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It is not as easy to write as it looks. Trying to get this section just right, or painting the perfect picture in the reader's mind takes a great amount of skill to create such a work of art. To develop the characters and the world that that they live in takes a great deal of effort. Eventually, I think that an author has to make a choice. To take the story where they want it to go, or to let the story take them where it will. I started with an idea of what I wanted to do. Over the course I ended up changing what I wanted to do many times. It may not be what I wanted at the beginning, but it is what I finished with. It is a challenging experience writing for deadlines. It is hard to do them. Sometimes, you end up sacrificing parts of your story so you can meet the deadlines. All in all, this was a very fun experience and I greatly enjoyed it, no matter how difficult it was to finish things to satisfaction.
Weak moonlight struggles through the branches of the forest high above. Shadows pool upon the ground while the muted sounds float across the quiet skies. Vast meadows are bathed in liquid silver while the black forest looms above it, threatening to block the light, forever casting the lighted realm into a dark eternal night. In the center of one of the few meadows, a shaft of silver light illuminates a group of travelers sleeping unaware of the untold predators that stalk them from the deep forest. Unseen, a cloaked figure walks the boundary between the light and the dark, the only ward against the unseen threats in the night.
Catleen looked around frantically. All around her, were walls of burning flame. "Mama?!? Papa?!? Where are you?" Black smoke was starting to fill the room. Stumbling around looking for her parents, she tripped over something on the floor. Before she hit the floor, a hand reached out and caught her. The smell of the smoke was making her cough and gag. Tears streamed down her face and her long hair fell over her eves. "Papa!" she cried. He picked her up and held her to him. Catleen grabbed tightly at his shirt, pulled herself closer into him, and closed her eyes tightly against the angry orange flames. Holding Catleen close to him, he ran out of the flaming building. Catleen could not tell how long he ran, but finally, he stopped and set her down.
Clutching at his tunic, she turned and saw her home in the valley below, engulfed in flames. "Papa?" she asked questioningly. In her father's place stood a man in a long dark cloak. In the flickering light from the fire, his face was covered in shadow. He turned and looked right at her.
Catleen woke up shivering, gasping. This was not the first time that she had had the nightmare, but recently, the nightmare had started to come more and more frequently. Needing to clear her head, She got up and walked a short ways into the forest. Each time, the dream seemed increasingly real. This time, she could smell the smoke. Never before had she been able to smell anything in the dream. It was almost as if she had actually been there, but that was impossible. She had grown up in the plains. Never in her life had she been into the mountain region where the valley was in her dream. She sat down and looked up at the unchanging stars, indifferent to her worries until the dawn started to brighten the morning sky.
As the stars slowly began to fade, Catleen sighed in frustration as she was still no closer to figuring out what this strange nightmare of hers meant. She got up and walked back into camp.
"Good morning Cat." said a large man dressed in a bright green tunic with long grey hair.
Catleen walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Morning Papa. Are we going to reach Mountain Haven today?"
"Why little cat. Excited to see the fabled city where the trees can sing and water flows clean and clear?" He chuckled. "Actually, I think we will if we set a hard pace and the weather holds clear for us. We should reach Mountain Haven around sundown. I don't like the look of the clouds on the horizon though, and I don't want to spend another night in this forsaken forest if I can avoid it."
The caravan finished their preparations, and moved back onto the trail and on their way to Mountain Haven. Catleen sat high upon the roof of the wagon as it lumbered down the trail. She hardly paid any mind to the vista unfolding before her. In her mind, she was thinking of what a place could do with water flowing freely. All her life, water had been extremely scarce. To be able to drink a cup of water was a luxury. Almost all of the water that could be found was poisoned by the wars of long ago. The scarcity of freshwater was what had made it valuable.
The day seemed to drag on and on, without an end in sight. Finally, as the sun sank beneath the horizon and the stars had begun to appear, did they finally reach the valley. A long blast from a horn shattered the still air and startled everyone. Soon, another blast followed by another rocked the air. Catleen's father seemed unfazed by the horns, almost as if he had been expecting them.
"Father, did you know about the horns?" Catleen asked.
"Of course. All of the settlements place watchers on the outskirts of their territory to guard against raiders sacking their villages. I was actually wondering how far in they were going to let us go before they sounded the alarm. We are probably, maybe oh say, a half hours easy ride from Mountain Haven's gates." he replied.
It actually took a little less than half an hour's travel. As they reached the valley floor, they could see that the great fires had been built to welcome them. Everyone was awake now. It was extremely rare for a trading caravan to visit, and so whenever one did, it was a party that one would not want to miss.
Standing in the middle of the gate, stood a young man, dressed in a cloak of deep red. "Dost though come in peace to the city before ye?" he intoned as if following a ritual.
"In sooth, we come in peace to this fair land milord." Replied Catleen's father, picking up the rhythm of the speech without trouble.
The young lord visibly relaxed. "I am Duke Kaldern, son of the late Duke Stephan. Please will you join me in dining tonight? The last time we had a group of traders, was close near to two years ago."
"Thank you for your gracious invitation milord. I am known as Mattimeo the Trader. I am very sorry to hear of the passing of your father. I met him before, and I greatly respected and liked him."
Duke Kaldern moved from the center of the gate, and led them to the door to his small house. "Please." He gestured for them to move inside. "Let us retire. I can tell that my people would like to get on with the celebrating and I can imagine that yours would too." He said smiling.
The door had not yet closed behind Catleen and her father before the sounds of a wild party starting up reached their ears. Soon, everyone was sitting around the duke's table, and was eating heartily. After a long journey on travel rations, the food tasted delightful.
"Tell me milord, how had your village been faring these past years?" Catleen's father asked.
"First of all, drop the milord please." Kaldern replied. "It gets so tedious. Yes milord. No milord. Three bags full milord. You'd think I didn't have a name anymore," he said mockingly. "Seriously, it has been rough these past few years." His voice changed from joking to a somber tone. "Our harvest hasn't been as good as it has been in the past. We're struggling to support ourselves. I shudder to think if you hadn't come when you did, or if you did come, but too late to do any good. When you add the raiders stealing a good amount of what we do harvest, we're not doing as well as I would like to be. Then on top of that, Baron Harkrin, that greedy bastard to the south, is eying to add us to his holdings. You know, it's almost a little too convenient as to when my father died. I cannot help but wonder if he had a hand in helping him along. So, tell me. What news do you bring from the outside."
"Well, lets see. It's not all that bright I'm afraid. It's rather bleak in fact. About nine months ago, we lost all word from the Outer Rim settlements. We don't know what is happening in there right now. I've heard stories that it's the changed ones who have gotten smart enough to block the roads in. I can only hope that the people living in there are okay, and it's only a severe storm that has blocked the roads. If not, I can only hope for a quick death for them. It's horrible hearing of what the changed ones do to them." Mattimeo shuddered and took a sip from his glass. "I've also heard that the plains and mountain raiders are talking about working together. Times are looking very dark ahead for us my young friend."
"Indeed they are. I hope that they will improve soon. If not, I do not know how we will fare." Kaldern sat and melancholily stared at the fire through the dark wine in his glass.
Mattimeo took another sip from his glass and looked at the light through the wine in it. "This is a very good wine you've made Kaldern."
"Thank you. My father and I worked long on making a good wine. There is not much to do in the winters here. Can you imagine? It gets so boring here at times." Suddenly, Kaldern reached up and smacked his forehead. "I'm so sorry milady. I was so engrossed in the details of finding out what was happening in the outside, that I completely forgot that you were with us. Please forgive me."
Catleen was leaning against the wall in the shadowy corner, almost completely withdrawn from the conversation. With a start, she jumped in her seat. "I'm sorry father, milord. I'm getting a little tired, and I was just thinking some things over in my head. The fire can get to be very hypnotic in that regard." It was true. She had been sitting there the entire time, hearing almost not a single word that they had said. The exhaustion from the long journey, was taking its toll on her finally, and the puzzle of her dream was lying heavily on her shoulders. She tried to stifle a yawn, and failed.
"It appears that I've completely forgotten my manners. Please, let me show you the rooms where you can stay. I forgot to think of how exhausted you must be after your long journey." Kaldern rose and took Catleen's hand, helping her up.
"Thank you milord." Catleen mumbled, already half-asleep.
"Please. Call me Kaldern. I'm not all that comfortable with the milord's anyways." he said while walking her and Mattimeo to their rooms. Outside, the sounds of the festive gathering continued late into the early morning and into the next day.
The next day, Catleen spent resting and bathing. There was nothing like a hot bath after a long journey. The weather was growing bad, and everyone was spending their time inside next to the hearth. Because of the bad weather, Catleen's father had said that they were going to delay their return journey until the weather cleared. Although Catleen had her doubts about that. It was rare to meet a person like Kaldern and he and her father had become friends almost immediately. In the weeks that followed, it seemed that the people of Mountain Haven had accepted them into their society quickly and without fuss.
Outside, rain crashed down upon the thatch roof. Here and there little drops working their way through to drip upon the cold wooden floor. It is a good night to stay inside and sip a warm drink next to the fire, mused Catleen. All of the workers and traders were sitting around gossiping about all of the rumors that they claimed they had heard from a friend of a friend, but in reality, each one of the so-called new rumors was just an attempt to one up the last rumor somebody had made up, and everybody knew it. Catleen let the rumors slip right past her as she sat and pondered.
One of the villagers named Old John was, in truth getting a little senile, but he could still spin a tale as well as anyone. Usually everyone was extremely skeptical of elderly members of the communities. They might not say it, but it was evident in their posture. Tonight, there was nothing indicating any sort of disbelief in any of them. Catleen leaned in closer to the fire to better hear what the old man was saying.
"This wandering man was over ten feet tall I say. Once when I was a little boy, I say him making his way through the woods near where I grew up. He flowed across the land like water and made no noise. I've heard it said that he has no home, and he will wander the face of the earth until the end of days."
"So wait here," Catleen interrupted. "You're telling me that this man has been wandering since you were a little child like young ones over in the corner there? This wanderer of yours would be a great old man, suited to sitting in front of a warm hearth, not traveling across the countryside like you say." She scoffed.
"You may disbelieve, but I too have heard the story of this dark wanderer. It wasn't something that anyone would soon forget," said one of the men sitting next to the fire. Many of the others nodded also.
"It's getting late. I must be getting to bed. Goodnight." And with that, Catleen strode out of the room. Bah, an old wanderer ten feet tall and he's been around since that old man was a child. Nonsense, it isn't possible. It's too late to be thinking about such foolishness. And with the thoughts of a dark wanderer on her mind, Catleen fell asleep to the rain and the wind stirring the trees.
"My thanks for your hospitality Kaldern. The memories of your fine city here shall steel us 'gainst the cold nights ahead of us." Mattimeo called from the head of his caravan. Catleen noticed that her father always tried to make his parting statements extremely flowery and was quite blunt the rest of the time.
"Take care of yourself you old freeloader you. I'm going to expect you in the future sometime. You come back and we'll see what kinds of trouble we can get into." He grinned as he stood on the wall of his town silhouetted against the rising sun as he watched his friends leave and start up the valley.
Mattimeo's caravans were known for being some of the fastest travelers in the civilized realm. Tonight however, they had stopped early. The good spirits from their prolonged stay in Mountain Haven still staying with them, despite the cold weather.
"Serra, take Catleen and run. I'll try to give you enough time." Her father said.
"But what about you Jahn?" Catleen's mother asked.
"I love you. Remember that."
All Catleen could hear next, was the door shutting. Outside, she could hear Papa yelling something. Mama ran to her bed, picked Catleen up, and ran out of their home.
"Mama, where's Papa?" she asked.
"Hush darling. You must be quiet now. Please." As she ran, Catleen could see the tears falling down her mother's face. Behind them, the sounds of the struggle suddenly stopped with a loud scream. Serra hugged little Catleen to her tightly and struggled to carry on.
Later that night, they took shelter in a small hut along the river. "Stay here Cat. I'm going to find us some food." Her mother had been gone for some time when she heard somebody sobbing outside.
"Please, don't hurt me." That was her mother's voice she knew it.
A raucous laughter and then a strange gurgling noise followed.
"Put her in the hut." A cold voice commanded.
Catleen hid under the bed as they dragged her mother in.
"Now burn it down." The cold voice said.
Catleen looked around frantically. All around her, were walls of burning flame. "Mama?!? Papa?!? Where are you?" Black smoke was starting to fill the room. Stumbling around looking for her parents, she tripped over something on the floor. Before she hit the floor, a hand reached out and caught her. The smell of the smoke was making her cough and gag. Tears streamed down her face and her long hair fell over her eves. "Papa!" she cried. He picked her up and held her to him. Catleen grabbed tightly at his shirt, pulled herself closer into him, and closed her eyes tightly against the angry orange flames. Holding Catleen close to him, he ran out of the flaming building. Catleen could not tell how long he ran, but finally, he stopped and set her down.
Clutching at his tunic, she turned and saw her home in the valley below, engulfed in flames. "Papa?" she asked questioningly. In her father's place stood a man in a long dark cloak. In the flickering light from the fire, his face was hidden in shadows. He turned and looked right at her.
High above the camp, the cloaked shadow hunched over looking. The moon was not shining anymore. The clouds had completely covered them. That was fine with him, he worked best when no one could see him. The wind was still, and did not move anything. It was almost unnatural. Far below in the valley he could see small shapes moving towards Mountain Haven. It would not be long now. Suddenly, the moon broke through a small patch of clear sky and illuminated a young girl walking away from the camp. It was time to move.
Catleen woke gasping. She had thought that the dream couldn't get any worse. She had been wrong. Completely wrong. She got up and walked away from the camp to a large overlook where she could see the entire valley below them.
Far below her, she could see Mountain Haven. Its walls and buildings covered in roaring fires. "No, it can't be" she gasped. She turned to run back to the camp. In her way, a towering black shadow with a large oaken staff stood in her way. In the faint moonlight, she could see it wasn't a wraith, one of the nocturnal predators, but rather a man wearing a long dark cloak that gave that impression. A large hood covered his head, and the place where his eyes should have been, an even darker void sucked in all light.
"Please, help them." Catleen implored him. "Please!"
The cloaked man slowly shook his head. "It's too late for them." His voice seemed gravelly and rough, as if it had not been used in a long time.
Please. They're my friends down there." she said in an anguished voice. Tears were falling from her eyes now. The cloaked figure stood there impassive.
"Fine. If you wont help, then I will." Her voice was full of anger.
"Just think. It took you a day's ride to get here. By the time you get back to camp and explain everything, and then finally get back on the road, Harkrin's men will have taken the town. You'll not only be endangering yourself, but everyone else you care about." he said calmly and coolly.
Catleen stood there frustrated. She knew he was right, but she had to help. She stepped past him and started to run back to the camp.
"Just think," his voice floated back to her, as if he was standing right next to her. "If you die or worst yet, are captured, you will not be able to do anything for your friends, and Baron Harkrin will keep pillaging the lands to add to his own pocket. He will kill anyone who stands in his way."
Catleen showed her flight as his words began to sink through her sorrow and rage.
"You know it is true. He will keep killing those who are innocent. Just as he did now to your friends below. Just as he did 15 years ago to your village, your mother, and your father."
This stopped her cold. She whirled around to go back, but found him standing right in front of her. "You...You... You mean..." she sputtered, her eyes wild.
"That the dreams you have been having for the past months are true?" he finished her sentence. "In a word, yes they are."
A wail escaped from her lips and Catleen sank to her knees sobbing. In that instant, something died inside of her. When she finally rose to her feet again, a cold fire burned in her eyes.
"Teach me. Teach me how to kill the damn Bastard."
They traveled for days. It was different from when Catleen traveled with the caravan. Traveling with him, the only sounds she heard were those that she made. He seemed to float over the twigs and leaves that littered the floor, making no noise at all. He stayed in the shadows during the day, and at night, she could hardly tell he was there.
Finally, they stopped. It was a heavily wooded area with a large cave and a stream that trickled quietly down the side of the mountain.
"Do you live here?" Catleen asked.
A brief shake of his head was the only reply she got.
"Well, where do you live then?"
He sat, his back to the wall of the cave for a long time. Finally, when she thought he would not answer, he said simply, "Nowhere."
"You know, I don't really know anything about you. Will you at least tell me your name?"
"I no longer have a name. I no longer hold the right to it. Enough talk. It is time to rest." He turned and walked to the mouth of the cave and disappeared into the night.
The girl brought up those troubling questions. It had been a long time since he had thought about those things. They brought up many horrible memories. He sat in a small clearing, thinking. Do I even remember what my name was? It had been so long. Had I ever-lived in one place and been happy? No. I must stop thinking of these things. Already, the painful memories were starting to come back. "NO!" he shouted. Quickly, he drew his knife and cut into the flesh of his forearm. Ah, the burning pain. It drew him away from the worse pain of the memories.
Suddenly, he rose, and began to spar with an unseen opponent. Fluidly, he floated around the clearing. Thrust. Jab, block, and thrust. He swung his staff with a grace that belied its dangerous nature. He appeared to be a formless shadow, fighting against something that nobody else could see with a golden staff. If there had been anyone watching him, they could have almost seen this unseen opponent fighting him. Far away, under the black skies, a lone wolf cried out in pain.
Sitting inside of the cave, Catleen heard the wolf's cry. It had been hard to leave the caravan. Everything she had known and believed to have been he past was there. She knew that she had to do this. That it would not be possible for her to live her life without doing something to help those that Baron Harkrin had hurt. But she also knew that if she told Mattimeo, that she wouldn't be able to leave. So she had taken the coward's way out, and left him a note. It still hurt her to think of what he must have thought to have woken up one morning and have found her missing. Far above, the stars shone indifferent to her plight.
Time flew past while she trained with him. The first few weeks, he taught her how to survive on her own. How to move unheard and unseen. How to hunt. How to filter enough water to survive. How to find shelter. How to tell what was poisonous and what was not. In the whole time that she had been training with him, he had said little other than a single word, or nod when he was pleased with her or a stern look when he was disappointed in her. The first time when he had spoken to her, that night long ago, he was eloquent in his arguments, but now, he would not talk when it was not necessary, and then he would never say two words when one would do.
Slowly he taught her how to fight. Catleen had lost all sense of time. One morning, she woke up, and lying next to her was an unadorned wooded staff. She took it with her when she walked out onto the practice field that they had made and stood across from him. Without so much as a greeting, he said, "Take your staff and hit me as hard as you can."
Catleen looked at him a little apprehensive. She did not want to hurt her mentor.
"Hit me." he repeated. Still, Catleen hesitated.
"Damn it. Hit me. NOW!" he yelled.
Startled, Catleen lashed out halfheartedly with her staff, and suddenly found herself lying on the ground.
"You left your right side open when you lunged out. Now get up and hit me again. Don't hold back. You won't hurt me." he said.
By the end of the day, Catleen was exhausted. When he drew back after they were done, Catleen sank to her knees in exhaustion and let her staff roll from her fingertips. She heard the Wanderer spit and she looked over at him. Even though she could not see his face, his whole body conveyed his disgust. For the next month, all he had her do were the mindless drills to strengthen her body and did not have her train with the staff at all.
Eventually, he resumed her training and eventually, Catleen became proficient enough to start scoring hits on him. On the day when she managed to beat him in a round, all he did was give her an approving nod. She felt crestfallen. All the work that she had put into learning what he taught her and when she finally became good at it, all he did was nod. She had expected more than that from him. However, when she woke up the next morning, she found her plain staff gone and in its place, a staff of golden oak.
She walked out onto the practice field and found him standing with his back to the rising sun, twirling his staff in an intricate pattern while moving his body in a pattern. She had seen some of the young guards in some of the villages she had visited perform it trying to impress the traders. She had never seen it performed so flawlessly or smoothly. With a flourish, he swept the tip of his staff up and finished with a final lunge. Catleen clapped in appreciation and he bowed in response.
"Ready to try me again?" he asked. "Think you can hit me?"
Catleen hefted her gold oak staff. It felt good in her hands, light and strong. The staff she had used before seemed unfinished. Something always felt a little rough to her. That feeling was not there with the new staff. It almost felt like it completed her, as if it had been waiting for her to pick it up. Suddenly, she lashed out at his feet thinking to catch him by surprise, but he had already floated out of range. Dancing in and out, they probed each other's defenses.
Finally, Catleen caught his mistake. It was so small, it could have hardly been called a mistake. A little too much effort into one thrust left him unbalanced. Quickly, with a fluid series of strikes, Catleen disarmed him and left him lying in the dirt. Silently, he rolled to his feet already moving back towards his staff lying in the earth. Unexpectedly, Catleen had backed off a ways and was staring at his face. When she had tripped him, his hood had fallen off, exposing his face. In Catleen's experience, people who hid their faces were normally exceptionally ugly or deformed. In his case, he was neither. He had golden toned skin and strong cheekbones. His hair was colorless, absorbing the colors of the light. What struck her the most were his eyes. They seemed to drill right through her. Dark gray eyes that were haunted by something. Lines around his mouth suggested that once he had laughed and smiled readily, but now was more accustomed to sorrow and pain. Slowly he raised his hood, covering his face again. Then, he turned and disappeared into the forest, leaving Catleen standing alone in the clearing holding her staff.
It was many days later when he finally returned. Outside, it was pouting rain, and Catleen had just sat down to eat when he appeared inside the cave. She reached over and handed him a plate. He stood there unmoving. "You're bleeding." She said. His sleeves had been stained a dark red, that the fire revealed was still wet. He stood still in front of the fire. She walked to her pack and picked out the bandages and dressings. She rolled up his sleeves and gasped. She could see many fresh lacerations in his arms, but beneath that, his entire forearm was crisscrossed with old scars.
"How did this happen?" she asked.
Eyes still focused on something far away, he said, "You would not understand. Not yet at least."
She finished cleaning his arms and put the medical supplies back in her pack. When she returned to the fire, he was standing there still holding the plate. She held a cup of precious water to his mouth and he drank it. He still remembered what to do if he had a bit of help. It was as if he was an empty shell of a body that remembered what to do, but the mind that controlled it was gone.
"It's time that you know why those like me exist the way that we do." he said. His voice seemed hollow almost. "I used to be one of the Guardians. We were an order dating back before the Cataclysm. We were the protectors of not only the temporal, but of that which no longer exists and that which does not yet exist."
It sounded to Catleen like he was quoting from a book.
"In the time before the wastelands were created, humankind filled the face of the earth. From horizon to horizon, there were people everywhere one could see. We lived in vast cities, the smallest of which dwarfed our rude towns and villages. It was a time of wonder and happiness. New technologies that today would seem like magic, were being invented almost constantly. People believed that with the technology, they could become gods of the earth. It was this misguided belief that spawned the world that we live in today. The great technologies were only in the hands of the few rich and the powerful. The common people could see, but not touch these technologies. Slowly, instigators stirred up the common people and set them against those in power. One extremist took it too far and attacked the rich and the powerful. The government responded, hunting him down and those who had helped him. The common peoples were outraged at this and more and more violence became apparent in society. The government did try to stop the people, but they took the wrong approach to it, trying to smother all the discontent. It did not work. The government spread itself too thin, and it collapsed. Leaving the rich to battle the poor. The rich turned the technologies that they had developed, originally for the use of good, to the use of destruction. Many, many people died during that time. People lived in fear and each day was a struggle for survival. We did not believe that such destruction was capable, and we did nothing. When we finally did start to intervene, it was too late. The rich had already destroyed too much, and the poor could not stop. The first generation fought for change. The second, to avenge the first. Eventually, the later generations, because they did not know anything else other than violence. Finally, they killed themselves off. The few that managed to survive, went far away from where they had lived before, and tried to forget everything about what happened. By mutual consent, they forsook the use of any technology, casting what was left of the world, into a dark era. It is in that dark era that we now live. The Guardians stand against this ever happening again. If it happens again, it is entirely possible, that there will not be anyone to start anew."
"I was one of the Guardians. As my father had been and his father before him. NO!! Please!! Don't make me remember any more. Please!" he cried clutching he head in his hands. His hand reached for his knife.
Suddenly, Catleen understood why he had the scars. He could not face the pain that his memories brought up, so he used the pain to block the memories.
"No." she said and reached out and took the knife from his hands. "Look at me." She said. Still he sat clutching his head. "Look. Focus here." She pointed to her eyes. She reached out and pushed his hood back, exposing his face. Trying to get his mind off of the pain of the past, she started to talk. "Listen. That night, when you found me. I was scared. The fire terrified me. When it started to burn the house, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where my mother was. I was all alone there, and suddenly, even though I was so young, I was convinced that I was going to die there, all alone. Then you came in and saved me. At first, I thought you were one of the changed that Mother had always told me about to frighten me into behaving. But there was something about you. Somehow I know that you wouldn't let me get hurt."
She reached out and took his hands in hers. "You didn't have to help me, but you did. That safe feeling, was part of the reason I went with you. I was so scared when I saw my friends below being butchered. I was sure that me, and my father were going to be next. Then you came, and not only offered me a way to fight back, but I also knew that you would protect me."
Still, the Wanderer sat there trembling. It did not work. Quickly, Catleen tried a different approach. "Can you remember your mother?" she asked.
"Yes." he said quietly.
"Did she sing to you when you were little?"
He nodded. Slowly, he was returning to himself.
"What did she sing about?"
"I remember ... I remember a song about a silly little bird that flew through the forest upside down. She always made me feel happy and warm whenever she sang that song."
They sat there for a long time, staring into the fire. Catleen was not sure for how long, but after a while, the Wanderer finally spoke. "Thank you. I haven't been able to talk about that for a long time." he said. He got up and walked away from the fire, leaving Catleen there, sitting with his knife next to her on the ground.
The next morning when Catleen went to the practice field, she found him readying her pack.
"It's time. I have taught you all I know. Now, it's time for you to finish what you have started here." He said.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean there's still so much that I don't know."
"You already know what you need, but you don't know it yet. I'll travel with you for a ways, but it is you who must complete it. It is your task, not mine."
At first, it was a little hard for Catleen to get back into her traveling mindset. She had stayed in one place for too long, but it felt good to be on the road again. It was different from when she had come with him to this place. There lack of noise was the biggest difference. Before, Catleen had crashed through the brush while he had seemed to float over everything. This time, it was silent, and she was leading them. Catleen found hints of Harkrin's troops. The grass had been trampled in spots. There were old campfires left smoldering. In one place, they found a burnt out home. Inside, the former owners hung side by side. Saying nothing, Catleen cut them down and buried them side by side in a grove near their home.
"Another atrocity for which Harkrin will pay." Catleen growled.
The Wanderer stood there watching her and nodded. "Come. We still have a long ways to go."
Later that night, Catleen sat thinking. Wondering what the people they had buried earlier were like.
"Are you sure this is the way back to camp Fron?" She heard a voice coming from the forest.
"Ah courth i'tis. Now pash me tha' bottl'" she heard a second say.
"Dammit Fron. You got us lost again. If I had any sense, I'd roast and hang you like those two we done yesterday."
Catleen was outraged. These two had killed those in the house for no reason. Silently, she crept up behind them. They had stopped and were sharing a bottle of ale. She drew the Wanderer's knife and drew it across the throat of the more sober one.
"Wha' wash tha' Sher?" the drunken brigand slurred as he looked over to his accomplice only to find a woman standing there with a large knife in her hand, and a fire in her eyes.
"Wha'd you do wiv Sher?" he asked in a muddled tone.
With one fluid swipe, Catleen slit his throat and stepped back.
He looked at her uncomprehending at first, then with panic as he clawed at his throat. Catleen stood there impassive, her eyes burning in the faint starlight.
Wiping the blood off her hands and the blade, she walked back to camp. She found the Wanderer standing over her pack. She looked at him challenging him to say something, anything. She knew he disapproved already. He sook his head slowly, turned and walked off a ways.
The next day, they reached a crossroads.
"This is where it becomes your task. You know everything you need to. Just remember to trust in yourself." Then, without saying anything else, he turned and faded back into the shadow of the forest.
Alone now, Catleen disappeared into the forest heading towards the settlement below. When she finally reached the bottom, it was close to deep night, where there was no light at all. Before her, the town was lit by flickering torch light. All around, the stench of burnt pitch filled the air.
Hiding in the shadows outside the light, she could hear the raiders that Harkrin sheltered, gambling for loot they had taken. In that instant, she decided that not a single one of them deserved to live.
A drunken sentry stumbled past her. She drew the Wanderer's knife and threw it into his back. He made a quiet gurgling noise and toppled over. Quickly, she dragged him out of view. She cleaned the blade and slipped it into the sheath at the small of her back. Next, she took his cloak, slung it around her shoulders, and walked through the gate into the town.
Inside, Catleen was stunned. There were hundreds of raiders and brigands and thieves milling around. Many of whom were drunk. She knew, that it would not help any if she killed them and not Harkrin. It was not that they did not deserve to die, but it was Harkrin who deserved it more. Slinking in the shadows along the wall, she made her way towards the keep in the middle of the settlement.
As she got closer to the keep, she saw less and less of the drunken rabble, and more and more of the Baron's personal guard. At the gate to the keep, a squad of 30 guards kept watch. There was no way she could get past them. She needed to draw them away from the gate somehow.
Catleen turned and found her way to a secluded alcove where she could think. She knew she could find a way out and leave. It would be suicidal to try to fight past the guards at the gate. But if she left, she would be letting so many down. Her mother, father, the people they found dead in the house, Kaldern and his people. She would have wasted so much time in training. However, she could not do a damned thing if she were dead. Dejectedly, she turned and walked towards the wall. The firelight flickered as she walked past.
Fire! That was it. If she set the town on fire, it could create enough confusion to let her slip into the keep unnoticed. Now to find something that would burn well. There was always the fall back of burning the thatch roofs. It had potential, but not enough. While she was thinking, a quartet of drunken cutthroats sauntered past trying to sing, but failing miserably.
Hmmm. With all the drinking going on around here, there has to be a wine cellar of still or something like that around here. Catleen wandered the streets looking for where they kept their ale. After pouring a little all over her cloak and staggering around pretending to be drunk, she was able to explore the entire town. By the time she found the still, the first rays of dawn were appearing on the dark horizon. Turning around, she made her way back out of town to the forest to wait for night again. The night made it so much easier for her to sneak around the city. Also, it would make the fire so much more distracting. Exhausted, Catleen fell asleep quickly as the sun appeared, starting its wayward journey across the sky.
The sun was setting now. The skies were colored blood red. Catleen had been awoken by a loud band of brigands, returning from looting. They walked along bragging about the loot they had taken, the number of people they had killed. The cold fire rose again in Catleen. She roses and followed them for a short distance before they fell beneath her knife. She turned and walked back to the forest. Behind her lay a string of corpses strung across the trail. And she sat and waited for night to fall.
High above, the moon could barely be seen through the clouds. Soon, there would be rain. Catleen found her way to the gate, and was able to walk right through. Lying off to the side of the gate was the sentry, snoring peacefully with a jug in one hand.
Sliding in the shadows, Catleen made it to the still unnoticed. She walked to the back of the building, and started to split the casks of ale open. Taking a candle, she laid it on its side near a puddle of ale. Turning, she ran away from the building as fast as she could.
Her idea to blow up the still worked better than she could have ever hoped. The initial explosion had woken everyone and thrown the town into disarray. What she had not counted on, were the storehouses next to the still burning and spreading the fire to the other buildings in the town. Now, with everyone's attention on the fire, she made her way to the keep.
There was only one guard left at the gate, and he was completely focused on the fire. A quick strike of her staff to the back of his head made sure that he would not be a problem. As she walked in, Catleen lowered the gate, and broke the handle that made raising and lowering the gate possible. She did not want any chance of Harkrin escaping.
Inside, Catleen found a small unused room. Sitting inside it, she drew two of her knives and bound them to the ends of her golden oak staff.
She left the room, and made here way along the red carpeted hall, to Harkrin's self-styled throne room. She slipped through the door, and hid in the shadows at the back of the throne room. Standing in front of the throne, was a courtier who looked panicked.
"My lord, half the city is on fire. What are we to do?" he asked.
"We, are going to do nothing. You, are going to take care of it. Do you understand me?" Harkrin said in a cool voice. Catleen had expected him to be a fat man with greasy hair, wallowing in his stolen wealth. Instead, he was trim and fit with a commanding presence.
"But my lord, we don't have enough water." the courtier stuttered.
"I am confident that your successor will know what to do." Harkrin nodded to the guard along the wall. Quickly, the guard drew his sword and casually ran the courtier through. Harkrin turned to another of the courtiers standing in the room. "It appears that you have been promoted. I hope that you will not face the same problem as your predecessor." The courtier bowed and ran from the room. "And somebody deal with that filth." Harkrin pointed to the body lying on the floor.
Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, Catleen rose and walked out from the shadows. "Harkrin!" she spat his name. "You killed my mother. You killed my father. You killed my friends. You killed countless others. Now I will kill you." she said.
Unexpectedly, he burst out laughing. "That's one of the funniest things that I have heard in a long time little girl. Who put you up to this? Tell me. It is a good jest."
Swiftly, she drew and threw a dagger at him. Lashing out with her staff, she killed the nearest guard to her as Harkrin nimbly stepped out of the way of the dagger. "It's no joke Harkrin. I will kill you." she said, tightening her grip on her staff.
"A pity." Harkrin said. "I was going to let you live. Kill her."
All at once, the guards rushed at Catleen, swords drawn. Catleen darted in and out from their attacks. Ducking under one slash, blocking the next, Catleen found herself hard pressed to defend herself. With broad sweeping blows, she was able to thin their ranks a little, but soon, she was hopelessly outnumbered and was unable to hold them off. As one of the guards raised his sword to kill her, a shadow detached itself from the wall and plowed into the middle of the fight.
"You came back?" she said surprised.
"What did you think, that I would really leave you alone?" the Wanderer asked and disarmed another guard. "Go. Take care of Harkrin. I can handle them." He said as he tripped up another and knocked one unconscious.
Catleen picked herself up off the ground and ran after Harkrin. He had disappeared out a side door when the Wanderer had joined in. Harkrin ran down the halls and up stairs until finally he reached the roof. Stepping out onto the broad stone roof, Harkrin gasped as he saw his town ravaged by fire. "You bitch! All of my work, destroyed in an instant." He drew his sword and charged towards Catleen.
She took the blow on her staff, and circled around him. Rapidly, Catleen struck out with the staff and caught his arm with the tip of a knife. Warily, they circled, each watching the other.
"You realize, that we aren't all that different girl. You have blood on your hands, and I have blood on mine. Blood is blood girl. It doesn't lie."
Blocking one of his strikes, Catleen replied, "Your hands have the blood of countless innocents lives. Each one, struck down before its time. I know that the blood on my hands comes from those who deserve to die and that with your death, I make the it safer for those innocent people."
"That's the same excuse used back before the Catclysm. It doesn't work girl. It was an excuse to meddle in business that you should have no part in. You can justify your killings however you want. I justify mine by pure and simple greed. But you are still the same as they were." With a single savage sweep of his sword, Harkrin knocked her staff out of her hands. Placing the sword's point on the ground, Harkrin said mockingly to her, "Now what do you think? What's your excuse for killing girl?"
Catleen drew the Wanderer's knife from the sheath at her back and drove it into Harkrin's chest. "But... but... I can't die. This mere girl can't have killed me." He sputtered. Stumbling backwards, he slipped and fell off the roof, crashing to the ground. In the doorway to the keep, stood the wanderer, his black cloak floating in the wind.
"Come Catleen. It is time to leave this place." Turning, Catleen walked away from the edge of the roof and joined the Wanderer.
Overhead, the skies are draped in black velvet. Occasionally, the stars can be seen struggling to shine through. High above, they shine beyond the clouds, remote and seemingly uncaring, yet giving something to hope for. A dark figure crouches in the ruins of what had been a prosperous village. Burnt husks of buildings stand silently while the gray mists meander through what is left of the town. In her mind's eye, Catleen could still see the town lively and people all over. The blacksmith's hammer ringing on the anvil, the mill grinding wheat. Now, the mists muted the sounds of the wildlife that had taken over. Creeping vines covered the outer wall and threatened to erase all traces of the village. Freshly dug graves lined the riverbanks. Finally, she finished filling the grave for her friend Kaldern. Stepping back, she wrapped his crimson cloak around her shoulders and walked out of the fallen town.
"I'm sorry Catleen." the Wanderer said as he put his hand on her shoulder.
She stood there as if she had not heard him, looking into the distance. "Let's go." she said, and raised the hood on her deep red cloak, hiding her face.
Silently, the sable and crimson figures melted into the forest. High above, the stars winked out as the black clouds closed over the starry sky.
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