The Blackfire Annals: Chasing Ghosts

Haven

That evening

The arrival of the Huntresses brought the town watch together for an emergency meeting. Deyann, as the commander of the group, made a command appearance. Carsten, Arcaena, Edessa, Thomas, Rolf, and Mycal came with him, though Carsten was far from happy about it. His day at the blacksmith’s had left him blasted black by smoke and smelling like ash. Arcaena for her part, had gone to the bakery, where she had listened in silent amusement to the talk of the mysterious benefactor who had returned the cart after the narhol had gotten out of control. Edessa and Thomas’ days had been long but rewarding, as they had finally managed to plow and sow the entirety of the lower fields. Mycal and Rolf said little, but that development worried their companions not at all. They notoriously opted not to share their problems or feelings with those around them, a trait that made them stronger and weaker simultaneously. They had no need to concern themselves with other’s opinions or reactions, but they also could not rely on others’ assistance in matters of the heart if they required it. Currently, Deyann and the other men were having a secluded discussion in the watch house, while the gathered crowd waited anxiously to hear what they would decide to do.

“I don’t like this,” Carsten told them. “They sit around talking about a problem so that they can sit around and talk about a problem.”

Arcaena stared at him. Hearing him this agitated about something was a little refreshing; not that she disliked his unflappable demeanor, but she inwardly smiled at his angst all the same. “Are you saying you want to take action?” she asked. Carsten shook his head.

“I’m saying that they’re here for something,” he said. “They want to find Edessa. That’s more than likely why they’re here in the first place.”

The young Huntress shrugged. “So they are. What do you suggest we do to remedy the situation?”

Rolf looked at Carsten, comprehension dawning on his features. “He wants to give your mother exactly the thing she’s looking for.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Mycal asked. “They would not let us anywhere near Telara to let her know that her daughter is safe.”

“Unless I come with you,” Edessa pointed out. “And that is exactly what I plan to do.”

“How will we get out?” Thomas asked. “The gate is guarded.”

“I know a way,” Mycal told them. “Follow me and hurry it up. We do not want them to notice that we are gone.”

Watch house

Deyann was sitting down in a carven oak chair, listening to a particularly fiery speech being given by one Thalserr, a tall, muscular man with sun bronzed skin and red hair. This color ought not be confused with Carsten’s; while the dwarf’s hair was orange-brown, Thalserr’s wild shock was a rich dark red, almost scarlet to some eyes. He was in the midst of making a point quite passionately, his green eyes smoldering with inner fire. In fact, it seemed to some present there that they flashed red momentarily.

“These…these Free have dared to impugn our home once more,” he almost shouted. “Can we let this travesty stand?”

“What is the travesty they have committed?” A dwarf named Gorme asked. His hair was stark white, conveying both his great age and the wisdom he had acquired in his many years. “They sit outside our gates and wait. They make no hostile overtures, and for all we know, they could merely be tracking Telara’s lost daughter. I hardly think that constitutes an act of war. In fact, to threaten violence may itself arouse their suspicions of our involvement. And we have a bad enough reputation for things we actually do.”

“And that is another concern,” Thalserr growled. “If they find her here, who can gainsay us if we tell her we had nothing to do with her abduction? The Huntresses will not believe us.”

“They may believe the word of the Greencap,” Deyann interjected. “His testimony could carry a good deal of weight.”

Thalserr nodded. “They might. But, old friend, I have to question your judgment on this point. Those five you took in…do you really think it wise, knowing what we do?”

“Any imprudence would have been partially your fault,” Gorme pointed out. “After all, let us not forget why you must seek refuge here.”

The red-haired man bristled. “What do you intend by that? I did nothing wrong. Everything I have done has been in defense of my family. Everything. And even for all my attempts to safeguard them, they still paid for what I did. Recall as well that I restrained myself as much as possible.”

Deyann surged to his feet. “And look what your ‘restraint’ has precipitated. Arcaena grieves still for something you took from her and that she still thinks she might have had. You gave the Free a weapon in the other one, and now she has brought them here. Suffice it to say that if they are not, we have far more serious matters to be concerned about.”

“What are you talking about?” Gorme asked.

Deyann waved his hand. “Never mind. We will discuss those matters only if Telara speaks on them. Otherwise, let the matter rest. I say that we take no other action than counseling vigilance for now.”

“Agreed,” Gorme said. “While I hate to concede it, I cannot argue that caution is the wisest course.” Thalserr nodded slowly.

“If you think it best, old friend,” he said, addressing Deyann, “then that is what we shall do.” Gorme got to his feet and exited the building to go give the order to the guardsmen while Thalserr and Deyann remained behind. After several seconds of silence, the red-haired man addressed the dark elf.

“So, she joined the Huntresses. How did that happen?” The other shook his head.

“I cannot say. However, one thing is certain: she cut her ears.”

“How do you know this?” Thalserr asked.

“I have far wider resources than you imagine,” the dark elf answered. “Just because I do not return often does not mean I do not go at all.” The other nodded.

“Yes, but…throwing in with Telara? And at her family’s expense? Why?” He knitted his brows in frustration. “I knew her once, and she would never have even have considered that course of action.”

Deyann shook his head. “I would never have expected to even see her on the outskirts of the village. That she came in the first place troubles me.” He was startled by Gorme rushing back through the door, swinging it open with a voluble bang. “What is it now?” The dark elf asked irritably.

“It’s the Huntress’s daughter,” Gorme told Deyann. “In fact, it’s all your visitors. They’ve gone.”

Huntress Camp

Telara Wayfinder sat on a stone, sharpening one of her many knives. It was more of a nervous habit than anything else, as all her weapons stayed lethally sharp at all times. Beside her, her personal aide Sarya was looking through her quiver of javelins, checking the tips. Of the many fighters in her army, Sarya was one of the few she trusted implicitly. She had come bloody and scared, a young woman without anywhere to go or anyone to go there with. Huntress training had hardened her and revealed a hard, tenacious fighter underneath. A series of impressive kills followed, and Telara had soon assimilated Sarya into her elite troop. In truth, they were not the only Huntresses; however, they were most active by far. And Sarya was one of the most active one among them.

“Telara…” her was low and scratchy for a female, something she attributed to pulmonary burns in a fight with salamander. Now, a salamander to most people is a cute, albeit slimy, lizard-like amphibian. Nothing could be further from reality; these adorable amphibians remain as offshoots of a greater lineage from time past. These were beasts six feet at the shoulder and on average twenty from neck to tail. Their skin, instead of being covered in mere mucosal liquid, actually dripped with acidic poison, and the softness of the creatures now stands in stark contrast to their ironclad skin then. Although related to dragons, several traits distinguished them from their airborne cousins. First, they had no wings, as all others of the species did. Second, they also lacked an actual breath attack; instead of exhaling pure oxygen or liquefied nitrogen, the two most common methods of dragon attack, they actually generated and vomited up toxic gases that burned their victims’ skin and lungs. Third, in place of the bladed spade tail most dragons had, theirs was a massive club; one solid blow would easily reduce someone to a million bloody pieces. Still, Sarya had managed, somehow, to survive, though the beast’s venom had damaged her lungs and left her with a spider-web-like scar on the right side of her face. Telara thought it looked more like a fire burn than a chemical one, but she had never mentioned it to her friend.

“Yes?” She went on sharpening her knife, her eyes fixed on the work. If Sarya had a point, she would get to it in time.

“Why are we waiting?” Telara smiled. For all her many good points, Sarya lacked patience; she acknowledged the fault and worked-worked hard-to remedy it, but progress was slow, to be kind.

“Because they have nothing in that village that will not be there by morning,” she answered. “I see no reason why we should not wait till then. Let them sweat, I say. After all, if they are afraid we mean ill, they will be more likely to give us what we want.”

“Or to kill us,” Sarya amended. “They might not exactly be kindly disposed to us if we appear hostile.”

“Very true,” Telara said. “Even so, the potential threat for violence might make them at least more hesitant to defy us.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured. “Still, I am not certain. Perhaps it would be better to be completely honest with them, do you not think?”

“I do not,” Telara answered. “Whatever they may think of us, we are in the right here. And I have no intention of portraying weakness to them.”

Willingness to negotiate is not weakness, Sarya thought. She was about to verbalize something to that effect, but a commotion at the eastern end of the camp disrupted her dialogue and train of thought.

“What is that?” Telara asked. “It does not sound like battle.”

“No clash of arms, no sound of bows,” Sarya murmured. “I should think not. Perhaps they sent a delegation.”

“They would not do so,” Telara replied dismissively. “What purpose…” the sound of rushing feet silenced her, and a disheveled-looking Huntress ran into the small circular area in front of the command tent. She took several moments to catch her breath, and then the words came in a flood.

“My lady…I didn’t…they…it’s… The Huntress leader held up her hand.

“Slow it down, lass.” The girl nodded, breathing deeply. “That is better. Now, try again.” The girl inhaled briefly, and then began once more.

“My lady,” she said, “there are Outlanders on the east side of camp. They bear only weapons for personal defense, and they surrendered without a fight.”

“Anything remarkable about them?” she queried.

“I…” the girl stopped, and then she plunged onward, thinking honesty the best way to go. “My lady, one of the visitors is your daughter.” Telara blinked.

“Are you certain of this?” she asked. “If you are lying to me…”

“No!” the girl said hurriedly. “It is her. I am certain.” Sarya looked at her friend.

“If it is her, we should go. It is, after all, your daughter.” Telara slowly nodded.

“Of course,” she murmured. Then, she turned to the girl. “Tell the guards to bring the visitors to the command tent. Take whatever weapons they have, just to ensure that they do no harm.”

Camp Outskirts

“I don’t care what you say,” Carsten protested. “I’ll give you the knives and the axe. But I’m not handing the sword over.”

“Our orders are quite specific,” the Huntress said. “We are to take all weapons and bring you to the command tent.” Carsten sighed and unbuckled the sword from his belt.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Take it. But you had best give it back.” The Huntress nodded to one of her nearby subordinates, who took the weapon. Arcaena handed over her bow, arrows, and knives, while Thomas gave them his axe and Edessa her spear. Since Rolf and Mycal had no weapons, they had nothing to give, though the Huntresses searched them quite thoroughly anyway. After they were satisfied that they had taken all their weapons, the Huntresses led them through the center of the camp, toward a larger-than-usual hide tent almost in the center of the camp.

“Is that the command tent?” Arcaena asked. “It looks rather…small.”

“It is,” the Huntress answered. “And the size was dependent on available materials. We would have done better with more on hand.” The dark elf nodded.

“Of course. Work with what you have.” The Huntress nodded.

“Exactly.” She pointed to the command tent. “If you would be so kind as to go inside, Telara is waiting.” Arcaena nodded, and she was about to step through the flap when Edessa stopped her.

“You know,” she said, “it might be best if you let me go first. To smooth things over and all.” The dark elf took a step backward and nodded.

“Probably for the best,” she agreed. “Well, go on.” Edessa nodded and took a dep breath. The last time she had seen her mother, Telara had almost put a sword through her daughter’s head. It had been accidental, of course; she had only meant to strike her daughter’s hand. Still, best to be cautious.

Command tent

The tent was not much more impressive on the inside that it was on the outside. There were only three chairs within, and two were occupied. Telara sat in one, behind a large wooden table. She was not breathtaking to look at; she may have been stunning once, and she still maintained a level of attractiveness. Her silver hair was tightly braided behind her, and her green eyes had a cool, intelligent light behind them. The other woman in the room was tall, and her posture indicated that she had at least a little bit of noble blood in her. Her hair was black, with several strands of grey mixed in. Her eyes were a strange shade of blue, an almost violet color that seemed strangely familiar. The Huntress leader looked up as her daughter and the others entered. Edessa took a seat I the chair, and Rolf and Mycal slid to the ground on the edges of the tent. Arcaena sat beside Edessa on the dirt floor, while Carsten and Thomas remained standing. Thomas moved closer to the center of the room, but his red-haired companion remained on the edge, his arms tightly folded across his chest. Upon her daughter’s entry, Telara looked up and nodded.

“You look well,” she said simply. Carsten nearly started at that, but Edessa seemed unperturbed.

“Thank you, mother. Now, could you please explain to me why you brought our people here?”

Telara nodded. “Of course, my daughter. We heard that there was unrest here, and we came to see whether or not it was true. And then I received word of your disappearance, which made me all the more interested in these vagabonds.”

Edessa raised an eyebrow. “Then you attacked the raiders? They have been destroyed?” Telara shook her head.

“We did it to as many as we could. But there are many, and they are stronger than we anticipated. Even if we wanted to fight these fools, we cannot do so without more weapons and troops. Sixty of us might be formidable enough to take on small armies, but we have no prayer against creatures of this magnitude.”

“Then you would retreat now that you have found me?” she pressed. Telara nodded.

“Our business here is concluded,” she said. “However, there is another matter that I have to take up with these Outlanders. I met Oriem Blackfire and several of his Airknights on this journey, and he informed me that several people are missing, including his daughter. I see, however, that you managed to find Thomas. And, based on the clan markings, I would be willing to wager that your dark elven friend would happen to be Oriem’s child.” At this point in the conversation, Sarya got up and went out of the tent, a development that seemed to go unnoticed by all except Arcaena. She got up and followed the Huntress. Carsten caught her arm as she was about to walk out.

“What are you doing?” He whispered. Arcaena watched her go momentarily before she turned to face him.

“I know her,” she answered. “I have no idea how, but I have seen that woman before.”

Edessa nodded. “Indeed. But you mentioned several people. Who are the other ones that are missing?”

“Olaf Thorvaldsen is one,” she said. “He and his band of Shatterhand warriors have not been seen for a good long while. Sigurd the Grim’s son is another, though, in truth, I would not be terribly upset if he were to remain lost. And then there are the rest of you.”

“I would not speak so of his son,” Carsten put in. “He is not so terrible.”

‘And how would you know?” Telara said, turning. “What…?” Carsten reached inside his collar and pulled out his medallion.

“Call it an educated guess,” he replied. Telara’s cool veneer dropped momentarily, and her eyes wide with surprise.

“You-I see,” she said, finally regaining her composure. “You were there with my daughter. Tell me, why would she work with you?”

“Because he saved all of our lives,” Edessa answered. “He helped us escape Frostspire Castle, and he has helped us-me-every step of the way. In the interest of full disclosure, I think that we would all be dead if it were not for him.”

Telara raised an eyebrow. “High praise, boy, especially coming from my daughter. Tell me, does she speak the truth?” Carsten lowered his eyes. He had no idea whether or not such a thing was actually the truth, nor did he really want the question answered.

“I cannot speak to the certainty of that,” he said. “And that would also depend on how you define save.” The Huntress turned to the others.

“Does she tell me the whole of affairs?” she asked. Rolf nodded.

“He was instrumental,” he replied. “Other than that, I cannot say.”

Thomas shrugged. “He did save lives. I do not think that there is a higher measure of a man.” She nodded.

“I can understand that,” she told them. “And as much as I would like to believe you…” the knife was in her hand before any of them could do a thing, and she surged to her feet and whipped the blade at him as hard as she could. They all stared in horror, expecting a solid smack, but it never came. Instead, Carsten’s left hand snapped up and caught the weapon pommel first, an inch from his chest. She stared in shock at the suspended blade, while the dwarf looked back at her with a mixture of nonchalance and contempt.

“In all seriousness,” he said. “I think that may have been a poor decision. Even if we chose to have this fight now, do you really think you can beat me? You might have troops around you, but they would have to be alerted.” He reversed his grip on the knife and tossed it back to her. “If I wanted to, I could probably have already killed you and your daughter. Consider this, and me giving you my family’s sword in a show of faith, as good of proof as any that I don’t actually feel like murdering either of you. I had hoped you might feel the same,” he added, a disappointed note entering his voice. Though perhaps there was more sarcasm in that than he let on. Telara snapped the weapon back into its sheath, a surprised look on her face.

“I…” he shook his head.

“Don’t bother,” he responded. “Nothing you can say matters, Telara. We both know you’d be lying anyway to say you didn’t mean it. You have what you want. Take the dwarf and your daughter and go. Just go.” At this point, Thomas turned to face Carsten, his eyes blazing. His hands were clenched into fists, and he looked for all the world like an enraged giant.

“What makes you think you speak for me?” He challenged. “In all honesty, I would rather go with you than her.” The Huntress stared at him. A Greencap wanting to work with a Brownbeard alone was strange, let alone the two heirs working together. Maybe this boy was more than met the eye after all.

“Are you…”

“Positive,” he replied simply. “You heard the boy. Take the girl and go.” And, one by one, they left the tent.

Huntress camp

Sarya’s tent

Sarya sat on the muddy ground, checking her arrows one by one. This was not so formal; after all, the poison she used dried out easily, and this meant that she had to refresh it every so often. This process was long and tenuous, so she only did it whenever she anticipated a long period where she was not being disturbed, such as now. She was startled out of her reverie by the sound of a gasp from the front of her tent. She turned to see the dark elf that had been sitting beside Edessa in the tent.

“Can I help you?” she asked. “Are you looking for someone?”

“I was,” she whispered. “And I found her.”

Sarya blinked. “Excuse me, do I know you?” Arcaena sighed.

“I had hoped you might recognize me. I saw you, even under all those scars. I am happy that I have found you at last. After all, family never leaves.”

“What…” Sarya’s heart dropped into her feet as she suddenly remembered the last time she had heard those words. Her hands went to her ears, massaging the reddened scar tissue. “Is it really you? After all this time?” Arcaena nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“It is you, isn’t it, Mother?” she asked. Sarya lowered her eyes and whispered the word that Arcaena had both wanted and dreaded to hear.

“Yes,” She replied.