© Clay Clearbrook

 

Chapter 2

 

The sun had reached the western horizon and twilight was threatening as the pair ambled down the main street of the town.

At first glance, Sytier was not as busy as Karel remembered from his boyhood journeys. Those times had occurred during the market days; when people from leagues around would converge on the town to hawk their wares. Now, as they rode through, he saw only the wooden shops and homes of the permanent residents rather than the tents and temporary stalls of the visiting merchants and farmers.

He remembered the light, easy-going manners of both residents and visitors. None of that was visible now on the faces of the few people he could see in the streets. As they rode through, merchants lounging lazily in front of their stores cast looks of anger or near panic in their direction and hastily retreated into their shops.

There was a tension in the air he recognized from his many years with the mercenary company. A tension brought on by a sense of pending doom. He had felt the same tension every time his mercenary company passed through a village or town on the mainland; the inhabitants wondering whether the appearance of the mercenary company meant that their homes were about to be destroyed in the midst of a battle that had nothing to do with them.

Watching these townspeople, Karel soon realized that while they looked upon him with suspicion, the looks they cast in Shira's direction were mostly full of thinly veiled fear.

Part of that, he knew, might stem from the fact that she was a woman bearing a sword. While not uncommon on the mainland, women warriors were somewhat of a rarity on the Great Isle, at least in the outlying villages and towns. He had no way of knowing whether the same was true when it came to the larger towns and cities of the Isle. But these were rural areas and while no man liked to be intimidated, in these areas they liked it even less to be intimidated by a woman. And there was yet another question. When and where a Shira learned to use a blade?

For her part, Shira paid no attention to those they passed, keeping her eyes straight ahead, her head up, her back straight. Looking, for all the world, like a warrior princess who had deigned to honor this small town with her presence.

She led the way through the streets of the town to the stables at the southern end, where she dismounted and tethered her horse to a post. Karel didn't bother tethering his horse, understanding that this was where she planned on swapping the old nag for a better mount. Instead, he held the reins of the nag and led her along as he followed Shira.

Here in Sytier, the stables and smithy were combined. Understandable since the stable master also happened to be the town's blacksmith. That much he remembered from his visits as a child.

As they entered, the stable master was busily coaching a young apprentice working the bellows.

"Steady now. It's not fits and starts you're wanting. It is smooth and steady fires, what you're needing." He was saying. That is when he noticed his visitors and Karel could tell from the looks that sped across his face that it was a battle between a grimace and a merchant’s smile that he wished to use to greet them. In the end, he settled on something in between.

"Ah, Mistress Shira." He exclaimed, wiping grimy hands on an equally dirty apron. "It has been a while, dear lady. So what can I do for you today? New shoes for that fine horse, perhaps?"

"Not today, I'm afraid, Master Alfeed." Though her voice was pleasant enough sounding, there was no hint of softness in Shira's face. With a negligent wave of her hand, she indicated Karel. "My...friend...arrived from the mainland a few days ago and I'm afraid all they had at Svowmahni was this old nag. I know you probably haven't got a match for my fine beast, but surely you have something better than this poke along."

The stable master ran a critical eye over the nag and shook his head in disgust. Karel looked at Shira, wondering why she had not introduced him as her brother, but she refused to meet his eyes.

"A sad thing she is indeed." He agreed with Shira's assessment. "At that, I'm surprised that he was able to find a horse in this good of shape in that misbegotten cesspool." Karel stepped out of the way as the stable master gave the nag a thorough examination. Finally, he stepped back shaking his head. "Aye, I have better horses." His eyes glinted as he contemplated Shira. "And is it a wager you'd been thinking of making that I have none to match yon fine beastie?" This last was said with a wave toward Shira’s horse.

 For the first time that day Shira’s serious demeanor cracked and she laughed outright.

"Ah no, Master Horseman." She chuckled. "There's not a wager I’ll be taking. I take it you do have something for him then?"

"It's a fine roan I have." He said, nodding. Then he jerked his thumb toward the nag. "But it's not a copper I can give you for this poor lass. She's fit for nothing more than being turned out to pasture."

"It's quite all right, Master Alfeed." Karel spoke up before Shira could say another word. "Show me this roan, and if I buy it I will gift her to you and you can do with her as you see fit."

The stable master considered for a moment and then nodded. He beckoned his apprentice over to take the reins of the nag and led Karel and Shira around to a large corral behind the stables/smithy.

Though there were several horses free in the yard, more than Karel thought might be available in such a small town, the roan the stable master had spoken of was easy to spot. He stood taller than the other horses, his bearing more erect, more proud. While the other horses paid them scant attention, the roan was instantly aware of their presence and eyed them warily.

Here, Karel thought, was a horse to match or better the horse he had been forced to leave on the mainland.

"And where pray tell, did you obtain such a horse as this, Stable Master?" Shira demanded. Like him, she had spotted the horse’s qualities instantly and knew that it was out of place in such a rustic, rural town.

"Now that's a strange tale indeed." The stable master rocked back and forth on his heels, his sausage-sized thumbs tucked into his belt as he regarded the lone roan. "Not three days ago, a group of these warrior women rode into town. Now I don't know fer certain, but there's some round here was saying they was part of some sisterhood from the mainland. I don't know about that, but one look at them women and any man with brains of a mouse woulda known to leave them alone." He shook his head, still looking at the horse and so missed the look that passed between Karel and Shira. "They was eight of them that rode in. Seven, really. One was carried in on yonder horse. All wrapped up in a white cloak she was, but you could still see the blood seeping through. They stopped and stayed at the inn for the night after they buried the dead lass in the town cemetery. Strangest thing that was. They made certain she was buried with her armor and her weapons, but nothing more." He shook his head again. "The lass in charge said they was in a hurry or they would have taken the horse with them. She asked me what I could pay for him and I had to tell her I couldn't afford such a fine beastie. But that ain't what she asked. She'd asked what I could pay for him and she asked again, so I told her. She took what I could offer, tossed in the gear for the horse, and they rode off."

He turned down and studied Karel.

"Funny thing is," he said in a shrewd tone, "they said they was looking for someone. A man what looked a lot like you. At least you look like the man they was talking about."

"Could be." Karel said, sounding more nonchalant than he felt. "I met some of the Sisterhood of Dyera while I was on the mainland. To the best of my knowledge, there's no bad blood between us." He thought for a moment and then asked the stable master to describe, as best he could, what type of armor and weapons each of the women wore or carried. When he got what he wanted, he cut off the man's return questions by nodding towards the horse again "So you really don't know very much about this horse, do you?" The tactic worked for the man turned back to the horse with a scowl.

"That'd be the truth." He grumbled." The damn thing won't let no one near him. Gets all mean like if anyone gets too close."

"And you were going to try to sell him to us?" Shira demanded. The stable master merely shrugged.

"Let's not be hasty, Shira." Karel muttered. During the entire time they had stood there talking, the roan had not once looked away. He motioned for Shira and the stable master to stay where they were while he walked some distance away. He stayed the same distance from the horse, simply moving sideways so that it would have to move its head to divide his attention between him and the other two. He did not seem surprised, however, when the roan kept its eyes locked on him, ignoring both Shira and the stable master.

He stopped and turned so he was facing the horse. He kept his arms to his side and made a clicking noise with his tongue. The horse snorted and pawed the ground with one forehoof. If possible, it raised its head even higher and shook its thick mane. Karel clicked louder, with more force.

The horse snorted again but this time, to the amazement of both Shira and the stable master, it pranced over to stand before Karel, visibly quivering.

"Shhh." Karel murmured. He stood absolutely still, while the horse brushed him with his nose, taking in his scent. Eventually, the horse's snorting grew softer, but it wasn't until it butted him with its head, giving him a nudge, that he moved slowly to run a hand along the thickly muscled neck, whispering softly into the horse's ear. After a moment he looked up and over at the stable master.

"I'll pay you twice what you paid for him." He said. "Mind you, that includes the gear as well."

When the stable master looked as if he would argue, Karel shook his head.

"That is my offer." He said. "And probably the best you will get. You'll not get what this horse is truly worth. Not out here. Perhaps in one of the larger cities, but then you're talking about a journey of several weeks just to sell one horse." He paused and bent to tap the right foreleg. The horse obediently lifted the leg so that Karel could examine the hoof. He moved around the horse, checking the other legs in turn. "You won't need new shoes, so that's a plus." He stood up straight and looked at the stable master. "Do we have a deal, then?"

The stable master grumbled but nodded sourly.

"Aye. We have a deal." He said and then smiled and chuckled. "And its right you are. I'd not be finding the price I should in these parts, had you not come along. Will you be wanting him now?" He asked, casting a glance at the darkening sky. "We stable the horses for those staying at the inn here."

"I'll want to check out the gear first, but yes, we’ll want to stable this horse and Shira’s as well for the night. We’ll need them groomed, fed, rested up, and ready to head out in the morning. We'll be riding out with the dawn."

"Dawn it is, then." The stable master agreed.

Gold and silver exchanged hands and Karel and Shira, after retrieving their belongings from their mounts and checking out the gear that had come with the horse, made their way to the inn.

There, after a bit of haggling with the innkeeper, Karel procured two rooms, ordered dinner, and made arrangements for early breakfast and three days worth of provisions to take with them on the trail.

Shira had questioned the wisdom of getting separate rooms, but Karel had insisted. When the innkeeper's daughter showed them to their rooms, they stored their gear and then made their way back to the common room for dinner.

Their meal started out peacefully enough. Though not truly crowded, being the only watering hole in town meant the inn did a brisk trade. The conversation had faltered when they entered, yet soon picked up again as most of the patrons decided not to waste too much attention on the travelers. There were people of all ages in the common room, and most of them Karel dismissed as locals seeking enjoyment in the company of others of their town. He kept his eye, however, on a group of rowdy young men sitting at a table near the door. He had a feeling, judging from the looks they kept casting in his and Shira's direction, that they would be trouble before long.

"So what did you learn from the descriptions of the armor of the Sisters wore?" Shira asked as she stabbed a juicy morsel on her plate and plopped it into her mouth.

"Well, I learned that whatever their mission is, they're serious about it. According to those descriptions, I'd say that we're dealing with at least one Paladin, two knights, and five regular soldiers of the Sisterhood. Correction, one knight now." He answered around a mouthful of buttered bread. He washed it down with a healthy swig of ale.

"And how does that tell you that they are serious?" Shira demanded.

"Paladins of the Sisterhood don't travel in packs." Was his answer. "They travel alone or in pairs for the most part. Usually, the Sisterhood will just send out a regular unit. If more authority is necessary, the High Warrior Priestess will attach a knight to the unit. But a Paladin and two knights? Oh yes, they're serious, all right."

They were barely halfway through the meal before the troubled Karel expected reared its head. One of the burly youths among the group seated near the entrance, staggering slightly from too much ale, pushed away from their table and began to make his way towards them.

By force of habit, Karel tapped sharply on the table in the quick sequence members of the Black Wolves would use to warn others of approaching trouble in similar circumstances. He didn't expect Shira to understand the exact meaning, but it got her attention and he was not surprised to see her nodded her understanding.

"He's an oaf who doesn't know how to take no for an answer." She muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

"One of those." Karel snorted. He looked up and stared until he caught and held the approaching youth’s eyes. Then, moving slowly and deliberately, he slid one of his longswords from its sheath and laid it carefully on the table, near his right hand. Never once losing eye contact with the youth. He sincerely hoped the young man wasn't too ale addled to heed the warning.

If he was, others in the room, including the innkeeper himself, weren’t. The youth had barely covered half the distance between his table and theirs before two elderly men and the innkeeper moved to intercept him.

"A little blatant there, aren't you?" Shira asked, eyeing the blade. Karel shrugged and returned to his meal. "These are simple townspeople, Karel. Not warriors. Not the enemy."

"And no one's getting hurt, are they?" Karel responded around a mouthful of venison. He jabbed his fork in the direction of the young man, who was being led, none too gently, back to his table. "I simply sent a message that I was in no mood to play and those fine gentleman made sure he got the message before anyone got hurt."

"And what if they had decided to take his side instead?" Shira sighed.

"Then," Karel gave her a dark, bleak look, "there would have been a lot of dead people on the floor when you and I walked out."

Shira shook her head and resumed eating.

There were no further incidents, yet the mood in the common room took on a subdued atmosphere and the innkeeper was obviously relieved when they decided to retire to their rooms for the night.

The next morning, good to his word, the stable master had both horses ready for them at the crack of dawn. Though Karel was still yawning as they made their way out of the town, Shira appeared bright and eager.

Though his prediction that good food and a soft bed would do him wonders had been correct, sleep had still eluded him for a long time. Everything he had learned and experienced since returning from the mainland kept playing over and over in his mind. At one point he even left his room to see if Shira was still awake, only to find her room empty as well. He stiffened and glanced at Shira as something the stable master had said as they rode off registered in his mind.

"It's careful I'd be, were I you." The stable master had warned them. "Folks are saying they heard a big cat last night and some of the lads are saying they found tracks to the south of town."

Feeling him looking at her, Shira glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow in question. She shrugged when he chose not to answer and spurred her black on, picking up the pace.

The roan had accepted him easily enough when he first swung into the saddle as if he had never had any other rider. Now, seeing the black pull ahead, he picked up his own pace without urging. When he drew alongside, he huffed slightly and the black, to Shira's astonishment, fell back until the roan led by at least a head. At least the horses knew, between the two of them, who was the leader.

Karel waited until they had been on the road for several hours and had passed beyond the outlying homesteads before questioning Shira once again on their destination.

"Castle Relnia." The dark-haired woman finally gave in. She glanced over at Karel, attempting to judge his reaction at the news.

Castle Relnia. Not counting the dwarven kingdoms in the mountains or the mysterious elves known as the Eldar in the Forbidden Forest, the Great Isle was split into six kingdoms. Three to the west of the Great Mountains and three to the east. Castle Relnia, and the land for several leagues around, however, was claimed by no kingdom. According to legends, Castle Relnia had been the home of those called to be the Warlord for the Great Isle.

Holding no kingdom or throne of his or her own, the Warlord nevertheless had the authority to command the armies of the six kingdoms, the armies of the dwarves, and those of the Eldar, a haughty splinter race of Elves that lived in the vast forest lands that covered a great portion of the south-eastern part of the Great Isle. Legends, of course. No living person, with the possible exception of the Eldar with their long lives, had yet been born when the last Warlord passed into the realms of the dead.

According to those legends, the Warlords had been chosen from among the peoples of the Great Isle by Relnia herself. Though the existence of the Warlords could be proven from historical records, Karel had never given the supposed method of their choosing much credit. Instilling within him a reverence for the gods had been a task in which his adoptive parents had failed miserably. It was not that he disbelieved in the gods. After seeing the pain and suffering men dealt out to other men with no interference from the gods, he simply had no use for them. He asked them for nothing and gave them nothing in return.

But Castle Relnia! From where they were now, barely eight leagues inland from the coast, the journey to Castle Relnia would take several weeks at best. It might shave off some time by passing through the Lesser Mountains rather than going around, but even so...

On the eighth evening after leaving Sytier, as they neared a traveler's outpost Shira assured him was just up ahead, the roan's ears perked up. At almost the same instant, smoke began to appear in the sky, billowing up from somewhere ahead of them. A bend in the road in the thick foliage they had been traveling through for the last few days blocked whatever was happening ahead from sight. With his right hand, Karel loosened the lanyards that held his swords in their scabbards.

"How often do patrols pass this way?" He demanded. Shira shook her head even as the sounds that had caught the horses attention reached their ears. They were sounds Karel remembered well from his years with the Black Wolves. The sounds of steel upon steel. The sounds of voices raised in battle cries.

Without thinking, Karel flexed his knees and sent the horse into a trot as he drew the sword from his left hip into his right hand. He plunged ahead, ignoring Shira's shouted warning. Soon she trotted beside him, bared steel in her own hand, scowling fiercely. The black, Karel noted absently, was careful not to draw even with the roan as they moved towards the bend in the road that hid the battle from sight. Karel was experienced enough to know one did not rush in blindly before taking stock of the situation.

As they rounded the bend, Karel reigned in sharply. The travelers outpost was burning and in the road before it, a small group of warriors valiantly fending off the attacks of a greater number of... Orcs!

Karel had seen all he needed to see. He kneed the horse first into a trot and then into a full gallop, aiming directly towards the largest knot of orcs. The roan warhorse slammed into the orcs and spun, lashing out with hooves and teeth as Karel slashed downward at the grey-skinned, monstrous mockeries of humankind. Their guttural cries and shrieks as the black ichor they used for blood splattered.

No one knew exactly how intelligent orcs were and, truth be known, no one really cared. The important things that needed to be known about them, was known. Slightly shorter than the average human, with grey, mottled skin as tough as leather, with the texture of tree bark. Large floppy ears and small, black beady eyes. Their mouths full of the sharp, pointy teeth of natural born carnivores. And born with an unnatural hatred of all that was beautiful and good in the world. Cunning and devious to a fault. And cowardly in the face of overwhelming superiority.

That cowardice showed itself now in the face of two new warriors on horses every bit as deadly as the riders.

Karel lost count of the number of orcs he cut down and would never know the number his roan warhorse had trampled under foot before the remainder cut and run, shrieking their hatred and their fear as they scattered.

As the last of the loathsome beasts disappeared into the wilderness, Karel wheeled his horse to face Shira.

Black ichor dripped from her sword and coated the muzzle and forelocks of her horse.

"There haven't been any orcs on the Great Isle for generations!" He stated in a voice that was damn near a shout.

"There are now." She said with a shrug. "Mostly in this area, but there have been rumors that some have been seen on the west coast. I tried to tell you, Karel. Shara led them to our village and she's still leading them."

Karel glared at her for a moment longer, and then spun his horse to regard the traveler’s outpost. If it was like similar outposts on the mainland, it was unmanned. Consisting of the main building with a great room, and a few smaller, bare rooms in which weary travelers could spend a night or two out of the elements and a separate, detached, stable for mounts.

The main building was completely engulfed in flames by this time, and flickering flames and flying sparks were threatening the stables from which two of the warriors they had aided were leading seven horses.

He turned his attention to the remaining warriors and was not surprised to recognize them from the descriptions the stable master had given back at Sytier. Sisters of Dyera. With the exception of the two dealing with their horses, the rest were regarding him and Shira with what, in anyone else, he would have called mild curiosity. He knew enough about the Sisterhood to know that ofttimes, looks were deceiving.

He carefully dismounted and, using the cleanest dirty rags worn by one of the slain orcs, wiped the ichor from his blade and returned it to its scabbard before turning to face the Sisters. He was aware of Shira, having dismounted herself, moving to stand just behind him and to his right. She had cleaned her blade as well but still held it loosely in her right hand. If the Sisters felt any concern, they didn't show it.

One, Karel judged her to be the Paladin by the symbols and emblems on her armor, cleaned her own sword and returned it to its scabbard and now removed her helmet, revealing a head full of short cropped blond hair. With her helmet under her arm, she stepped forward.

Karel didn't expect her to thank him for their aid, nor was he disappointed. Instead, she was running a practiced eye over the roan. Even though Karel did not hold the reins, the horse stayed close, not letting Karel get more than a few feet away at any time.

"You came through the town of Sytier, then." She said by way of greeting. “Tafisten seems to be quite taken with you."

As if speaking his name had been a cue, the horse moved alongside Karel and nudged him slightly until he raised a hand to stroke the well-muscled neck.

"Tafisten. That's his name, then?" He asked.

"Allura trained him herself from a colt." The Paladin nodded. "We did not wish to leave him behind, but he would not suffer another rider nor allow himself to be led by another."

"I guess I just have a way with horses." Karel paused. "I hope only that the spirit of Allura, honor to her name, will rest easy knowing I will give him no less care than she would have." It was the closest he could come to expressing his sympathy for the loss of the knight named Allura. While the regular soldiers with the Sisterhood might grieve the loss of their companions, he knew that neither paladins nor knights openly grieved when one of their number was slain. To them, death in the performance of duty was not a matter for sympathy, but rather of honor. An appreciative smile twitched the corners of the Paladin's lips as he subtly revealed his understanding of at least some of the ways of the Sisterhood.

"You are Karel Durick?" She demanded, deciding it was time to get to the point. "Also known as the Wolfblade, late of the Black Wolves mercenary company?"

"I am." Karel answered shortly. The paladin regarded him calmly, seemingly ignoring Shira's presence at his side.

"I've spoken to sisters who have seen you at work. They speak highly of you." She glanced down at the multitude of orc bodies. "It seems they spoke truly."

Karel shrugged off the compliment and waited.

"I am Tyra Lohr, second-level Paladin of the Sisterhood of Dyera." She introduced herself. "I have been tasked to find you and return with you to the Reverend Mother."

"Indeed?" Karel tilted his head slightly. "That is most unfortunate, Paladin Lohr. What would the Reverend Mother want with me?"

"She wishes only to speak with you concerning events that have occurred since you left the Black Wolves company." The Paladin responded.

Karel shook his head, turned, and swung himself back into Tafisten's saddle. He looked down upon the Paladin. From the perplexed look on her face, she was not used to refusals that came in a non-aggressive form.

"Extend my apologies to the Reverend Mother." He said. "But I have no intention of leaving the Great Isle at this time. Now if you'll excuse us, my companion and I still have a long journey ahead of us."

"You misunderstand, Wolfblade." Tyra shook her head. "The Reverend Mother did not request your presence. She commanded it. We are to escort you to the nearest harbor and returned to the mainland as soon as possible."

Shira had remained quiet throughout the exchange. She finally returned her blade to its scabbard and had, following Karel's example, mounted her own horse. Now, she pressed forward until she faced the Paladin squarely.

"The Sisterhood has no authority on the Great Isle, Paladin." She said. "We have nothing against the Sisterhood nor the Reverend Mother. But she does not command here."

Tyra looked up at Shira as if seeing her for the first time. She glanced at Karel, as a silently telling him to call his servant to order. Shira flushed in anger and moved her horse until she was firmly between the Paladin and Karel.

"Karel will not be returning to the mainland." Shira declared. "I am charged with escorting him to Castle Relnia. You and your Sisters may accompany us if you wish. If, after we have reached Castle Relnia, Karel chooses to, you may then escort him to the Reverend Mother."

Karel had listened to the exchange with a notable frown. So Shira had been charged with taking him to Castle Relnia. Charged by whom?

Before more could be said, he stood in the stirrups and raised his voice, getting everyone’s attention.

“Enough.” He called. He swung his gaze back and forth between the Paladin and Shira as he gestured towards the steaming bodies of the orcs. “This is neither the time nor the place for a lengthy debate, ladies. Let’s move on down the road before those orcs gather their courage and reinforcements and return. Know this, however.  I am at no one’s beck and call. I will not return to the mainland just because the Reverend Mother commands it, nor have I decided to continue on the Castle Relnia. Yet for the time being, we will make our way in that direction.”  He closed his eyes and brought up a memory of the maps of the Great Isle he had memorized over the years. “We will travel to Arkaten. I will decide then whether to continue on to Castle Relnia or go elsewhere.”

Shira gave him a sharp look as if she wanted to argue his decision.  Instead, she simply gave a quick nod of acceptance.

One of the Sisters, the remaining knight by the looks of her, stepped forward and whispered something in Tyra’s ear, though her eyes were locked on Shira. Tyra’s eyes grew wide and she turned her attention from Karel back to Shira.

“You are the Guide, then?” She demanded.

It was obvious that Shira was more than a little surprised at the question yet she quickly recovered.

“I am.” She replied with a nod.

"And we are to take orders from you?" Tyra asked in all seriousness, causing Karel's jaw to drop. Just like that, a Paladin of the Sisterhood of Dyera had placed herself and those beneath her under Shira's authority. Shira shook her head and twisted so she could point back at him.

"You'll take your orders from him. As you said, I am merely the Guide." She said.

Karel could not believe this was happening. Never had he heard of a unit of the Sisterhood placing itself under the orders of outsiders. Nor, judging from the looks on the faces of the other soldiers of the Sisterhood, with the exception of the Knight, had anyone else. They kept their silence but the looks they cast at the Paladin and Knight showed clearly that they questioned their sanity.

Within minutes they were on the road again. This time, with two of the sisters ranging ahead and two trailing some distance behind.

The road itself was wide enough to allow two horses to ride abreast but no more. Therefore, the knight, introduced as Kyleen, rode side-by-side with Tyra behind Karel and Shira.

They rode for some time in the darkness, wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and the outpost and whatever orcs may have remained in the area, before stopping to make camp.

When Shira judged they had gone far enough, she had those Sisters ranging ahead to locate a suitable spot. Soon such a spot was located and before long, the junior Sisters had a nice fire blazing.

"Enjoy it while you can." Shira scowled as she tethered her horse to a nearby tree, sniffing the air. "Rain is coming. Probably be here before midday tomorrow."

Karel accepted her prediction without question. He was feeling a bit frustrated at the moment. No matter how he tried, he could barely get more than pleasantries from the Sisters. They were more than willing to share their stories of past campaigns and were quite interested in hearing of his but none were willing to even speculate as to why the Reverend Mother desired his presence.

The rain held off until the early evening of the next day.

By the time they reached the halfway point in the journey to Castle Relnia, the nine travelers had settled into a familiar routine. The five soldiers would trade off the positions of advance and rear guards, always leaving one to trail directly behind Karel. Karel wasn't sure if she was to be his personal guard or put there simply to keep an eye on him. More often than not, after the first week or so of traveling with the Sisters, Shira would now ride a bit ahead with Tyra, deep in conversation they obviously considered none of his business. That left him to ride with Kyleen, whose interests he soon found ranged far beyond the art of making war. Not only was she a Knight of the Sisterhood, but she was also, Tyra had proclaimed, one of the Sisterhood’s most accomplished Lore Masters.

"Paladins are known for their piety, as well as their battle prowess." She had told him a laughing voice when Karel had asked why she was not a Paladin. "I might be devoted to our Lady Dyera, but piety has never been one of my virtues."

Many times, after making camp, or on days when they had decided to take a break from the journey, he would find himself sparring with either the knight, the paladin, or Shira and he had to admit that of the three, the knight was the better swordsman. Or swords-woman, as the case may be.

He didn't ignore the five soldiers, often choosing to join them in their exercising and sparring. Of course first, he had to get through the hero worship all five seemed to feel towards him.

When he mentioned it to Kyleen, she simply laughed.

"And why shouldn't they?" She'd said. "The Wolfblade is one of the few male examples held up to the new recruits. The way the instructors talk you up, you would think that you were a long-lost disciple of the Brotherhood of Dyer." She had paused, giving him a long hard look before continuing. “It is not only your prowess in battle they hold up as an example.”  She proclaimed. “Though you may not realize it, Wolfblade, you were a rarity among the mercenary companies. You did your duty as commanded, but never once did you follow blindly nor allow any of those that followed you to commit the atrocities mercenaries are feared for!   A mercenary with a conscience and a strong and vocal sense of right and wrong.   Yes, indeed, a rarity among the mercenary companies.” She had then pointed to the birthmark on the back of his left hand. "They make much of that mark, you know. Those that have the old knowledge do, at least."

"This?" Karel and lifted his hand and looked at the birthmark. Having lived with it his entire life, it was not something he often considered. Looking at it now he could see that, unlike most birthmarks he had seen on other people, it was not a shapeless mass. Indeed, it was clearly apparent to all who saw it that it was a twin tongued flame erupting from an ornate cup. The details were crisp and clear from the texture of the flame to the designs on the cup.

"It is common knowledge, I believe, that there was once a Brotherhood sworn to the service of Dyera’s slain twin, Dyer.  At the fortress where I was trained, we have some artifacts that are said to have belonged to the last known chapter of that Brotherhood." She told him. "That birthmark does not just resemble the emblem of the Brotherhood, it is an exact likeness. Exact in every detail, except for color."

"She speaks the truth." Tyra chimed in, having overheard the conversation. "The Reverend Mother believes you to be touched by the gods, Wolfblade. What she does not understand, is why and how you have been marked with the emblem of Dyera's slain twin. It has been over an age since Dyer was slain and the Brotherhood rode with the Sisterhood."

As they passed through villages and towns, the reactions ranged from excited to suspicious. And on more than one occasion, some drunken lout would let slip some snide comment about one man traveling with nine women. More often than not such comments were ignored or one of the soldiers would set the speaker right.

Not that Karel would have been averse to dallying with any of the warrior women, but he had learned early on, that they were all from one of the more northwestern kingdoms of the mainland and he had discovered, during his time with the Black Wolves, that mores differed from place to place. Not so much on the Great Isle where mores among the human population tended to be at least somewhat similar. But on the mainland morals could and often did differ quite widely. These Sisters hailed from one of the more sexually conservative areas.

He knew that many of those on the mainland would consider the sexual mores on the Great Isle to be damned near scandalous. It was not that those on the Great Isle were looser or more frivolous, it was just that those on the Great Isle didn't look at sex the same way. It was not considered a sinful or dirty thing nor was remaining celibate considered a virtuous thing. Young men and women were not pushed into it before they were ready, but they were encouraged to experiment and explore before settling down to marriage.

On the mainland, a virginal bride might be considered a prize, but not so on the Great Isle. There, a virginal bride meant only that she was inexperienced. The same was true for males.

Karel knew that there were some places on the mainland that considered the Great Isle to be an island of iniquity. Even the practice of true polygamy, a practice common on the Great Isle, especially in the more rural areas where large families were almost a necessity, was frowned upon. Somehow the concept of group marriages was supposed to be abhorrent in the eyes of the gods. Except, of course, those practices of polygyny practiced in many parts of the mainland. Commonly mistaken for polygamy, which simply meant many spouses, polygyny was set up so that one man could have several wives, which were often treated as little more than slaves to the man's whims and desires. Karel could hardly see something like that taking hold on the Great Isle.

Though split into six separate kingdoms, there were certain laws and restrictions that were uniform throughout the mini-continent.  Laws forbidding slavery, a practice quite common on the Mainland, laws assuring the equality of women (another blasphemous concept according to some on the Mainland), etc.

Nor was justice served by the individual Kingdoms, but rather by judges selected at Castle Relnia by a council populated by representatives of the Kingdoms of the Great Isle.

On more than one occasion, Karel or Shira had had to intercede, more often than not on the behalf of the locals, and remind the Sisters that they were not on the Mainland…that things were different on the Great Isle.

“It is not right!” Tyra had grumbled once, at which point Shira had been forced to explain to the paladin that, even among the Sisterhood, practices differed from region to region.  Sisters recruited from the Paladin’s society might very well agree with her, but Sisters recruited elsewhere, perhaps the south-western part of the mainland, where the customs of society were different, could and often did believe and practice things that would seem strange to her.

Karel had merely smiled at this.  Tyra had introduced herself as a second level paladin, which meant that she was fairly low in rank and so less traveled than paladins of higher levels. She had not had the time nor the opportunity to have her eyes opened.   It was then he began to suspect that, while Tyra had been named leader of this small unit of Sisters, Kyleen, and probably the slain knight Allura as well, both being more experienced veterans, had been sent along to keep the paladin in line and keep her from getting herself killed or from becoming a political nightmare. Karel suspected that Tyra was being allowed an opportunity and that Kyleen could, and would, take over if it ever became necessary.

Together, Shira and the veteran knight were able to sooth the paladin’s self righteous feathers.

As they continued their journey south, Shira pointed out a smudge against the southern sky, announcing that they were nearing the city of Arkaten.

“That is smoke from the volcanoes of the Arkaten Hills.” She told them. “The city is just to the north of the hills.”  She gave them all a stern look. “Be careful of what you say and how you say it when we get to the city. It’s a major trade city and the city Lords don’t take kindly to anyone or anything that disrupts the flow of trade.”

“There should be no problems.” Tyra announced. “We should probably present ourselves to the local chapter of the Sisterhood and remain there until we depart.”

“There is no chapter of the Sisterhood in Arkaten.” Shira sighed in exasperation.  “There are only two chapters of the Sisterhood on the Great Isle, Tyra, and they are both on the far coast.”

Arkaten was known to be one of the older cities.  Originally constructed as a walled outpost in the great wilderness, it had long since grown well beyond the walls, sprawling outward in ever decreasing density.  Over the years, the walls had been moved outward as the community grew, yet it was abundantly clear that it had been many, many years since the walls had been moved. 

Passersby gave the group scant notice as they entered the outskirts of the city. Karel noted that all seven of the Sisters were looking around with growing disbelief and unease.

“These City Lords you spoke of must be insane to allow the city to grow so beyond the protection of the walls!” Tyra commented. “No city on the Mainland would be allowed to grow so.”

“Not now.” Karel agreed. “But things were different before the Night of the Royal Deaths.  Many of the Cities in the more peaceful kingdoms often grew beyond their walls.  And why not?  The Orc and S’lisk wars were long over and the further the cities from any other kingdom, the safer they were considered to be.”  He laughed. “But to be honest, Tyra, it bothers me as well. The only cities I have ever seen is one harbor city here on the Great Isle and those I saw on the Mainland.  I look at this openness and I see what the armies and mercenary companies of the Mainland could do.” He sobered and shook his head as he thought of the destruction of his village or the orc troop that had attacked the Sisters. He turned to Shira. “Should we try to warn the City Lords that orcs have returned to the Great Isle?”

“It would be no use.” Shira shrugged. “Even if they believed us, what could they do?”

Karel nodded but the Sisters appeared confused.

“There is no human left alive on the Great Isle that has first-hand experience of orcs.  At best they might recall the tales their grand-parents handed down from the grandparents of their grandparents.” Shira explained. “Many would not believe they had returned.  And this is the Kingdom of Assiau. They have no real standing army, just a small Royal guard that patrols the land and only has experience in dealing with small bands of brigands.  Even if the King called up the Guards from the various cities…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “The people of the Great Isle have led peaceful lives for many generations. Not even the horror of the Night of the Royal Deaths on the Mainland could shake them out of their complacency. I fear that complacency will soon come to an end.”

“In the Halls of the Sisterhood, it is thought that none of the would-be-tyrants on the mainland have cast their eyes on the Great Isle because they fear retribution from a sleeping giant.” Kyleen mused. “But there is no giant. Just tales of the past. ”

“Don’t sell them short, Kyleen.” Shira countered. “The Great Isle’s recent past might not be as violent as that of Sargael,” She said, giving the Mainland its proper name, “but such was not always the case.”  She glanced around at the unconcerned passers-by and Karel thought he saw something akin to pride in her face. “It may be a bloody shock at first, but these people will rally when the need arises. And their wrath will shake the world again as it has in the past.” This last she said as she looked pointedly in his direction.

The Knight grew pensive at that, most probably recalling all the history she had learned while with the Sisterhood.

A warrior order devoted to the Goddess of fire and war they might be, but they were also some of the best-educated people on the Mainland.  

The Sisterhood, Sean knew, did not recruit from adults but rather focused on taking in orphaned girls or raising up those girl children born to those members of the Sisterhood that had left the field of battle to raise families.

They did not ignore the male children.  Before the bloody conflicts at the end of the First Age, boy children would have been raised by the Sisterhood’s male counterparts, the Brotherhood of Dyer. But the Brotherhood had perished in those final days of the First Age so now the Sisterhood raised the boys themselves.  Karel knew several accomplished members of the different Mercenary Companies were men raised and trained by the Sisterhood.   Of course, there were some, though fewer, equally accomplished women in the Mercenary Companies that were trained by the Sisterhood, as well.   Women who, for one reason or another, chose not to devote themselves to the Sisterhood or lacked one or two of the strict qualities the Sisterhood demanded.  Being raised by the Sisterhood was no guarantee that a girl would be asked to join them or pass the grueling ordeals prospective Sisters had to endure.

Thinking about the mercenary companies turned Karel’s thoughts to himself.  On Sargael, the Mainland, he had been a Captain of the Black Wolves.  With over a hundred men under his command.  Or rather, under the command of the Wolfblade. Despite all that had occurred since reaching the Great Isle, Karel realized that he had left the Wolfblade back in the port city when he stepped off the ship.  Karel, the would-be-farmer from a small village had taken over. Through the whirlwind of events since then, the sickening discoveries in Near Sea Village, the Orc attack, he had simply been reacting as he had been trained, with no real thought or plan. As if life was pushing forward and he was simply along for the ride.

As they rode further into the city, they attracted a bit more attention. People actually began to stop and watch as they rode past. Most of their attention, Karel noted, seemed to be on the Sisters, especially Tyra and Kyleen.

“You’d think they never saw a Sister, before.” Kyleen grumbled.

“Most probably haven’t.” Shira told her. “I imagine there are probably some here that have never even heard of the Sisterhood. Dyera is one of the Benign Gods and while they are honored here, they are not revered on the Great Isle as they are on the Mainland. Here, Relnia holds sway.”

While Kyleen took this in stride, Tyra, acting every inch the indignant paladin, frowned.

“It is not right that Dyera or any of the Benign Gods be set below the Unaligned One.’ She said, not bothering to lower her voice. Karel, seeing by the looks on some of the faces of those that watched them had heard, spurred his horse closer to hers.

“I would watch my words, were I you, Paladin.” He told her. “The people of the Great Isle are very tolerant but they tend to get a bit upset when outsiders belittle their beliefs.  While it may be acceptable to call Relnia the Unaligned One on the Mainland, it is not a term looked on with favor here. Quite frankly, I am a bit shocked myself to hear a Paladin utter such garbage.”

“I do not need schooling from you, Wolfblade.” Tyra huffed, clearly insulted.

“Then you will get it from me, Tyra Lohr!” Kyleen barked, causing the paladin to redden. “You will watch your words and you will not give offense to these people.” When Tyra opened her mouth to retort, Kyleen held up one finger. “If you will not take schooling from the Wolfblade, and you will not take schooling from me, then perhaps you will take schooling from the Reverend Mother when we return home!”

If Karel had had any doubts as to who was truly in charge of this group of Sisters, those doubts would now have been gone.  Kyleen had just confirmed his suspicions about who was truly in command of the Sisters. But the knight was not yet finished.  She nudged her horse forward and cut him in front of Tyra’s, forcing the paladin to stop in the middle of the road.

“You were loud enough in your dismissal of what these people hold dear, can you be as loud in your apology?” She demanded.

Karel closed his eyes, understanding the undercurrent of what was occurring.  What Kyleen was doing was more than demanding that Tyra utter an audible apology.  She was letting the paladin know that she, herself, was now taking full control of this unit of the Sisterhood.

The two women locked eyes.  The older, veteran knight and the younger, inexperienced paladin. The young paladin was the first to look away.  The moment had passed and the mantle of leadership had shifted.

In a voice even louder than she had originally used, Tyra gave voice to an apology for her ill-considered words.

Shira, who had watched the entire incident in silence, gave Kyleen a nod of approval and spurred her horse forward, resuming their trek into the city.

Soon the occasional houses that lined the wide road became interspersed with shops and businesses of varying sorts, with side streets branching off deeper into the residential or business areas. They began to pass people on horseback or driving carts or wagons of various sizes, some empty, some heavily laden.

The further in they traveled, the larger the structures lining the road became and the number of actual residences decreased dramatically, giving way to shops and merchant houses of all types.

With a start, Karel realized that quite a few of both types appeared to be closed down and boarded up. When he pointed this out to Shira, she nodded sadly.

"Arkaten was a major layover and distribution point for goods heading towards the port cities." She explained. "With the trade to the mainland being almost nonexistent, merchants can't justify the expense of shipping the goods to cities with no buyers. Most of the major merchant houses have completely closed down their branches in the coastal cities and maintain only a token presence in cities like Arkaten." She shook her head. "Though port cities like Svowmahni have become virtual ghost towns, the lack of trade with the mainland has sent economic ripples throughout the Great Isle. Entire villages and towns have been abandoned, while others have closed in on themselves, doing without whatever they can't make for themselves."

She gestured towards the people in the streets.

"I haven't seen it myself, but those who lived here all their lives tell me that these major roads in and out of the city were all but clogged on a daily basis." She said. "According to those old-timers, these roads are all but deserted now."

"They considered this deserted?" Karel wondered, looking around at the numerous passersby. He shook his head. "They should see some of the cities on the mainland."

"The Wolfblade speaks truly." Tyra ventured, her earlier irritation obviously forgotten. "Trade on the mainland is a chancy thing." Karel nodded at Shira's inquiring look.

"One of the services the Sisterhood provides is escorts for trade caravans." He informed her. "They don't offer it for free, but I have met many merchants that have lived to regret their unwillingness to pay the fees the Sisterhood demands." He nodded towards the Sisters. "Kyleen made a comment earlier about these people never having seen a Sister before, but I'll venture to guess that none of these Sisters have seen anything like this before, either." He gave a sharp, barking laugh. "Neither have I, for that matter." When the Sisters looked at him, he shrugged.

"Before I joined the Black Wolves, I had never been further from my home than Sytier." He said. "My only true experience with cities are with those on the mainland. To enter a city that is not shrouded in fear and distrust is something new for me as well."

"I had not realized that things were so bad over there." Shira mused. "It seems you must have glossed over the true conditions in your letters."

"One thing, I wonder, Wolfblade," Kyleen spoke up when Karel remained silent. "In fact, it is one of the questions the Reverend Mother would put you herself. Why did you leave the Black Wolves? It was thought by many in the Sisterhood and other mercenary companies that you would eventually rise to lead the Black Wolves. In fact, there were many among the Sisterhood that looked forward to that day."

"I guess because I finally realized that the mercenary companies were not, not even the Black Wolves, the cure for what a ailed the mainland." He answered slowly. "They're a symptom of the disease. The mercenary companies make their money because of the chaos that reigns supreme on the mainland, not in spite of it. If things were to return to normal, the mercenary companies would see their income dwindle. So it is in their best interest to maintain things as they are." He shrugged. "In the beginning, I deceived myself into believing that I was fighting for some noble cause; that the Black Wolves were different from the other mercenary companies who only fought for pay, no matter who was doing the paying. It finally got to the point where I could deceive myself no longer."

“But the Black Wolves were different.” Kyleen protested. “The Commanders were always extremely picky about what contracts they would accept, always passing on those they considered to be morally wrong, even if it meant taking a less profitable contract.  And they were always just as picky about whom they trained to take over!”

“Perhaps.” Karel agreed, if somewhat reluctantly. “But from my perspective, I just couldn’t see it. Mercenary companies, by their very nature, fight for no other noble purpose than the coin in their pockets.  There had to be something more…and so I decided to leave it all and come home to take up farming…or something.”

Kyleen nodded thoughtfully but said nothing else.

They rode on in silence for some way, each lost in their own thoughts or gazing around in wonder.

As they approached the massive wall that encircled the inner portion of the city and the wide gates that blocked the road, both Kyleen and Tyra nodded with approval that, even though they had allowed the city to grow beyond the walls, and city planners have at least had enough sense to maintain a clear area several hundred yards wide between the first buildings and the wall itself. Buildings would offer protection to would-be attackers, but here, those attackers would have to cross a virtual killing field to reach the walls.

The gates themselves were swung open wide and guardsmen stood to either side, lazily watching those that passed through. After watching several carts and wagons passed through unhindered, Kyleen turned to Shira.

"They perform no searches?" She demanded.

"Not really." Was the answer. "Oh, every now and then they'll randomly pick someone to search, but for the most part, there's no real need."

Kyleen shook her head, once again amazed by the laxity she had witnessed on the Great Isle.

As if hearing her thoughts, the gate guards straightened and became more attentive as they drew closer. Understandable, Karel thought to himself. If he were a gate guard and saw a group of warriors, all obviously outsiders, approaching, he knew he would be paying attention.

Sure enough, as they drew abreast of the gates, a grizzled old Sergeant stepped out with a raised hand.

 “Welcome back to Arkaten, m’Lady.” He intoned. He was speaking to Shira, but his eyes were roving over the Sisters and Karel. "We know you, of course, and have orders to allow you to pass... but these others?"

Karel noticed Tyra bristling and was amused to see Kyleen reach over and lay her hand on the paladin's arm in an almost nonchalant manner. He had no doubt whatsoever that there was nothing nonchalant about it. Kyleen was telling the paladin to keep her mouth shut.

"We're simply passing through, Sergeant," Shira responded in a pleasant voice. "We plan to take a few days to rest from the road, possibly visit the local temple, and then be on our way again.”

The sergeant gave them an uncertain eye and then looked closer at the emblems adorning the clothing and armor of the ladies. He then correctly picked out Tyra and Kyleen as leaders and bowed to both of them.

"It's been years since I've seen the like." He said. "I was but a small boy when last a Sister visited our city, but it's not likely something I'd forget." He turned his attention back to Shira. "Were it my decision, m'Lady, I'd pass you through." He said. "But others have turned up lately that have caused the Lords to issue orders to detain all strangers at the gates until they can be vouched for."

"Others? What others?" Shira demanded.

"I wasn't on duty at the time, m'Lady, but from what I've heard, a group of fifty or so men and women showed up not six days ago at this very gate. They claimed to be from one of those mercenary companies on the mainland." He was looking closely at Karel by this time and finally nodded in his direction. "They was dressed much like this one, though not near so neat." He shook his head. "They didn't cause no trouble. Simply said they were looking for someone. But if you ask me, they looked beaten, as if they was in shock."

While the companions mulled this over, the sergeant beckoned to a runner and, after hastily scribbling a note, set him on his way.

"Mercenaries in Arkaten?" Shira demanded, turning to Karel. "Surely they are not sending their recruiters so far inland now."

"No, it would take too long and involved more hassle than the recruiters are willing to endure." Karel responded absently. Could whoever was behind the orcs that had attacked the Sisters have sent these mercenaries as well? He pressed his horse forward until he faced the sergeant himself. "When these mercenaries left, did they give any clue as to where they were going?"

To be Continued…….. 

 

 

-- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2015 by Clay Clearbrook

-- and may not be reprinted without permission.