Oestre was a quiet coastal village, far away from the bustle and politics of the capital and major cities further inland. In fact it was one of the farthest villages from the center of the consulary, marking the western edge of its territory.
Life moved slower out on the coast. The people lived off the sea, even the ones who didn't fish mended the nets and readied the catches for transport and market farther inland. But while they sent their goods into the consulary’s territory, they didn't bring many things back out from Lufstra. They didn't have any of the flashy clothes or gadgets or magics the people of the big cities. And they were happy that way.
Oestre had never seen any war, it was far enough away that it hadn't been dragged into the civil war that had been the beginning of the consulary or any of the uprisings after that. It was a peaceful village where the closest they had to weapons were harpoons and fishing spears.
Days began early in Oestre, earlier even than in the farm belt. The sun rose earlier over the sea and if the fishers didn't beat it out they would miss the morning's haul. Everyone had a part to play and did it willingly, even the children. Everyone with the strength to haul nets found a spot waiting for them in someone's boat--it didn't matter whose--and those who didn't were busy preparing for the fishers' return before they had even set out.
The work was communal, as was everything else in Oestre. It didn't matter which house you slept in, everyone looked out for one another. That was what it meant to be a village, a community. Something the people of the big cities had long since forgotten.
But while the work was shared, so too were the results. Whether times were good or bad, the people of Oestre stuck together. The food just tasted better when everyone ate together, lively conversation was the best spice.
So their days went, simple and satisfying, and this particular day wasn't any different. Maybe it would have been, maybe they would've done everything differently had they known it would be their last. But then, the way they did things wasn't so bad.
* * *
“I still don’t see why you’re so hung up on this,” Zephyr complained from her seat on the stone wall running along the side of the field. “Why can’t you just accept that it might have been her.”
“Because I don’t think it was,” Trace said, steeling his stomach for another examination of the dismembered cattle. He wasn’t faint of heart by any means, but no one would enjoy looking at a scene like that.
“We don’t know anything about her, and all you’ve been doing since we met her is taking her side. Why do you think it wasn’t her, just because she said so?”
Trace bent down over one of the corpses. “No, because she doesn’t have claws. Look.”
“I’d rather not,” Zephyr said, looking away in disgust. “And maybe she used a knife.”
“A knife wouldn’t leave cuts like this. The slashes are too rough around the edges and too close together. These wounds were either caused by claws or teeth.”
“Like an animal? Are you forgetting that someone saw her going back into town?”
“It was dark, maybe he didn’t know what he was seeing.”
“Or maybe you just don’t want your fiancé to get locked up,” Zephyr suggested with a sneer.
“She’s not my fiancé,” Trace insisted. “But she is my responsibility. I brought her here, and I don’t think she did this. Trust me.”
“Doesn’t my opinion matter? We’re supposed to be a team.”
“You could be right,” Trace said, “but so could I. All I’m saying is that we don’t have enough evidence either way.”
Zephyr let out a sign and jumped down off the wall. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder as she started to walk away.
“Where?”
“If we’re going to investigate this, we may as well do it thoroughly. Let’s go find this witness and see what he really saw.”
Trace smiled. “Thank you,” he said, jogging to catch up with her.
“I still think she’s guilty,” Zephyr said to make sure he didn’t misunderstand.
That didn’t dull Trace’s smile. “I guess we’ll find out.” And so the two of them went back to the mage-knight headquarters to track down the witness.
It wasn’t hard to find the witness’s name. The mage-knight headquarters was a shining example of strictly enforced efficiency. Everything was neatly organized, and all it took was directions from one of the gray uniforms stationed at the front desk for the two of them to find the records room. There another staff member was happy to find them the witness’s name and address from among the cabinets of papers. The whole thing took less than ten minutes and soon they were on their way back into the city to question the witness.
On their way out they passed a woman wearing poorly fitting herders’ clothes. She was tall with a muscular build and shoulder-length red hair. Despite her clothes she looked like someone who was no stranger to combat, and not just because of her many injuries. She held herself tall and walked with pride despite a limp. Cuts and bruises that hadn’t fully healed yet adorned her face and her left hand hung in a sling fashioned out of an old shirt.
She looked down at the two young mage-knights as their paths crossed, just as they looked up at her. But none of them said anything. The woman kept walking, thinking to herself how white and pristine their uniforms looked. They just hadn’t had a chance to get them dirty yet, but one day they would have to.
All of the gray uniforms stopped to watch the red-haired woman limp in. Some of them saluted while the rest made sure to clear out of her way. She kept going until she reached the front desk.
The woman dropped her bag, which contained among other things her own uniform, onto the desk. Her uniform had once been as white as Trace and Zephyr’s, but now it was torn and dyed a loathsome scarlet, a symbol of her failure.
She lifted her uninjured hand to her chest in salute, a gesture which the staff behind the desk mirrored. “Rand Herra, reporting in.”
* * *
The witness lived down in one of the lower rings of the mountainous city, where the streets were narrow and the goods on sale much less splendid than those further up the hill. It wasn't a bad place, merely humble in its appearance as opposed to the splendorous crystal and polished marble at the city's peak.
According to the information they'd received at the headquarters, the man they were looking for was Jeryl Antz, a vendor who was quite popular in that area. People who frequented his stall came more for his personality than the goods he sold. Everyone in the area knew who he was and where to find him, so it wasn’t long before Trace and Zephyr found themselves standing in front of his stall.
Jeryl was an old man with a look nearing senility about him. His baggy, patched-up clothes hung on his nearly skeletal frame like it was a clothesline, his frizzled gray hair stuck out around his head like a cloud and the smile never left his old, cracked lips, not even when he slept. But there was still a gleam in his eyes, a kindness and consciousness where lunacy would have only vacancy. Despite his age and his dress, he was sharp.
“You mage-knights seem to be getting younger every day,” he said with a smile as the two of them approached his stall. “It must be a hard job for kids your age.”
“We’re not kids,” Zephyr corrected sharply.
Trace had expected her to react like that and was ready to step in. “You were the one who witnessed the livestock attack this morning, right?”
The old man scratched his patchy beard. “I wouldn’t say I witnessed anything in particular, but I did see someone come running from that direction. Wouldn’t have thought much of it if this particular person hadn’t been quite so strange. Then this morning I heard about the livestock and, well, my head might be getting a bit cloudy but I can still put two together.”
“When you say strange, you mean she had a tail,” Zephyr said, still irritated over being called a kid.
“A big one at that, though I’m not sure I’d go so far as to call it a her. It may’ve been dark, but there’s no other way than that thing I saw was a monster. I’ve never seen anything like it before and hope never to again.”
Trace smiled at Zephyr. Though the tail part of his description might have matched Rin, he didn’t think anyone would go as far as to call her a monster.
Zephyr wasn’t as convinced. “Why don’t you describe it for us, in as much detail as you can?”
“Well like I said it was dark, so I didn’t get a great look. But it was certainly taller than me, even from that distance I could tell. And it was fast, faster than I’ve ever seen something move, so my guess is it was strong too. It had a tail that must’ve been as long as my arm, a big, bushy one. It’s whole body was covered with thick fur that was either brown, gray or black. Oh, and it had something around its neck.”
“What do you mean something?” Zephyr asked.
“I’m not too sure myself,” the old man admitted. “All I know was that there was something hanging from its neck that was glowing. Gave off a creepy blue light. Otherwise I might not’ve seen it at all. Now there’s a scary thought right there. Sorry, but that’s all I can tell you.”
“You’ve been more than helpful,” Trace said with a smile.
“I heard they’ve got a suspect in custody,” Jeryl asked as the two young mage-knights started to leave. “Do you really think they’ve got the right person?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Zephyr said without looking back.
She walked quickly through the narrow streets and back to the bright main alleys, but Trace kept up with ease. “Did they even listen to his description?” Trace demanded once he caught up to her. “What part of that sounded like Rin?”
“The tail?” Zephyr suggested, raising her eyebrows and unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Or maybe the fur.”
“He said the tail was big and bushy, as long as his arm,” Trace argued. “And what about the rest? She’s not that tall and I definitely wouldn’t call her a monster.”
“It was dark,” Zephyr countered, “and late. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. Or maybe she wore a costume?”
“Then why pick one with a tail? Why go through all that trouble in the first place? It’s like they didn’t even try to find the real culprit and just put all the blame on Rin.”
Zephyr sighed, her patience finally running thin. She stopped walking, though she didn’t look at him as she responded. “That’s exactly what they did. Isn’t that why we’re investigating right now?”
“But then why imprison someone if they don’t know she did it? That just isn’t right.”
“Because what if she did? What if while we’re busy investigating she does it again? And what if it’s not just livestock next time? You talk about what’s right and what isn’t like that’s all that matters, but it’s not. Our job is to do what’s best for the people, to keep them safe. If that means holding a suspect during an investigation then that’s what we’ll do. What’s wrong with giving people some sense of peace and security while we find the truth, even if that peace comes from a lie?”
The closest Trace could come to an answer was to look away and say, “There has to be a better way.”
“Maybe there is, but this is the best we’ve got. It’s great to be an idealist, but sometimes you’re just naïve.” Zephyr hadn’t meant to snap at him, but she just couldn’t bear anymore of his unrealistic idealism. And though it may have come out sharper than she’d imagined, she had no intention of apologizing. Why should she? After all, she was right.
“Come on,” she said as she started walking again and expected him to follow. He did, though she never looked back to check.
“What now?” he asked.
“We check around the inn, see in anyone saw her leave or if she hid anything there.”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
* * *
Rand sat perfectly still, eyes closed as the medic took care of her injuries. The med wing was always the quietest part of the headquarters, where even the footsteps made no noise and the only sound came from the whispered healing spells of the medics.
She breathed deeply the scentless air, taking in the neutrality of the place. It was comforting, especially after everything that had happened. She’d spent a lot of time in the med wing back when she’d first joined the mage-knights, more time perhaps than anywhere else she had ever called home.
Then suddenly all of that peace, that neutrality came crumbling down around her as an argument broke out down the hall. The medic’s concentration faltered, the hum and glow of his healing spell wavering as he struggled to regain control of it. Rand just let out a soft sigh, wincing as it brushed past her cracked rib. She’d expected something like this to happen eventually. She was only surprised at how long it had taken him to reach her.
“Sir you can’t go in yet, she’s still being treated,” called an audibly harried nurse as she tried in vain to hold back the man storming down the hall.
“I don’t care,” Captain Shaw said. He didn’t raise his voice but Rand could tell it made the nurse outside tremble as if he had. That was the kind of person he was, never showing any emotion to anyone, except for one person. But then, that was why he had come running to see her.
Rand braced herself for the pain that would come along with it and raised her voice. “It’s alright,” she said loud enough for the two in the hall to hear her. The pain in her side wasn’t any less because she’d been expecting it, but she didn’t let it show. If only the medic had healed that first, she thought. At least broken limbs didn’t stop you from talking. “Let him in.”
“Are you sure?” the medic said, his spell still shimmering on his fingertips.
Rand narrowed her gaze. The medic flinched despite himself. “Wait outside,” she commanded. And though she was just his patient the medic obeyed without question.
As soon as the medic opened the door Shaw burst in. His features were frozen in place, as cold and implacable as always. To anyone who didn’t know him the mage-knight captain wouldn’t have looked any different than usual.
But Rand had seen a side of Iceman Shaw almost no one else had, even if it had only been from a distance. She could see the concern buried beneath the permafrost of his expressionless mask.
“Where is she?” he asked as soon as the medic closed the door behind himself. Had it been anyone else who had come to visit her, the medic and nurse may have tried to listen in from the hallway. But nobody wanted to cross Iceman Shaw.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Rand said, wincing at the pain in her side that came with the words. Not that she’d expected Shaw to ask about her condition. He had much more things on his mind.
“It would take a lot more than this to kill you,” he said, which they both knew was true. “What happened? It was supposed to be a simple job.”
“Yeah well it wasn’t,” Rand pulling herself up despite the pain in her side. Her leg had been healed already but the medic had only gotten halfway through her arm before he’d been interrupted. Shaw didn’t try to stop her from moving. He knew it wouldn’t have mattered if he had.
“We were misinformed,” she said once she’d pushed herself into a sitting position. The initial pain died away after she stopped moving, and although there was still the occasional singe she found it much easier to talk that way. “We were told it was just some antique they’d dug up in the mine. Apparently it was much more valuable than that.”
Shaw’s expression never changed, but Rand could see the flicker of interest in his frozen features. “What was it?”
Rand shook her head and instantly regretted the motion. “Someone got there before us, wiped out the entire outpost. They killed everyone.” She balled her fists around the blanket below her. Shaw pretended not to notice that her hands were shaking. “Even the kids. And all for one stupid artifact.”
“You went after them.” It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be.
“We would have lost the trail if we’d waited for backup. It was her idea,” Rand said. “She said it’s what you would’ve done.”
That didn’t console Shaw anymore than it did Rand. “Once upon a time maybe. I know better than that now.”
“We caught up to them maybe a day’s walk south of Ristenen. There were only two of them. I thought we could take them.” Rand expected Shaw to lecture her about underestimating her opponents as he had so many times before. But this wasn’t the time for lectures so she continued. All it took was one of them. He couldn’t have been human. He beat us both so easily. I guess he thought I was dead.”
“What happened to Katalyn?” Even Iceman Shaw couldn’t keep the urgency out of his usually neutral voice.
Rand closed her eyes and shook her head. “She was still fighting when I lost consciousness. A herder child found me there the next day. He didn’t see anyone else.”
Shaw drew in a deep breath which turned into a steady stream of ice as he exhaled. It may not have seemed like much, but for him that small gesture was as potent as any howl of rage. “She’s still alive,” he said after a short but pregnant pause.
“Can you make that assumption?” Rand asked. Not that she wasn’t just as hopeful as Shaw that her partner was still alive, but unlike him she’d seen firsthand what their attacker was capable of.
Shaw’s ice blue eyes hardened into glaciers. “I have to. She’s alive, and I’ll find her, whatever it takes.”
Groaning with the effort, Rand reached over and picked something up off the table next to her. It was a bundle of three letters sealed in pristine envelopes. Without looking him in the eyes she handed them to Shaw. “She wrote these for you.”
Shaw took the letters and stuffed them gently into one of the pockets of his white uniform. “Aren’t you going to read them?” Rand asked.
“She’ll read them to me once we get her back. Now tell me everything about the man who attacked you.”
Taking as deep a breath as her cracked rib would allow, Rand told Shaw everything she could about the monstrous man who had beaten them so easily.
* * *
The first thing Trace and Zephyr did once they got back to the Lyre Inn was search Rin’s room. It didn’t take very long. Aside from the remnants from the scuffle that morning when she’d been dragged out the room looked exactly how it had when she’d gotten there. She hadn’t brought any luggage with her so the drawers were all empty, and from the looks of it she had hardly used the bed.
Next they checked anywhere else she could’ve possibly hidden anything, and just as Trace predicted they didn’t find anything. The kitchen, the storeroom and all of the empty rooms--which outnumbered the occupied rooms--were all turned inside out and nothing even the slightest bit unusual was found.
Once they were sure there wasn’t anything hidden in the inn, then next thing to do was question all of the other guests asking if any of them had seen anything. Unfortunately all of the other guests were out on business and wouldn’t return until later in the evening, which gave the two young mage-knights nothing to do but wait for them.
One by one the guests returned and all of them were more than happy to answer Trace and Zephyr’s questions. There was the couple who came with their young daughter on vacation, the street performer who had been there since the very first time Trace had come to the inn, two merchants and a woman traveling by herself. According to what they said all of them had gone to sleep early the night before and hadn’t seen anything.
The last person to return was Liza, who had been busy all day at the headquarters. By the time she got back she was already exhausted, but even so with her parents out of town she was in charge of running the inn. As soon as she had changed out of her gray uniform she was already busy preparing dinner for the guests.
“I heard about Rin,” she said to the two mage-knights over the pot of stew she was preparing. “Do you really think it was her?”
“No,” Trace answered at the exact same time that Zephyr said, “We don’t know.”
Liza looked from Trace to Zephyr, wondering which one to believe. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Did you notice anything strange last night? Or see anything?” Trace asked.
Liza thought for a second. “I don’t think so. Last night I went to sleep earlier than usual, before sunset even so I don’t think I could’ve seen anything useful. Sorry.”
“That’s alright,” Trace assured her, all while Zephyr stared intently at Liza.
“Your sure you didn’t notice anything strange last night at all?” Zephyr asked, eyes narrowed. “Not even an unusual dream?”
“What do dreams have to do with anything?” Trace asked, but Zephyr waved his comment away.
“I don’t know,” Liza answered. “I hardly ever remember my dreams so I can’t really say.”
“Is that so?” Zephyr asked, not convinced. “I think we’ve got everything we need. Let’s go Trace.” And without waiting for his opinion she left.
* * *
Night came quickly in Oestre, the dusk staining red and gold ribbons over the sea and dying the clouds deep and brilliant purples. The villagers went to bed with the sun so they could rise before it the next morning. Peace and quiet fell over the village with the final rays of twilight, like the whole world had gone to sleep with it.
But not everyone was asleep. While the villagers fell with the sun, some people only rose once the sky had emptied. They had intentions much darker than those of the people of the quiet fishing village, plots so dark the sun couldn’t shine on them.
They came from beyond the sea, from lands no one was supposed to inhabit, sneaking across the sea in flat boats which would have been hard to spot even in broad daylight. That late at night they were nothing but shadows crawling through a world of shadows.
Silently the flat boats reached the shore, and just as silently their crews emerged, dressed in darkness and fear, pelts and horns and weapons of every kind. They could have been specters or spirits for all the sound they made. The only indication that they were still men came from the footprints they left behind in the rocky sand. They were death and destruction personified. The Hoarde, a name no one knew yet but soon everyone would fear.
Their invasion was over almost as soon as it had begun. No one woke, no one ever knew what was happening to them. Fires raged but no one woke long enough to see them. The Hoarde swept silently through the village like a plague, with none of howls of delight that usually came along with such raids. They were swift, silent and inexorable.
The attack lasted under an hour, at the end of which the village was gone. All the buildings had been burned to the ground, their inhabitants all killed. Not a single person survived the massacre. So even though that night marked the beginning of the Hoarde’s invasion of the mainland, no one would find out about it until it was much too late.
* * *
“So why exactly are we staking out the inn?” Trace asked. It was well after midnight and they had already been hiding across the street for at least a couple hours.
“Something’s bothering me,” Zephyr said. Trace had tried to ask her a few times why they were there, but he had never gotten any more of an answer out of her than that.
But sure enough, exactly two hours after midnight Zephyr’s vague hunch paid off. Had they taken their eyes off the front door for just a couple of seconds they would have missed the figure sneaking out of the inn. Both of them saw it, and instantly knew what it was.
The figure was easily recognizable as something other than human. It was nearly as tall as the door it had come out of, with an incredibly lanky body. It had a large, bushy tail and from its profile its entire body was covered with thick, long fur. It had what looked like two furry ears that reached down nearly to its tail, which swung back and forth every time the creature moved its head. Even from where they were hiding across the street the two mage-knights could clearly see the long claws that tipped each of the thing’s fingers. And just like the old man had described, there was some sort of crystal the size of a fist dangling from its neck, glowing with an ethereal blue light.
“You were right,” Zephyr whispered, “I guess it wasn’t Rin.”
“Then who is it?” Trace asked, unable to believe his eyes. It was a kind of creature he had never seen, a cross between a person and a wolf, combining all of the most deadly features of each.
The creature lifted its head, scenting the air.
“Can’t you tell?” Zephyr asked, rolling her eyes. “The necklace, the braids? Really? It’s Liza.”
Trace was stunned. The kind, talkative Liza, was that monster? “How?”
“Does it really matter? All we need to do is catch her.”
But that was a lot easier to say than to do. With one last sniff Liza took off at a frightening speed toward the fields. She moved inhumanly fast, and even at a full sprint the two mage-knights couldn’t keep up with it. They only hoped they could catch up to her before she hurt anything else.
Next Week- Chapter 10: Curse