A Different World: Part 1 - The Siege of Penthorpe Keep - 13. Chapter 13: Ostette

After three weeks of traveling through treacherous hills and cutting wind Skold and Konstantine finally reached an elven settlement called Ostette. They would have reached the settlement sooner had they not been delayed twice: the first time by a group of orc rangers and the second time by a snow blizzard. From the orcs they’d hid behind a scraggly cluster of weeds and from the blizzard they’d taken refuge in a cave for three days. It has snowed so on the third day Skold and Konstantine had to spend several hours digging themselves out.

The three days spent in the cave had worked on Skold’s nerves. He was not used to sitting around doing nothing - and doing nothing left him with the urge of needing to kill something. Orcs would have been nice or perhaps even Paladin himself if such things were possible. But this time he did not have hundreds of troops under his command to fight with him. It was just Konstantine and he and they had to proceed with caution.

Konstantine’s scrutinizing, troubled glances didn’t help, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t have the courage to. In those moments Skold wished more than anything he was alone. Then he could move faster and do what he wanted without having to consider the well being of another. In the rare moments when he felt his thoughts getting away from him he wondered how he had ever managed to become a commander. He had never had the patience for others and he’d never wanted the role of leadership - he couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever wanted anything. All of these were things his father had wanted: To have a son that would lead when he was unable to and carry on the Gileppsie name. Skold would have been fine with Sonja commanding in his stead - female commanders were not unheard of - but things hadn’t worked out that way. In the end Soloman’s wish came true. Skold had stepped into the role and exceeded expectations, his own as well as everyone else’s.

Now it was just the two of them and Skold didn’t know how to handle it. Before, their affair had always been a distraction, something to do when camp didn’t need to be set up, when they weren’t running or fighting or traveling. But now there was too much time - too much time to talk, to think and ask questions and feel. Sure there were things that needed to be done such as setting up camp, hunting for their food, collecting firewood (those things hadn’t changed and were comforting in their familiarity), but there wasn’t an army to overlook or tactics to plan if the need to defend themselves arose. Skold found himself constantly trying to fend off emotions he didn’t want to feel - and they had a way of sneaking up on him, catching him unaware.

When they reached Ostette Skold found himself yearning for warm cider, a hot bath, and a soft bed. Not necessarily in that order. But more than anything he wanted to be alone without feeling the gaze of another at his back.

Ostette sat in the middle of a valley, surrounded by snow capped hills. The reservation itself was small, could barely even be called a village, with only a small gathering of wooden buildings: Several tiny single-story cottages, barns, a larger stone building that was mostly likely a shrine where the villagers could pray to their ancestors in Valhalla, and a two story building that most likely served as an inn/mess hall.

“I doubt the necromancer came this way,” said Konstantine, scratching at the three weeks of stubble that covered the lower half of his face.

“I think it would be obvious if he had,” Skold said, staring at the cottages. Thanks to the hawklike eyesight all elves possess he could see the firey glow that flickered in the windows. A few bundled forms waded through the snow. Several elven children chased each other through the snow, their laughter filling the air. Memories of the reservation where he’d grown up flitted past his mind’s eye. The reservation had been bigger than this with more cottages and taller buildings; half a mile away there had been a stream where Skold had ventured all the time when he wanted to be alone. When Sonja and he had left to join King Yaldon’s army there had been nothing left. Most of the villagers had abandoned the reservation with nothing to keep them there, unable to bear the void the death of their loved ones had created. It was where his mother had died, where he’d lost his manhood, and where Solomon was buried. He pushed these memories away and turned to face Konstantine who was scratching at his face again. Not for the first time he was glad he was unable to grow facial hair.

“It wouldn’t hurt to stop and ask around, see if anyone has seen anything odd. Which I doubt but” - he shrugged - “what else are we supposed to do? At the very least we can take a moment’s rest and send a raven to King Yaldon’s telling of our progress.”

Konstantine snorted. “What progress?”

Skold’s eyes glittered challengingly. “Do you have a better idea?”

Konstantine expelled a sigh. “I don’t. With each passing day I can’t help but wonder if the fae king hasn’t sent us on a fool’s journey.”

Skold thought of himself standing before the empty massive grave back at Boar’s Head and hated his own sense of doubt which he felt glooming inside of him; and yet refused to admit to Konstantine and to himself.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I’m ready to sit before a warm fire.”

He clucked his tongue and together Konstantine and he began to make their way towards Ostette on their horses.

The children who’d been running and playing stopped and watched them approach. They were no longer smiling but appeared suspicious. Konstantine smiled at them to show he meant them no harm.

“Greetings,” he said. “We’re just travelers passing by, in need of a place to rest. You wouldn’t know if you have such a place, would you?”

The young Elven girl in the middle, perhaps the leader of the group, pointed at the tall two story building. “There,” she said and nothing else.

Konstantine nodded. “Thank you.”

As Skold and Konstantine headed for the inn the children turned to each other and started whispering excitedly. Konstantine glanced over his shoulder, laughing. “I love children,” he said to Skold.

“Good for you,” said Skold. “Me on the other hand, not so much.”

Once at the inn they tied their horses to the post outside. The snow had grown brittle, crunching underneath the heels of their feet. Skold was glad to step out of the wailing wind. His cheeks were numb from the cold. The inside of his thighs were raw from long hours of horseback riding. He had been living with the rank smell of his own body long enough to be maddening.

The inside of inn was lowly lit, dingy. There was a single candle placed on the tarnished tables. An elven woman stood behind a wooden counter, polishing glasses with a silver rag. Her skin had a preternatural sheen to it that lit up the gloom. Another elf stood over by a large brick oven; his tunic was smeared with soot. Embers floated into the dark, illuminating the top of his face but leaving the rest covered in shadow. Skold saw the elven woman look in their direction. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders tense; he could feel her drawing in magic. There was a sort of pulse coming from around her that made the air vibrate.

He gestured for Konstantine to stop and looked back at the woman. “We mean you no harm. We are with King Yaldon, not Paladin.”

The woman’s puffed out chest immediately deflated; the air around her grew calm. Behind Skold and Konstantine the man holding the large shovel loosened his grip on the wooden handle.

“Sorry,” the woman said in the Old Language. “We did not mean to start trouble. It’s just in these dark times no one can be too careful. Paladin’s forces have been running rampant through these parts.”

“It’s okay,” said Konstantine. “We understand.”

The woman’s weary expression returned. “What are two of the king’s men doing running around by themselves? Shouldn’t you be with an army of elves, fighting orcs?”

“We are on a special mission for King Yaldon,” Skold said pointedly. “Any information beyond that is our business.”

The woman nodded. “Aye. Sorry for prying. Guess I’m a bit on edge. My name is Illyum. That in the back is my trusty business partner, Svenson. Without him I would not be able to run this establishment such as it is. What can I do for you wayfarers?”

“First you could tell us where we’re at. We didn’t see a sign outside. Buried under the snow I expect.”

“T’is Stautinger. I’m surprised the whole damned reservation isn’t buried under snow.”

“We’ve been traveling for three weeks,” said Skold. “Food has been scarce as you can imagine. We would like some food and a place to sleep for the night if you have it. And perhaps a bath.”

“We have a few rooms upstairs and a bathing basin. Most people don’t use ‘em except for the village elders when they’re feeling too drunk to walk safely home in the middle of the night. Of course lately they haven’t had the coin because King Yaldon has been taxing everyone to death if you don’t mind me saying...I have a big mouth and it tends to get away with me. Anyway I have some bread and some cheese and some ale. It’s not the best but if you’ve been out there for as long as you say you have it will have to do. Food has been scarce for everyone. Personally I don’t know how much longer this reservation can hold out. This winter has gone on for far too long - it’s anything but natural. But as men of King Yaldon’s army I won’t charge you.”

“That is kind of you,” said Konstantine, “but we’ll pay.It would be a cruelty not to pay our part.”

Illyum smiled. “May the spirits of Valhalla bless you both. Is there anything else you might require?”

“A place to keep our horses,” said Skold. “We have two mares outside.”

“I know just the place. Svenson, go to Gadriel and tell him we need to hold two horses. He won’t mind.”

“At once,” said the large elf. He wrapped himself in a worn traveling cloak before stomping out into the cold. The door was blown shut by a cutting gust of wind.

Illyum beamed at her two customers. “I will get your food, fill up the bathing room and get your rooms ready.”

“Room,” Konstantine said.

“Room, then. I will make you as comfortable as I possibly can.” She flashed Skold a knowing smile. Skold looked away, scowling.

The bread was hard and tasteless but Skold ate without giving it much thought. Konstantine and he helped themselves to the ale from a large pitcher. By the time the pitcher had been emptied Skold was beyond the point of exhaustion. After a time he must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew Konstantine was shaking him awake.

“Everything is ready,” Illyun said. Already she was back behind the counter, clearing away the cups and plates.

Skold followed Konstantine up a steep staircase; each step made his raw thighs rub together The ceiling was low enough Konstantine had to duck. He wanted nothing more to have a bath, wash the stink away, and crawl into a warm bed. The bathing basin was in a room at the end of the hall. The water beckoned to them, steam rolling off the surface. The two elves made little work in stripping off their clothes.

The water was hot enough to make Skold break out in gooseflesh. He closed his eyes but was aware of Konstantine’s gaze. He opened them and they looked across the water at each other. “What?” Skold demanded. His voice sharp with impatience.

“Just looking at you,” said Konstantine. “I can look at you, can’t I?”

Skold leaned his head against the basin and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t look my best.”

“You always look your best.” Konstantine’s voice became closer as he drew near, the water rippling around him. “Won’t you look at me, Skold, or am I just a ghost to you now?”

Skold smirked. “I think it’s I who is the ghost. I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever truly been alive.”

“Ever since we rescued the counselors from the Flesheater it seems like you’re always about to come out of your skin. Is it the necromancer? Are you frightened of him?”

“No. I feel nothing towards the necromancer except curiosity...and maybe a little gratitude. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be here. Whatever I feel it isn’t fear.”

Konstantine smirked. “Yes, because Skold Gileppsie fears nothing. Come on, Skold there is something even someone as heartless as you must be afraid of. We’re all afraid of something.”

To this Skold said nothing. Konstantine’s words were barely registering in his brain, an endless hum. At some point, when he realized Skold wasn’t really listening, Konstantine grew silent. After a nameless amount of time Skold climbed out of the water, a towel wrapped around his waist. Konstantine followed at his heels. Inside their room while Konstantine worked on starting a fire, Skold stood at the window, looking through the ice-rimmed window. Outside the cottages that made up the little village of Stautinger were little more than dark smudges. It’s hard to believe this place isn’t smoking timbers like so many other villages, Skold thought. Of course it’s so small it would be easy to miss.

“Where do we head from here?” Konstantine was saying. “Forgive me for expressing my frustration but I feel like we’re just wandering around aimlessly with no game plan. That’s not good. You would think it would be easy to find the necromancer considering he has an army of the undead. Where did they go? Surely they couldn’t all just disappear, even with the snow.”

“Who knows?” Skold murmured. He turned away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the bed back in his quarters at Penthorpe Keep had been but it was certainly more comfortable than the cold hard ground. He was so tired his head ached. His words were slurred. “We’ll discuss it in the morning. Right now I just want to sleep.”

“Sleep, then,” Konstantine said gently and that was the last thing Skold heard him say before sinking into the depthless waters where sleep and dreams awaited.

                …

Skold jerked awake, aware there was something in the room that shouldn’t be there. He reached under the pillow and grabbed the dagger he’d put there in case it was needed and sat upright. He shook Konstantine awake. The flames had died completely. Outside the wind was a howling ghost, blowing so hard it made the window shake.

“Wha…?” Konstantine mumbled sleepily.

Skold dug his nails into Konstantine’s wrist. Konstantine became silent immediately and sat very silently. The shadows in the room were thick, almost unnatural, even with Skold and Konstantine’s sharp eyesight. Yet there was something there in the room and they could both feel it. Goosebumps broke out over Skold’s skin. The chill in the room was closing in from all sides. He could feel eyes on him. The only hint of what it might came from the strong smell of rot coming from somewhere to right. Konstantine grabbed his hand and squeezed it, a way of saying, I’m ready whenever you are.

Skold glanced in the direction of the fireplace and said, “Fuere.”

Flames sprung to life in the hearth, filling the room with light.

The revenant stood in the corner of the room. It gazed at them with white, lifeless orbs. Its mouth was a grinning grimace, its flesh a sickly green-grey color. The sharp protuberances of its ribs poked out through ruined flesh; its breast looked like deflated balloons, saggy flesh that jiggled with every lurching step it took. The smell coming from it was so intense Skold couldn’t stop himself from gagging.

Even though the last time he’d encountered revenants they’d saved his life, Skold’s first instinct was to destroy the undead creature as quickly as possible. Given his and Konstantine’s first encounter with the undead he knew they were not easy to kill. He drew his energy around him and was ready to let rip with another offensive fire spell when the revenant turned and ran for the window.

“Don’t let it leave!” Konstantine shouted.

But it was already too late. The revenant threw itself at the window, crashing through the glass. Skold cursed and peeked outside. Wind blew his hair back from his face. Icy snowflakes brushed his cheeks, numbing them. His eyes, narrowed with frustration, gleamed like twin moons. He was vaguely aware of Konstantine standing beside him, breathing rapidly. Skold’s ears were filled with the pounding of his own heart.

“Where is it?” Konstantine exclaimed. “Where the fuck did it go?”

Skold’s eyes scanned the night but the revenant was nowhere in sight. Like a ghost it was gone.

“What did it want?” Konstantine asked.

“I think you can guess.”

“We must be heading in the right direction. The necromancer’s playing with us. I don’t like this, Skold.”

Skold didn’t reply. He stepped away from the window and felt his foot brush against something. He looked down. Next to his foot was a rolled up piece of parchment. He stooped, brushed aside several pieces of glass, and cautiously picked it up. He sensed no malicious magics around it.

“What is it?” Konstantine asked.

“I don’t know. The creature must have dropped it.” Skold carefully unrolled the parchment. There, in the Old Language, were two sentences: Come to Chateau de la Maubvin. I’m waiting. He read it twice, frowning, and then handed the note to Konstantine.

“The necromancer,” said Konstantine when he’d finished reading it several times. “He knows we’re after him. How could he possibly know that?”

Skold made no attempt to offer an explanation because he didn’t have one.

“We should send a raven to King Yaldon and head to Blanchett,” said Konstantine.

Deep down inside Skold knew Konstantine was right - to trek on would be madness. But he also knew the necromancer was teasing him, inviting him to a confrontation. And he didn’t seem to care that Konstantine tagged along. Again Skold’s curiosity, the need for closure was at conflict with his commitment to King Yaldon. Before now he'd always followed the instincts he’d gleaned from training and from protocol. Already his brain was thinking of things to say to convince Konstantine they needed to keep going.

“We’re not turning back,” he said tonelessly. Even as the words came from his lips they felt like the words of an imposter; he was not thinking about what was the best for the both of them but of his own greedy desires. “We’re going to keep going.”

Konstantine grabbed his arm. “Are you mad? Surely you don’t mean that.”

Skold pulled his arm free suddenly angry. “I do mean it. We can’t go back. We don’t have any information on him.”

“We know where he is.”

“But nothing else: We don’t know how many revenants he has or what he’s planning. Nothing.”

“And if he ends up attacking us? There’s no chance we would be able to fight him and live.”

Skold stormed around the room grabbing the few belongings he’d brought with him and packing them away. His jaw was clenched. He glared at Konstantine through narrowed eyes. “You do what you want, Konstantine. You want to go back to Blanchett, to the king, with your tail in between your legs? Go ahead. But I’m going to keep going. I’m going to find this necromancer and I’m going to see what he’s planning.”

Konstantine swore. “I’d ask if you’re serious but you have no sense of humor. If there’s nothing I can say to persuade you to go to Blanchett then of course I’m going with you. Wherever you go I go, remember? But I do not like this plan of yours and I do not like how you’ve been acting lately. I wish you would talk to me. You know you can, don’t you?” His violet eyes were earnest, full of stupid love, and undying loyalty.

Skold had a premonition so powerful it could not be denied: If Konstantine continued this journey he would die. And it wasn’t the first time he had this premonition. There were many times when he’d suspected his third-in-command, the elf who had shared his bed many times, would die in his company. He was like a dog that didn’t know it wasn’t wanted. You could shout at it, throw things at it, and kick it with the toe of your boot but in the end it always came back wagging its tail. Knowing this, Skold had taken what he wanted anyway. Yes, he always tried to push Konstantine away, to force him to realize the inevitable, but the dog was ever persistent.

Rare emotion stirred inside of Skold, as powerful and undeniable as the premonition that had preceded it: Urgency and fear. Fear! Such an unfamiliar feeling. You can’t come with me! he wanted to say while the ice wall he’d set up to distance himself from any emotion he might feel was down. You must leave me! You must go to Blanchett! If you come with me you’ll die! The words were inside his mouth, crawling up the sides of his throat, weighing down on his tongue. He didn’t love Konstantine - this he was certain, he was simply incapable of it. He would never be able to give Konstantine what he wanted, something Skold hated himself for deep down inside. But he didn’t want to see Konstantine die. They had traveled over many miles together, fought side by side through many battles, slain many enemies. Together they had shared physical pleasures, felt the warmth of each others’ bodies.

But already the ice wall was reforming, the words dying, the emotions fading. Skold was his usual indifferent self.

“We leave in the morning,” he said.

At first light Skold and Konstantine went down to the first floor of the inn to find Illyum standing at the counter, flattening a large ball of dough with her hands; the front of her threadbare apron was covered with flour. Svenson stood in front of the oven, wiping sweat from his forehead with a meaty forearm.

“Good morning,” Illyum said with a smile.

“Our window broke last night,” said Skold. “We had an intruder.”

Her smile immediately disappeared. She opened her mouth and then closed it, at a loss for words.

“We’ll pay for the damage of course,” said Skold. “The intruder is gone and won’t be coming back. Tell me, do you know of Chateau de la Maubvin?”

“Y-Yes,” Illyum stammered. Powdery bits of flour fell onto the counter as she scratched anxiously at her brow. “It’s north, four days journey from here, a week given the snow. But why would you want to go there? It’s been abandoned since the plague. Some of the villagers here in Stautinger even say its haunted...Normally I’m not one for superstition but I wouldn’t doubt it since most of the people inside were plague victims. No one bothered to clear the bodies out...of course that’s just rumors.”

“Thank you,” said Skold, slapping several gold coins on the counter. “You’ve been very helpful. We will retrieve our horses and be gone from this place.”

The elven woman nodded and expelled a sigh. Skold suspected it was a sigh of relief at the news they were leaving. He couldn’t blame her.