Vedek

During the battle Vedek stayed with the other two archers. They were blessed that the lizardfolk made no attempt at ranged combat. The only danger he had tasted was when one of the creatures broke ranks to rush and maul the mercenary on Vedek’s left. While the man screamed, the other archer, this one from the Order of Suffering, drew a sword to assist. Harder to kill than that, the lizardfolk changed prey at the first strike, pouncing on the Order archer to commit the same savagery. Vedek fired three quick arrows into the lizardfolk’s hide before it finally expired, along with the two archers.

The rest of the battle passed almost too quickly. In memory it was a blur of dust, blood, and reptilian cries. Now Vedek sat by the bonfire along with the other nine survivors. It was quiet. The sun was cresting towards the east. Due to their distance from Ramuf, they would camp in this spot tonight.

Zam distributed pay to Vedek’s group and the remaining mercenary. The mercenary counted her silver while watching the lizardfolk sizzle in the flames. It must’ve stirred some inspiration, because she started to sing.

“They say a lizard sings at sunset

a strange cacophonous cry.

They say the lizards shed their skin

moments after they die.

They say a lizard’s meat is sour.

With no seasoning can it pair.

They must say as much, because by such and such,

there are fewer lizards here.”

It was a simple song, but it was the only sound outside of the crackle of fire, so Vedek listened to it.

“Are those your own words?” He asked.

“Nah, its old. Ancient. Sung about the war between the Phyrn and the Teotl millennia ago. That’s why there’s that line about eating them. There are more verses, but I’ve forgotten them. Besides, that’s the only part anyone remembers.”

She finished counting her silver. Perhaps on whim alone, she flicked one of the coins deep into the flames. “Not much left here. I’m making my way back to Ramuf.”

Zam blocked her path. He began to speak in New Quetzal, but forced himself into Common. “It’s not safe to travel so far at this hour. The fire is warm and this camp is secure.”

Zam had been their commander in this assault. He dressed himself like a caballero of the old Coatlmade Empire. While he was imperial scaled like Rerume, the two looked to belong to different species. Zam was large, far more dragon than serpent. Some sections of his scales, particularly his backside and arms, looked as thick as tortoise shells. His feathering was confined to his head, flaring behind him like a white headdress. He carried an Athshin greatsword known as a dosmanos, which curved at the end like the crest of a wave. Vedek particularly watched how he handled that blade, the ease at which he carried and toyed with a hunk of iron that would make Vedek break a sweat just to lift to his shoulder.

The mercenary tossed her bag of silver to herself. She squinted at Zam, which made the wine stain birthmark covering her face shift from side-to-side. “The fire is warm, but the company is preachy. Plus it’s bad luck to linger at the site of a massacre.”

Zam was poor at hiding his offense. He stepped aside to let the woman pass. “There’s still more work to be done in securing Ramuf. Can the Order count on you in this cause?”

“You want another mercenary you know where to find me. I’ll kill whatever you want so long as you keep giving me full bags like this. Any more than that, any talk of ‘causes,’ and you’ve lost me. Athshin is Athshin. You’re not the first to try and change that.”

She wouldn’t allow Zam another word. She strode out of the crater, a reprise of the lizard song forming a wake behind her.

“What an interesting lady.” Cole said. “I wish I could remember her name if she told me. Maybe we’ll meet again in Ramuf.”

“Wish to join her for a ballad?” Vedek asked.

“Something like that.” Cole’s smile was small and sardonic.

Zam hadn’t turned his eyes from where the mercenary had crested the crater. Smoke trailed from his nostrils. “Apathetic ones like her are a poison to any movement. Best if we forget her entirely and proceed with the evening.”

And so the evening proceeded. Vedek and his companions had brought their cart, still pulled by Mall, which was was laden with the Order’s camping supplies. It was a warm night, so tents were not needed. They simply threw tarps onto the soft dirt. Dinner was flat breads and goat, along with fruit raided from the lizardkin’s stores. They watched the fire wind down as Cole sang from atop one of the surrounding structures. Some old human song about a squire and a maiden bear.

“Surely you mean ‘maiden fair’?” One of the Order members asked.

“Surely I don’t,” Cole replied from his perch. “I know the song, and the song has always been about a man and a bear rutting in a cave until the rains clear.”

“They sing it in Shish. It’s a tavern anthem, but it was a bit ruder when last I heard it.” Rodd gave the boy a coy smile.

“I was taught the original, back when it was a ballad. One of the first songs I learned on the fiddle, actually. The way the Master of Songs performs it, you’d almost forget the subject matter.”

“Bears are noble beasts. The sixth breed of wechers belonged to the bears.” Frost had already devoured his portion of dinner. All he had now was conversation and hungry glances towards the basket of shredded goat meat.

“They live in the far south of Mercin, right? The country called Fimbulvinter.” Cole was also looking at the basket. Paired with Frost, they looked like begging hounds.

Frost’s mood became sad and quiet. “They don’t live anywhere. They are extinct.”

“What is next for your Order?” Rerume’s voice cut above the conversation. He was looking across the fire to Zam. Cole and Frost’s conversation continued, but now Vedek was more interested in what Rerume was provoking.

“I could ask you the same. I noticed that you did not perform rites for the phyrn.” Unlike his companions, Zam had yet to remove his plate armor. The angle of the shadows masked his face turning him into a metallic boulder.

“That is not always an Avenger’s duty. I am here to observe. What occurred here could’ve been accomplished by any number of well-paid mercenaries. It is not difficult to clear out no more than a dozen phyrn.”

“If it was so easy, why were we the first to address it?” Zam squared his shoulders and tented his fingers. He looked like a predator about to pounce on Rerume from across the fire. “We have been in Ramuf for only a month, and already we have made it safer.”

A dwarf member of the Order spoke up. “I’ve been trading in Ramuf most of my adult life. Used to be that the last stretch of road to Ramuf was the least safe. All kinds of raiders would try to take your goods just when you were running on reserves to reach the city gates. Even when you got to the walls you had to stay to the outskirts because of the obscene housing prices. Easy picking for thieves. I myself lost my entire stock of shields. The city guard did nothing. ‘What happens outside the walls isn’t our concern.’ Fancy that! The Order wasn’t like that. They made an example of each thief they caught. In a shorter time than you would believe, the roads were safe and now the tents on the outskirts stretch twice as far. That’s results, as my deda would say.”

Zam’s posture shifted enough that Vedek could see the confidant smile he bore. He patted the dwarf’s shoulder. “Puit is now one of our chapter’s chief smiths. There is still more to do. Other outside forces to quell. Once we have secured the borders, we will turn inward and expunge thieves, murderers, and other such social ills. The people of Ramuf will see our effectiveness, and they will fly our banner from every house. It has happened before in Finis. And we are only a fraction of the Order. There are envoys like ours in all the Middle Cities. All of them campaigning to make the world safer.”

“Then why do you need the clerics of the Vulture Mother?” Vedek injected himself into the conversation. He spoke because he thought Rerume might not. Several heads turned. Had he spoken too loudly? Or did the other members of the Order not know about this?

Zam was quiet. His armor groaned as he stood to his full two meter height. He strode across the campsite to Vedek and Rerume. Rodd ceased his conversation with Cole and Frost to join Zam. Before speaking again, Zam turned his head towards the dying bonfire. A guttural roar built in his throat that became a breath of fire. The bodies of the lizardfolk, already blackened to the bone, were disintegrated. The spectacle drew small cheers from the Order members. The flaring fire illuminated the iron broach on Zam’s chest, displaying his commanding rank within the Order.

When Zam spoke to Rerume and Vedek, he did so in lowered tones. “As Rerume said, what we have done today is easily done by any with the soldiers to. We recognize we can’t lay claim to Athshin on might alone. Many of us in the Order have seen what open war is like in Athshin. The history of the Middle Confederacy, perhaps the history of all of Athshin since the fall of the Coatlmade, has been one of warlords. We are sick of it. We don’t want a nation born of conquest, but one born because the people want it. It is the most legitimate claim to rule there is.”

“-And my church is key to making them want it?” Rerume asked. He was not intimidated by Zam looming over him.

“Oh yes. They are an authority older than these rocks. Authority is something the Order prizes greatly. If we ally ourselves with authority, then the people know our cause is just. Here…

From around his neck, Zam presented a silver threaded necklace. The medallion it carried was of a stag-horned serpent.

“This is the symbol of Cuezaltzyx. He was the Coatlmade god of death and rebirth. In the mythology of the old empire, it was he your soul met in death. The white flames of his breath would envelop you, but they’d burn only sin. If you were an evil soul you would be destroyed, but if you were virtuous to your last, then you’d find your sin burned away so that you may be reborn pure, as all newborns are. The old church of Cuezaltzyx is an ally of the Order. We use his image because all coatlmade recognize him. They understand our cause through him. We will burn away the sin of Athshin: the criminal, the cultist, and the raider.”

With that last word Zam pointed to the fire. There was nothing left of the lizards.

Rerume’s expression was unchanged. “Cuezaltzyx is a dead god. If you wish the support of the Vulture Clerics, then you will need to abandon him.”

“Perhaps we will,” Zam stowed his medallion, “but for now he is useful.”

Vedek looked into the fire. He saw the flames of the hearth, but also the inferno of an unchecked wildfire.

Perhaps sensing his unease, Rodd stepped towards Vedek, hands outstretched.

“Your brilliant eyes hide many questions friend. It is natural. What holds you from joining out cause?”

“You want me to join your cause?” Vedek repeated the question in an entranced tone.

“As I told you when we first met, we could use more elden fae. Fae’Riam is the model for which all kingdoms should follow.”

“Is it?” Vedek was very quiet. He remembered the night of his usurpation. His brother entering the throne room laughing like a madman. Perhaps the news hadn’t reached beyond the borders.

What was his answer? Should he join this group and help them conquer Athshin? But then what? At some point his identity would have to become known. Would he take command of the Order and turn them towards his homeland, hoping to stoke their desire to fix injustice by advertising his own? Vedek knew the pregnant pause he had created with his silence, but there were so many factors to consider.

The anticipation was broken by one of the Order members throwing an armful of kindling on the bonfire. The blaze jolted as it devoured the new fuel.

“What’s that you’re tossing?” Cole called out after dropping from his perch.

The man paused. He looked at the materials like he was seeing them for the first time.

“Rubbish from the phyrn’s bedding area. We can’t have them taking back this place, and these things have no use to us.”

He continued towards the fire, but Cole stopped him a second time to inspect closer.

“This looks like writing.” Cole cooed in curiosity.

“I suppose it is, but only phyrn can actually read it. The savages don’t even use paper.”

“No, they use their shed skins” Cole marveled as he looked closer.

He pulled one of the long sheets of dry skin from the man’s arms. Vedek could see the bold shapes that constituted the lizard’s script as Cole turned it over.

“Can I keep these? All of them? I’d love to translate it and learn what they write about.” The boy was earnest. Vedek couldn’t help but smile under his mask.

Several of the Order members laughed. Cole was confused at this response. Zam laughed loudest of all. Vedek didn’t like Zam’s laugh. It sounded like Zexven’s laugh.

“Cole, your curiosity is admirable, but you choose a poor time to find it. If they could see you, the authors of that writing would be furious.” Vedek gestured to the bonfire, which was still going strong.

Cole watched the flames as if he could see the eyes of the dead glaring back at him.

“Right. Well...these were raiders. Lizardfolk —phyrn— have to have a culture outside of that.”

“Raiding is their culture” Zam stated. All humor from the moment before had vanished. “It always has and always will, unless we put an end to it.” Zam now wheeled on Rerume and Vedek. He would have an answer. “Are you going to help us in this, or are you just as that mercenary was?”

Rerume spoke first. “My judgment will be heard by the Eldest Cleric, and none else.”

Zam expected as much. His white eyes looked to Vedek. Unlike Rerume, Zam’s gaze made Vedek flinch. Vedek swallowed hard and chose his words carefully.

“I am a stranger to these lands, and I plan to return home once I have the means to. The affairs of Athshin are not mine to meddle in.”

Zam said no more, other than a grunt of “apathy.” He joined his companions in burning out any sign that the lizardfolk had lived there. Cole arrived at Vedek’s side, still clutching the bundles of phyrn writing. Frost had relocated to the edges of the camp. It was dark, so Vedek could not read his full expression, but something had changed in the wecher’s body language. Frost’s canine eyes reflected in the night and were carefully trained on the lizardfolk’s possessions being burned.

Rodd downplayed his frustration with Zam’s actions. His hand vanished into his hair to scratched his scalp. “Zam is a great orator and warrior, but he stumbles when faces someone he cannot convince on first impression. We will talk no more of the Order’s business. Instead, may I turn the conversation onto yourself? Your group is an oddity I must admit. Most of you are all well-spoken, and all are capable, but when you arrived to Ramuf you had scarce but the clothes over your skin.”

Vedek expected Cole to speak. The boy was fond of telling their story, but he was acting meek after the Order chided him. Vedek explained the events that united them.

“Allies of circumstance then. I believe it is in the Kingdom of Amenhito that they say the bonds formed by circumstance will temper to be stronger than steel. Yes, the Order knows of the increase in barbatus raids. They target villages far from the major cities, making prevention difficult. One of our chapter’s scouts (who could not be present here, for she has earned a rest) was tasked with gathering information on the raids within the Ramuf area.”

Vedek felt a string of hope plucked deep inside him. “Does she know what becomes of the possessions of those captured?”

Rodd understood Vedek’s interest in the matter. He gave a folded smile. “Only partly. She believes that the barbatus are not acting alone. It pairs with other reports. Someone is intentionally weakening the defenses of villages, be it through eliminating guards or poisoning the populace so that they are unprepared when the mob of ants comes. Our scout witnessed the aftermath of one such raid. She said that there were two caravans leaving the scene. One laden with the captured, and the other overflowing with their possessions. It is my understanding that barbatus will often take weapons, but clothes? Coin and pottery? Even books?”

“They have interest only in the practical. Art is beyond them.” Rerume stated. He was becoming invested in the mystery little by little.

“They have never been observed engaging in trade either. Or wearing clothes.” Cole recited.

Rodd was glad to see the boy engaging. “Indeed. Our scout was not able to trail the caravan with the stolen goods, instead picking the nobler act of freeing the prisoners.”

“So if we find where that second caravan was headed, we might find what was taken from us?” Vedek spoke half to Rodd and half to himself. Rodd confirmed as much. He had to bow out of the conversation so that he might speak to Zam.

“Bréag, what are you thinking?”

It was Cole who asked, but Vedek was silent. That strand of hope in his gut now had a chorus joining it. All that Vedek had brought with him to Athshin was snatched when he was taken. He had resigned himself to never seeing those items again, but now he might take them back.

A surprising pop came from the bonfire as it consumed the last of the phyrn possessions. All that was left of them was now carried by Cole. Likewise, all that was left of Vedek Slevelisk was wherever the barbatus caravans ended.