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Main Blog: mass-convergence
Art Blog: intrepid-creations
depictions of a natural disaster in the first few chapters (specifically an earthquake and tsunami, given what happened in Japan on Jan 1 - thought it would be good to put this one up)
Semi-graphic descriptions of fantasy violence - not overly gratuitous but not entirely glossed over either
Okay, I'll admit that part of the issue with me updating (other than just some serious self esteem/self confidence issues as of late) is that the thing is:
I did have basically all of part 1 written and it was a decently sized buffer. This project's been in the works for the past two years. The thing was, this novel was going to be almost completely from Torvola's perspective and it will follow mainly Torvola since she's the main character. Then I was writing a few months ago (literally after I posted the first chapter) and thought, "Yeah Torvola's the main character but Cazan and Caleste both have their arcs and their important places in the story as well and I would love to show what they're doing while Torvola's doing her stuff".
And with Cazan and Caleste it's been a bit harder to get into their heads. Caleste is actually really fun to write because she's been very consistently kind of a conceited asshole out for glory. Cazan's a bit harder, a bit more of a mystery to me, initially they were going to be this quiet badass loner type but as I thought more and more about their motivations and life choices, I thought better of it.
So Cazan's basically become a bit of a manifestation of my struggles with being an ADHD disaster. It fits their character, it fits why they decided that if they couldn't learn magic the "normal" way they were just gonna use their own blood and arrows to do it (no I don't practice blood magic but I've definitely problem solved my way into a much bigger problem). It's a fun characterization to write but I have a hell of a time writing it. I also have to factor in their relationship with their ward/student, Queneh, which has also been a struggle because I've never written really written a teenage character.
I still wanted to show their stories though even if the focus is primarily going to be on Torvola's story because, in the end, this is Torvola's journey.
But this story's been living in my head for the past two to three years. Should I have maybe waited a little longer to bring it to light? Maybe. But then it'd never be out so.
Theran and Lovac returned with their report a while later, Lovac spoke as soon as the duo approached Caleste and Emmon.
“We found bootprints, loads of ‘em. Reckon a force of twenty or so,” he said in his usual clipped tone, “Headed south.”
“There’s no sign that they have any mounts,” Theran added, “We didn’t see any hoof prints at least.”
Emmon and Caleste exchanged a look.
“They couldn’t have gotten far then,” Emmon said, “Though I’d imagine if this was some kind of raiding party from the Southern Kingdom then they’d have ridden in on horses at least.”
“Perhaps they thought the terrain too rough,” Caleste surmised, “In any case, if they truly are on foot then we should be able to catch them.”
Emmon looked unsure, “They have us outnumbered two to one. We should get reinforcements.”
However, Caleste knew that going back to get reinforcements or recruiting extra hands from whoever was left in this forsaken valley would take too long. They had a chance at finding and catching whoever sacked Odrum, a chance that was rapidly slipping away as they sat and chatted. Her hands itched as if they were desperate to wield her halberd in battle once more. She’d be more than happy to indulge.
“As if that’s ever stopped us before?” Caleste raised an eyebrow at Emmon, “We’re the best warriors this side of the Barrens with the best mage on the continent. Do not underestimate you or your men’s skills … and more importantly, do not underestimate mine.”
Emmon shrank slightly under her gaze and after a few tense moments he finally nodded, “I’ll get our men ready.”
“I want to leave within the hour.”
She turned and walked away before Emmon could respond. She walked by Edrahn who was kneeling next to the ruins of a house with one of her hands planted on the ground in the still hot ashes. Her wife showed no signs of discomfort despite the smoke rising from just under her palm. Her brow was furrowed as if concentrating on something.
“What is it my love?” Caleste asked.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “I can sense traces of magic in these ruins.”
“You think there’s a mage with them?”
That information wouldn’t change Caleste’s decision about going after these raiders, though a mage may require a slight change of tactics.
“That’s the thing,” Edrahn stood up, the same strange expression on her face, “I can sense magic all through these ruins but it’s not … it’s not ours.”
A sense of unease crawled down Caleste’s spine at that. She had never seen her wife so spooked. For a moment she wondered if she was making the right decision to go after the raiders instead of returning to Caleston to bolster her forces and inform the queen. Almost immediately she shrugged off the thought, annoyed at herself for being worried.
Everything would be fine.
She placed a hand on her wife’s shoulder, “We’ve faced worse,” she said, “Between you and I, these raiders don’t have a chance. Strange magic or no.”
Edrahn flashed her wife a grin, “I know.”
***
Within the hour they were back on their mounts and following the trail the raiders had left behind. Caleste rode in front with Emmon and Lovac while Edrahn stayed further back in the middle of the column, flanked by Theran and another knight. The sun was high overhead though Caleste could barely tell. The smoke and the thick forest canopy mostly choked out the sunlight. Their world was reduced to a hazy, unnatural twilight and Caleste could see only a few feet in front of her in the murk.
Her sense of unease hadn’t abated since they left Odrum, a nagging voice that had been once a whisper in her head was now practically screaming at her that this was a very bad idea. She ignored it for the most part but kept a sharp watch for any signs of danger. The forest was dead quiet save for the sound of their horses.
The haze only thickened around them.
Caleste noticed her horse was lagging and its breath came out in a harsh wheeze. She turned to ask Emmon if his horse was having any difficulties when a surprised yelp and a loud crash broke the unsettled quiet of the forest. Everyone turned in alarm to see what caused the disturbance:
One of the knights near the rear of the column was now on the ground, groaning and rubbing his sore shoulder. His leg was trapped under his horse that now lay on the ground barely breathing. Immediately everyone stopped, Emmon began barking orders, “Stay sharp - Theran, Meris: Get that horse off his leg.”
“What happened?” Caleste asked. She felt her horse swaying unsteadily under her, it was the only warning she got before it too dropped. It was only due to her quick reflexes that she didn’t get trapped under her steed, she hit the ground and rolled out of the way before the horse could land on her.
Her mask became dislodged as she did so, and she got a lung full of the air that surrounded them. Almost immediately her throat seemed to seize up on her as the overpowering stench of sulfur filled her lungs. She hacked and wheezed; her stomach roiled in protest at the strong odor.
She scrambled to put her mask back on and turned to Edrahn, “Clear this out.”
Her voice barely came out in a rasp, but Edrahn heard her. Edrahn wasn’t well versed in wind magic, she was much more of a fireballs out of your fists kind of woman, but she still knew the basic principles behind the action. She began whispering to herself as she concentrated. The branches in the trees began to sway and creak as the wind picked up all around them.
Edrahn was staring upwards at the canopy and the clear air she hoped was above. Over the roar of the wind Caleste couldn’t hear their attackers and didn’t notice them until it was almost too late. The only warning she got was the glint of blackened metal from behind a few trees. Almost immediately after an arrow came screaming through the air at her. It was buffeted by the strong winds and knocked off course, skittering harmlessly over the maille that covered her arm before embedding itself into the tree behind her.
Slowly the deadly fog cleared out from around them and the haze dissipated enough to reveal their attackers. There were around twenty in total, wearing varying amounts of the strange black metal armor and wielding weapons made of the same material. Caleste noted that while some were wearing armor that looked more or less intact, the majority were practically wearing scraps.
What made her heart stop though was what the creatures wearing the armor looked like.
They were not human, not entirely, she thought to herself. Their skin was a pale gray and pulled taught across their cheekbones. Their eyes seemed clouded as if they were blind … or dead. She half expected them to stumble and stagger when they walked; she was shocked when one of them leaped at her with a burst of speed and brought its ax down on her head.
She barely dodged to the right, the ax slammed down onto her shoulder and clove through the metal of her cuirass. The maille underneath provided enough protection to keep her from losing her arm but she felt the force of the blow through the gambeson she wore. She kicked out at her attacker, knocking its legs out from under it. It went down with a mighty crash.
Caleste was on top of it before it could stand up, she withdrew her dagger from her belt — it was a long and stiff-bladed weapon, used for stabbing between gaps in plate or breaking through maille. Her attacker wore neither, clad in what she deemed a sorry excuse for a gambeson and a brimmed helm like the one she saw in Odrum.
She slammed the dagger into its chest. It opened its mouth as if it wanted to scream in pain, but nothing came out, instead it gripped her arm so tight she swore she could feel her bones creak. With a grunt she managed to wrest herself from its grip and yank the dagger out. The next time the blade came down it went into its neck. Nearly black blood oozed from the two wounds and after a few feeble attempts to fight back, the creature finally lay still.
Caleste had no time to process what had just happened as there were still more enemies to fight. All she really gathered in that moment that she had been wrong: These were most certainly not raiders from the Southern Kingdoms.
She was pretty sure they weren’t even human.
She took a few moments to grab her halberd from the ground where it fell after her horse had collapsed. Around her the small battle raged: Lovac was already down with an arrow to the chest, Theran and Meris had taken up guard near the soldier who still had his leg pinned under his fallen horse. Emmon had moved next to Edrahn, protecting her as the winds continued to swirl around them.
A large figure stepped into her periphery and Caleste raised her halberd to block a blow meant to kill her. It was the best armored of the bunch and Caleste surmised it must either be the leader or at least of a higher rank than its companions. Its eyes seemed to gleam under the visored helm it wore. It brandished a long two-handed sickle-like sword. She had managed to catch the blow on the long handle of its sword rather than the blade.
It pressed the sword into the haft of her halberd and shoved, knocking her off balance. The wicked point of the black blade came dangerously close to her face before she managed to regain her footing. She stepped to her right while raising her right arm and letting her left arm drop. Her foe, still putting a considerable amount of force on the blade, stumbled forward as it suddenly met no resistance. She let go of the haft with her right hand, letting the halberd pivot backwards around her left hand.
The head of the halberd slammed into her foe’s chin, the armor it wore was the only reason it didn’t have its jaw cloven in two. In fact, the moment that Caleste’s halberd hit the creature, it felt like she had slammed her halberd into the side of a mountain. Her hands tingled painfully as the force of the blow reverberated up the haft.
“What the?”
The creature seemed unfazed by the blow and stood up with a grunt. It attacked again, swinging its blade viciously at her and this time the edge of the blade caught the haft of her weapon. She watched in astonishment as the blade broke the wooden haft in two.
The creature’s shoulders shook as it made a rasping noise, as if it was laughing at her predicament. She dropped the useless half of her haft and clutched what was left of it in both hands. She wasn’t going to go down without a mighty fight.
With a loud cry, Caleste moved in on her foe with her broken halberd raised — giving it an opening to attack. The creature lunged.
Caleste dodged the thrust at the last second, stepping off to the side as the blade carved into her cuirass. Instead of striking it directly (she had certainly learned her lesson from before) she delivered a savage kick to the back of its knee as it stepped forward and it collapsed as its leg buckled beneath it. She put all her strength into driving the point of the halberd’s spike to the creature’s back. Once again, its armor stopped the blow, though the strike certainly had put a dent into the metal.
The creature slammed its hand on the ground. Almost immediately Caleste felt the ground heave beneath her, and she lost her balance. Her ankle rolled painfully as the unstable ground gave way and she fell to the dirt on her hands and knees.
Caleste noticed more activity in the woods around her, but she paid no attention to it as she focused on the immediate threat. The creature staggered upright with a grunt, favoring its uninjured leg and raising its sword.
“Caleste!”
Caleste was now knocked completely flat onto her stomach as a huge gust of wind slammed into her and the creature. The creature was pushed back several feet and into the trunk of a pine tree. Caleste looked back to see her wife with her staff raised and the air swirling violently around her. Her expression was apoplectic as she stared down the creature.
“Stay away from my wife.”
She had said it quietly but with the winds carrying her voice through the clearing it might as well have been a shout.
Caleste looked around her and saw there were many more people in the clearing than before - many more human people. Warriors in nasal helms with aventails that obscured their faces and golden scale armor were now amongst those battling the creatures in black. One of them grabbed one of the creatures and the air shimmered around the two.
She heard its bones crack before it crumpled to the ground in a twisted heap.
Caleste turned to face the creature she had been fighting only to see it stepping back into the woods and disappearing into the brush and thick haze. She stood up and hobbled after it while ignoring the pain that shot up her ankle. Air rushed past her as Edrahn cleared out the smoke that obscured her path, but it was no use.
There was a low rumble, a slight jolt in the earth, and the creature was gone. A disturbed patch of ground was the only sign that the hole it had disappeared into was there at all. Caleste lowered her broken halberd with a scowl and limped back to the clearing. Edrahn was at Caleste’s side in moments, offering her shoulder for a tired and injured Caleste to lean on.
“Thanks honey,” Caleste said as she sagged against her wife taking the opportunity to kiss her gently on the temple. She couldn’t express how relieved she was to see Edrahn unhurt.
“Any time dear.”
Emmon approached them, next to him was a man clad in the golden scale armor — he had taken his helmet off and had it tucked under his arm.
“What are you doing here?” Caleste asked.
“Same as you it seems,” the man answered, “We were chasing those damned things. They’ve ravaged several of our towns ... We thought we’d never catch them until we found they were attacking you.”
“Thank you,” Caleste said, though her thanks was more out of polite obligation than gratitude. She stared around the now calm battlefield and saw what the battle had cost. Lovac was most certainly dead, as was the soldier who had gotten pinned under his horse who now had his chest caved in by what appeared to be a blow from a mace. Theran was leaning against a tree; she yanked off her ruined vambrace to reveal a bleeding wound underneath.
There were varying other degrees of injury she noted but aside from Lovac and the soldier under the horse — no one else seemed to be dead.
“What were those things?” Edrahn asked quietly, her voice shook slightly, “They felt …”
She trailed off and Caleste could feel her shudder.
“Whatever they were,” the man said, “They’re not human and they’re ruthless.”
“Their armor was strong too,” Caleste said, “Whatever metal that was made of — it can’t be normal iron or steel.”
She took a moment to examine the broken halberd still in her free hand. The spike was visibly deformed, the sharpened point made dull by the blow she had landed on the creature’s armor. The blade of the halberd where it had met the creature’s armored jaw was similarly deformed. Her eyes wandered down the wooden haft; she had thought it had snapped in two as it certainly wasn’t the first time that had happened — though she had just gotten the damn thing replaced.
Her eyes widened as she finally examined the break.
It wasn’t a break — the haft had been cut cleanly in two.
“We should alert the queen,” Emmon spoke up, “She needs to hear of this.”
Caleste’s grip around her broken halberd tightened and her expression soured. They had been made to look like fools in this battle! She had been knocked flat and injured, her weapon broken as if it were a toy. The only thing that hurt more than her ankle was her pride.
Talk to the queen? Tell her what happened here? No. She wouldn’t do that.
She had already asked for help once and she wasn’t about to do it again. What kind of ruler was she that she had to ask for help to handle such a small problem as this? No. She could handle this. She could prove her worth.
Her reply was short and harsh.
“No. We can handle this on our own.”
“M’lord …,” Emmon began but she cut him off.
“We’ll take our wounded and dead and ride back to Caleston,” Caleste said, “We raise an army, and we scour every inch of this damned countryside until we find these … things … and show them that we don’t run — we win.”
Odrum had been reduced to a pile of ash and death. Caleste, Edrahn, and the knights picked their way through the wreckage of destroyed houses. The cloth masks on their faces kept the worst of the stench out. They guided their horses carefully so as to not to trod upon the charred bodies that remained intact. Edrahn was grasping her staff so tightly that Caleste was worried that it’d snap in her hand. She’d have reached over to hold Edrahn’s other hand to comfort her if she wasn’t grasping her halberd with a similar tenseness. There was no telling if whatever had attacked the village was still lurking around the thick smoke that still blanketed the town and reduced their visibility to only a few dozen feet around them. They needed both their hands free in order to react quickly to whatever threat may arise.
“What could have done this?” Emmon asked. His voice was scarce above a whisper, as if concerned about alerting an unseen enemy.
“Odrum may be a small village but they certainly would have been able to defend themselves from any bandits coming in from the Barrens,” Caleste said, “A desperate lord from the Southern Kingdom perhaps?”
Edrahn’s lips pressed into a thin line and she shook her head. She hailed from the Southern Kingdom before she had met Caleste — she knew her people, “No lord would be this ruthless, this … destructive.”
“I agree,” Emmon said, “If they were desperate for food and resources, I doubt they’d burn everything to the ground before they could loot the place. Not to mention it would be suicide to go against Irozia — especially with an act of violence as egregious as this. We may have had years of peace but the Southern King knows that Queen Venera has him outmatched.”
Caleste looked down at the ground below her and almost wished she hadn’t. A ghastly skull clad in a blackened helm stared back up at her. She flinched back and brought her horse to a sudden halt.
“What is it?” Edrahn asked and Caleste felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment and shame from being so quick to spook.
“Nothing to be frightened of,” she said and regained her composure before she dismounted next to the corpse, “Just the dead body of a soldier.”
She knelt down to examine the charred remains. The corpse was mostly buried in the rubble of a collapsed house with seemingly only its head intact. Her confusion at the situation deepened as she got a better look at the helmet clad skull. The fire damage could explain the inhuman look of the skull but the helmet itself? That didn’t look like any helmet she was familiar with. It certainly wasn’t a helmet any member of a town militia in her countship would be wearing. She surmised that the body she saw must have been one of the raiders. However that didn’t help her much with identifying who exactly it was that just destroyed one of her towns.
In fact the mystery only deepened as she stared down at the skull and the helmet it wore. Most helmets from the Southern Kingdoms were conical nasal helms with maille aventails that covered the face and neck. Bandits, or really any warrior from the Barrens, wore thick cloth as their armor and usually wore no helmets.
This helmet was made of some form of metal, though Caleste wasn’t entirely sure it was iron, and it was in the shape of a brimmed hat. Under the helmet the creature wore a maille coif made of the same blackened metal as the helmet. She placed a few fingers on the helmet, rubbing it slightly to see if it were soot that would rub off. Her hand came back only slightly darkened by soot but the metal of the helmet remained a deep, glossy black.
“This isn’t any metal I’m familiar with,” she said and looked up at Emmon who had approached to examine the skull.
He shook his head, he hadn’t seen metal like that either.
Caleste carefully lifted the helmet from the skull and she heard Emmon make a noise of shock. The man was a hardened veteran, a soldier who had fought in the queen’s army during her campaign to retake the throne. He had seen far worse than this, they both had.
The skull looked almost human to Caleste — everything seemed to be in the right place at least: Two eyes, a nose, and a ghastly gaping mouth with soot stained teeth. However there was something still unsettling about it, something that stirred a feeling deep in her veins that she was only vaguely familiar with.
She reached out to touch the maille coif and as one of her fingers brushed the skull it crumbled into a heap of ash. She drew her hand back, her finger that touched the skull tingled slightly as if it had been shocked.
“Caleste?” Edrahn asked, her voice was laced with worry.
Caleste stood up and attached the helmet to one of her saddlebags, “We can’t do anything for the poor souls here,” she said, “Let’s go.”
“Where?” Emmon asked.
“Where do you think?”
Anger and indignation had been building up in Caleste like a thunderhead on a summer’s day. Sure she felt sorry for the people who died in Odrum and the child who now sat in her castle who was likely the only survivor of the carnage. But more than that she felt pissed.
No one marched into her countship and made a mockery of her. First the terrible winter and now this … this insult. Caleste, the noble and heroic countess who couldn’t protect her own people.
She couldn’t stand by that.
She needed to find whoever did this.
They needed to pay.
“We’re going to find who’s responsible for this, and make sure they never do this to me again,” she said.
Emmon looked uncertain, “M’lady I’m not sure this is a good idea. Look at what destruction these raiders wrought — we should get reinforcements.”
“We haven’t the time,” Caleste said, “They could be marching on Caleston as we speak. Are we not the best warriors in the queendom? Did we not prove that over and over again? We can prove it once more.”
Her tone allowed for no further argument though Emmon looked as if he wanted to press the point. He sighed and gave a curt nod, “I’ll send Theran and Lovac to look for any trace of where our attackers went.”
“Good,” Caleste said, “Have them start looking to the south of the settlement.”
“You still think this is the Southern Kingdom,” Edrahn said.
Caleste looked to her wife, “Who else could it be Edrahn? They suffered through the same winter as we had. I know you don’t want to believe your people did this but who else could it have been? This doesn’t look like the work of simple bandits.”
“I think your desire to prove your worth is clouding your judgment.”
“I think your love of your people is clouding yours.”
Caleste would always marvel at how Edrahn, despite being a head shorter than her, could manage to stare down at her. She wasn’t about to back down though — she knew this had to be the Southern Kingdom. It literally couldn’t be anyone else.
Edrahn wasn’t going to yield any ground either, “So if the Southern Kingdom did attack us as you so adamantly believe — to what end? What could they possibly gain from this?”
“It’s a tactic,” Caleste said, “Encroach on my territory, raze a few villages to the ground, and burn our farmsteads … It’ll become too big of a problem for me to ignore and so they’ll force me into a battle.”
It’s what she would do. It’s what she had done.
“So you’re giving them what they want.”
“I’m putting a stop to this before it becomes a big problem.”
Caleste looked away from her wife and back over the ruins of Odrum; her mask slipped slightly and she hurriedly readjusted it. The stench of death and smoke was very familiar to her yet it still was nearly overpowering. Perhaps she had lost her touch in the years of peace.
She furrowed her brow in confusion as she retied the mask — she had smelled what she would have expected from a scene like this: the acrid scent of burnt houses and the nauseatingly sweet stench of charred flesh. However added to the smell was the pungent, nose stinging stench of sulfur.
Torvola did not get much sleep that night. After the day’s events she thought she’d have slept like the dead. Instead she had cried until her head ached and her exhausted body finally succumbed to a restless sleep. She was quite suddenly ejected from her fitful slumber by the earth shifting violently below her body. She bolted upright, cussing and looking worriedly at the stone walls around her that creaked and groaned in protest at the sudden movement of the ground. The quake lasted a few seconds more before slowly ebbing away - the ground not feeling quite as stable as it had before.
She looked to the window, the pane had cracked but not shattered. Outside she heard the sounds of bricks hitting the cobblestones and people shouting. The glass the window was made of was frosted, allowing light in but not allowing her to see the scene below. Torvola walked back to her bed and pulled her shift over her head. Her hands trembled as she picked up the tunic that lay on the chest and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
How close had the source of that quake been? Was it another rift? Were they going to be attacked by the same monsters that had ravaged her village?
Venera had a powerful army at her disposal, the most talented mages in her employ, and the castle was the most fortified structure in the realm. They had a fighting chance if a horde of those things attacked.
Though Torvola shuddered to think of the losses they would suffer in such a battle were it to occur.
She finished dressing and stepped out of the room into the chaos that filled the hallway. Servants were rushing about, checking for damage and cleaning the dust and powdered stone that had fallen from the walls in the tremor. The guards seemed more calm though still on edge, hands tightly grasped the hafts of their poleaxes and they walked stiffly as if every muscle were tensed, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.
Torvola heard snippets of discussion as she walked the hallways.
“Is this what hit the coast?”
“How long until those things come at us?”
“Can the castle take another shake like that?”
She ran into Massim, the man was talking to a younger woman, “How much damage do you think we took?”
“Enough to knock bricks loose,” the woman said, “I’ve sent my apprentices to inspect the outer walls - I wouldn’t be concerned: this castle was built to handle sieges Massim.”
Massim scoffed, “The ground itself moved. Tell me: was the castle built to handle that?”
He noticed Torvola’s arrival and gave her a nod in greeting, “Lady Torvola, are you well?”
“I’m fine Massim,” Torvola said, “A tad shaken I suppose.”
Massim let out a strained chuckle, “I think we all are. I presume Her Majesty will call for us soon to discuss this.”
Torvola felt a pang in her heart at the mention of Venera. She swallowed the lump that suddenly rose in her throat and nodded, “Of course.”
He motioned for Torvola to accompany him and they walked through the castle grounds, the fortress was still standing, though there was certainly damage. As they stepped out into the courtyard they were roughly shoved aside by a woman in green robes barreling past them. The reason for her haste was made known only a few moments later when Torvola spotted a group of guards surrounding one of their own who was prone on the ground, his dented helm was cast carelessly aside. Blood leaked from a grievous wound on his head and stained the stones below.
The woman knelt by the man and muttered a few words under her breath as the air wavered around her.
Massim frowned at the sight, “If we’ve dealt with this amount of damage and injury within our walls, I shudder to think of the situation in the city.”
Torvola looked to the gates that remained tightly shut, “I’m sure our queen will send aid as soon as she can. I don’t recall us ever getting tremors this deep into the continent.”
“No,” Massim shook his head, “This is unusual. Sometimes we get small tremors, the earth settling or some ancient crack in deep in the ground slipping.”
“Ancient cracks?” Torvola asked.
Massim shrugged, “Where I came from, we dealt with these situations a lot more often. It gave a lot of evidence and reason for us to theorize about what caused them. Of course you’d get the ‘wrath of Tepra’ explanation from the priests, but some of us though were interested in more grounded explanations for these things.”
Torvola wasn’t sure if he caught onto the pun or not as Massim continued without skipping a beat. He was seemingly in his element now, spouting off all sorts of theories as to the cause of tremors, “Of course my uncle thought that movement of air underground would push the rocks enough to shake the ground. I read elsewhere that there was evidence that massive sections of earth are moving around, like lily pads on a pond. When they bump into each other, they cause quakes.”
“That makes no sense,” Torvola said, “Rock can’t float on water. The ground isn’t constantly moving.”
“Well of course they can’t! It’s not water they float on … it’s rock … molten rock. The currents that flow through them move slowly, almost imperceptibly,” Massim said. He looked at Torvola with a gleam in his eye, “You must know the ground isn’t as solid as it seems. There’s always small cracks, faults in within the earth itself. If the songs the bards sing about you are correct … you grew up the daughter of a miner, yes?”
“A lord of a mountain town,” Torvola corrected, “But I spent a fair amount of my childhood underground.”
“Then you know,” Massim said, “You know the continent can’t be a solid chunk of rock - so why can’t it be split like lily pads in a pond … just more tightly packed. Do you think the Barrens sprung up out of nowhere? No - two or more of these sections of continent … of these ‘lily pads’ - they must have collided, pushed against each other and forced themselves up into those massive mountains.”
Torvola rubbed the bridge of her nose, thoroughly lost, “So we don’t sit on one of these … boundaries.”
“I don’t think so,” Massim replied, “Given the history of the area - and how absurdly flat it is out here.”
“So quakes are not common at all.”
“No.”
“So what’s causing them?”
Massim grew quiet, “I don’t know,” he finally said.
Adren approached, “Master Massim, Lady Torvola,” he said with a bow, “Queen Venera requests your presence in the council chambers immediately.”
“Both of us?” Torvola asked, surprised.
“Yes,” Adren replied, “Both of you.”
Massim shot Torvola a questioning look and she shrugged.
***
“We all agree.”
The gaze of everyone who sat around the council table snapped to the three figures that had stepped into the room. Torvola knew of them, the Seers of Irozia: Camock, Eduron, and Galfus. Three powerful and mysterious mages who were born with the gift of foresight. Though their predictions were never definite as the future was as fickle as the winds.
It was Eduron who spoke first but Camock continued, “We are all in grave danger.”
“The earth splits, darkness - blacker than pitch - oozes from the cracks,” Galfus said.
“The dark poisons the ground,” Eduron said, “Rot, sulfur, death … so much death.”
“When?” Venera asked.
“A week,” Galfus said, his voice trembling.
“Nay … one … maybe two months,” Camock said with a dirty look at Galfus.
“I say we may have up to a year,” Eduron glared at the other two who glared back at her.
“Great,” Venera said with a sigh, “Even when you all agree that the world is about to end - you can’t give me an accurate answer as to when.”
“We can’t prepare the realm in a week,” Uthred said, the sharp edge of panic to his voice cut through the tension in the room.
“How certain are you,” Torvola looked to Galfus, “Are you sure it will be a week.”
“As sure as I can be … currently,” Galfus answered.
“Currently,” Torvola said flatly.
Guin spoke up, “It means he’ll change his mind by lunch,” she looked at Venera, “I don’t know why you keep consulting these three.”
Venera stared evenly back at Guin, “They’re the best we have.”
Streta cleared her throat, “The Seers may be mysterious in their methods but they’re reliable - most of the time.”
Massim let out a breath, “Fine. They agree that some great evil is upon us. Where? When? How bad?”
He rolled his eyes as the seers began to squabble amongst themselves.
“The Barrens,” Camock said, “It will begin there. It will be a slow spread - like the roots of a tree cracking the earth.”
“No no no,” Galfus said, “Here. It will happen here. Beneath our feet! Fast. As sudden as snuffing out a candle. We will all die!”
“You both are wrong,” Eduron snapped, “To the southeast - towards Disaba. It will take a long while for it to reach us. We may yet live if we prepare now.”
Torvola crossed her arms and watched as the rest of the council table began to devolve into chaos. Uthred rose his voice as he started arguing with his sister, “We need to prepare. We haven’t much time!”
“For what?!” Guin asked, “We can’t fight the earth itself!”
“They can’t tell us where and when,” Massim said, “How sure are we that this shared vision of theirs will persist?!”
“You dare question the Seer’s visions?” Streta glowered at Massim.
Massim scoffed, “They can’t even agree on what the cooks are going to make for supper tonight.”
“And you think that we should sit back and twiddle our thumbs, waiting for them to come to some better consensus before we act? We may be dead before then,” Uthred shot back.
“We can’t just raise our entire army in a week,” Guin said, “Even you know that.”
Venera and Torvola exchanged a glance and Torvola stood up from the table and placed her fingers in her mouth and blew. An action she had done many times before in situations just like these. The high pitched, loud whistle echoed off the rocky walls of the room - much louder than the shouts that had filled the air.
The room went dead silent as everyone looked at Torvola and then at Venera as she cleared her throat.
“We have much to discuss,” she said, “But perhaps we should take a break before we reconvene.”
“Your Majesty,” Uthred began to say.
“We won’t resolve this in the next ten minutes,” Venera said, “Especially not if we’re all shouting at each other. Take a break.”
“Perhaps we give our seers some more time to … do whatever they do,” Massim said, “Perhaps they’ll reach a better consensus by this evening?”
Torvola couldn’t shake the sense of déjà vu that washed over her as she opened her door later that night to see Venera on the other side. How was it that even out of her fancy robes and dress, clad in a plain linen shift, and her hair down that she still looked so regal? Well … perhaps Torvola was a bit biased. Torvola stepped aside to let Venera into her chambers, remembering all the times before that Venera had paid her a late night visit. Though, she felt that this visit would go a bit more differently than the ones before.
Torvola closed the door and turned to face Venera.
“I missed you at dinner; I hope you’re well,” Venera said.
“Yes,” Torvola replied, “I just …”
She trailed off, looking for the right words to say, to describe how she felt and how she was still feeling. There weren’t any that came to mind.
“… I wasn’t feeling well,” she finished lamely.
Venera furrowed her brow, and she began to look Torvola over, “Is your shoulder alright? Did you get hit anywhere else? Do I need to call for a healer?”
“No,” she replied, “No it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Venera asked.
Torvola motioned for Venera to sit on one of the chairs, she noted that the nest of blankets and pillows that her guests had slept on the previous night were no longer there. She wondered if they had all found accommodations elsewhere — did Venera help with that? Torvola sat down in a chair across from Venera but didn’t relax. She felt tense and so very tired.
‘Just tell her,’ a tiny voice spoke up, ‘Tell her how you really are feeling.’
She knew that even after all this time, even after all she had done, Venera still loved her deeply. Torvola took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tried to relax. She leaned forward and rested her forearms on her knees.
“… It’s hard … coming back here,” she finally said as she looked down at her hands clasped in front of her.
“Not because of you,” she added quickly and looked up at Venera, “It’s everything else.”
Venera nodded, “I understand,” she said.
A small part of Torvola bristled in annoyance — how could she understand? She was so damn happy after they had retaken the city, so damn happy she had claimed her place on the throne. Everyone celebrated that week while Torvola mourned. How could Venera possibly understand the pain she felt?
She felt broken. She had nearly killed Guin today and she wondered why she couldn’t have had that response that night on the hill when it actually mattered? She couldn’t sit still anymore. Venera blinked in surprise as Torvola abruptly stood up and stalked over to the window. She looked out over the city in the dwindling twilight, clouds arced across the darkening skies, painted red in the light of the sun that had just dipped below the horizon.
“We paid for this city in blood,” she said quietly. The red tinged sky brought back memories of the city in flames and of the blood of both her comrades and her enemies that ran through the streets.
“Blood that was willingly given,” Venera replied as she stood next to Torvola, “They knew the sacrifice they were making.”
“Did they?” Torvola asked softly though the pain in her voice was still evident, “Or did they only know of war from the songs of great warriors that the bards in their taverns sang?”
Torvola knew: No one knows exactly what they’re agreeing to until they actually have to experience it. No one knows of war, actual war, through happy songs of glory sung by the victors. To say otherwise would be a lie.
“If it weren’t for them … if it weren’t for you,” Venera said, “I would be dead and this land would still be under the rule of my father. A lot more blood would have been spilled if we didn’t act.”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t necessary,” Torvola said, “but it’s something I can’t forget or forgive myself for. No matter how hard I’ve tried — the war still weighs heavy on my mind.”
“You know,” Venera said as she rested a hand gently on Torvola’s shoulder. Torvola fought the urge to shrug it off, “It’s not a weight you have to carry alone.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Tell me what’s going on Torvola. Let me help you,” Venera was almost pleading.
For a brief moment she had considered giving in but she shut that thought down. To even think of what to admit to Venera caused her pain. She trusted Venera with her life but even she couldn’t bring herself to admit that she felt weak and broken; that she felt like she was no longer the warrior that had stood by Venera’s side and loved her more fiercely than she fought. Whether her reluctance was due to her not wanting to admit her own weakness to herself or to Venera she wasn’t sure. All she knew was she couldn’t.
She just couldn’t.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Torvola looked from the window to Venera, surprised by the hard tone her voice had taken. Venera let her hand drop from Torvola’s shoulder, “You weren’t the only one suffering after the war and you certainly weren’t the only one hurting.”
Venera turned away from Torvola as if she couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. She walked towards the hearth and looked into the dying embers.
“You left me,” Venera said - the pain in her voice tore at Torvola’s heart and she took a step towards the queen.
“Venera-,”
Venera turned so quickly that Torvola took a few steps back, her heart racing at the sudden movement. If Venera noticed, she didn’t seem to care at the moment; she was caught up in her own grief and anger, “My realm was in shambles and I still had enemies wanting to take the throne I had just won. If there was any time I needed help, needed support … it was then and you weren’t there! I wanted to help you and I had to watch as you turned me away again and again.”
“Because you didn’t understand!” Torvola argued, “You never understood!”
Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked to keep them at bay. Her heart thudded painfully, her breath came out in ragged gasps as she fought to keep control of the rage, the grief, and the guilt that roiled inside her. No one could possibly know what she was going through and she didn’t know if she wanted them to. She was hurting, Venera wasn’t helping, and so she had to leave. Simple as that.
“You didn’t even bother to try and make me understand,” Venera shot back, “All you did was sit in this damn room and fucking brood. You barely said a word to me between the time we celebrated our victory and the time you snuck away in the middle of the night. You were too much of a coward to even say goodbye.”
Torvola finally snapped, “If you truly loved me, if you truly needed me, then you’d have come after me. You’d have sent your best men, your best trackers … damn it Venera you’d have rode to the coast yourself. I was out there for fifteen years and you didn’t even bother even send a fucking letter. I left you? You were the one who left me.”
There was a long, quiet moment where neither woman dared breathe as they stared into each other’s eyes. The pain in Venera’s expression was too much and Torvola finally blinked and looked away. Thoughts and emotions tumbled in her mind like rocks in a landslide, leaving her without any words to say over the chaos in her head.
“You aren’t the woman I fell in love with,” Venera finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Torvola looked up sharply, opening her mouth to say something, say anything to refute this. That she was still the brave warrior that Venera had fell in love with. She was still the selfless woman that would throw her life down to save the woman she loved. She was still the brilliant tactician who thought out every detail of a battle plan carefully, taking every contingency into account. Then she thought to that night on the hilltop. The deaths that ensued because she wasn’t ready.
Saxus cut down in front of her while she turned heel and ran like a coward.
The words she were going to say died on her lips with her resolve.
Venera stared down at Torvola, a look of disappointment flashed across her features as if she were waiting for Torvola to put up a fight. To prove her wrong. She let out a long sigh and with tears pricking at her eyes she sharply turned her back on Torvola and walked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her and Torvola was left standing alone in the dark room with cheeks glittering from the tears that now freely streamed down her face.
Alright there is definitely an update coming out this upcoming Tuesday with hopefully a more regular update schedule. Sorry for the random break - I am great at keeping schedules and not ADHD at all.
So I realized regular updates probably won't actually be a thing because I was burning myself out (this is not my full time job and my full time job is ... let's just say the hours are very weird and I never am on a consistent sleep schedule which is not great for the physical or mental health).
But I do intend on getting back to updating this I swear. But I'm going to basically say ...
Sorry everyone - had some issues with writer's block and being unable to get the next chapter to the standard of quality I wanted it at ... my work schedule is just absolutely off the wall rn.
I'll be back Thursday! Hopefully after I catch up on sleep
The nap only helped Torvola a little. She woke up slightly less exhausted but very hungry. Her stiff joints protested as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stood up and stretched, several joints popped satisfyingly as she did so. The afternoon sun shone bright and warm through the frosted window and into her room.
She went to her chest by her bed and pulled out a fresh tunic. The gold embroidery on the hems shimmered faintly in the light and the cloth was as red as the day she bought it. It had been a while since she worn it, years really. She pulled it on; it sat loosely on her frame.
There was a gentle knock on her door before Adren entered, “M’lady? We’re to gather for supper. Her Majesty would appreciate your presence, though she would understand if you wish to have your meal in your quarters.”
“Thank you,” Torvola said, “I’ll be down in a bit.”
***
She forgot how crowded the Great Hall got at meal time. It seemed like everyone in the city had gathered in the large room and the air was stuffy and hot. Torvola stood just inside the entrance to the hall, and she hesitated as she examined the scene before her. Most people were already seated at tables laden with food. She spotted Jamen and his mother at one of the tables near the back of the room. He played with a small toy and looked up to beam at his mother from time to time. It was the happiest she had seen him since the disaster.
“Lady Torvola!”
Torvola turned to see an older man dressed in fine green robes. He had a well kept beard and long grey hair tied into a ponytail. She immediately recognized him as one of the lords from the northern provinces. She schooled her expression to hide her disdain, “Lord Breck.”
“I thought the rumors of your arrival to be untrue, and yet here you are,” he said with a cheerful lilt to his voice. His lips had curled into some approximation of a smile but Torvola noted it didn’t reach his eyes. Oh he had always hated her.
“Indeed, here I am,” Torvola said, “Are you well, m’lord? I see the northern winters haven’t been kind to you.”
His smile faltered, “I’m doing well. Better than you it would seem. Did you tire of living in that backwater?”
“Hardly,” Torvola said, “It was much more interesting than here. Better people too.”
She had given up on politeness with him a long time ago; he was never shy about his disapproval of her and she reciprocated the sentiment. His smile was gone, “So are you here for good or will you run off again?”
“That has yet to be determined,” Torvola said. She stepped into the hall and looked around. Guards were posted along the walls and by the doorways. There was the door that she had entered through and a few smaller doors she knew of that were meant as entries for the servants. At the end of the hall, behind the large and elevated table where the queen would sit, were large windows that went practically from floor to ceiling.
If things were to go wrong, she had at least five ways to exit the room. Four if she didn’t want to deal with crashing through a window. Of course, Venera may expect her to eat at the table up front which would mean the window would be to her back. If someone were to attack …
She shook her head to clear it. Why was she thinking like this? They were in the castle, guards were all around them, she didn’t need to be concerned right? She hadn’t had this level of concern in years. Granted: she hadn’t been in such a crowded place in years. She yearned for her quiet solitude with Saxus.
“Torvola?”
Torvola turned to see Venera standing behind her. She looked as regal as ever with a red flowing dress accented with gold and white embroidered roses. Her brow was furrowed in confusion and concern and Torvola wondered how long she had been standing there.
“Your Majesty,” Torvola said with a slight bow and a tinge of red colored her cheeks, “I’m sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”
“I’m glad you felt well enough to attend our meal,” Venera truly looked relieved, “I heard of what happened at the training grounds.”
Torvola ducked her head, feeling like a kid caught doing something wrong, “Is Guin well?”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Venera said, “Her head’s hard enough to break through our walls.”
“So I’ve heard,” Torvola said with a small smile.
Venera studied Torvola’s face, “How are you feeling?”
Torvola looked away from Venera’s scrutinizing gaze and at the room around her, “It’s been a while since I’ve been in a room with this many people.”
Venera’s face fell, “I’m sorry, I should have realized…”
“It’s fine,” Torvola assured her even though it was very much not fine.
Guin made a reappearance at the dinner; she hardly looked bothered by the noise and bustle of the room. Torvola wondered if her headache had gotten better and she felt relief at seeing the captain up and about. She took a steadying breath and approached Guin, “I’m glad to see you well.”
“You’d have to hit me a lot harder than that to cause me harm,” she said with a cocky grin, “How about you? Is your shoulder alright?”
The corner of Torvola’s mouth quirked upward, “I’ve been hit harder by a falling feather.”
Guin guffawed, “Must have been some feather.”
Torvola felt eyes on her and she looked past Guin to see Uthred staring at her, scrutinizing her. He caught her gaze and looked away, returning to his conversation with Breck. She stared at him for a moment longer and wondered if he was angry at her. What could he possibly be angry about? Guin was the one who challenged her, not the other way around. Guin had opened herself up to the risk of injury the moment she had approached Torvola.
‘If you had been in control though, you wouldn’t have hurt her,’ a small voice in the back of her head piped up.
She knew it was right, she had lost focus and it ended up causing them both injuries. She should have had better control over herself, right? Before she could beat herself up anymore about it, Adren approached her.
“I’ll show you to your seat, m’lady.”
She was sat at the end of the table, close to the small door that the kitchen staff went in and out of. Torvola looked at Venera and wondered if she had chosen this place for Torvola on purpose. If she knew of her concerns. It wasn’t exactly like her habit of scoping out every available exit was new. The noise in the room quieted as everyone took their seats but Torvola’s anxiety abated only slightly. At the very least she could scan the room more effectively.
Her hand spasmed and she looked down to see she had been gripping her fork so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Slowly she let out a breath and relaxed her hand.
“… we welcome Lady Torvola, Hero of Irozia and Champion of the Iron Rose back to our castle — our home.”
Torvola looked up to see Venera had stood up and was addressing the room. How long had that been going on? Venera was now looking at Torvola and smiling and Torvola felt her heart thudding in her chest. She couldn’t be here.
She just … couldn’t be here.
She stood up abruptly and made her escape, exiting through the side door and leaving the surprised murmurs behind her. She’d apologize to Venera later — she needed to get out. She stalked past the kitchen staff that looked at her in curiosity and confusion. She wound her way through the halls and out one of the doors to the outside. There she sagged against the cool stone wall of the keep and tried to get her breathing under control.
“Are you alright?”
Torvola looked up to see she wasn’t alone — Rheni had joined her outside.
“I suppose I haven’t quite fully recovered from the day’s … excitement,” Torvola said.
“Only from today?” Rheni asked as she leaned against the wall next to Torvola. At Torvola’s look she continued, “You were not suffering alone after all of our battles were over. Venera noticed it … I had noticed it.”
Torvola crossed her arms and stared straight ahead, “It was harder to come back here than I thought.”
“Why?”
It took a long moment for Torvola to answer as she tried to collect her thoughts. She was so damn tired, “Too many people, too much going on … too many memories.”
She thought she had gotten better, she thought that she had gotten over this by now, but the day’s events had quite brutally proved otherwise. It frustrated and angered her to no end. Fifteen years. Fifteen years she had been far removed from the castle and from the war that she had fought to take it. Fifteen years to heal.
And in the past few weeks every single wound she thought had scarred over was ripped open anew. Her mind wandered back to that night on the hill and the sneering face of the Elder.
She wanted to drive a sword through it.
She took a deep breath to try to calm herself, “I don’t think I’ll be returning to the hall tonight.”
“I understand,” Rheni said, “I’ll have food brought up to your quarters.”
“Thank you, Rheni,” Torvola said as she pushed herself from the wall and stood up, “Let Venera know I’m retiring for the night.”
Rheni nodded and made to leave but hesitated for but a moment. She turned back to Torvola and reached out as if to put a hand on her arm, only to retract her hand when Torvola flinched, “I just want to say to you that you don’t have to fight this alone. Talk to Venera.”
Torvola sat for a while in the courtyard, letting the warmth of the sun and the gentle fragrance of the roses calm her. Her thoughts raced still: was she spending her life running from her pain? Would she go with Venera back to the coast? And if she did, what would happen afterwards? Would she return to the quiet village and try to heal from the painful memories of that night?
She wasn’t running, right? Life’s circumstances had caused her to walk this path. Her father was killed by the corrupt king and forced her to leave Flintshire to avenge him. She was all over the continent then helping Venera gather the support and army she needed to retake the throne from her mad father.
After the war she had to leave the castle she had spent years trying to take. Had to leave the woman she loved. The lords were getting restless and Torvola couldn’t bear to be another reason for Venera’s headaches. She wasn’t running from the pain, nor was she running from the fact that every time she looked at the queen, she saw blood and ruin rather than the woman she loved.
Maelsea had been a perfect location: Close enough to Flintshire where her cousin now ruled but still separate and quiet enough for her to find some peace. All she wanted was peace.
“Lady Torvola!”
The loud call behind her snapped her out of her thoughts and she turned to see Guin standing at the entrance to the courtyard. Her energy was practically radiating off of her as she strode over to the old knight, “I’ve always wanted to test my might against the Champion of the Iron Rose herself.”
“Are you challenging me to a duel?” Torvola stood and couldn’t help but look Guin up and down, sizing her up. The captain had a good few inches on her and if her arms were anything to go by — she was absolutely ripped. Would she rely on strength alone? Or was she quicker than she looked? With her height she’d have the advantage in range.
Guin shrugged, “Not exactly a duel. More like a friendly, non-lethal fight. You don’t have to accept…”
She paused for a moment and then said with the slightest of smirks, “I know you’re probably out of practice.”
If Torvola had any reservations about fighting, they disappeared as soon as those words left Guin’s lips.
“Lead the way,” Torvola said.
The training yard was a large dirt field just within the walls. Along one edge of the field sat a large, wooden shed and an adjacent stone building. The field itself was surrounded by wooden fencing, divided between an archery range and a sparring ring. In the ring, a man was instructing a young boy on how to wield a sword and shield.
“Keep your shield raised,” he called out as he struck with his sword. The dull wooden blade slammed against the wood of the shield with a loud clash. Torvola could tell that the man was holding back, walking the line between challenging the young boy but not overpowering him. She could see a few openings in the boy’s stance and his trainer seemed to notice because he quickly retracted his sword and struck at the boy’s unprotected leg.
The blade slapped against the leather armor on the boy’s leg with a thud and the boy reflexively jumped back.
“Your leg was too far out,” the man said, “Try not to do that next time.”
He noticed Torvola and Guin’s arrival and straightened up, “Captain.”
“We need the pit,” Guin said, “I’m about to kick the Hero of Irozia’s ass.”
Torvola shot Guin a look, the captain reminded her rather painfully of Caleste. The man’s gaze drifted to Torvola and he nodded, giving a respectful bow, “It’s an honor to meet you Lady Torvola.”
He ushered the boy away and Guin walked up to a weapon rack that sat in a small shed on the edge of the fighting ring, “Take your pick.”
She caught the attention of one of the guards, “Get some armor that’ll fit her.”
The guard looked Torvola up and down before jogging off to the large shed.
Torvola looked over at the weapons rack, she had been practicing with her arming sword the most in the past few years — solo drills weren’t fighting but it was better than nothing. She selected an arming sword from the rack and a beat up heater shield.
“I thought you’d take a polearm,” she said, “Get some reach.”
“I’m not winning the range game in this one,” Torvola said.
The guard returned with a worn old gambeson and a few hardened leather pads. The armor was a little large on her but she couldn’t exactly complain. The helmet had more than a few scuff marks on it and the padding on the inside smelled but it looked sound enough to protect her from any blows.
As they prepared for their match, they started to attract an audience. Torvola noticed Uthred had joined the growing crowd of onlookers. Guin selected a sword and shield of her own and hopped the fence into the ring.
Torvola was slightly slower in getting into the ring, ducking under one the wooden rail to enter the ring. The two women faced each other, Guin slapped the flat of her sword against her shield with a loud bang, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
They circled each other carefully, shields raised, swords poised, and looking for any openings. Torvola kept her distance, though she knew she’d have to move in close at some point, preferably to a point where Guin’s reach advantage wouldn’t matter. If she wanted to win, she had to take the initiative and make the first move before Guin could set the fight at her own tempo.
Guin’s posture was relaxed, and Torvola wondered if she was trying to look like she wasn’t taking this seriously or if she was truly that cocky. Did Guin think she was going to be slow in her movements? Impeded by her aging joints? If so: she was about to prove the younger woman very wrong.
With a sudden burst of alacrity that Guin was certainly not anticipating, Torvola pushed forward and was in striking distance of Guin almost before she could react. She raised her shield just in time to block a blow to her head. Torvola’s sword collided with the rim of Guin’s shield with a crack. Guin tried to back off, to get some distance and regain her balance but Torvola pressed the attack and kept her on her back foot. Their shields clashed with a force that sent vibrations up Torvola’s arm.
Strangely, she found herself rather enjoying this.
A fire lit in her blood that she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she cracked a small smile as she withdrew her sword to strike at Guin’s undefended side. Guin barely had time to dodge the blade as she finally gained her footing. It was at that point that she seemed to make the decision to simply overpower the smaller woman.
Torvola knew she had that advantage over her. Rehni had been right when she had told Torvola that she was skinny. Sure, Torvola was still fit but she was not in fighting shape, and she wasn’t exactly eating like royalty in her years away. Guin managed to shove Torvola back and she reeled from the force of the attack. She backed away several steps before regaining her footing. She stared down Guin who only grinned in response.
“That all you got?”
Thoran she was really reminding her of Caleste. That thought sent a pang of annoyance through her body that slowly turned to an anger that settled in her gut.
Oh, she was going to take Guin down a peg.
“No.”
Torvola pressed in for another attack, using her agility to her advantage and moving around Guin to strike at her side once more. Guin barely kept up with the attacks, spinning to meet Torvola but unable to strike back before Torvola forced her to block another blow.
It was a dog barking that did her in.
In a moment she wasn’t sweating in ill-fitting armor while facing down an opponent in a friendly fight. She was back on the hilltop, shivering and staring down the Elder that was about to kill Saxus. Her blood froze and her shield arm dropped as Guin sent a savage blow crashing down on her.
The explosion of pain in her shoulder brought Torvola back to the present but not fully. Guin had immediately pulled her blow when she noticed Torvola’s guard dropping, though it still hit with a force that caused herself to flinch, “Shit.”
The training field and the whole context of the fight disappeared. All Torvola saw was a threat and she had to destroy it to survive. Guin had lowered her guard, thinking the fight was over and concerned with Torvola’s shoulder. She dropped her sword to reach out to Torvola who was still hunched over slightly.
She was certainly not expecting the sudden blow as Torvola slammed her shield bodily into her midriff. The hit knocked the air out of her lungs but thankfully her armor seemed to have absorbed the worst of the impact. Guin wheezed as she backed away, shield arm hanging limply at her side. She didn’t have the wherewithal to raise it to protect herself from Torvola who was now moving on her with a ferocity she hadn’t seen before.
She winced as Torvola’s sword came crashing down on her helmet, the wood splintered with the force of the blow. Guin went down to one knee and tried to blink away the stars in her vision. Her ears rang, whether it was from the blow to the head or from the sound of the helmet getting hit she wasn’t quite certain.
Uthred was over the fence the moment he had seen Torvola attack his sister. He stepped in front of Guin, forgetting that he was considerably less armored and Torvola was still on the attack. It was only due to a pair of guards tackling Torvola that he managed to avoid getting hurt or worse.
Torvola struggled against the two guards that pinned her to the ground and held her arms behind her back. She wasn’t even aware of what they were yelling at her, only relenting when her strength finally failed her, and she was brought crashing back into reality. As if sensing her finally calming down, the guards released Torvola and she sat up. Her gaze snapped to Guin who was sitting on the ground, helmet off, and rubbing her aching head.
Uthred was knelt beside her with his hand on her shoulder and calling for a healer. Torvola’s gaze finally met with Guin’s, expecting to see anger but only seeing confusion and fear. Torvola looked away, shrugging off the grasp one of the guards still had on her arm and walking off. She ripped her helmet off and tossed it on the ground before hopping the fence and walking towards the castle through a crowd that quickly parted to let her through.
Guin looked at Torvola’s retreating form and finally spoke, “What the fuck?”
-
Torvola’s quarters were empty when she arrived, a small mercy the fates had thrown her way as she was not sure what she’d do if there was someone in her room at that moment. Her body was growing sore from the fight and her shoulder throbbed painfully with every beat of her heart. She slowly peeled off the rest of her armor and gambeson, sitting on her bed in her tunic that was soaked through with sweat. She was still calming herself down but was finding it hard. Her body still wanted to fight the threat.
Except there was no threat.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her right hand clenched into a fist and beat against her brow. This had been the first time in a long while that something like this had happened, that she felt like she was facing a threat that wasn’t even there. This was the first time she had managed to hurt someone.
‘Get it together.’
A light knock at the door caught her attention and she looked up. Briefly she considered whether or not she wanted to let anyone enter her room right now. However, it would be rude to refuse entry, “Come in.”
Rheni carefully opened the door and stepped in, in her hands were a bucket and a few rags, “I heard you and Guin were sparring, and you got hurt.”
“I’m fine,” Torvola said, “How is Guin?”
“Oh, she’s fine,” Rheni said as she set down the bucket by a chair and motioned for Torvola to come over, “Her head’s harder than the castle walls.”
Torvola stood up slowly and walked stiffly to the chair; the fight had taken more out of her than she cared to admit, “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“I know you didn’t,” Rheni said, “Accidents happen — now take off your shirt.”
Torvola pulled the tunic over her head, wincing when the motion aggravated her shoulder, “I shouldn’t have left. I should have gone and apologized.”
“You’ve plenty of time to do that.”
Rheni dipped a rag into the water and wrung it out. She gently wiped the dirt and grime off Torvola’s face and moved to her neck and chest, “I believe she and Uthred have retired to their quarters for the afternoon. She’s not hurt badly but you certainly gave her a headache.”
“Ugh,” Torvola groaned and hung her head. Rheni dabbed the cloth on the growing bruise on her shoulder and she flinched away.
Rheni tsked and put a hand on Torvola’s other shoulder and held her firmly in place. Her other hand came up to gently rest on the bruise and her brow furrowed in concentration. A blissfully cold feeling spread over the area and Torvola couldn’t help but lean into the touch. She had forgotten Rheni had learned some healing magic, it was a byproduct of her accompanying Venera on her campaigns in her youth.
Rheni was not much older than Torvola and yet she reminded her of a mother: always fretting over her charges and somehow knowing the right words to say to comfort. The pain ebbed away into numbness.
“It doesn’t appear you’ve broken anything,” Rheni said, “I’ve never heard of the great Torvola letting down her guard like that in a fight. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”
Torvola was quiet for a long moment; part of her wanted to tell Rheni about the dog and about how she had lost Saxus. That bark had distracted her, had brought her back to that night on the hill. However, when she opened her mouth to speak, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud. Finally, she managed to say, “I suppose I’ve lost my touch.”
Rheni made a noise indicating she did not believe a word Torvola had said but only replied in her calm manner, “I suppose it has been a while since you’ve fought anyone.”
“Yes,” Torvola’s shoulders sagged as Rheni let go. Exhaustion hit her like a wall and she wanted nothing more than to sleep, “I believe I’ll rest for the remainder of the afternoon.”
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Rheni said, “Would you like me to make you some tea?”
“No, thank you,” Torvola said, “Please summon me for the feast if I haven’t woken already.”
Rheni nodded in assent; she packed up her things and made to leave but hesitated at the door.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she said, “Perhaps we should find some time to sit down and talk, if you are up to it?”
Torvola managed a weary smile at her old friend, “Perhaps.”
The Shattering is a fantasy web novel about three queer middle-aged warriors banding together to fight an ancient evil that's threatening to literally tear the continent apart. They also semi-adopt a Chosen One kid in the process.
Torvola, an old knight who thought her fighting days were long behind her, takes up the mantle of champion once more to fulfill her duty to the queen. Cazan, an archer and a blood mage, fights to protect the kid they took on as a student and prove that there is such a thing as ethical blood magic. Caleste, a countess on an endless quest for fame and glory, throws herself headlong into the battle to save the continent (and finally get the hero title she rightfully deserves).
More detailed summary here.
******
Read it if you like:
Swords
Gays
Sword wielding gays
Honestly just lots of queers in this story
Fantasy
Action
Adventure
Lesbian angst
Somewhat witty dialogue
If it were up on AO3 it'd be somewhere between the Teen and Mature rating.
Content warnings: Fantasy violence (with somewhat detailed descriptions of blood and death but nothing too over the top), exploration of mental illnesses including PTSD, depictions of natural disasters, cussing.
Torvola found herself in a small room adjacent to the throne room. As her eyes cast around the familiar room she couldn’t help the blush that came to her cheeks as she laid eyes on the desk in the corner. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Venera watching her; the queen’s lips twitched in the the subtlest of smirks. At that moment Torvola felt very seen, and she cleared her throat slightly and pretended to be very interested in the map of the kingdom adorning the table in front of her.
Venera turned away from Torvola and addressed the rest of those gathered in the room, “We have much to discuss.”
Venera then nodded to Torvola, “This is Lady Torvola, she was my right hand and most trusted advisor. Torvola, this is my closest council, they are the best and brightest minds of the realm.”
All and all there were four others gathered around the table. A few pages stood along the walls and observed the goings on. A scribe sat at a desk, ready to take notes.
Torvola recognized one of the people at the table, Guin, the guard captain she had seen before. She wasn’t wearing her plate armor but instead wore a sleeveless gambeson and a loose pair of pants. To her right stood a man who was much shorter than she; despite the height discrepancy, he looked similar enough to be her brother with the same dark red hair, pale skin, sturdy build, and green eyes. His hair was much longer than hers and tied back in a braid.
Across the table stood a bearded man adorned in red robes patterned in gold and tied with a sash around his waist. His hair was covered by a white and black scarf that was loosely wrapped around his head, though from the beard, Torvola surmised his hair must be the same dark shade. He caught Torvola looking at him and offered her a friendly smile and nod, “Your tales had made it to even my corner of the continent,” he said, “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Master Massim is a scholar from the eastern reaches of the continent,” Venera said, “He advises me on all matters of the natural world.”
“And I balance out the opinions of our esteemed Royal Mage,” he said with a good natured grin as he cast a sideways glance at the woman who stood next to him.
She slightly rolled her eyes with a smile, “Ah yes, because your science can explain so much like how I can blast fire from my fingertips.”
“Valid point.”
“Anyway,” the woman said, “I’m Master Streta, as Master Massim’s alluded to — I advise our Queen on all things arcane in nature. I also keep Massim’s head from getting too big for his neck to support.”
Massim let out a sharp crack of laughter.
“Well met Master Streta,” Torvola nodded towards the mage, “When I was last in the presence of the royal council I believe it was Master Moras who had your seat. Is he well?”
“That fossil of a man?” Streta asked, “He’s fine. Doing well for pushing a century really. He stepped down to follow his own pursuits.”
“Well since we seem to be introducing ourselves,” the captain said, “I’m Lady Guin, captain of the Queen’s Guard.”
“I am Lord Uthred,” the man next to her said, “General of the Queen’s army and her right hand.”
Torvola noted how Uthred put a slight emphasis on his role as general and the annoyed glance Guin gave him in response.
Venera cleared her throat, “Now that we’ve introduced ourselves … Let’s focus on the matter at hand.”
Torvola ducked her head to hide her smile; she realized Venera had barely changed in the past fifteen years. The queen had spent most of her formative years away from the clutches of the convoluted dance that was life in the royal class. She was a no-nonsense woman, as direct as an arrow to the heart, and hardly concerned with decorum. Sure she was polite but she had spent the better part of a decade running around the continent with an army to regain her title, sleeping in the mud and cold, fighting hard won battles along side her loyal soldiers.
Venera had learned from a young age that flowery words and empty promises would only get you so far and actions would get you further. It seemed to be a lesson she took to heart and never forgot.
“We need supplies,” Torvola said, “And security - not only for any raiders who may take advantage of the chaos on the coast but if there are more Elders about.”
“Elders?” Massim asked.
“Creatures from the depths below the earth,” Torvola said, “They’re nasty things - skeletal figures barely held together with what little rotting flesh they have left. They’re clad in crude armor. They usually fight in packs, like wild dogs, but the attack on the coast was different.”
“Different how?” Uthred asked. His expression was grim and he and Guin exchanged glances.
“They’re using tactics. This was a large scale attack. If I had to say: it was coordinated along the settlements along the coastline,” Torvola said, “The wave was used to weaken any defenses and scatter organized resistance. Though they’d hardly have to weaken us with the element of surprise. It didn’t take that large of a force to decimate our numbers.”
“And how are you so sure that’s what they were planning?” Guin asked, “This could have been a random event.”
“I’m more concerned with where these Elders went after attacking the settlements by the coast,” Venera said, “It doesn’t sound like you killed them all.”
“If they didn’t retreat back to whatever dark hole they crawled out of, they’d have died with the sunrise,” Torvola said, “They can’t stand the light for too long. I’m not sure why the light hurts them, perhaps it’s due to them being underground creatures.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Guin said, “How do you know that this was planned?”
“I don’t,” Torvola said, “I’m as much in the dark about this as you are. However, this seemed way too organized to be random.”
Guin didn’t look particularly pleased with that answer, “Still … we could be concerned over nothing.”
“I still want to dispatch our fleet to the coast,” Venera said, “They need supplies and manpower out there and we need to secure our western border in case this was deliberate.”
Uthred spoke up, “And if this was deliberate - why now? What’s their objective?”
“Elders have no objective aside from destruction,” Torvola said tersely. Flashes of the dead bodies of those in her village surfaced, unwelcome, in her mind. She shook her head slightly.
Venera cleared her throat, “It seems safe so far to consider this an isolated incident, perhaps they took advantage of a natural event to attack the surface.”
“It’s been known to happen from time to time,” Torvola said, “On a smaller scale but they do sometimes surface from mine shafts or caves that have been disturbed. We’ve had to fight off a few surface attacks in Flintshire.”
Massim looked troubled, “You mentioned the wave — so this quake must have originated from off shore?”
“Yes,” Torvola said, “I’ve developed a … connection … with some of the sea walkers that frequent the coast.”
She didn’t miss the raised eyebrow Venera gave her.
“They reported a rift on the sea bed where the Elders must have come from. Why?”
Massim stroked his beard, “I’ll need to consult our historical record but from what I remember: we never had a history of any quakes or large waves along the coast.”
“If what Lady Torvola described was true, then opening a rift in the earth to allow an attack of this magnitude would require a lot of power,” Streta said, “Much more power than one mage can handle.”
Massim cast a glance at Streta, “I never said that it was impossible for a quake to happen along the coast, I merely mentioned it had never been recorded in the historical records.”
“We can’t rule out an arcane source for this Massim,” Streta said.
“Well we can’t rule out a natural source for it either,” Massim countered.
“Magic is natural.”
“What have the Seers said?” Venera asked.
Streta sighed, “They’re still convening. I doubt we’ll have an answer until tomorrow at earliest.”
“Those three will bicker until the sun dies,” Massim scoffed.
Streta laughed, “As if you could do any better.”
“I could, it’s all about seeking out patterns-,”
“Enough!” Guin slammed the palm of her hand on the table and all eyes turned to her. Her green eyes flashed as she stared angrily back at those gathered at the table, “We talk as if we’re certain this was somehow a deliberate attack on our lands. I haven’t heard any evidence aside from one woman’s assertion that this was out of the ordinary for their usual tactics. Perhaps they have more intelligence than Lady Torvola thought — you haven’t fought these creatures in a while, yes?”
“It’s been a few decades,” Torvola admitted.
“Instead of fretting about the slim potential of this being an attack on our lands, perhaps we plan a way to aid those who need our help along the coast,” Guin said, “That is a problem we can be sure of.”
Guin finally looked to her queen and seemed to remember where she was and to whom she was speaking to, “My apologies for my outburst Your Majesty. However, we’re squabbling over a situation that seems purely in the realm of fantasy. We have people in need.”
“Well put,” Venera said simply, “I agree, we must focus on the problems we know we have right now. We can investigate this incident further to verify if it’s something to be concerned about but for now we must focus on those who need aid right now.”
“We’ll ready the royal fleet, our coffer should be large enough to handle purchasing the supplies needed to feed the victims of this tragedy and to help rebuild their homes,” she continued, “We should be ready to sail in a week’s time.”
“‘We’?” Torvola asked.
“I intend on accompanying this relief mission,” Venera replied, “I would like to see the damage for myself.”
“I’ll ready the guard,” Guin said.
Torvola was quiet for the rest of the meeting, mind racing with worried thoughts as she thought of Venera going to the coast. Was Guin right? Was she worried over nothing? Mari had been so certain this was something that was not natural, something sinister. What if there was another attack? If something happened to Venera…
‘No,’ she thought, ‘You’re worrying over nothing.’
“Torvola?”
Torvola blinked, snapped out of her thoughts and she noticed she was standing alone in the study … well mostly alone. Venera stood by the table, staring at her with a look of confusion and worry over her features, “Are you alright?”
“If I said yes, would you even believe me?” Torvola asked with the faintest of smiles.
“Most certainly not,” Venera said and she returned the smile, “We haven’t talked in so long. Why don’t we take a walk and get some fresh air?”
They exited the room into a side hall that opened up to a large courtyard and garden. The rain had tapered off leaving a muggy and sunny day in its wake. Mist rose from the cobblestones as the sun beat down on the stone; the rose bushes that lined the edges of the courtyard were beginning to bloom, bright red and pink blossoms filling the air with fragrance.
“You seemed quiet towards the end of our meeting,” Venera said, “I’m sure I know why.”
“I suppose I can’t convince you to reconsider your decision,” Torvola said, “It still may be dangerous out on the coast.”
The corner of Venera’s mouth quirked upwards, “You say that as if I hadn’t spent over a decade riding into battle with you by my side.”
“Have you done that recently?” Torvola asked, “From what I’ve heard: the realm’s experienced an unprecedented peace.”
“Save for one upstart in the southeast? Yes,” Venera said, “However Guin’s kept me in shape.”
“Oh?”
“With my training,” Venera laughed as she lightly shoved Torvola in the shoulder, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
Torvola let out a laugh, “Hardly. She looks like a capable warrior, though perhaps a bit forward at times.”
“Her mind is always on action and hardly on planning,” Venera said, “Not like her brother … not like you.”
“So Uthred is her brother then?” Torvola asked, “I wouldn’t peg him for a general sort.”
“He’d surprise you,” Venera said, “His knowledge of tactics is nearly unparalleled.”
“Given your realm’s peace, how much of that knowledge is battle learned?”
Torvola knew the answer already: Uthred looked to her like he knew books more than battle. She was certain that he had learned from some of the brightest tacticians the continent had to offer. Uthred was a familiar name to her, a name he apparently shared with his father - one of the wealthiest lords in Irozia and a staunch ally to the queen. He had rode into battle with Torvola many a time and had proved his mettle until the very end.
Well now she knew why Guin seemed to bristle at her presence. Uthred seemed unbothered but he also seemed to be more tactful than his sister.
“I’m glad to see that Lord Uthred’s children are doing well for themselves,” Torvola said, “You certainly have put a lot of faith in them.”
They had reached the edge of the courtyard and Venera stared down at a rose bush as if examining it. She reached out and gently cupped one of the blossoms in her hand though she did not pull it from its stem, “It was the least I could do to repay him for his loyalty.”
Her voice was quiet and laden with grief and Torvola’s arm twitched, reflexively coming up to place a comforting hand on Venera’s shoulder. It took all her strength to fight that urge and her hand slowly lowered, “You weren’t the one who led him into battle that day: I was.”
“And I allowed you to go, despite of my better judgment,” Venera said with a sigh as her hand dropped back to her side, “I knew we needed to take the risk and Thoran knows that Caleste was ready to march out there and take the pass herself if we didn’t go.”
Torvola let out a bitter laugh, “The only thing holding her back that day were the healers.”
Venera looked up at Torvola, she reached out and cupped Torvola’s right cheek in her hand with the same gentleness that she had handled the rose. Her thumb smoothed over the scar that marred her right cheek, “You need to forgive yourself for that day.”
“I have — but I still regret every decision I’ve made regarding that battle,” Torvola said, “We almost lost everything.”
“And yet here we are,” Venera said.
They stood in the quiet courtyard in a castle they had paid in blood for, in a land they had retaken battle by brutal battle. Torvola had to remind herself to breathe as she looked into Venera’s eyes. It was the first time in years she had gotten a look at her old lover’s face: wrinkles creased her dark skin, her hair was streaked with gray, her cheekbones stood out a bit more prominently, and her dark brown eyes still held the shine to them that Torvola had remembered from all those years ago.
Her beauty still stole Torvola’s breath away.
“You look exhausted,” Venera said, “Have you gotten any sleep?”
“Not much,” Torvola admitted, “Not since the attack.”
Venera made a sound from deep in her throat as her forehead creased in concern, “How bad?”
“I’ve told you about the losses-,”
“I know you’re not dumb. You know I’m not asking about the numbers of dead or the houses destroyed. I’m asking about you.”
From the look Venera was giving her, Torvola knew she wouldn’t get away with trying to play it off. They had known each other for long enough that Torvola knew Venera could see past her lies and wouldn’t let her get away with it. Her shoulders sagged and she stepped back from Venera, albeit reluctantly. Her cheek felt cold at the lack of Venera’s hand.
A stone bench sat nearby under a tree and she sat down heavily on it. She cradled her head in her hands, frustrated by the fact that this had happened weeks ago and the pain was still as fresh as it had been that night on the hill, “I never wanted to go back to war.”
“I know,” Venera said as she knelt down beside Torvola and placed a hand on her knee, “And you don’t have to. Come with me when I go to the coast, I can take you home.”
Torvola looked at Venera and she could see the pain in her queen’s eyes; she didn’t want Torvola to leave again, to go back to her life on the coast. In all honesty: Torvola wasn’t quite sure she wanted to go back either. There was pain in going back, pain that Torvola wasn’t ready to face again.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to go back,” Torvola said.
“So what will you do?” Venera asked, “Will you stay here then?”
There was genuine hope in her eyes and Torvola felt something stir deep in her chest. Feelings she had kept buried for so long threatened to resurface but she tamped them down, uncertainty dominating her mind.
“I don’t know,” she said finally, “I don’t know.”
Venera looked crestfallen, and the corners of her mouth tugged down into a frown as she stood up, “Take your time Torvola but know this: You can’t keep running from your pain.”
Torvola’s arrival hadn’t been unnoticed. It seemed like mere minutes after she stepped off the ship four guards in red and yellow tabards and polished plate approached the docks. A similarly armored woman stood in front of them. Her helmet was off and tucked under her arm, her short auburn hair was plastered to her head and her pale cheeks had a distinctly rosy color. She stood next to a smaller and younger man who was dressed in a finely embroidered red tunic with absurdly puffy sleeves and leggings.
“Lady Torvola,” he said with a polite smile, “Queen Venera has heard of your arrival and welcomes you back to Iron Bay.”
Torvola heard Brehna snort from somewhere behind her, “Really rolling out the red carpet for you huh?”
Torvola ignored her, “She knew I was coming?”
The man’s expression sobered, “We heard of some great calamity befalling our western coast. Queen Venera figured you’d travel here in search of aid. We didn’t anticipate you’d arrive here so quickly.”
“The winds were kind to us,” Torvola said, “Is she ready to hold an audience?”
“Not yet,” he replied, “She has just returned from a trip to the east. She will meet with you and your party first thing in the morning — for now she invites you to stay at the castle as her guests.”
It didn’t take long for the porters to load what meager belongings they had into a cart to haul up to the castle. The woman guard approached Torvola, clearing her throat and looking pointedly down at the sword hanging from Torvola’s belt, “No weapons are allowed in the city … and especially not in the castle.”
“Captain Guin,” the man argued, “Torvola’s an esteemed guest, she-,”
“She’s not a guard,” Guin replied, “Lady Torvola may have history with the queen, but she’s still bound by the same rules as any other citizen under the queen’s rule. That means no weapons.”
Torvola unfastened the sword from her belt and handed it over; Guin took it and gave it a good look over. She partially unsheathed it and raised her eyebrows, “You took good care of this blade.”
“Of course I did,” Torvola said, slightly offended that the Guin seemed surprised by that fact.
“I suppose it isn’t too hard to maintain a blade you never use.”
“Excuse me?”
Guin ignored her and turned around. She handed the sword to another guard and walked away. The man shrugged sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, “You’ll have to forgive the captain… she’s a little blunt.”
“Hmm,” Torvola thought Guin seemed more pissed than blunt, but she kept quiet. She told herself the opinions of a woman she hardly knew didn’t bother her … shouldn’t bother her. She tried to banish the feeling of unease from her mind and turned to the man, “I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“Ach,” the man hung his head in shame, “Where are my manners? I’m Sir Adren, attendant to the Queen.”
He gestured up the street and towards the castle, “If you don’t mind m’lady, we should get going.”
Despite the guards that flanked them, Torvola kept looking around her and scanning the crowd for potential threats. Irozia’s capital felt different and yet strangely similar. Buildings that were destroyed during the final days of the bloody siege to retake the city were rebuilt in red and white stone. A tall and slender building pierced through the city’s center and spiraled into the sky; the afternoon sun glinted off the structure’s iron walls. Word of the absolute eyesore of the new mage’s academy had reached even Torvola’s small corner of the queendom. Now that she saw the iron tower that loomed over the surrounding buildings, its cold gray metal a harsh contrast to the warm rosy tones of the rough stones that made up the buildings in the inner city … she thought “eyesore” was underselling it.
Torvola and her party weaved their way through the throngs of people who packed the streets, both denizens and visitors alike. The narrow streets opened up into a large market where peddlers from all corners of the continent hawked their wares to passersby. A man nearby cooked meat on a portable stove by his stall; the fragrant smell of herbs and spices mixed with the smell of woodsmoke, animal waste, and sweat.
In spite of the stress she felt about being surrounded by so many, Torvola smiled and a sense of pride swelled in her chest. Venera had really brought her realm back to life.
Torvola walked past a group of older citizens; a few looked curiously at her as she passed and their furtive whispers didn’t escape her notice even if she wasn’t close enough to hear exactly what was being said. She wondered if they recognized her after all these years or if they were more curious about her entourage. She glanced behind her at the rest of her group.
They made their way through the market and up the hill to the fortress that sat atop the peak. A pang of nostalgia shot through her chest at the sight.
The castle looked more welcoming than it once had, its towering walls of red and white stone practically glowed golden in the warm evening light. Sentries armed with crossbows and clad in red and gold livery patrolled the ramparts. A long stone bridge spanned the deep ravine that separated the castle from the rest of the city. A pair of guards stood by the front gate, and as the group approached, she noticed their grips tightening slightly on their polearms. They stood at attention as Torvola passed.
Good.
Their discipline had not waned in the years of peace.
They entered a large courtyard and, as she looked around her, a strange feeling of familiarity pulled at her chest. She could almost see herself riding into the courtyard with the queen after an exhilarating ride through the countryside. They’d have handed their horses off to the men tending the stables off to the left. To the right was an apple tree, it had been barely a seedling when she left - planted after the castle siege. It now was fully grown, and its white blossoms bloomed in the spring air.
Then she turned her attention to the center of the courtyard and stopped as she looked upon a stranger. Smiling down at her was a statue of a heavyset woman in plate armor. She stood proudly with her chest puffed out and her hand rested casually on the hilt of her sword. Her long hair, delicately curled, was tied back in a ponytail. An eye patch covered her right eye.
Torvola swallowed thickly. She was always leery of them wanting to make a statue of her — she thought it too gaudy, and too much for a woman who had barely done anything of note except her duty. However, Venera had insisted on the statue to be a symbol of the strength of her realm and as a homage to the woman who had personally led her army through the castle gates to get rid of her despot father once and for all.
“Lady Torvola?” Adren’s voice broke her out of her reverie.
Torvola blinked, “Sorry. Did you say something?”
“As we said, we were not anticipating your arrival to be so soon and we apologize as we were not ready to receive guests. She will meet with you tomorrow but hopes you’ll find your old quarters to your liking,” Adren repeated patiently.
“Where would the rest of my party be sleeping?” Torvola asked.
“We will have some sleeping spots set up for your party near the kitchens,” the man said.
Torvola chewed on her bottom lip; she was uncomfortable with the notion of sleeping alone and separated from those in her village. It had been weeks since the attack and the instinct to protect them was still there, “I don’t require my old quarters … I can stay with my party by the kitchens.”
“Don’t be an idiot Torvola,” Helgi spoke up, “You’re being offered a room in the queen’s castle for Thoran’s sake.”
Torvola noticed Adren stiffen visibly at how casually Helgi conversed with her. Torvola said, “Very well, I’ll take my old quarters if my party can stay with me.”
“We don’t need-,” Helgi began to say but trailed off at the look on Torvola’s face. It wasn’t pity she saw, rather a tinge of fear and concern. Torvola wasn’t doing this out of pity; it was out of protection, “I mean … I’d be honored.”
“I’ll have the servants get sleeping spots set up in your quarters then,” Adren said and his eyes lit up as his gaze settled on an elderly woman who was walking towards the keep, “Ah! Rehni!”
The woman turned around to see who called to her, and the moment she saw who Adren was with she was running across the yard and embracing Torvola in a hug, “Lady Torvola! You’ve returned!”
Torvola wasn’t quite expecting the firm hug and she stiffened at the sudden contact and fought the urge to throw the woman off, “It’s good to see you too, Rehni.”
As if sensing her discomfort, Rehni let go of Torvola and looked her up and down with a critical eye, “You haven’t been eating.”
“I-,” Torvola began to say.
“I’ll have the kitchen staff cook you and your guests a meal fit for the Queen herself,” Rehni said, she clucked her tongue disapprovingly, “You leave and completely forget how to manage yourself.”
Behind her, Torvola could have sworn she heard someone cough to suppress a snicker.
“I also need you to prepare sleeping spots in Lady Torvola’s chambers for her guests,” Adren said.
Adren led the group into the keep, up a couple of flights of stairs, and down an empty hall ornately decorated in plaster coated walls adorned with red and gold banners. They reached a dark, wooden door and Adren opened it and allowed the group to walk in.
Torvola laid eyes on a room she thought she’d never see again, it was split into two sections: a rather modestly sized seating and lounge area with a happy fire crackling in a hearth on one side and an equally large bed chamber. Helgi stared in awe at her surroundings, this room was as big as the small hut she and her wife shared, “You lived like this?”
“Yes,” Torvola said.
“Why’d you leave?” Jamen signed.
Guilt. Agony. Trauma. Cowardice.
“I was looking for adventure elsewhere,” Torvola said as she signed.
“And you thought our village was filled with action and excitement?” Helgi asked.
Torvola shrugged lamely and signed, “I liked the fish.”
That night, Torvola lay in a bed that was too comfortable and too warm to sleep in. She finally gave up on the futile effort of slumber and lay on her back, staring at the walls that held so many memories. Her first night in this room she was high off of the victory of battle, head swimming with drink and belly full for the first time in what seemed like ages. It was the last good night of sleep she had gotten in a long while. Every night after that was spent studying the walls and ceiling until every small crack, every little knot in the wood of the ceiling overhead was seared into her memory. She thought she’d finally sleep once she found her way to the coast, far away from the castle and the memories it held.
However, much to her infinite frustration, it didn’t work.
The faces of those who died, the blood, the pain of an axe blade slamming into her cheek and carving a bloody swath through her eye … it all sat seared into her memories, waiting for the peace of slumber to come roaring to the surface. Her arms and chest ached, yearning to hold Saxus to her chest and let his warm fur and heartbeat lure her into restless slumber.
She turned on her side, grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly to her chest as her eyes finally slid shut.
***
The rain was different in the interior.
While out on the coast, the rain came in the form of a dreary drizzle or a gentle patter of tiny drops; the rain that fell on the castle that morning was far heavier. The rain came in heavy sheets and pounded against the slate roof of the castle. Every so often a low rumble of thunder would punctuate the deluge.
Guards huddled under overhangs in a vain attempt to avoid the rivers of water that cascaded from the eaves. Those servants who had to make the trek between buildings dashed across the courtyard with their heads bowed. It didn’t matter how fast one ran though; they were soaked within taking a few steps outside.
Torvola looked out the window at the scene, glad she and her party were dry and warm inside. She could feel the humidity in the air; it clung to her like a blanket and frizzed her hair.
The clank of armor echoing through the stone hallways brought Torvola’s attention back inside. A pair of guards approached her and her group, “The queen is ready to see you now.”
Torvola pushed herself from the wall and nodded, as they motioned for her to follow, “Normally Queen Venera doesn’t meet with parties outside of petitioning day,” one of the guards commented.
“I’m not just any party,” Torvola said confidently, though inwardly she flinched at the rather haughty tone she had taken, “I am grateful for her willingness to meet with us.”
The guard’s partner elbowed him slightly in the side and whispered something to him. The guard looked back at Torvola and back ahead, it was hard to tell with his helmet, but she could have sworn he had grown a few shades paler. They marched through the hallway and to a set of large oaken doors. Two more guards flanked the doors and at their approach they slammed the butt of their halberds on the floor. With a dull boom and barely a creak, the doors opened to admit Torvola into the throne room and Torvola finally saw Venera. She didn’t hear the herald announcing her entrance nor did she notice the others in the room that openly stared at her. Her attention was solely on Venera.
Venera had grown even more beautiful as she aged. No longer was she the young monarch unsure of her position and the loyalties of her council. She stood tall and proud on the platform her throne sat on. Her most loyal advisers had their heads bowed in respect as she descended the steps and came to the level of Torvola and her party.
Torvola bowed her head in respect and didn’t look up until Venera addressed her.
“Lady Torvola,” Venera’s voice was laced with surprise and concern. Torvola risked a glance upward and she saw Venera’s eyes on her, scanning her form as if checking for any wounds.
All Venera saw was the muscular, iron-willed woman who left her all those years ago.
“What brings you back to my throne?”
Torvola found herself tongue tied, and her throat suddenly felt very parched. She coughed slightly to clear it and said, “I … we need your help.”
It took several minutes to explain what had occurred at the village and the attack on the hilltop. Venera was quiet, listening intently to the report; if she was troubled by anything Torvola had said, she did a good job at hiding it. Torvola was the only one who could see through Venera’s guise. The slight clench of the jaw, the overly perfect posture, the subtle crease of her forehead — what Torvola had said had frightened Venera.
Torvola didn’t blame her as she had every right to be scared. The news was objectively frightening.
Venera slowly stepped back and onto the platform of her throne. She took the briefest of moments to collect herself and said, “Guards: please escort our guests back to their quarters.”
The guards stationed at the door nodded and began to usher everyone out of the throne room.
“Lady Torvola can stay,” Venera said before Torvola could turn to leave.
Once again bowing her head, Torvola said, “Of course Your Majesty.”
Venera motioned for Torvola to follow her, “We’ll discuss this with my council in the study,” she said.
As some of you may have noticed - didn't get the Thursday update out. Dealing with some mental health stuff rn semi-related to writing this story. I thought I'd handle it a bit better than I am but yeah. I actually have a pretty big buffer so it's not entirely burn out on writing but just a lot of nasty feelings involving rejection sensitivity and stuff that is a pain to get into in detail and I don't want to make this like a personal blog. But felt anyone who was curious was owed an explanation and if I don't post this upcoming week that's why.
Planning on trying to post Tuesday, but may just take a week off to decompress and get my head on straight and figure some shit out.
Thank you to all who are supporting this thing I'm writing. Love you all.
