Firemoon (5 page)

Again Katja thought of Linda.

“Few things are as unpredictable as the results of a battle,” the prophet continued. “But I do sense an upset in the balance of power, and the strange phenomenon men call nations will prove its mutability yet again.”

His eyes closed.

“And that is not all,” he said. “I sense the Divide weakening by the Inner Sea. I feel sorcery grow more potent. The Brotherhood of the Pit is not finished for this generation.”

He fell silent and since no-one else said anything Katja wasn’t about to either.

“I see a snake crawl out of a cooled fire,” he then whispered. “Severely burned but its fangs still sharp and venom dripping from them.”

Lindor opened his eyes and Katja saw they had returned to the present.

“And how clear is that vision?” Roland asked.

“As hazy as the war,” was the answer.

Roland thought for a moment.

“Wars between men are of little concern to us. This one might be of use if Valdimar manages to enlarge his realm and bring about more stability. But if the sorcerers are interfering, then something must be done about it.”

“Serdra and I have bloodied them twice, all on our own,” Katja said. “Between the five of us it should be easy.”

“Never assume an easy victory,” Roland said. “And certainly not against the heirs of those who defied both Jukiala and the Death Lords. And you two will have to try to bloody them a third time yourselves.”

“Why?” Katja asked, surprised.

“Disaster and danger is a more normal situation than many will believe,” Roland said. “As I said, the war has its fluctuations. Agla and I are needed elsewhere.”

Katja looked at Lindor.

“I was bound north anyway when I received Serdra’s message,” he said. “While there I can investigate Valdimar’s realm and see whether the Brotherhood has great influence there. I will try to interfere with their operations from that end of things.”

“Then the southern end is ours,” Serdra said. “We are on our way to talk to the Shades of the Golden Plain. Once the war you predicted comes, whenever that may be, we will hopefully be informed enough to cut the right threads.”

“Good,” Roland said. “But one thing remains unaddressed: the two of you.”

“Yes, what about us?” Katja said. “We need to look into this Brotherhood business, but then what? I am to understand I have little left to learn. What do young ones free from apprenticeship do?”

“In these times they usually walk the road of wanderers,” Roland said and Katja felt her heart strike a blow of joy. “Experience alone prepares one to face the ages and it is best earned while travelling. But for that the young one must be prepared. Now show us the Flame.”

Katja had been expecting this and instantly cast it forth. The red-glowing rune formed in the air. It was the height of a man somewhat reminiscent of a stylised spider web and would repel the unnatural.

The Sentinel Flame resided within each of them. It was a part of them and what made them different from other people. With practice they could project that power outside the body to various effects.

Katja had had the most trouble learning that particular art, but the spring’s events had affected that like so many other things. She had finally had to use it in an emergency rather than on Serdra’s orders and the experience had done her good.

She got no command to stop and understood that this was among other things a test of endurance. Maintaining the Flame was straining, and drained her strength in a way that wasn’t quite like physical fatigue. The Sentinel Flame was a part of her life force. Overusing it could be flat-out dangerous.

Katja held her hand out and fought to maintain the Flame while also being on guard against sudden attacks meant to test her focus. But no attack came and she had to maintain the drain longer and longer as Serdra had occasionally ordered her to, until the time seemed to exceed those ordeals.

It felt like she was emptying on the inside and she remembered Serdra using her own Flame to heal a life-threatening wound Katja had received. Serdra had lent her a piece of her own life. The feeling had probably been somewhat like this.

The memory of the fear and pain finally did it and she lost the Flame. The rune went back inside her and Katja wobbled on her feet.

I will not fall!

She leaned forward but craned her head up and managed to keep her feet locked. The worst of the weakness passed after a few moments but she would not regain full strength without sleep.

“Very well,” Roland said. Katja had almost forgotten about him.

He looked at Serdra.

“Is she ready, by your assessment?”

Katja focused on a tree to avoid looking anyone in the eyes.

“My student’s learning period has been unusually eventful,” Serdra said. “I feel there is little left I can teach her, at most there is need of some fine-tuning of what she already knows.”

“She has killed, almost died, confronted demons and revenants, seen the past and the future, formed alliances and even faced the spirit of a Death Lord. She knows the basics of all weapons, knows how to sneak and survive and has all the vigour to be demanded of a warrior.”

Katja knew all of this, some on her own and some Serdra had stated on rare occasions. But she had never heard herself described with such praise. Though when the three Redcloaks looked at her she understood that this wasn’t
praise
. Her mentor was simply stating the facts. Over a short period Serdra had made her very dangerous.

Somehow it had snuck up on her.

“All good qualities,” Roland said. “But are you prepared to die?”

Katja was silent at first and tried to stare at him.

“I’ll admit I was not expecting that question.”

She chuckled slightly.

“It is an important one,” Roland said and seemed to grow more severe, if that was even possible. “I can see Serdra has taught you to fight, though only time will tell whether she has taught you to survive. I want to know whether she has taught you to die.”

“I do not believe such a thing can be taught,” Serdra said. The voice was calm but Katja felt there was a certain challenge in the way she looked at the elder.

“I have worried before that you are not maturing properly, Serdra,” Roland said and turned his attention on Katja’s mentor. “That you are overly soft.”

Now Katja laughed in earnest.

“For being soft she punches very hard!”

“I did not say a word about her battle prowess,” Roland said and turned back to Katja. “But regarding my question, you must be ready to sacrifice your life. Do not throw it away recklessly, you are important for that. But if another opportunity rises to slay a Death Lord or achieve something similarly important, you must be able to throw yourself on the swords and teeth of our enemies if needed.”

His appraising gaze reminded Katja very much of Serdra. Katja was silent and thought of the moments when death had brushed up against her. She had not forgotten the fear.

“Are you?” she asked somewhat antagonistically.

“I have lived with death in my heart since the new world was young. Yes, I am ready to die at any moment if needed. But elders will be needed in the next war and so I preserve my life to the best of my abilities. Now you answer.”

All watched her and Katja felt her guts writhe. She could only speak the truth.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I suppose we will know when that moment comes.”

“Youth excuses many things,” Roland said. “But endeavour to cut your ties with this world and this life. There is no room for such things in this war.”

Katja felt a strange mixture of shame and then anger over being ashamed. It was natural to fear death!

“Serdra, she still has things to learn but you have my blessing to declare her ready. The results will then decide the future.”

“I agree,” Agla said.

Serdra inclined her head.

“It is as I had hoped.”

Silence reigned for a little while and the people looked at one another.

“Does anyone have anything else to say?” Roland asked.

Silence answered him.

“Very well,” he said. “I will let changes to our plans pass along. This meeting is adjourned.”

He picked up two bags that were lying on the ground.

“Will you two not stay the night?” Lindor asked.

“No,” Agla said, and picked up her own luggage. “We both have a significant distance to travel.”

She finished hanging straps on herself in a way that left her with free access to all her weapons and able to drop the bags in an instant. Then she grasped the glaive like a walking stick. She and Roland stood side-by-side.

“Secrecy and vigilance,” Roland said formally. “Wisdom and strength. With our eyes on the past, future and present, that is how we will prevail. Farewell and may we all live to see the next war.”

“Hear, hear,” Agla said.

Lindor, Serdra and Katja bid them farewell and the pair walked into the dimness of the forest. Agla’s footsteps fell silent moments after she vanished from sight. Roland made no sound at all.

Well, that was a new experience
, Katja thought.

“There go the old ones,” said Lindor of Spjata and turned to the two of them.

“Yes,” Serdra said and Katja felt she unwound a bit.

They prepared for the night. They gathered fuel for a campfire and, having no tents, each took their blanket from a bag and cleared rocks away from the fire, to make the night slightly more comfortable.

Lindor and Serdra sparred briefly. Katja had never seen her mentor go up against someone who could match her so well, but their age difference did tell in Serdra usually having the upper hand.

Then of course it was Katja’s turn and the results were more familiar, though he did compliment her for being promising.

Finally, to Katja’s great relief, they gathered together and ate of their supplies.

“I never asked whether you had a last name,” Lindor asked as they dined.

“I decided to part with it,” Katja replied. “I have no use for it away from home.”

Lindor shrugged and seemed somewhat amused.

“Perhaps not,” he said.

“She is also hoping to acquire a good nickname,” Serdra said.

Katja looked at her with a mixture of mirth and irritation.

“And what of it?”

“And nothing. Just keep in mind that one doesn’t necessarily have a say in what nicknames people choose for others.”

They finished the meal and Katja sang. Lindor whistled along with the tune and Serdra tapped on a drinking mug with a twig. Their music would perhaps not have earned them a living. but Katja found the evening rather pleasant and she even managed to forget her worries for a while.

In the morning they ate a quick breakfast and packed their belongings.

“So, now we part,” Lindor said.

“Let us see if we can wage this battle from opposite ends,” Serdra said.

“Yes. As I said I mean to dig up the Brotherhood’s vipers to the north. We can discuss the results later.”

He looked at Katja.

“By then you will probably be fully-fledged, young sister.”

“If we both live,” Katja said.

Lindor glanced at the ground between his feet and picked up a pebble. He threw it to Katja.

“Here. Return this to me when next we meet. Then we should see one another again.”

“I see you are still superstitious,” Serdra said and smiled slightly.

“There is no harm in trying this,” Katja said and smiled herself. She put the pebble in a pocket and thought of old stories in which this custom featured.

With that the two of them headed west. To Katja’s relief the walk soon became significantly easier than it had been and she was able to enjoy it. The environment was often quite beautiful and the sun began peeking through the leaves and cast mosaics on all before it.

Serdra was always ahead and as noon approached Katja really hadn’t seen her face since they headed out.

At first she felt the silence went well with the surroundings and that it gave her peace for contemplation. But the time came where it was too much of a good thing, and all her mental threads about the meeting led to the same place.

“Serdra?” Katja finally asked when she could contain herself no longer.

“Yes?”

“What is going on? I feel I missed something. Between you and Roland.”

Serdra stopped on top of a small mound bathed in dots of light. She did not turn around and Katja decided to respect it by not walking up to her.

“You saw what Roland is like,” the woman said after a slight hesitation. “He is the most dangerous man in the world. The perfect weapon. But that is all he is. Blood and fire have cleansed all else from him. Agla is similar. They all are, the older ones. And as I said, I am headed into that group.”

She hesitated again and Katja stared at the back of her head.