Firemoon (30 page)

“PREPARE FOR FIRE!” she screamed.

She laughed hysterically with relief and the ecstasy of victory as the sick aura faded away. She held her fists up and shouted at the sky. She could still hear the battle, but with Peter out of the picture it could only turn out one way.

“Katja.”

“We did it! We slew the Dragon!”

“Katja,” Serdra repeated.

Katja looked back and now saw that Serdra was clutching a fast-growing spot of blood on her shirt.

“He pointed at me.”

Serdra looked up and met her gaze. Then she collapsed onto her knees.

“Serdra,” Katja said, and felt a certain calm come over herself. A calm that was a hair-thin layer of ice over a fast-flowing river.

She staggered up to her mentor.

“I will get you into the city,” she heard herself say, from within the fragile sanctuary her mind was trying to arrange for itself.

She wrapped her arms around Serdra and picked her up with a groan.

“Katja.”

“They have good doctors there,” she said quickly, feeling cracks form in the ice. “They can...”

“Katja, put me down.”

“They can fix you up, they are good at it, they have been doing nothing else for...”

Serdra tensed herself up and broke Katja’s hold. The older Redcloak fell to the ground. The spot had continued growing. The woman looked up at her with a weary calm.

“This is a fatal wound, Katja.”

“No,” she replied, and the ice cracked even more. She knelt down and arranged Serdra more comfortably. “Let me...”

“I know a fatal wound when I see one, Katja,” Serdra said, and pulled her shirt up. She was bleeding from an ugly stab wound in her abdomen.

“No!” Katja said, and felt tears break out. “It doesn’t end this way!”

“Katja dear, we have discussed this, this possibility,” Serdra said, still with that resigned calm. She pulled her shirt back down with a hand that had begun to shake. “I always told you that I’m not invincible.”

She cracked a little smile.

Katja leaned over her.

“I can carry you!”

“No doctor can save me, Katja.”

Serdra grew more relaxed, and leaned her pale head back. She preparing for the rest. “But this isn’t so bad.”

She clasped Katja’s hand with weak fingers, and Katja squeezed back as tears ran down her cheeks and onto Serdra.

“This was a good deed,” she continued. “Destroying the Dragon, saving a city, preventing the rise of the Brotherhood. And I have...”

She hesitated. Serdra had grown short of breath.

“I feel I have... lived my life well. I have fulfilled our duties, to the best of my abilities.”

“You wanted... to teach,” Katja said in a broken voice.

“I did, Katja.”

Serdra opened her eyes and managed to squeeze her hand a bit tighter.

“You are... my greatest source of pride. A strong... young... Redcloak.”

She touched Katja’s cloak with her free hand and smiled again.

“You have done... wonderfully. You have graduated in full. Thank you for being so wonderful. And dutiful.”

Katja clenched her teeth with all her strength, and stared at this woman who kept her cool as her life drained away. Katja herself felt like something within her was tearing apart. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

She leaned down and kissed Serdra’s bloody cheek with all the affection she possessed.

“Thank you, Serdra,” she whispered, to keep her voice under some control. “Thank you for appearing and teaching me about myself.” She hesitated, to her own great horror. She had so much to say, so much to make clear, but time was running out with Serdra’s blood. “Thank you for understanding me and giving me a role. You... made me... myself. You might as well be my mother.”

Katja kissed her again, and as she sat up she saw the most sincere smile she had ever seen on Serdra’s lips. The old, wise warrior vanished, leaving behind a person. That one smile spoke loudly.

“Katja,” Serdra said softly. “I need to teach you your final lesson.”

“To... meet with death?” Katja asked, and felt more tears run.

“You will learn that on your own,” Serdra replied. “Bring me the sword.”

She inclined her head towards the sword. She had let it fall on the ground. Katja crawled to it and placed it on Serda’s chest.

The woman took as deep a breath as she could.

“When one of us is dying, that person can channel the Sentinel Flame into a weapon. They can pour all their energy and all their life force into it, and so make the effects permanent. That way, once in our lifetimes, a mighty weapon against the darkness can be created.”

She clutched the sword with both hands.

“Use this weapon,” she said, and closed her eyes. “Use it in my memory.”

The sword began to glow.

Katja reacted and ripped the weapon from Serdra’s hands. The Flame died and she threw the sword away.

Serdra opened her eyes.

“Katja, what...”

“I can save you!” Katja said and straddled her mentor. “With the Sentinel Flame! Like you did for me in Baldur’s Coast!”

“You are too young, Katja,” Serdra said. There was little vigour left in her, but Katja still saw signs of concern. “I told you not to attempt that!”

“I have graduated,” Katja said, and closed her eyes. She searched within herself for whatever energy she might have left. “I don’t have to obey you anymore.”

“You will die, Katja!” Serdra did not have the strength to speak loudly and coughed after the attempt.

“You are older and more important,” Katja replied.

“I don’t care,” the woman said weakly.

“I can do this!”

Serdra seized her wrist and tried to throw her off. But finally, this one time, Katja managed to overpower her and push her down.

The woman coughed again and went limp.

“I can do this,” Katja whispered.

She closed her eyes again and sought out inner calm and focus. She did what she could to shut out the fatigue, pain, fear and the battle raging not that far from them. Then she gathered the embers that remained in her soul.

She held her hand up with the palm out. She let the Flame light by her fingertips and then carefully brought her hand down to Serdra’s wound. Then she poured all her power into magnifying the Flame as she put it
into
Serdra, and let it mix with her mentor’s vitality.

Katja felt her own life seep out of her, leaving behind an empty coldness. She kept her eyes closed and concentrated utterly on the task. She didn’t hear Serdra’s protests, didn’t feel her wounds nor smell the fire. Her heart began to slow down and Katja no longer knew whether she was upright. She kept on giving Serdra of her strength until she could do no more. Katja collapsed in more than one way and lost all sense of herself and the environment.

Some time passed. Katja wondered whether she had finished herself and if this was the anteroom of death. But then she felt a weak thud in her chest. And then another one. And another one. Her heart was beating, either still or again.

Katja opened her eyes. She was alive. They were
both
alive.

She turned her head enough to look Serdra in the face, and saw another look she hadn’t seen before. Her mentor was surprised.

Serdra smiled wearily.

“And I thought nothing surprised me anymore.”

17.

The days after the death of Peter Savaren were far from uneventful, but Katja and Serdra were in no way involved. Some of the Shades that had survived Blossoms resettled in a small forest village, and gave them shelter as they were recovering.

Regaining the energy she had put into saving Serdra was a slow process. The little wounds she had received took longer to heal, and she felt a strange emptiness within herself. She had never come as close to death.

The Shades wasted no time in reorganizing their communications network in light of the new circumstances, and so the two of them got a visit from Linda, who brought reliable news from the city.

Jormundur had indeed died. There was some confusion about the exact circumstances, but given Linda’s description, Katja felt he had probably been cut down by a bodyguard in the grips of the madness Peter had inflicted.

The captain was the battle’s fallen hero, but Duke Kjalar was the living and visible one, who had shown up in the nick of time. Almost no-one had argued against him taking over leadership of Pine City. And so Kjalar’s domain and that of the city had been joined, and once things settled down he would be one of the most powerful Shades in the world. It was sure to be useful in many different ways.

And finally, the third hero was the mysterious woman who had stepped out of old adventure stories with fire in her hands, and done great deeds against monsters. And then vanished as soon as her task was done. The only person who had spoken to her extensively was dead, and so all that was left was the mystery. The legend. The
Firemoon
.

The nickname Borgo had given her in the heat of the battle seemed to have stuck. ‘Anna’ was sometimes attached to it, but the single word was more dramatic.

Linda and Katja had then repeated and reiterated most of the things they had said to each other in the city, and the Shade vowed to name her first daughter in Katja’s honour. She had been moved, and made no attempt to hide it.

But Linda had duties to tend to, especially now that a Shade had settled in the castle, so after a few days they parted, possibly for the last time. Though Linda had been quick to point out that this made three times they had done so.

Early in the morning, a month after the battle, Katja and Serdra walked side-by-side out of the village. It was time.

Katja had gotten new clothes and a new sword, and the moonblades that had proven so useful were in their place at her hips. In addition, the horse she had been given carried an axe, a bow, a quiver, and travelling equipment.

They walked along a little-used path into the forest until the village vanished from sight, and kept on going for a while for complete privacy. Then they stopped by an old and impressive oak that was sporting the autumn colours.

They stared at one another. Serdra hadn’t suddenly turned sentimental, but Katja still felt she detected a certain change in her former mentor since the battle. Most who laid eyes on her would no doubt consider her cold and utterly focused, but Katja saw a satisfaction that had previously only appeared in brief moments. It was a gladdening sight.

“Well,” the older woman said after a stretch of silence. “You have certainly come into your own, Katja Firemoon.”

Katja smiled, and stroked one of the moonblades. She had gotten Linda, Serdra, and the Shades to promise to refer to her by that name to those involved in the Silent War.

“I had good guidance,” Katja said, and kept on smiling, pleased at the compliment.

“Certainly. But you were eager to learn.”

“Of course.”

Serdra nodded and put her hands on her hips. She took a deep breath, looking thoughtful.

“My, what a battering the Brotherhood of the Pit has taken in such a short period. Two major plots are foiled, and then their greatest venture in recent generations is stopped and even the Dragon himself killed.”

“That has to be quite the bitter draught for them,” Katja said, and smiled maliciously.

“Indeed. Aside from the casualties. I suspect the Brotherhood will stay quiet for a long time.”

Katja thought of the large, bearded man she had encountered in the forest.

“Yes,” she said more seriously. “Until they feel they have gathered enough strength.” She shrugged. “This conflict won’t end this century. Or the next one.”

Serdra nodded. She had emphasised as much no few times.

“We will never be short on tasks,” she said. “And one mustn’t forget that since Peter Savaren managed to dig up the old secrets there is no reason to assume they will be forgotten again.”

Katja looked off into the distance as she contemplated the meaning of Serdra’s words. She was right. Quite a lot could change once the Brotherhood recovered.

“The war for the world has its fluctuations,” Serdra said. “That is how it has always been.”

“Yes,” was all Katja could say.

Serdra looked over her pupil’s shoulder, along the path that awaited. Then she looked back into Katja’s eyes.

“Walk our road, Katja. From here on the world will be your mentor, and you must ever be willing to learn. And always be mindful of the first rule.”

“I will,” Katja promised.

Again, they stared at one another. They had arrived at the end of the journey that had begun two years ago, when Serdra brought her out into the world, and now another one would start. Serdra would remain by the Inner Sea for a while, and Katja would wander.

During the last month they had said all that needed to be said, and nothing remained except the farewell itself.

Katja saw no reason to draw things out further. She stepped up to Serdra and wrapped her arms around the woman. Serdra hugged her back.

Katja closed her eyes. This moment would not repeat itself, and she wanted to embed it in her memory. This woman had given her so much and made her so strong. And she had recently begun to understand that she had given Serdra some things in return.

“I hope we will meet again,” the woman said softly.

“So do I.”

They broke the hug. Serdra looked at her.

“I was expecting one last attempt at beating me,” she said with a flicker of a smile.

Katja laughed.

“Next time.”

“So be it.”

Katja took a deep breath.

“Farewell, Serdra.”

“Farewell, Katja.”

Katja turned around and led the horse along the path. She glanced back a few times and always saw Serdra stand perfectly still. Then the big oak blocked her view, and that was that.

It had begun. Her private life as a fully-fledged and independent Redcloak had begun. The excitement over it mixed with nostalgia, and the result was quite bittersweet.

“It finally happened,” she whispered to herself.

The birds had woken up, and filled the forest air with their songs.

Soon she arrived at a crossroads. Another little-used path led from the dark depths of the forest and crossed the one she stood on. Katja stopped and looked at the three available directions.

She patted the horse and sighed with a smile.

“What do you think? Where to?”