Ahoy, dear readers! As usual, I am many months behind in my posting and I deeply apologize for it, but real life is unbelievably busy and I don't have as much time to write as I would like. :(
Here are 3 new chapters, with a fourth one coming up soon if all goes well!
Enjoy! xox
P.S This is un-beta'ed so sorry for typos, and also, I suck at naming chapters :P XD
Chapter 11 - What's your story?
After what she learned from Robert Thomet, Maeve felt at a complete loss, helplessly clueless about her next course of actions now that the probability of Jacob being dead was extremely high. What purpose did she have in Kalladrell if she had failed in the mission Dim-Dim had entrusted her with? What was she supposed to do now?
She didn't know how long she wandered aimlessly in the courtyard, walking amongst the soldiers and the volunteers like a ghost in a trance, but after a while she somehow found her way to the wagons near the left portcullis again, Simon friendly waving her over to assist him with the inventory if she wanted to, an occasion she seized with the hope of distracting herself from the storm of thoughts and doubts that was raging on inside her head, especially a series of gloomy scenarios about all the prophecies Master Dim-Dim had warned her about if anything happened to his prophet friend.
Thus, Maeve found herself sitting amongst the women and the children, inventorying beans, fruits, bread, cheese and hundreds of water skins, until her thoughts inevitably wandered down another path, one equally treacherous, that lured her straight to Sinbad and the crew. A series of questions poked at the corners of her mind restlessly, like a cloud of annoying bugs. She couldn't help but wonder how she could possibly contact them and if she would ever see them again anytime soon. If she had no more reason to stay here in Kalladrell, then what kept her from returning home? But Robin had told her earlier that no worldwide sailing ships ever docked here, and that left her wondering just how remote the island of Kalladrell truly was...
Time slipped by as her mind depressingly spun in a whirlwind of broken hopes. Barely registering how the sun sunk like a stone in the sky, the shadows in the courtyard growing long and dark, she couldn't help but feel like she was about to throw herself to the wolves at dawn when the trek through the Blind Mountains would begin. She was about to spend a whole month in a treacherous, deadly forest inhabited by dangerous creatures with a bunch of strangers she barely knew, and for what? For all she knew Jacob was already dead, probably had been for a while now, so why was she risking her life instead of trying to find a way to contact the crew?
On the other hand, just thinking about the whole matter made Maeve's stomach turn, her selfishness tasting like a bitter poison. She missed the crew terribly, but she couldn't back down now. All the information she had gathered so far pointed to the sad prospect of Jacob's death, but she would have to rely on hope until she reached Denwood and checked the truth for herself. Only then would she decide what to do next.
As much as she hated it, the crew would have to wait, a dull strain on her patience like a bad stitch in her side. But she would have to endure it.
Besides, even if she was still quite the stranger on this mysterious island, she couldn't help but feel like she was somehow involved with these people now. After everything she had learned about the horrible raid in Denwood, about the sickening methods the Blood Raiders used to slaughter innocent people, about Commander Sarkin's icy cruelty, about the courage and generosity of all the volunteers who were willing to risk their lives to help the surviving villagers on the other side of the Blind Mountains, she wanted to help them too, and she took pride in the fact that Sinbad and the crew would have done the same thing.
As darkness slowly settled in the courtyard, the soldiers and the other volunteers began to retire inside to their chambers and return to their homes, plunging the soldier's compound in a deserted silence that clashed with the former buzzing activity of the day.
Surfacing from her gloomy state of mind, before she even had the time to ponder on what she would do until Robin returned, Maeve soon found herself in the company of his men at arms as well as Leisa, who took it upon themselves to equip her with all the gear she would need for the trek through the mountains.
It warmed her heart to see how friendly and opened the soldiers were with her, as if she'd been their friend for years. Even Leisa, despite her usual grim composure, was being unsettlingly kind to her. The Radakeel's provocative attitude and challenging arrogance had considerably dimmed, although her feline sassiness was still pretty much present in her eyes, punctuating her occasional comments as she protected Maeve against the good-hearted teases of the men.
As she wondered if the merry band's considerate behaviours had anything to do with her hair color, Maeve quickly became the owner of a new sword, a bow and a full quiver, a brown leather backpack with a water skin and a bedroll with a blanket, and two satchels full of fruits that were to be her load to carry during the trek.
"Well, I think you're all set," Simon concluded as he finished tying up the laces to his own backpack and sat down with the rest of them around the fire Mark had started in a small iron barrel topped with wood, with a pot hanging above the flames by an iron bracket.
The courtyard was completely empty now, quiet and dark except for their little group cozily gathered around the fire for supper and a couple of lone torches bracketed on the granite columns all around, and Maeve also saw light shining behind a few windows high up in the white towering walls of the Council.
Glancing down at all the equipment Robin's friends had put together for her next to the bench where she was seated, Maeve shook her head with overwhelming gratitude. "I don't know how to thank you all for this…"
As he offered her a bowl of stew, Leo smiled down kindly at her. "No need to. We can always use an extra warrior when making the crossing."
"But, if you ever feel reeaally guilty about abusing our hospitality and it's keeping you awake at night," Coop smirked flirtatiously as he chewed on a loaf of bread. "You can always come and see me. I can think of many ways you could return the favour. I'm sure we-"
When Leisa wacked the tanned man behind the head, he hunched his shoulders with a groan. "What?" he protested with a grimace. "You only meet a woman made out of fire and steel once in a blue moon. You don't want to waste her when she's in your hands."
Maeve scoffed at his line of thoughts. "What makes you think I'm in your hands?"
"Don't mind him," Leisa rolled her eyes at her companion's behaviour as she sat down next to her on the bench. "He's got an inferiority complex with women."
"Aye," Leo added, the young brown-eyed soldier throwing an apple at his smug friend. "And he's trying to conceal it with bad pick-up lines."
Mark and the others laughed as Coop made a face, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
"Do you have a place to sleep for the night?" Simon asked her as he sliced himself a piece of cheese.
"I'm afraid not," Maeve said, taking a spoonful of stew.
"You could stay here at the barrack," the blond captain offered. "We have a couple of spare bunks upstairs-"
"Do you seriously think I'm going to leave her here with you, guys?" Robin cut in jokingly as he stepped out into the courtyard from a sideway door shadowed between the columns to their left.
Everyone turned to him in surprise, welcoming him to their little campfire, and Maeve felt a warm wave of safety and familiarity roll inside her chest when she briefly met his gaze.
"I can keep Coop at bay if that's what you're worried about," Leisa reassured him, the twitch of a smile tugging on her lips.
Patting Leo on the back as the young soldier scooted aside on the bench, Robin sat down with them. "Oh it's you guys I'm worried about," he said, throwing Maeve a playful look across the dancing flames. "She's a handful."
Maeve instantly quirked an eyebrow up. "I beg your pardon?"
"She can be quite meddlesome when she wants to," Robin joked again as he took the bowl of stew Leo handed him.
"I am not meddlesome," Maeve protested, narrowing her eyes at his light mockery.
"No?" Robin went on, teasing her despite her denial. "Who was it who got tangled up with a thieves' caravan this morning and got me involved in the brawl?"
"You deliberately chose to intervene, not I," Maeve huffed, tossing an argument of her own back at him. "And who was it who saved your sorry hide when they ambushed us down the road?"
Robin drew silent then, stifling a laugh as he hung his head to focus on his stew, opening his mouth to speak once more but cut off by his companion.
"Are you sure you don't want her to sleep here?" Simon asked amusingly, exchanging playful looks with the others who were all biting back idiotic grins.
"Yes." Robin met Maeve's gaze for a moment across the fire, clearly enjoying their little good-hearted quarrel despite their mocking audience, then turned to answer his blond-haired comrade. "I found her a room up in the council quarters."
"Next to yours?" Mark teased, earning a string of low chuckles from the others.
"Next to Leisa's," Robin simple stated, ignoring the innocent hint behind his friend's comment.
"Works for me," the Radakeel agreed, looking pleased by his decision.
Before Robin could share another look with her, Maeve lowered her gaze to her own stew, attempting to hide the sudden rush of heat that warmed her cheeks. Of course, the entire situation stirred memories from her time with the crew and their endless teasing, and as quickly as they flooded her mind, those funny and embarrassing memories rapidly shifted to bitter ones painted with storming oceans and painful grief, and she suddenly had to steel herself and clear her throat to find her voice. "Thank you."
It was a quiet moment of crackling flames and popping wood before Robin's simple words drifted across the campfire to close the subject, almost as if he had sensed her discomfort. "No problem."
And when she looked up again, he had already averted his gaze to his food.
Silence settled on their little group then, the crackles of the fire echoing loudly in the night, with a few embers flying up above the flames as they each indulged in their comforting meals, which could very well be their last. Who knew whom among them would survive the dangers they were about to face…
Only one man out of three makes it out alive.
That meant their current little merry-band could be split in two very soon, Maeve realized, the gloomy prospect weaving its way into her mind like a venomous snake, but before it could sink its fangs into her rising anguish, Mark, sitting right beside her with his bulking frame, broke the stretching silence.
"So, Maeve…" he began with his resonant, gruff voice. "What's your story?"
Six pairs of eyes settled on her at his words, an unspoken curiosity suddenly filling up the space around the campfire as Mark continued. "Since we'll be traveling together for the next month, it would be nice to know who we're trekking with."
Maeve raised her eyes to him, assessing his request carefully, until the corner of her lips curved up wittily. "I'm not telling you mine before you guys tell me yours."
Mark smirked, his small green eyes twinkling in the firelight. "Fair enough," he conceded with a nod. "Who shall go first?"
"I'll go," Leo volunteered with no hesitation, finishing a mouthful of stew with a small shake of his head. "There's not much to say anyway. I grew up here in Southamptom and all the men in my family served proudly in the army. My father, my grandfather, my great grandfather…All I've ever wanted was to become a soldier just like them, to serve and protect the people."
"A true born hero, this one," Coop bumped shoulder with the young solider, the gesture teasing in itself yet full of pride and care. "He would risk his life without a second thought to save someone in need."
Leo hung his head with a shy smile, toying with a piece of bread. "That's why I joined the army as soon as I was of age," he continued, voice humbled and honest. "I wanted to be the sword and shield against the darkness, with strength and honour to defend justice and truth."
"That's highly commendable," Maeve commented, impressed by the young soldier's honourable purpose.
"Aye, and don't underestimate his babyface," Mark added with a playful warning. "He's as lethal with a sword as any Radakeel is with a Sleyan."
They all shared a laugh at the comparison, the campfire ringing with the pleasant notes of companionship.
"And what are you lethal with?" Maeve asked Mark in return.
"A lumber axe," the scruffy man replied.
"What?"
He chuckled lowly at her questioning frown, his wide shoulders rippling under his shirt. "I was a lumberjack and a blacksmith before I joined the army a couple of years ago, or rather, before I was enrolled," he explained, stretching his arm out to grab an apple in a basket beside him. "Back then, I preferred forging weapons instead of wielding them, until I unexpectedly saved the life of one of Kalladrell's lieutenants. The man was on patrol and had an accident on the road, got crushed under a wagon. I lifted the thing up and dragged him out to safety, but he passed away from his wounds shortly after. He made me promise to deliver an important message to the Central Council, which I did, and after fulfilling the deed, before I knew it, Commander Cameron himself offered me to serve as a soldier here in Southampton, to help with the tracing of new trails in the Blind Mountains to secure the area. He said they could use the extra pair of hands of a lumberjack. The pay was three times what I was earning back then so I took the job. Ended up traveling South with these two." He pointed at Robin and Simon with his apple before taking a mighty, crunching bite.
"And after many months spent in our remarkable company, he came to value friendship more than coins," Simon said, his kind face warmer and less pale under the soft hue of the dancing flames.
Mark sickered good-humouredly at the army's captain, a spark of mischeviousness twinkling in his gaze as he went on with his tale. "Aye, and then we stopped in Denwood on our way here and this is where Simon fell in love with Robin's sister."
At this new information, Maeve's brain halted and a frown of puzzlement creased her brow as a couple of dots failed to connect themselves in her head. Her eyes darted to Robin questionningly. "I thought you said you grew up in Erindale. What was your sister doing all the way south in Denwood?"
"She never liked the city," Robin explained simply, meeting her gaze across the campfire. "She always dreamed of wide open spaces, green fields and horses to ride into the sunset with the wind in her hair. We had an uncle in Denwood who bred horses for a living and it was always her plan to go live with him as soon as her education was finished, which she did."
"And then she melted Simon's heart overnight," Coop commented theatrically, bringing his hand to his heart in a touching manner.
"He couldn't keep his eyes off her for a minute," Mark added mockingly, teasing his friend.
"They both couldn't their eyes off each other," Robin observed as well, nudging Simon beside him.
"And their hands," Coop added, causing his friends to erupt in laughter around the campfire, much to Simon's expense whose cheeks flushed bright crimson in the firelight.
"Shut up," the blond captain admonished them, attempting to scowl but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.
"And then came the wedding bells," Leo declared with a smooth sing-song voice.
Maeve couldn't help but smile at the entire exchange, her gaze settling on Simon with a question on her lips. "Why didn't you settle down?"
Simon sighed deeply, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, his blue eyes drifting to the flames pensively. "Because I had no money," he replied with simple honesty. "Cassidy already owned her own farm and her own land, but I wanted to earn my way around as well, and I wasn't completely ready to give up military service either. Besides, Robin and I got it into our heads to try and trace some decent, safer trails in the woods across the Blind Mountains to help with the crossings."
"A fools' errand," Robin bitterly observed. "It's impossible to create and maintain any kind of trail in there. Everything grows back within a week."
"Aye, but we did manage to outline a small trekking network over the years, which allowed me to visit Cassidy every season," Simon added, a shred of pride painting his voice. "Then she got pregnant and by the gods, Ella is growing so fast…"
"She's the cutest thing you'll ever meet," Mark boasted, addressing Maeve between two bites of apple.
"How old is she now, five years-old?" Coop asked.
"Six." A sad smile stretched Simon's lips, a father's pride coloring his pale face despite the deadly distance separating him from his family. "Anyway, I was supposed to leave the army this year to officially settle down, but then the Blood Raiders came…and I won't discard my sword nor my shield until this war is done and won."
Everyone nodded solemnly, faces turning grim and cold, the air suddenly growing thick as the space around the small campfire was darkened with the threatening shadows of war and destruction.
In the heavy silence, as icy goosebumps crawled on her skin at the recollection of Robert Thomet's horrible tale, Maeve inhaled quietly to settle her nerves, then spoke softly in an attempt to break the gloomy atmosphere and redirect the conversation back to its original subject. "So we've got many swords, a lumber axe…" She turned to level her gaze on Coop on the other bench. "I'm guessing your weapon of choice is the bow?"
The tanned-man smirked. "Oh I've got many weapons, darling."
Maeve rolled her eyes, huffing a laugh at his cocky boldness.
"If only he knew how to wield them all," Mark teased with his gruff voice.
Small laughter erupted from the others, the previous grim tension slowly shifting back to light and casual conversation.
"I grew up in an orphanage," Coop spoke, beginning his own tale. "My parents were killed when I was very young in a fishing accident near the lethal reefs of the Blind Mountains. I only joined the army a couple of years ago, around the same time as these three arrived in Southampton," he pointed to Robin, Simon and Mark. "But not before trying my hands at various different jobs. I was the steward of a very wealthy lord, a teacher in a youngling's school, a professional jouster, a fiddler musician in a band…"
"You're kidding me." Maeve's eyes widened in disbelief, genuinely impressed by the man's resume.
"Oh no he's dead serious," Leo nodded in confirmation. "You wouldn't believe everything this man can do. Name the job and he's done it before."
"What can I say, I'm a man of many talents," Coop grinned. "Marriage material."
"More like a great deal of trouble," Simon joked.
Coop made a face, almost pulling his tongue out in protest, then resumed his tale. "It wasn't until I joined the army and met these guys that I truly found my purpose." His dark eyes slowly turned serious and solemn, all trace of playfulness evaporating from them. "My family and my home are right here around this fire," he said, glancing at each of his companion in turn. "I'll shoot down hundreds of Blood Raiders to protect them, or die trying."
The air grew thick again, the threatening promises of war and its bloody battlefields looming over their heads like stormy clouds ready to unleash death upon them.
"Likewise, mate," Mark declared gravely, his meaty hand curling around a bottle of wine which he raised in a silent toast, stealing a sip before passing it on to Simon on the next bench.
"Aye." The blond captain drank as well. "We'll rid our shores of these dogs. If it's a war they want, we'll give them one."
The bottle passed on to Leo. "Aye, and the winds have already turned in our favor," he stated, and Maeve didn't miss the way his young brown eyes flitted in her direction when he spoke.
When Robin took the bottle after him, his sharp blue eyes momentarily plunging deep into hers before staring back into the flames as he drank, Maeve felt a cold shiver travel down her spine. "King Zankar brough us blood and death," he said darkly, voice deep and resonant. "We'll bring him all the fire Kalladrell has in store."
"And send him back to the Wikken Hells." Coop brought the bottle to his lips in agreement, passing it on to Leisa afterwards.
The Radakeel took a swig and her feline features glowed in the light of the flames, a warrior ready to rain hell upon her enemies. "Fire and steel," she declared, biting into the words as if they were etched into her very skin. "No one escapes the flames of justice, nor the blades of freedom. He will bleed. And he will burn."
The woman's head turned to her then, black eyes boring into her very soul, her words echoing in the gathering silence like the sharp crack of whip, and Maeve watched as the bottle was handed to her at last.
Fire.
Her pulse quickened in her throat as something rose within her, something shapeless and timeless, smoldering hot.
She knew fire.
It dwelled within her core, it flowed in her blood and dripped from her fingers, a deadly weapon she could unleash to destroy, to kill, to burn.
These people were swearing vengeance upon their enemies, speaking of fire, justice and freedom, voices roughened by determination and eyes alight with an ominous glow, looking at her as if she could breathe life back into their cause, like a bed of coals set ablaze by the faintest breath of wind. The weight of their stares made her pulse throb in her ears, her blood quickening beneath her skin. Her eyes flicked to Robin for support, a wordless exchange passing between them, packed with questions with their answers lost in the dead of night.
Seconds slipped away until she finally glanced down again at the bottle of wine in Leisa's outstreched hand, raising her own to grasp it through steady fingers. Under the expectant scrutiny of her audience, she took one long sip, the harsh liquor burning her throat and pooling in her stomach like a dull, comforting heat.
"Fire and steel," she said, repeating the Radakeel's words as if they were a motto of some sort.
She was no innocent maiden; she knew the terrors of destructive raids, foreign invasion and the chaos of battle, but the more pieces of information she collected about this mysterious land, the more she realized that she knew very little about warfare on a grand scale such as the one Kalladrell seemed to be facing, the threat of the Blood Raiders looming on the horizon with the promise of brutal sieges and the clash of massive armies. She was skilled enough to be a foot soldier if need be, and ressourceful enough to put her magic to good use, but she failed to see what her role in all of this was supposed to be. What had possessed Dim-Dim to send her here?
The whole matter made her shiver despite the radiating heat from the nearby flames, her skin crawling with dread beneath her shirt, and yet as she watched the faces of the strangers around her, she was profoundly moved at the same time, her heart swelling with warmth and sweetness at the caring, visceral bond that united them, the iron bond of friendship and family that was knitting their little group together, giving them the strenght to stand and fight against whatever brutal enemies might wish to tear them apart.
Family.
The word tasted bitter in her mouth.
The only family she had left in the world was Dermott, her own blood, a thousand miles away, a brother she had abandoned in the grips of a terrible curse she had repeatedly failed to break. And then there were the crew and the Nomad, those special sailors who had succeeded to patch up the holes in her heart over the previous year, like a band of artist repairing shattered glass, picking up each jagged piece despite the blunt and sharp edges that might cut them and draw blood. They had reminded her of what it felt like to have a family, a place to belong, with people to share all the good and the bad with.
The storm had stolen that family from her, the mighty ocean plucking her from their midst like a mighty hand uprooting a weed, tossing her away in a new world with a new set of unfamiliar faces, a new band of artists and a newly shattered heart. Only time would tell if they could repair it or not, and that simple thought suddenly filled her with a sharp fear like an arrow straight through the gut. Time. She didn't know what the exact duration of her stay in Kalladrell would be, but just thinking about that uncertain notion was enough for a desperate scream to lodge itself in her chest, begging to be let out.
She pulled her lips over her teeth to subdue it, her lungs struggling for air, when Leo's light voice was her saviour.
"It's your turn now, Leisa," the young soldier addressed the black-skinned woman, in an attenpt to lift the heavy mood.
"There's nothing to say," she replied sternly, her feline features grim and implacable. "A Radakeel is born and raised as a warrior, as has been the custom for the past three thousand years. It's an honour as high as I can ever hope to achieve. May the gods forfeit my soul and the Wikken Hells claim me if I fail at my task."
Finding her voice at last after a second sip of wine to calm her nerves, Maeve tilted her head to the ruthless woman seated next to her. "And what is your task exactly?"
Leisa held her gaze, unflinching, her eyes as black as the twin Sleyans hanging at her hips. "To protect."
Maeve had to bite her tongue lest a 'Who?' or a 'Me?' escaped her, and instead chose to simply regard the other woman with careful suspicion.
"So," Mark cut into the wordless tension, hope lacing through his words as he straightened his back beside her on the bench. "Now that you know everything about us, what's your story, Maeve? Why did you come here?"
Reluctantly, Maeve brought her attention back to him and instantly knew she had no way out this time, no clever words to postpone her tale any longer. She let her eyes surf on the expectant faces that were studying her all around the campfire, those honorable soldiers eager to hear her long-awaited story in return for the ones they had shared with her with such raw honesty. She owed them the same.
But the words would not come. The tragic tale of a sailor washed overboard in a storm-tossed ocean shrank into the back of her mind, like a wounded animal retreating into its lair to hide and lick its wounds, and there was no luring it out of those safe confines.
"My mentor is a wizard," she began carefully with a slow breath, choosing to share this chapter of her story instead, and saving herself the trouble of delving into everything that came before that. "He has a friend in Denwood and he sent me here to help and protect him." Avoiding the heavy scrutiny radiating from six pairs of curious eyes, she distracted herself by placing the bottle of wine still clasped in her hands down on the ground between her feet, then she let her gaze trail to the flames in defeat. "Of course, I'm too late to save him now, but I have to get to Denwood one way or another lest he's still alive. In the meantime, I guess I'm here to help, in any way I can."
She looked up then, briefly meeting the soldiers' stares one by one, and hoping that the honest resolution etched in her features was enough for them to believe her. She didn't know how long she would stay here, the thought devastating in itself, but she would provide all the aid and support she could in the meantime. That much she could promise them.
"He didn't tell you anything else?" Coop asked quietly, speaking over the soft hisses and pops of the flames. "Your mentor?"
It was an innocent question yet his words echoed in the night as loud as a scream, packed with meaning as everyone watched her with a strange glimmer of hope, as if her ominous red hair would suddenly catch on fire and offer them everything they prayed for.
Maeve's eyes momentarily sought Robin's gaze across the flames that coiled and twisted between them, almost daring him to spill everything he knew right this moment and pull her out of the darkness of ignorance, but he simply stared back like a hawk, still and silent as a standing stone.
"No," she said, looking straight at him with a hint of accusation, before finally leveling her eyes back on Coop. "No, he didn't."
"We should get some rest," Robin abruptly declared, officially ending the conversation as he sat straighter on the bench, a General speaking to his brave men, while his raptor blue eyes avoided hers uneasily. "We won't get much sleep for a whole month so we might as well enjoy it while we still can."
Maeve watched the uneasiness creep into his mouvements as he stood, the others following suit with nods and 'ayes' of agreement. As Mark and Leo went about the task of discarding the scraps of their meals and tend to the fire, Maeve stood up as well, reaching for her new belongings when Simon good-heartedly waved his hand in dismissal and assured her they'd keep them safe and ready for her tomorrow morning.
Empty-handed except for the clothes on her back, Maeve waited until Robin finally stepped closer, only briefly meeting her gaze as he muttered a few words about escorting her to her chambers with Leisa, his hand clenching and unclenching into a fist at his side as if he was fighting the urge to place it at the small of her back to steer her along as he'd done so many times during the day. The gesture, or lack thereof, almost made her blush like a maid, a tease forming on her lips as a defense mecanism but she said nothing.
Instead she bidded goodnight to the others and simply fell into steps with him and the Radakeel, ascending the wide flights of white marble stairs and disappearing into the belly of the Council.