Chapter 64: Rainy Days (and Onedays)

“You might as well just come out and say it,” Gillen said around the succulent venison she was chewing. As usual, she was taking her evening meal with her old mentor, Tergin Givens. The two had transcended their original teacher-student relationship and had become good friends.

Gillen looked up into the evening sky. There was no moonlight or starlight to provide light. Nearly the entire day had been dark, with black and gray clouds rolling over the sky. Towards the evening, the wind had picked up. The turbulent breeze caused the fire to sputter and dance so its light cast fanciful shadows around the clearing. The two were close to the edge, though well back from the steep face fifty or more yards distant. Closer in, very near the King’s road, Uud and Syl were building a somewhat larger fire for the others.

They were rather high in the mountains, so wood was scarce. They’d resorted to burning the scrub which grew wild at this height. Thankfully, the scrub brush was plentiful, so there was plenty of fuel.

“Say what?” Tergin replied absently.

“Whatever it is you’ve been trying to find the words for,” Gillen replied after swallowing. She looked over at her friend and former mentor. “I’ve watched you chewing on more than the meat since you sat down.”

The older man returned a sheepish look to his former protégé. “I’m that easy to figure out, am I?”

Gillen chuckled while cutting another piece of meat. “Not really. I’ve had enough of these conversations with your current student. Once you get enough practice searching for the right words to say something or explain something, you tend to recognize the trait in others. What’s on your mind?”

The retired knight blew out his breath. “We should reach Callisto tomorrow. When we do, I don’t think you should mention Vestra or what everyone is calling the white dragon.”

Gillen frowned. “I’m not in the habit of falsifying my reports.”

“And I’m not asking you to,” Tergin replied quickly. “I just think it might be best for all concerned if we leave Vestra out of this.”

“Go on,” Gillen said contemplatively.

“I only see two outcomes to making her presence known,” he replied. “They’ll either throw her in a dungeon and lose the key or kill her. They may do both. That is, if she doesn’t turn into a dragon and kill them all while they’re interrogating her.”

“They won’t torture her,” Gillen responded. “She helped us.”

“They weren’t there,” Tergin rejoined. “They won’t see how she helped us – possibly even saved us. They won’t know how helpful she’s been since then. They’ll have our words on it – and it will be enough, at least at first. Once the dragons attack again, that’s when they’ll torture her. Until then, they’ll keep her closely monitored.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Gillen admitted.

“Gillen!” the older man exclaimed.

“Hear me out,” Gillen replied. “Yes, she helped us. But couldn’t that have been a ruse? To get us to trust her? What if she’s a spy? What if she helped us just to betray us later?”

Tergin closed his eyes, raising his head to the sky. He let out a long sigh before continuing.

“I considered that,” he admitted. “I’ve made it a habit to ride close to the wagon and listen in to her and Yren’s conversations. I’ve even had Bremer doing it as well, though she wasn’t happy with spying on her friend. I’ve discussed this with her and ... she agrees with me.”

“We can’t understand the entire conversation because we don’t understand her language,” he continued. “But she has not asked a single prying question of Yren. I’ve spoken with him without broadcasting my worry. He confirms it. If she’s a spy, she’s the worst spy ever.”

“It’s still a possibility,” Gillen replied stubbornly.

“Maybe,” Tergin rejoined. “I don’t think so, however. Neither does Bremer. Neither does Yren – or Bena, who’s listening to the two of them even closer than I am. We all get the same impression. There’s an ... innocence about her. There’s no guile.”

He sighed before continuing. “She ... from what I can gather, she’s been sheltered most of her life. It isn’t like here. In her home, women are treated as secondary citizens. They need to be covered from head to toe. They’re not allowed a trade. They can marry and they can keep house, but that’s all. They can be beaten on a whim. It’s ... from what I’ve gathered, getting bits and pieces of the story from each of them, it’s a brutal way of life there.”

---- ∞ ----

“Enjoying the view?” Ataya chuckled as she approached Yren. The women had decided to clean up a bit before entering Callisto and it was Yren’s turn to be their bodyguard. They hadn’t really enjoyed the bath, however. Even in summer, the small, melt water pools this high up the mountain were chilly.

“I’ve not been watching,” Yren protested.

“Even if I want you to?” the princess asked with a slight giggle.

“Then we’d have to have an entirely different conversation,” Yren choked out, his face turning a bright red.

Ataya laughed. “Your face is so RED!”

“Why do you do that?” Yren asked, shaking his head and turning away to hide his blush.

“Honestly?” Ataya said with another chuckle. “Because you’re ten feet tall...”

“Six-Seven,” Yren interrupted in protest.

“Hey,” Ataya smirked. “This is my story. I’ll tell it how I want.”

“Where was I?” she asked rhetorically when Yren didn’t respond. “Oh. Yeah. You’re ten feet tall and the strongest person I’ve ever seen. You’re completely fearless and quite possibly one of the greatest fighters I’ve even heard about. So, it’s nice to know that you are not always in complete control.”

She watched Yren swallow and then look around the clearing, glancing at the bathers a few times. “I’m rarely in control of anything.”

“She’s not coming,” Ataya laughed, ignoring his response.

“Who?” Yren asked, his eyes glancing back to the water.

“Bena,” Ataya said with a smug smile. “Or Teran, for that matter. I’ve asked them to let me have a word with you. So, no one is going to rescue you this time.”

“I don’t need rescuing,” Yren replied defensively.

“No?” Ataya rejoined contemplatively. “No. You don’t. Especially not from me. Yet, they always seem to know when you’re uncomfortable and come to save you anyway.”

Yren started to protest, but she shushed him quietly. “You do the same for them. It’s uncanny, how close the three of you are. I know you’re brother and sisters, but it’s almost like the three of you are merely parts of a greater whole.”

“Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head to clear it. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. It was just a pleasant benefit.”

She sat down close to Yren, her bare leg touching his armor. She hadn’t dressed yet and was wrapped only in a drying sheet, something Yren noticed – and appreciated – almost immediately. He had been truthful before; he’d never openly watched the women bathe. He’d enjoyed a number of discrete glances, though.

Nudity was common in Hasp as well as the rest of the kingdom. It wasn’t flaunted, exactly, but it was considered a natural state, so Yren had been around it most of his life. It was considered impolite to outright stare, however. So, even though Yren needed to guard his charges, he did so with glances instead of simply watching them. What had always seemed to make him uncomfortable, however, was the nudity of a female he was romantically inclined towards. It confounded him, for the most part, why seeing some women nude affected him differently than others.

Not, of course, that he was romantically inclined towards the princess. He was quite certain of that. He was just a commoner and she was ... well ... a princess. Something like that might work in stories but could never turn out well in real life. So, it was perfect that he wasn’t interested in her in that way.

So why did having her so near cause him to get so warm?

“We’ll be reaching Callisto tomorrow, assuming the coming storm doesn’t wash out the road,” she went on, completely unaware of Yren’s thoughts. “Which means we will inevitably be meeting with my mother. So, I need to know how I should announce you.”

Yren thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

Ataya nodded and chewed her lower lip. “Are you really so dead-set against being my champion?”

There was a pregnant pause as realization flowered in Yren’s face. “It – it – it’s not that simple,” he stuttered.

“It’s exactly that simple, Yren,” the princess replied. “I’ve named you my champion ... yet you seem to have fought it at every turn. I’ve heard you pushing against it and, for the most part, I’ve ignored your protests because I thought you’d get used to the idea. But you haven’t. Tomorrow ... well, tomorrow it will become irrevocable. If I announce you as my champion to my mother, the Queen – there’s no going back. Up until now, I can blame it on the fanciful whims of being a young girl. If I announce it to the Queen, however, it can’t be taken back. Do you really not want to be my champion?”

Yren drew a deep breath and let it out. “It has nothing to do with what I want or don’t want.”

He turned to Ataya and looked her in the eye. “I know I come across as some idiot. I’m not. It’s a ... convenient tool. People underestimate someone who isn’t very smart. They’ll talk in front of them, thinking they’re too stupid to understand. It’s easy for me because people see someone as big as I am and as muscular as I am and think that I can’t be very intelligent because, to them, the world doesn’t work that way. You get brains or you get brawn, you can’t get both.”

“So, it is not a matter of whether I want to be your champion,” Yren continued. “I hope you know that, over the course of traveling from Hasp to here, you’ve become my friend. As my friend, I would protect you with my life. I would stand with you against any challenge and protect you against any foe. I don’t need to be your champion to do that.”

“Then why do you have such a problem with being my champion?” Ataya asked plaintively.

“What if I’m not good enough?” Yren asked in reply. “What if I fail you? I’m new to being a knight or armsman or whatever. Yes, I’ve trained – and I’ve trained hard – but it was never my first consideration. I trained because I wanted to be the best blacksmith I could be. I never thought I would ever be considered as a fighter much less have that as at least one of my primary professions.”

“I know that I am, though,” Yren went on, stopping Ataya before she could speak. “I am a ... warrior, for lack of a better word. I know that I have to be. Just as I know that I have to be a mage of some kind. Just as I know that I will always be a blacksmith. I even know that I’m likely to accumulate other jobs or titles as time goes on.”

“But, even though I’m sixteen, I’m still learning,” he continued, his voice subdued. “You deserve the best, Ataya. You deserve a champion who cannot possibly falter. I don’t know for sure that I’m what you deserve.”

Ataya chuckled. “You are. I can see it even if you don’t.”

“And what of Teran or Bena?” Yren asked. He raised his hand as the younger woman was preparing to respond. “I’m not trying to talk you out of naming me your champion. I’m just sharing the worries I have. What if two of you are in danger? Or all three? Who do I save? Your champion cannot have divided loyalties, your highness.”

“You save all of us,” Ataya responded with a small smile. “Honestly, this is the first objection you’ve given me that makes sense. I’ve thought about the divided loyalties problem. I even considered marrying the three of you to solve it.”

“You can’t marry us,” Yren protested. “We’re ... we’re commoners! You’re a princess!”

“Yes, Yren,” Ataya replied seriously. “I know all that. But I’m fourteen, now. I’m an adult and can marry anyone I want.”

Her face fell slightly. “When I marry, though, I want to marry for love ... and I know you don’t love me.”

She looked up through her eyelashes at the slightly older man, her face turning coquettish and a small smile playing along her lips. “I’m hopeful though. I am very lovable, you know.”

Yren sputtered a protest, but Ataya laid her hand on his forearm and just laughed. “Having a wife or children doesn’t stop you from being my champion, Yren. If you’re put in an impossible situation where I am in danger at the same time as the people you love, you just do your best. Save whomever you can. No one is going to judge you if you save your wife instead of me. I certainly won’t – I’ll tell you that right now. I’ll even put it in a formal decree, if you want.”

“Now, with all those little things out of the way,” the princess continued. “Will you be my champion, Yren?”

Yren drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. He still had misgivings. He still wasn’t sure he was the best choice for the willful young woman. However, someone had finally asked him what he wanted instead of just telling him what he had to be. That type of thing really needed to be encouraged.

“Yes, princess. I’ll be your champion.”

---- ∞ ----

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled across the angry, rolling sky. The dark clouds which had been gathering since mid-morning the day before, their presence weighing the air with the humid miasma of the impending storm, finally broke about an hour before dawn. With bright, violent flashes of lightning arcing over the blackened sky, the accompanying downpour caught Gillen making her rounds. She’d drawn the last shift before dawn.

Lightning was anathema to a knight. The streaks of light zigzagging across the angry sky all too often turned towards the ground, seeming to vengefully target knights with evil glee. Gillen knew from her studies the lightning was drawn to the metal in the armor, but the bright arcs had always seemed personal to the First of the Third. It was as if the storm was actively looking to de-armor the knights. Or, maybe, the storm just wanted to remind the knights that, for all their prowess, there were things bigger than them.

So, it was late in the morning when Gillen Hawksley, unarmored, finally crested the northern rise and caught sight of the great walled city of Callisto just below. Uud and Syl, water uncomfortably pouring down their faces and even more uncomfortably under the slickers they wore over their clothes, had drawn their horses up at the rise as was the custom. It was standard procedure for returning platoons to journey down the northern or southern rises in formation and with their pennons raised. With only three of them remaining of the Third, as well as a single retired knight and only one survivor of the Sixteenth platoon, they weren’t sure of the protocols this time. They’d never returned from an assignment where they’d lost most of their numbers.

Gillen knew the protocol. She’d survived a devastating loss once before. She just didn’t like it.

Not for the first time in the journey, her eyes filled with tears at her fallen compatriots. The trip from Hasp had kept her busy, distracting her and giving her little time to dwell on the friends she’d lost. At night though, when she closed her eyes, their accusing glares fell upon her in her nightmares. Gillen hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep since Cava.

“That’s new,” Gillen remarked drily. She willed down the maelstrom of her emotions. Like the raging rainstorm all about her, her disappointment, sorrow and rage at what she’d lost roiled within her. Unlike the storm, her tempest continued to remain just below the surface.

“Looks like they’ve started building a city outside the walls,” Syl remarked tenuously.

“Look closely,” Gillen replied, fighting to keep her voice even. She was using the new construction as a distraction – one she desperately needed. Seeing the great city did nothing so much as remind her of all the ones under her care who would never again ride through its gates. “The construction is shoddy. The buildings look temporary. Plus, there’s no real organization to it. If the Queen had authorized the construction, it’d be neater.”

“Most of the new construction is stone,” Uud interjected deferentially. “Seems pretty permanent to me.”

Gillen scoffed. “Look around you, Uud. What little timber that may once have grown here has long since been used. Most of it would have been scraggly pine not worth the wood it’s made from. The Queen and certain merchants import wood from the flatlands below, but the cost is prohibitively expensive. It’s one of the reasons the fires of Callisto burn with shrubs and manure. Both are found cheaply. No, the only material they had to build with was stone. Still, the stones aren’t properly mortared – thus, temporary.”

“Refugees,” Uud grunted shortly.

“That’s my take on it,” Gillen nodded. “Qatere said a large group had moved through Chertes. Looks like some of them chose to settle here. At least, temporarily.”

Baron Rance Qatere was a haughty, weasel of a man, but he governed the Chertes Baronetcy well. It didn’t take much oversight, however. The baronetcy primarily consisted of the city of Chertes and perhaps a few acres surrounding it. Chertes sat halfway up a mountain on a large promontory. There wasn’t much arable land surrounding it, so the city relied heavily on trade and mining. For all that, it was a moderately wealthy town with a thick wall surrounding it.

“Riders coming,” Uud announced, nodding to a small group of five riders swiftly coming towards them.

“Unusual,” Gillen agreed. At this distance, she could just separate the riders from their horses. The storm made any other recognition impossible. She frowned as she looked up at the churning clouds and constant deluge. “Especially in this mess. Any idea who it is?”

“My eyes are no sharper than yours, Honor,” Uud said, turning to Gillen with a wry smile. “My spyglass broke on the journey. I planned on getting it replaced but the few I found in Knottline were not well made and the ones in Chertes were expensive.”

Gillen grunted discontentedly. “I lost mine back at ... after Cava. Maybe Hasp.”

She shook her head, a tight frown playing on her lips. “We lost a lot of things ... and people ... on this trip.”