Spellscribed: Ascension (10 page)

"That must have been a lot of power she stole." Bridget replied.

Endrance shrugged. "It didn't feel like much. Maybe a single percent."

Joven raised an eyebrow. "How much is that in words we understand?"

Endrance thought. "I guess maybe most of the power you would have had. Any normal person would have died in one pull."

"And that's one hundredth of your power?" Joven asked.

"I was rounding up." Endrance replied. "Besides, it's not important. Point is, she's gone now and the circle is destroyed."

"Ah." Bridget said. "You know, you should have tried summoning another bird when you had the chance."

Endrance blinked a few times. "Wait." he muttered. He grimaced, pounding a fist onto the table. "Son of a bitch!"

* * *

Joven rode through the pass on his way to the village where Anna's family lived. He was armed and armored, and he had several extra armaments stowed on his horse in case they were needed. The day was waning and he would have just enough time to get to the village before dark. After that, he would be returning at night. Even for the barbarians traveling alone at night was a dangerous proposition. Things far more fierce than a barbarian warrior wandered the snow ladened hills in the dark.

The sun was at his back and his horse was glad for the solid ground to thunder across as they moved. The cold winter air rushed through his hair. The subtle combination of live pine trees and smoke filled his nostrils. It was a great day to ride.

He came out of the pass knowing there was a few hundred yards until the outer walls of the village could be seen. He rounded the final bend and came within line of sight of the village and pulled to a stop, wheeling his horse to the side as he made sense of what he saw. The horse picked up the scent of something and reared, anxious and agitated.

The village was intact, but from the light he could see men at the walls actively defending it. Dead and dying invaders clustered up against the walls. Joven couldn't yet see enough to identify them, but he intended to find out. He spurred his horse into action, and he unslung the axe of Daelin, his father. The bipennis axehead gleamed in the late afternoon light as he adjusted his grip for mounted combat.

As he got close, the sight of the invaders' profiles were as obvious an identifier as the howls that left their jaws as they loped towards the wooden walls. Wolfmen. Several dozen of them were swarming the village walls, clawing at the wooden bark as they tried to climb them, heedless of the men guarding the upper edges.

The militia was stalwart, never panicking or giving ground. Spearmen on the top of the wall flanked the archers that picked off wolfmen as they approached, and skewered the ones that made it to the walls. The men were remarkably calm, killing off the invaders with a detached manner that told Joven this was not the first night that this had happened.

He rode towards the gates, the place that was hardest hit by wolfmen. Something seemed off about the wolfmen he was approaching, but he couldn't identify it yet. He came within a dozen yards before some of the enemy turned on him.

Wolfmen had as much in common with wolves as they had with men. Furry, they stood upright like a man, but with the backward bent legs and muzzles of their lupine brethren. They had little need of clothing, but would wear armor in battle and were as intelligent as any men Joven had fought. They fought cleverly and with great ferocity.

These were different. Unarmored, they attacked the outer walls of the town with tooth and claw. Their fur looked ratty and matted. Several of the closest ones he saw sported injuries that looked unhealed. What were they doing?

Joven rode past the first as he swung his axe single handedly. He hardly felt any resistance in the haft as the sharp edge parted flesh and fur like a hot blade through snow, and the first wolfman tumbled past Joven’s horse with his head continuing the charge its body had abandoned. Dark blood splattered the snow as the barbarian swept through the enemy, his axe swinging left and right with lethal efficiency.

Something seemed even more unnatural about the attack, as all of the wolfmen he encountered fought without trying to defend themselves, accepting attacks as they came. It mattered little; even if they could defend themselves, the height advantage from horseback coupled with the weight and heft of the axe meant Joven was easily striking heads and necks within reach.

It seemed in quite short order the battlefield was quiet. He wheeled his horse around, surveying the area. Not a single wolfman stood, walked, or crawled. He also didn't see any fleeing; they had died to the last man. That alone screamed something was wrong. No military unit was that disciplined, even among barbarian tribes. At best, a unit would hold ranks until about two thirds of their men had fallen
, then loss of morale usually caused the remainder to break apart and scatter.

He shook his head in wonder as he rode his horse up to the gates. He looked up at one of the men on the wall who had been walking along the top towards his position.

"I thank you for helping, stranger, but I do not think you will want to stay here much longer." The man said. Joven saw that the barbarian looked exhausted. "Are you injured? Did they hurt you?" he asked.

Joven did a quick check. "No, they only gave me a little exercise."

"And your horse? Is he injured?"

Joven's eyes narrowed. "What is this about?"

The man shook his head. "There is a curse. Leave now while you have a chance."

Joven shouldered his axe and shook his head in return. "I cannot. The Spengur has demanded I retrieve someone, and I cannot return unless I do."

The man watched him without speaking for several seconds. An archer walked along the wall to the man at the gate and spoke with him. The first glanced down at Joven more than once during the conversation, and eventually he turned back to the bodyguard.

"I hear you are Joven, son of Daelin, brother of Balen." The man started. "I also heard that the Spengur you serve is powerful and terrifying."

Joven had to restrain himself from laughing, but let the smile spread across his face. "I am Joven. The Spengur can be those things and more, when needed."

"So what unfortunate soul has he called for today?" the man asked. "Is it a woman to replace the one he returned to us?"

So the man was one of Anna's relatives. Joven sighed. This was going to be more difficult to navigate than he had initially thought. "Almost two months ago she brought a child here to be watched over for a time." He called out. "The babe's father returns from the field, and I have come to bring him home."

The man watched him without speaking. "We had told no one of this child." he said.

"Of course; you were told not to." Joven stated. "However it is now time to take the child home."

"We will let you into the village, but we will not open the gates again until tomorrow." the man called. From the other side of the gates, Joven could hear the sounds of wood bars being shifted. "The wolfmen may come again tonight and we will not leave the doors unblocked."

Joven frowned. It seemed he was going to be enjoying the countryside for a lot longer than he had hoped. He slung the axe onto his back as he waited.

The gates pulled up, the wooden logs composing its structure were built on a pivot near the top and they levered the gate up using a pulley and rope. As he rode into the village, he saw two men on either side of the gate hauling the ropes back until he cleared the logs. Once past, they dropped the ropes and the gate crashed back into position. Immediately they grabbed wooden bars to brace the gate at the midpoint, so that one couldn't open it from the outside by pushing from the bottom.

Joven dismounted from his horse and scratched under his chin as he walked it towards where a cluster of men waited for him. One man took the leads for his horse and led it away, while Joven stopped before the man he had been talking to earlier.

"I take it you knew Anna." Joven started. "She was a strong woman. She had earned much honor and respect in her sacrifice."

The man studied his face for a few short moments before responding. At close range, Joven could see that, though haggard, the man was a strong one, with short cropped blonde hair that was graying at the temples and tired blue eyes that didn't quite seem completely attentive.  He gave Joven the impression that he was distracted with some inner turmoil.

"I knew Anna from the day my sister birthed her until they day she died, many months ago." he said.

Aha, Anna's uncle. From what he remembered of their conversations, she only had one. Berand. He knew that Berand was aware that she had died only a few weeks before, but traditionally, she had been dead to her family the day Endrance accepted the silver ring she offered him. They had performed a funeral, filled an empty grave and mourned her death long ago.

Her dead body arriving only a few months after was an emotional and cultural hammer blow. Though she died honorably, the fact that she had done so only a short while after the Spengur arrived cast a stigma upon the family. Were their people incapable? Did this person anger the Spengur and he struck her down?

"Berand." Joven said, nodding. "I also knew Anna."

"You knew her ghost, nothing more." Berand said, turning away from him. "Come, I'll show you where you can rest for the night, and tomorrow we will get you on your way."

Joven didn't follow immediately. "I want to see the child first, and then I will feel better about finding somewhere to rest."

"Then we go this way." Berand replied, without changing his direction. He led Joven to a large wood and stone house with a creeping plant that covered most of the whole roof. Tendrils of vine hung off the sides of the awnings, quietly swaying in the breeze. They were harmless to the structure, instead growing in swaths wherever the sun shone constantly in mountainous terrain. The
roof was entirely taken over by it. With a little work, Joven could probably hide the house as a small hill of rock with the amount of cover the place had..

Like all the houses in the village, the house itself was half below ground level and half above. Four short steps lead to the front door. Berand let the two of them in and Joven could make out a central hearth as well as a circle of five doors. The central room was rounded, with the hearth in the center, and the kitchen and larder were immediately at hand. Each of the doors that were unopened likely contained the rest of the house.

A woman in a dress and soft shoes tended to the fire in the hearth as she adjusted a stewpot next to it. She too had blonde hair, long and straight, but green eyes instead of blue. She seemed all too familiar a face to Joven.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Merina." Berand stated as he entered. "But this is Joven, the Spengur's bodyguard."

Her expression hardened. "I know of him. I saw you the last time I went to the markets in Balator. You were fighting."

"It's what I do." Joven admitted.

"What does the Spengur want of me now?" she spat. "I'm not able to provide another daughter for him to spirit away."

Joven's ire raised, but he kept control of it. "I am not here for you or your family. I am here to collect the baby that was left behind." he explained as patiently as possible.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “We told no one of the baby, but now you are here. I was told that no one must know, and I feared the baby would be here the rest of his life when Anna’s body was returned to us.” She turned from him and walked back to the fire. “You may take the baby back with you tomorrow. You’d only get him killed if you left tonight.”

She resumed stirring the pot, her expression unreadable through a curtain of hair that draped from her hung head. “Gods know I’ve had enough loss this year.” She muttered.

Joven watched her silently for a few seconds, the pain of loss also twisting sharply in his chest. He turned to Berand and spoke. “Please show me the child.”

Berand turned to his sister.
“Merina?”

“My daughter’s room.” she replied.

Berand led the way to one of the side doors to the left, opening it slowly. Inside was a small room barely seven feet tall, ten feet long and eight feet deep, devoid of all furniture except a small handmade crib. A small window high up on the outside wall provided light into the room. Joven could even see the shadows of the vine tendrils across the slats of the glassless window.

Joven strode forward and checked the inside of the crib. The baby was sleeping deeply, completely at ease despite the small siege that was being waged on the walls not a dozen yards from the house. These things were normal in their culture; dozens of individual clans battled each other for almost any reason that seemed appropriate. Land, resources, revenge, those were the simplest reasons, but not the only ones they fought for.

It was a fact of life that his people fought. Tempers were naturally short in his people.  And because of that, conflicts were viewed in a much more acceptable light. Even the berserkers cursed by the Furie were accepted because though they were unnatural; it was believed the goddess of rage cursed them, so their people didn’t look at them in the same way that they looked at mages.

Joven
nodded, assured that the child was safe for the moment. He turned and walked out of the room. Berand followed in his wake.