Watchword - 1. Chapter 1

The afternoon sun had already begun to dip below the horizon by the time the first signs of civilization emerged from amongst the thick forest.

Nikoran Alais shielded his eyes from the setting sun as he took in the surroundings. This far into the foothills of the Isamat Mountains, the trees grew densely and reached imposingly into the copper sky. Their thick boughs were laden with slim darkening needles that spelled the end of summer.

Though it was hardly even Sendling, the days were becoming cooler and the sun’s hue shone bluer.

Here, Ugor’s Pass was flanked by the tall trees on either side with the mountain rising up behind them. The path was narrow and rocky in many places as it hugged the mountain face. Loose rocks, scree, and sheer drops were common as the road wended its way between the tall peaks.

Nik adjusted the thick wool of his traveling robe and smoothed a stray thread that had come loose on the thin blue stripe that ran along the edge of its sleeves — the mark of a warden on his sojourn.

A chill ran through him as he pulled the hood up over his head. Strands of his auburn hair caught the sunlight as he pushed them away from his eyes. Despite the cooling temperatures, during the day the sun still bore the heat of the waning summer.

Combined with the strain of hard travel uphill, he had become soaked with sweat. Now, in the breeze, he found himself almost shivering as he quickly pushed thoughts of a warm fire from his mind.

No sense in getting hopes up, he thought sullenly.

As if sensing Nik’s ill mood, Andar Fayren reached over and gently patted his companion’s shoulder.

“It won’t be long now,” he said, glancing over at the young warden with the hint of a smile. “There’ll be food to warm our bellies and enough drink to make for comfortable sleep.”

Nik fixed Andar with a sardonic look. “If they even let us in to the village. We’re in Ritvin’s lands now, after all.”

Andar sighed silently and looked over at his colleague. In the fading light, he was surprised at just how tired his student looked. His jade eyes used to reflect a deep inquisitiveness and understanding behind them, but now they showed only a grim resolve.

But even with the bleak expression that lined Nik’s face, it was easy to see how handsome he was. Though barely 20 years old, he looked younger. Part of that was attributable to the power the wardens possessed, which slowed down the aging process and extended their lifespans considerably, but it was his Uétan blood that gave him his sun-kissed, smooth complexion, slight build, and graceful way of moving. Andar recalled with — admittedly— a twinge of envy the way a casual smile from Nik could loosen lips and get them the information or attention they needed.

“We won’t have a problem,” Andar said, addressing Nik’s cynical remark. “I’ve travelled this road many times before and have seen nothing but hospitality.”

Nik wasn’t so sure. They were back in the Empire now. Back to fighting erkin. Here, wardens were, at best, tolerated. At worst they were outright hated. Nevermind that they were sworn to protect the people from the ‘kin that wandered out of the Excluded Places and wreaked havoc on towns and villages. No, the wardens were syf — those who could weave their intent into the fabric of the world and bend it to their will — and therefore they couldn’t be trusted. This was the hard lesson learned from the Great Discord.

There was a time when Nik wanted nothing more than to be a warden. In his home town, they were unusually well respected. He spent many nights at the tavern his father frequented, sitting on the edge of his seat as Old Yen told all sorts of tales about their adventures and heroism. According to him, the wardens would call down lightning and the ghastly erkin surrounding them would burst like bloated corpses. Then they would magick swords from nothing and cut down the creatures that remained with fluid movement that resembled dance more than it did combat. All the while, Alkna’s full moon would smile down upon them and bathe them in Her grace.

Now, years later, Nik couldn’t remember ever feeling that heroic. Fighting erkin was arduous work and often thankless. It was also complicated. Different kinds required different strategies — for example, rúod were slow, so you could fight them in groups, but they had the insufferable penchant for healing themselves quickly and rejoining the fight if you didn’t hit them in the right way. Namat were a bit faster but much stronger, so taking on more than one at once would leave you having a bad time. Things got much more complicated if there were a mix of different kinds.

Of the two dozen or so types of erkin that were known to the wardens, most of them were mindless and attacked anything unlike their own. They were driven by blind instinct and, as far as Nik understood, weren’t capable of feeling fear. The ones that possessed a semblance of intelligence were far more dangerous and frightening than anything he’d ever encountered. Thankfully, they were rare to come by and kept well inside the Excluded Places. Though, it didn’t help Nik’s anxiety that they were quite close to the Excluded Places now. In fact, the boundary lay just a few span south of where they were. He could feel it by instinct alone, much like any warden could.

The road they travelled over for the past month had followed the border closely. In an effort to keep from attracting any ‘kin, their nightly camps had no fire to warm them. They kept silent from the moment the last glow of the sun receded over the horizon until its rosy fingers ascended on the other side of the sky. Other than a few erkin stragglers they saw during the day, it had been peacefully quiet. Despite this blessing, a feeling of unease had come over Nik over the past few days, though he wasn’t sure what the source of it was.

He supposed it didn’t help that he hadn’t had a hot meal or a soft bed in over a month. Or a bath.

* * *

It was nearly dark by the time they spotted the village. The road had led them into a small valley a few span long. The trees had cleared on either side of them as the forest gave way to a grassy plain. A few farms lay outside of the large wooden walls that ran the perimeter of the settlement, and Nik could smell freshly cut wheat and baking bread.

Torches burned along the top of the village wall. Together with the gentle vigil of the moon, the light wrapped the fields in a warm glow reminiscent of the recently-departed sun.

As they approached the gates, two sentries came alert. They stepped away from a nearby brazier and directed their attention to the growing silhouettes of the wardens.

“Who goes there?” one of them called out.

Andar put up a hand in greeting and stopped a respectable distance away. “I am Master Fayren and this is Journer Alais,” he said, gesturing to his companion. “We are Wardens of the Falconer Court. We’ve been traveling for a long while, so it’s our hope that you will allow us a comfortable night in your village.”

One of the guards tensed at this and cast a suspicious eye over the two.

Andar had the gray hood of his traveler’s robe thrown back, revealing dark chestnut hair and eyes the color of cacao beans. He was tall, with wide shoulders and a sturdy build. He had an elegant face with a pointed nose that, depending on his expression and the way the shadows fell across it, reminded Nik of a raven's beak. The edge of his dark gray robe was adorned with the thick blue stripe of a master warden. At his hip, various pouches hung on woven threads made from thornwood. Andar kept his arms slightly away from his sides, hoping the gesture would be taken as a sign that there was nothing to worry about.

Nik on the other hand hadn’t bothered to remove his hood. The flicker of the torchlight cast peculiar shadows over his face as he stood with his hands clasped before him. It occurred to Andar that he looked almost sinister.

“Wardens, eh?” one sentry said as he exchanged an uneasy glance with his colleague. “Don’t really need any around here. All you gonna do is drag in the ‘kin in from the forest.”

Nik frowned. “We been on this road for well over a month and haven’t seen any ‘kin at night,” he said flatly.

The sentry shrugged and drew his mouth into a hard line. “Ugor’s Pass is crawling with them, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Anger licked at him and he found his voice rising. “What, you think I’m lying to you? Look—”

“No you look —” the sentry interrupted, gesturing in exasperation. “We’ve not had any problems in three months, last of ‘em when another of you came through. An’ before ‘et, nothin’ since the end of Sistens. The reeve’s tired of it and so are we.”

A knot of fury rose in Nik’s belly. He’d spent weeks on the road with nothing but meager rations, sleeping on the bitter, hard ground. And now, this close to a warm supper and something besides dirt and gravel to lay on, he was being forced to contemplate spending another night out in the cold.

Nik saw Andar’s jaw tighten as well, but before he could say anything, a gruff voice called out from behind the gate.

“What’s all the commotion Blaird?”

“Ah, nothin’ Sergeant Cendril, just a couple’a wardens about to take their leave.”

“Wardens?” the voice called out curiously. In a moment the sergeant emerged from behind the gate and stepped into the torchlight. Rubbing his short beard, he looked curiously at the two travelers. “Haven’t seen one of you since a few weeks back,” the sergeant said with a tone of inquisitiveness. “What brings you to Tellen?”

“Hoping to spend the night somewhere warm,” Andar replied before Nik could say anything. He kept his tone friendly, trying to keep things from escalating like the preceding conversation, but it looked like it was a bit of an effort. “We’ve made our way down the Pass for most of the last month and it’s been hard traveling. We could use the rest.”

Cendril nodded slightly. “And where are you headed?”

“Altaar.”

“The Night’s Jewel!” Cendril chuckled, calling the Altaarian capital city by one of its affectionate nicknames. “Look I’ll be honest,” he gestured to one of the sentries, “Blaird here isn’t wrong about the fact that you folk seem to herald trouble every time you show up.” The sergeant paused to stifle a yawn. “But I’ve never been one to turn down hospitality for a warden. My thoughts are, if you’re here, there’s a good chance the ‘kin are bound to show up anyway, and so Alkna’s grace sent you. It’d be a shame to turn you away only to have to deal with them on our own.”

Andar smiled slightly at that. “That’s very wise of you, Sergeant.”

Cendril shrugged. “Call it common sense. Come, I’ll show you to Ullen’s.”

The two sentries eyed them warily as the wardens followed the sergeant through the gates.

Tellen was a small village and it seemed to Nik that not more than 100 could live there. One main road ran the breadth of the settlement. It was surrounded by small houses built from wood and stone on either side. They were each lit by small lanterns near the doors. Many of the windows were dark now, but a few flickered with warm light that shone onto nearby gardens. Smoke rose from chimneys, spreading the deep scent of burning cedar.

As Nik breathed in the night air, he felt the dreariness and anger that had built up over the past few months recede ever slightly. It’d been a while since he slept on anything besides rocks.

Andar and Cendril made idle conversation as the trio made their way up the road. Nik could see that near the centre of the village was a small square surrounded by two larger buildings. He guessed one was likely the reeve’s house and town hall, judging from its size. And from the sounds of the music and raucous laughter coming from the other, it was likely the tavern.

Nik’s suspicions were confirmed when Cendril turned towards the noise, walking up a set of stone steps and inside.

Several long tables filled the taproom. Boisterous but weary faces sat on long benches, most of them holding large mugs at various levels of fill. A fire burned in a hearth at the far end of the room where a young man sat on a low stool playing a lute. The familiar smell of meat pies and fresh pastries ripe from the oven curled at Nik’s nose. He felt his mouth begin to water.

Cendril pushed past the crowd near a table where a few dirtied youths were playing a card game. As the wardens followed, they received a few looks through narrowed eyes but largely garnered little attention.

“We see your folk around here every now and then,” said Cendril, apparently noticing Nik’s inquisitive glance to his colleague about their reception. “Three passes meet here after all, so we get quite a bit of trading traffic when it’s not snowing. Plus, being this close to the Excluded Places, seems one of you shows up every few weeks.”

“I’m surprised, given the hospitality your men gave us at the gate,” Nik said sourly.

Andar gave him a severe look.

Cendril only shrugged. “I wouldn’t hold the words of Blaird and Rathess in high regard, though their opinion isn’t exactly uncommon around here.” He gave a wry smile. “But, most people are happy enough to take the Court’s coin — it spends just as well as any.”

At the bar, Cendril managed to make eye contact with the innkeeper, who was a portly balding man with a jovial expression. He wiped his hands on the front of his stained apron as he approached.

“Cendril! What are you doing in so early?” the man said, clasping hands with the sergeant.

Cendril waved the two wardens over. “Found these two at the gate and told them there wasn’t a better place than here to get a filling meal and a good night’s rest!”

Ullen gave a friendly nod. “Always happy to make life a bit easier for you folk.”

As Andar and the innkeeper made arrangements for their stay, Nik stood back instinctively and looked around.

There were about forty in the room, most of them dressed for travel or near to it. He doubted the majority of them were locals; they were probably passing through much like him and Andar. He caught sight of a few with farmer’s cloaks and a couple of youths whose hands were smeared black from soot — probably the smith’s apprentices.

Cendril, on his way back outside, had stopped to talk to a man near the door who stood with a group of heavyset men in leather armor, swords ready at their backs. The men talked boisterously amongst each other, taking long pulls from their mugs between bites of fresh bread and stewed meat.

Nik’s eyes wandered over to the bard, who was playing a rather pleasant rendition of Upon the River Parmu. He was dressed plainly in a dark wool cloak that stood in contrast with his pale features. His long hair was tied back, but a few of its fine gold threads had come loose and danced around his brow as he played. His fingers leapt from chord to chord like blades of grass in the wind.

The bard looked up and hooked Nik’s gaze, eyes flickering in the firelight, drawing out colours of amber and straw. Nik noticed the youth’s lips quirk at the edges in what looked like start of a smile. For a moment, his chest was like a dropped pebble and he felt his face flush.

It’s been so long.

Cut that shit out, he scolded himself as he tore his eyes away from the bard. He tried to get his breathing under control. He spared an embarrassed look around the room, but it seemed he was being ignored.

What’s wrong with you? One glance at the local minstrel and Journer Alais succumbs to the vapours. Plus you should know better than to think that way in the first place.

Memory flickered. Somewhere in the Lower City, salt on the air from the harbour. A cramped bed, mattress made of straw. Uncomfortable, but not in the forefront of his mind. They moved against each other, soft skin lit by the pale moon pouring in through the room’s narrow windows. Millek’s hot breath on his shoulder, then his neck. Just where he knew he liked it, where it sent charged shivers down his spine. Pleasure spread like streams to an estuary. He ran a hand down Millek’s back. The boy’s skin felt like marble beneath his fingers. Then, a shout spilled in through the window. The sound of heavy boots in the foyer outside —

“Everything alright?”

Nik looked up to find Andar standing in front of him. He was balancing two meat pies in one hand, steam still curling from the golden pastry. In the other, he carried his pack and bedroll.

Nik went for casual boredom and hoped that his voice was steady enough in the shadow of his thoughts. “Yeah, just enjoying the warmth for once.”

Andar gave a knowing look and gestured with the pies. “Let’s head upstairs. I’m hungry as hell.”

As they made their way up the narrow stairwell, Nik glanced back to the hearth and saw that the youth was gone. He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. He turned his attention away from the noise his steps made on the stairs and the memory the sound brought with it.