XXIII. Stranded

It was late afternoon by the time Maleah and Rassvette reached the town. The outlying cottages and farmlands had been razed some time ago, leaving nothing but snow and ash. The town itself appeared to have been sacked, but not through siege or combat. Most likely, bandits had swept through once the town evacuated. The gates looked as if they had been haphazardly shorn up and once again abandoned, and there were piles of bodies in carts on several street corners. Someone had tried to give them a burial at one point, though whether that someone still remained seemed unlikely. The town was utterly devoid of life.

Maleah paused to examine the skeletal remains slumped over a broken storefront window frame. It looked as if he or she had died while trying to dive through the window, their skull was cracked and their left leg lay several feet behind them. The bones were picked clean and bore the marks of many teeth and claws.

“Looks like the animals got to this one…”

Rassvette made the sign of the dawn and quickly moved away. “I don’t see how you can refer to those demons as animals.”

“Do you see any smoke?” Maleah asked, her teeth chattering so much she was barely understandable.

Rassvette searched the rooftops, and pointed to a chimney in the distance. “There, about three to four blocks that way.”

Maleah nodded, still shivering, as she shakily made her way down the lane. She hunched over as she leaned towards the storefronts, her arms folded across her chest and her hands under her armpits. The spear strapped to her back scraped against the stone walls and got caught in the broken window frames. She looked ready to fall over at any moment.

“Give me your sword.”

Maleah shot him a look that was a cross between contempt, confusion and disgust. Rassvette ignored her response and pointed to the weapon at her hip.

“Your sword, you prefer that spear of yours anyway.” Rassvette opened and closed his hand, beckoning for her to hand it over. “Come on now.”

Unwilling to take her hands from under her arms, Maleah kicked at his hand, falling over against the wall she had been hugging.

“You don’t know how to use it, fuck off.”

Rassvette reached out to help her stand, but she angrily wriggled free of his grasp. “I can use it better than that stick of yours, now hand It over.”

“Why?” Maleah spat, clumsily shuffling forward at a slightly faster clip.

“In case there’s still someone or something still out here, that’s why!”

After uttering a string of Xanavien curses under her breath, Maleah finally unstrapped her sword and let it clatter to the ground. Rassvette sucked his teeth and scrambled to pick up the weapon. He paused, clutching the sheathed short sword to his chest as he scanned the windows for signs of the enemy, but there was naught but wind and ruin. He finally stood and unsheathed the weapon, admiring the blade and artistry of the hilt, it was probably the first or second time he’d actually held a weapon in his entire life. Even though he had no idea of how to wield it, he felt more confident in his abilities just by holding it. It was intoxicating almost. Then again, it could have simply been delirium.

He looked up and was shocked to find Maleah half-way down the block already, hobbling along using her weapon as a staff. Rassvette struggled to sheathe the weapon and scampered after her, nearly slipping on the icy pavement.

* * *

The three blocks, while agonizing, were walked in blissful silence. Fortunately for Maleah, Rassvette had ceased his blathering as he clutched the sword like a child would a stuffed animal. He would be less than useless in a fight, - and for that matter, so would she- but at least he had shut up. Much like The Port of Romance, the town looked more abandoned than sacked. Sorn’s military was decidedly weak, no doubt the bulk of their forces had been deployed to the capitol and their border with expansionist Duvachellé. She and Osric had mostly bypassed the nation, so she had no real idea what had happened that led to things being in this state. More likely than not, the vast majority of Sorn’s population had been slain in the capitol or made up the bulk of Marquez’s refugee population.

Even so, something did not sit right with Maleah. She looked up at the multi leveled homes and shops that lined the narrow, winding streets, wondering where everyone could have gone. While a large city, the population of Sorn living in Marquez could only populate a small border town at most. Sorn had a population of seven million at least, so where could they all have gone? She and her brother hadn’t come this way, at least, not together. Maleah forcibly shook the thoughts from her cold addled mind, eliciting a grunt of concern from the monk.

She waved him off and quickened her pace. Her feet were numb and her legs felt like lead weights. Hopefully the monk would be able to fix them, she didn’t relish the idea of being a double amputee. Ahead of them, at a forked intersection in what appeared to be a merchant’s district, was a townhome set atop a grocer. Parked in front was a gaily painted wagon and a cluster of sacks and old crates. The wagon looked like a shack on wheels, and was incessantly familiar to her, bringing up negative emotions from somewhere deep in her past, though she couldn’t recall what for.

The door to the wagon creaked open, and a dark skinned young man hopped out, his arms burdened by a small crate of trinkets and sewing supplies. He looked up and froze upon spotting the pathetic pair, his golden eyes flitting from one to the other in a panic. Rassvette fumbled with the sword, dropping it as he tried to unsheathe the blade. Maleah curled her lip in disgust and firmly bade him to stop with a slap on the chest. Her eyes locked with the boy, unsure of how to proceed. His manner of dress was light and airy, he either came from a warmer clime or was trapped here when winter fell. Either way, he was as much from this town as they were.

The boy looked them over suspiciously, doing a double take on Maleah.

“You speak?” he asked in Xanavien marked by an accent more rural than her own.

“Yeah…” she replied warily, more curious than before.

The boy looked to Rassvette and then back to Maleah. “You army?”

“Yes, but not black.”

He nodded slightly as he continued to size them up. The armies of Silex were all essentially color coded, with Xanavene being black, Aes Sidhe green, and Duvachellé being either red or violet depending on the ruling house. Maleah was clad in all black, and knew she didn’t make a very convincing argument as to not being affiliated with Xanavene. Though seeing as he spoke her tongue, it hopefully wouldn’t matter too much.

“It’s fucking cold out here,” Maleah spat as she began shivering anew, “You going to invite us in or not?”

He nodded slowly, casting a wary glance from Rassvette to Maleah and back again. He jerked his head towards the townhome and led them up the narrow stairs to the apartment. After they stumbled and crawled their way up to the third floor, he opened a door and they spilled into the warm flat. The décor was that of a working class family, mismatched but each piece holding a story. The smell of fire and borscht filled Maleah’s nostrils as she plopped herself into an old armchair with a contented sigh. Rassvette leaned their weapons against the corner and set about removing the frostbite from their limbs. Fortunately, the flesh had not yet died.

Maleah wanted to ask why their host had chosen such an out of the way apartment, but he had disappeared down the hallway. The soothing waves of healing energy and roaring fire had put her in a blissful stupor, and she was unwilling to call out to him. Suddenly, however, Rassvette ceased his healing. Maleah opened her eyes to see the young man standing before them with an armed crossbow aimed at her head.

“You son of a bitch! Why even invite us up then?” Maleah demanded.

A young woman of a similar complexion stood in the doorway behind the man. Her hair was a wavy violet, and her eyes were of the same golden hue as the young mans. She wore the garb of a carnie, and Maleah suddenly realized the source of her apprehension. These people were a bunch of drifters, the caravaneers of Xanavene, making a living as grifters, thieves and charlatans. According to her brother Osric, they were descendants the last semi-pure blooded dusk elves left on Silex, driven from their homes in northern Xanavene to wander the tundra aimlessly. She wasn’t sure about any of that crazy theoretical shit, but she did know they were not to be trusted. Their hospitality, such as it was, always came at a steep price.

“Get back in the room Leila.” The boy ordered, not taking his eyes off Maleah.

“What the hell’s going on Zuri?” The woman asked as she cast a curious gaze on her new house guests.

“Yeah Zuri, what the hell is going on here?” Maleah mirrored.

Rassvette chuckled nervously and patted Maleah on the thigh. “Perhaps we shouldn’t taunt the man with a crossbow aimed at us, hmm?”

“She is a soldier!” Zuri shouted as he shoved the stock against his shoulder and took an aggressive step forward. “She tried to deny, but she wears the uniform of the enemy and blood of the slain!”

Maleah held out her arms and looked down to the tattered and blood crusted uniform. “It’s from my horse you dick!”

Leila stepped into the den and folded her arms across her chest as she looked them over. Her eyes were sharp, and it was obvious by the way that she carried herself that she was the one in charge. The way she had been cowering in the doorway, Maleah had mistaken her for some meek younger sister, but now that she stood glaring down at her, she realized it was simply a well-practiced ruse on their part.

“She sounds like some bumpkin.” Leila flipped her hair from her face and turned to Rassvette. “And why the priest?”

“Actually, I’m just an acolyte.” Rassvette said with a nervous smile as he slowly tried to stand.

Zuri quickly turned his sights on the monk as the woman took a step back to give him a clear shot. Rassvette quickly raised his hands and promptly sat back down. Maleah rolled her eyes in disgust and scooted her chair away from the monk.

“Though it is odd…” Leila mused “this is the second time we’ve encountered a member of The Order cavorting with shady individuals, only this time the genders have been reversed.”

“Who’s cavorting?” Maleah demanded.

Leila smiled, though the sight of it sent shivers down Maleah’s spine. “Why are the two of you here? Are there more of you?”

“If you want to turn this into story time, can I at least get some coffee? I’m still pretty fucking cold.”

What?” Leila exchanged a perplexed look with her brother. “I’m afraid you don’t understand the situation, what brings you this way?”

“Please, forgive her rudeness.” Rassvette pleaded in halting Xanavien. “We have been lost in snow for the past two days. We’ve not food nor water.”

“Oh?” Leila asked with faux concern. “That’s terrible, how did you wind up in such a predicament?”

Rassvette visibly relaxed. “We were ambushed by he who invaded this nation, a sorcerer named Osric.”

“He’s lying!” Zuri spat as he readjusted his aim.

Leila held up a delicate hand to stay his itchy trigger finger. “No, I think they are telling the truth.”

Zuri grumbled and clenched his teeth. “But Leila, we can’t be certain, you remember what happened with the last two, they stole my ox and likely murdered—“

“If I wanted to kill you, I woulda done so when you hopped outta that weird looking wagon.” Maleah’s teeth chattered as she vainly stuck her hands under her arms for warmth. “Now may I please have some fucking coffee?”

Leila stifled a giggle. “She has a point brother.”

Rassvette forced a smile and spoke through clenched teeth. “Don’t provoke the man with the crossbow captain.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Maleah shouted, her voice breaking. “If you’re going to shoot, shoot! Don’t stand there being such a pussy about it.”

Leila laughed again as Zuri lowered his weapon with a look of confusion and admiration for her resolve, his cheeks burning from the insult. For someone who was half starved and frozen, she was remarkably energetic.

Leila snapped her fingers in her brother’s direction. “Put down the bow brother and go prepare a pot of coffee for our guests.”

Zuri looked from to his sister in shock, and back to Maleah’s smug mug. “But Leila!”

Leila turned a withering glare to her brother. “Now little brother. This woman does not bear the white eye of Xanavene as emblem, but rather the burning heart of House Templeton. The ruling house of Aes Sidhe, am I correct?”

Maleah reflexively clutched the patch on her shoulder and nodded slowly. She wanted to know how the hell the woman came across such information, but she wanted a cup of coffee more.

Zuri begrudgingly uncocked his bow and slung it over his shoulder. Rassvette visibly unpuckered and leaned his back against the chair. Zuri shot them a final contemptuous glare before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Forgive my brother Zuri, he doesn’t do well with new people. Though, you must admit his caution is justified.”

Leila crossed the room and took a seat on the threadbare sofa across from Maleah. She was beautiful, and her eyes reminded Maleah of her mothers.

“You are from the north aren’t you?” Leila asked rhetorically.

Maleah nodded. “Balalaika, if you’ve heard of it. My name is Maleah, and the monk is Rassvette. He’s Thiudorican.”

Leila nodded. “Yes, I have heard of it, and I could tell your friend is the unfortunate third son of some middling merchant family in Hallthor.”

“Now wait a second!” Rassvette demanded indignantly. “We are neither middling nor merchants. My father was a thane.”

Leila rolled her eyes and waved her hand in dismissal. “So you are his bastard then, same difference.”

Maleah grinned in spite of herself as she curled her legs up onto the chair. She was still terribly cold, but she was beginning to like this Leila woman. Abruptly, Leila stood and clucked her tongue. Maleah looked up in surprise as the woman grabbed her arm and began to pull her out of the chair.

“What the hell lady?” Maleah snarled as she snatched back her arm.

“You’re filthy, that’s what. I’m taking you to a bath before you get us all sick.”

Maleah relaxed a bit and craned her neck to see if Zuri was coming with her coffee. Unfortunately, he was not.

“It’s too cold for baths.” Maleah pouted.

Leila pinched Maleah on the exposed flesh of her breast, causing her to leap up with a startled shriek.

“You are a bumpkin,” Leila said with feigned exasperation, “people in cities have hot and cold taps.”

Maleah leaned against the mantle as she massaged her tender flesh. “You’re a damn witch you know that? And to think I was warming up to you.”

“You’ll get my apologies when you are no longer caked in dried blood and horse shit, now go!”

Maleah tousled her hair, sending a cascade of dried grime tumbling onto the floor. “I think you drew blood…”

Leila stomped her foot and pointed down the hall. “GO!”

Maleah slumped her shoulder and begrudgingly acquiesced, though in reality, the idea of a hot bath sounded quite pleasant.

“And what are you over there grinning about, monk?” Leila demanded as she placed her hands to her hips. “You’re getting in after her, but first you’re gonna clean up the mess you strays tracked in.”