

Valdyr was completely taken aback by this statement and hesitated. After a moment he looked her directly in the eye and stumbled out, “My lady, there is no fear of that.”

She turned a cold shoulder on him and stalked back to where his men stood at ease. “Great,” she thought to herself, “now he’s in love with me.”

Valdyr was left with eyes downcast, brows knitted together. Shame, longing, and incompetence battled each other for his attention.

“At-teeen-tion!” She bellowed, immediately every shield and sword came to the ready. She began the drill again, and Valdyr turned and went inside dragging his feet.

Alexei, guided by his squire, met him within, “My lord,” he spoke with concern, “Is it true you are leaving your ancestral home to travel with this woman we barely know?”

“Alexei, I trust her with my life, and I trust you with my life, my name and my home.”

“My lord?” The question was a protest.

Valdyr held up his hand, “This is something I must do, and you must do as I ask. Rest, recover, and when you are strong Kaia and I will leave and you will be in charge of my lands in my place. And kick Nikelyz out. He’s useless anyway.”


Three weeks previously…

“And you’re sure of this,” Munderic addressed his councilmen.

“Yes Highness,” one of the men, the Count D’Artorde, was the one who had spoken. “The daughter of Alia Greyborn is in Rus as we speak. Our scouts spotted her party crossing the Oregsund on the fifth of March.

Munderic stroked his graying black beard. “What is she doing there?”

“As far as we know, she is bent on the destruction of one Hersir Colborn of the Nords. He is purported to be responsible for Alia’s death in Erling five years ago. Not that anyone here would object to one more filthy Nord skull on a pike.” That brought a laugh from the assembled noblemen who figured everyone northwest of the Oregsund a barbarian. The Rus had good sense in throwing them off, but why their own humble forefathers?

“And what of Sir Rorik and Sir Alain?” The king asked.

At this the Count D’Artorde’s face fell. “Sir Rorik is dead highness. His body was found near the temple of Jezza in Mavrodosos. The Pelopon authorities have launched a region wide manhunt, more because they believe he was killed inside the sanctum than any concern for the man himself it seems.”

“And Sir Alain?”

“Alive as far as we know. There was at least one assassination attempt against him while he was researching Fallasfallow’s prophecy in the Tower of Gerod. The Cirodeon council’s maid staff found their bodies when the blood dripped through the floorboards into their sleeping quarters.”

Munderic nodded, a very kingly nod it was. As one accustomed to the constant depravity of life that came with ruling a kingdom.

“Send an emissary to Radovan with a regiment of knights. See to it Kaia is secured and brought to me at once. Do not harm her.”

“Yes, sire.”



Later, King Munderic II, weary from the day’s burden of rule, walked through the halls to his chamber. They were deserted. Which wasn’t strange at all. This part of the hall had no windows or other rooms; the only doors were at either end.

“Munderic, it is good to see you again.”

Munderic wheeled drawing his sword, “Who goes there?” He demanded, “I may look like an old man, but assure you your head will hit the floor before you reach the light.”

“Put that thing down, old man,” a laughing voice replied and a knight stepped into the candle light.

“Marocson,” Munderic sheathed his sword with a relieved little chuckle, “you almost stopped this old heart.”

Gideon Marocson’s broad face broke into a smile. He did not smile often but with his old friend it was different, “We’re not that old,” he chuckled. “Our mothers knew each other in the months leading up to our birth. We can’t be more than forty going on dead.”

That drew another laugh from both of them.

“What brings you here?”

Marocson’s face grew grim. The previous jovialty replaced with a scowl, “Three dozen of my order are dead within two months. Rorik was the latest. Alain barely escaped with his life. This is unheard of. No one has dared come after us in almost a thousand years. Sure some knights get killed on the battlefield fighting for their factions, but who, with the resources, would systematically hunt down and kill them? We are sworn to protect travelers on the way, nothing more.”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out myself,” Munderic answered solemnly. “I have men watching all knights of the order and all Clan Greyborn in Frasi territory. The Pelepon Republic, Sudanian Caliphate, and Kazhardan are all doing likewise. Prince Radovan is trying, but it’s difficult with the war.”

“Yes,” Marocson replied, “and Konungr Ragnar has simply ordered the knights to cease operations in the Nordlands until we resolve the issue.”

Both men pondered silently for a moment. What else could they do? The truth was, neither of them had the slightest idea what prompted these attacks. Except…

Marocson spoke at last. “There is something else, and I fear the two may be connected.”

“What is it?” Munderic asked.

“The dragon stirs in the East. His forces march on Mahostovis as we speak.”

Munderic’s face paled. They turned to face the east. It was nothing but a wall. Why did it seem like it was closing in?

Chapter 10: Strategy and Tactics

Spoiler Alert!

Valikin Valar was having an even worse day, “Curse that bastard, Zheng Wei!” Hurling the written message back in the brown face of the courier. The letter fluttered uselessly in the wind depriving the gesture of all its ferocious intent. It fell on the ground and instantly became soaked by the soft snow.

That failed, he resorted to raising his voice still higher, “Just how does your master intend to hold Rus without the support of its people? The old Frasian kingdom failed to do it. As did the Nords after them.” Lowering his voice now so his troops couldn’t hear him, “Your master swore to be here by the sun’s zenith, and yet you tell me he is six hours away.”

The courier, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. Valar was a large man, a great braided beard wrapped his face, his eyes steely blue and piercing. He answered calmly, “The passage through the mountains was delayed by a mud slide, your grace. We could only get five thousand men through with the appropriate provisions. The others will meet us here in Mahostovis within the week. It could not be avoided. Hold out for six hours and victory is surely yours.”

“Half my men will be dead by then,” Valar growled in low voice through clenched teeth.

“Then may they die with honor,” the courier replied softly, bowing respectfully. It was a deep bow as a lesser soldier offers a mighty king. Then he wheeled his horse and departed.

“Damn him,” Valar muttered. Then turned his attention on Radovan’s forces. There was one upside to all this. Radovan had pre-emptively moved a third of his forces and half his cavalry to the left flank. Leaving his center weakened.

Valar turned to the man sitting astride his horse a respectful distance away. “Boyar Artyom.”

Boyar Artyom the Elder cantered over.

“Here is your chance to redeem your house of your eldest son’s treachery in joining with the enemies of Rus. We will advance our infantry off this hill in turtle formation to draw their archers fire. You will lead the cavalry down the ravine there behind the shelter of the hill, and strike their center right when the infantry engages their right flank. The center will break and his forces will scatter.”

Boyar Artyom bowed. It was his responsibility as marshal to challenge his liege when he thought him wrong, “Sire, I must protest with the deepest respect.”

Valar gave him a sideways look then waved for him to continue, “The enemy knows he has only a few hours to end this battle in his favor. If he retreats he will face a much larger force later, and if he attacks his cavalry will have to dismount and attack with the infantry. The horses will surely flounder attempting to climb this sodden hill.”

Valar nodded, he had considered this also, “It can’t be helped Artyom. Our cavalry will struggle also, though not as much here at the top of the hill, and if we wait he may bring his full force of archers against us and whittle us down for a few hours before launching a full assault to clean us up. No, we outnumber his cavalry, match his infantry, and his forces are watching two fronts. We will attack.”

Artyom only bowed, “yes majesty.”


“They’re moving,” Pavel hissed.

The hiss wasn’t so much a warning as it was bewildered. Radovan, watching the hill, bowed his head slightly. His eyebrows furrowed, still watching his enemy’s movements.

The infantry and front ranks of the cavalry were making their way down to engage them. It made sense, Valar must have heard by now that his relief forces weren’t arriving soon enough. And the Dragon? Well he may have cut a deal with Valar. Even if he had, he was either delayed or treacherous. It was beside the point. Valar now had two options, retreat to Mahostovis or attack. The first was a good move if he had the supplies, which Radovan after a two month long siege, highly doubted. So he would attack. But why were the rest of his cavalry remaining behind?

Pavel shook his head chuckling a bit. “What’s so funny Pavel?” Radovan demanded.

“Nothing your grace, it’s just your uncle. He was always a great strategist and never a good tactician. No one could outhink him when he had time to do so.” Adding hastily, “That’s why I kept pressuring you to move aggressively against him.”

“And it has paid off well, Pavel.”

Pavel accepted the praise with a quick nod before continuing, “How much you wanna wager he’s hoping we’re so enthralled by his advance we don’t notice when Artyom the Elder, who must surely be in command of the cavalry, slips down the ravine over there?”

Radovan nodded solemnly. He had to decide quickly. His center was strong enough to repel the cavalry attacking outright, but if the other group made it down the ravine, it would likely be over.

“Order the left to reform the original battle line as quickly as possible. Place them behind the center so they have a chance to rest before needing to fight.” Arrows went whistling over their heads as Healo, the commander in charge of his archers, ordered them to open fire on Valar’s slowly advancing phalanx and cavalry. They would be bled badly on the slow trek down the hill.

“Order, Solitarius Lupus, King Amel’s champion, to take the skirmishers over the ridge and harass Artyom the Elder to buy us time. It will be slow going and treacherous through parts of that ravine for Valar’s cavalry. He is to choose his ground carefully to maximize casualties.”

“Yes Lord,” Pavel replied. Charging off to see to his Prince’s wishes.

It troubled Radovan to slay so many of his own countrymen, but it was necessary to secure peace in Rus quickly. A few brave knights dying today would save many in a drawn out war.

Chapter 11: Dispatches

Spoiler Alert!

Kaia was finishing another bath, a luxury she wanted to take full advantage of before leaving, when she heard a knock at the door. Morgani went to it, knife in hand, opened the door a crack and looked out. Kaia rolled her eyes; Morgani was a good servant, though a bit of an overdramatic devil at times.

“Who is it?” Kaia asked, reluctantly pulling herself out of the bath, drying herself quickly with a towel, and wrapping herself in a gown.

Morgani waited until she had finished before announcing that a knight was at the door.

“Just a knight?” Kaia asked, before noting a mischievous twinkle in Morgani’s eyes.

“Send him in,” she ordered.

The knight entered the room. He was dressed in a black surcoat over a red gambeson, woolen stockings, and hard leather boots. His broadsword hung at his waste, its weight not interrupting his steps. He wore no helmet, a tattoo of a ghostly knight lay on the side of his neck, his brown hair looked as though it had been barbered by the knight with a knife, and his brown eyes smiled as they beheld Kaia.

He bowed deeply, “Kaia.”

“Alain!” The stresses of the day, and her annoyance at Valdyr suddenly fled her like so much shedding water. She went and threw her arms around him. They met in an affectionate embrace for a moment only, before she withdrew. “How was your journey?” She asked, smiling up at him.

“It was most pleasant, my lady, the snow was light and easy on my palfrey, and the air was crisp and mild. I was not plagued by any bandits on the road.”

“Though none would stand a chance against you.”

The smile on his face grew wider, “My lady, you give me too much credit.”

“It will be credit well deserved if you have what I sent you for.”

“Oh yes,” he said, with a pleased smile on his face. Lowering his voice, he continued, “As you directed, I waylaid the young Jarl Eban while wearing the guise of a common bandit and seized his precious cargo. I sold him to some actual bandits who will likely spend the next month hashing out a price for his return.”

“Very good,” Kaia said, pleased, but Alain was not done.

“Kaia, may I ask?”

“Yes, Sir Alain, you may speak your mind in my company.”

“Will not Konungr Ragnar and the other Nords know that the other half of the letter will be in jeopardy when they receive a ransom note from the sea raiders?”

“No, actually,” Kaia said, “and that’s the best part of all this. Konungr Ragjar did not approve of this subterfuge. Hersir Colborn and Jarl Eban planted this spy of their own volition. If one of them raises concerns about the missing letter they will have to justify it to everyone. No, Colborn will act quietly.”

“What about him sending a message to the spy?”

“Oh, he’ll have a hard time reaching him. You see, I already have their go-between in custody.” She turned to Morgani. “Give me the other half of the letter.”

Morgani came forward with it, and Kaia read it to herself. She handed Morgani’s half back. “Very well, I have everything I need. Those documents confirm what the bandit leader told me during our little chat in the jail cell last night. Return this to Valdyr without his knowledge.”

Morgani bowed and left the room. Alain cut in, “How is our friend Roan, leader of the bandit conclaves?”

Kaia shrugged then said, “On his way to Regjar with the other prisoners. I have faith Kathryn will turn around a good penny on them in the slave markets.” She paused then said, “We must capture this spy, Alain. He may be my only chance at finding out for sure what happened to my father and brothers. He must be close to Hersir Colborn to be entrusted with infiltrating the Grand Principality of Ruskin—"

I could care less about the interests of the Grand Principality of Ruskin, of course.”

Alain only nodded. He was still working on her empathy and sense of justice, but did so with all the patience of a true nobleman. Instead he simply said, “Should we fail we could take your vengeance without the spy.”

“Yes, but if I should fail in storming his castle or attacking him on the road, and with my family imprisoned or enslaved, then no one will come to help them.” Then without further comment, she turned and stalked to her closet. She opened it and looked down at the very well-dressed man tied up on the floor. “Now,” she said,

“What are we going to do with you?”