Welcome back to Silvanus and Empire, the only serialized fantasy novel on Steemit written by an accidental George RR Martin cosplayer!
No, really, check me out:
Seriously, I need a haircut and a trim. All I'm missing is that stupid cap!
But enough about me. Let's get back to the action! Last chapter, we saw the Great Moot in full swing. Now, let's take a look at the immediate aftermath...
Silvanus and Empire
Chapter Twenty-One
image from Prehistoric Engineers
Caddoc sighed and opened his eyes again. His headache had abated in the hours since he’d regained consciousness, and for the most part he’d been left to his own devices. Mouse had come in twice more, grumbling, tossing a bundle of old clothes at him and then a full waterskin and a wooden washbasin, followed by some more dried meat. She then kindled a new blaze in the tent’s firepit and didn’t stick around long enough for Caddoc to thank her.
Night had fallen, and Caddoc was grateful for the battered deerskins he’d been given to wear; it was cool even within the confines of the pavilion. He could hear the Great Moot, whatever that was, going on outside the pavilion; he couldn’t make out what anyone was saying, but it sounded like Hammerfist was doing most of the talking. He looked down at his hands in the firelight and grimaced at all the dirt and grime under his fingernails. Caddoc hauled the washbasin over, filled it, and scrubbed as hard as he could, turning the clear water murky before pouring it out on the ground. He then refilled it to wash his face.
The lukewarm water felt good on his skin, and he closed his eyes as he rubbed at his face. Pulling his hands away, he was shocked when he looked down and saw rusty-red swirls in the washbasin. What in the… am I bleeding? He felt all over his face and neck, but other than the tender knot on the back of his head, he was intact. Then what’s all this… that potion. He thought back to that morning, where he’d been dragged half-conscious before Spirit-of-Vengeance as a bargaining chip to get Lyrinn to drink whatever had been in that goblet. She dropped it, after she drank some… did it hit me? He tried to remember. No… it splashed on to me. On my face… down my throat.
Caddoc gagged involuntarily and bent back down to the washbasin, scrubbing his face furiously. The water dripping from his fingers was tinged with crimson. How long was that on my face? He put a hand to his throat, recalling how a few drops of the potion had trickled down inside it, and how they burned. Is that why I can understand them? But Lyrinn said the potion would only work for her… I don’t understand....
Caddoc jumped as the crowd of Silvani outside erupted into cheers. It was brutal and chilling to his ears. Liek a half-starved wolfpack after spotting some meat, he thought. I hope I’m not the main course.
Caddoc put the washbasin down, still full, on the ground as he heard a pair of voices more clearly outside the tent flap.
“You spoke to him?” a woman’s voice asked. It was like hot gravel in Caddoc’s ears. That’s Lyrinn’s mother, Caddoc realized. She went on. “What did he say? Why was I not told?”
“Peace, my friend.” It was Hammerfist now, sounding a bit hoarse from addressing the crowd but still strong. “The boy is bright, but harmless.”
“And what of the medallion he bore?” Spirit’s voice dripped venom. “Was the last man to wear it harmless as well?”
“There’s no reason to believe that this Caddoc has any connection to Longwalker. Yes, he told us that the medallion belonged to his father, but that doesn’t mean he’s Longwalker’s son. That medallion could have been sold, or bartered, or taken from Longwalker before finding its way to Caddoc’s father.”
“Or the son of the man who killed my husband could be in your tent right now. Damn you, Hammerfist, but if this boy carries the same blood of that betrayer I’ll open his veins myself!”
Caddoc scowled. What? My father, kill someone in cold blood? That’s impossible. He never even raised his voice.
“That boy is a guest at my hearth, Spirit, and as long as I live he shall be treated accordingly,” growled Hammerfist. “Even if Longwalker was his father, punishing Caddoc will not bring your husband back from the dead. This boy is innocent, and from everything your daughter has told me, was her only friend before she was returned to us! Would you reward him by cutting his heart out and leaving his steaming corpse in the forest for the wolves?”
Spirit was silent for a moment. “Forgive me, my friend,” she finally said. “You are right, of course. Nothing will bring Owl back to me.” Her voice shook with emotion. “Please… may I see him? I want to….” She drew a ragged breath. “I want to see him again, and make my peace with him.”
There was a pause, and then the tent flap drew back. Caddoc saw Hammerfist hold the flap open as Spirit slipped inside the tent. He eyed them both suspiciously and slid backwards, keeping the fire between them and him.
“Look, Spirit,” Hammerfist said. “He must have heard us arguing.” He smiled gently at Caddoc and held his hands out, palm open, in a calming gesture. “He’s frightened.”
You don’t know the half of it, Caddoc thought. He shifted a bit, turning to watch them as they both approached him. “Please,” he said in Imperial Standard, “I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, I just want to go home.”
“Can you understand him at all?” Hammerfist asked, glancing over at Spirit. “I can only understand a few words.”
“It’s been years since I’ve heard the Stoneheart tongue,” Spirit replied. She approached the opposite end of the fire from Caddoc and sank to her knees gracefully, watching the young scribe. “I think he said he wants to return across the river.”
“We should send for your daughter,” Hammerfist said quietly. He too knelt down, next to Spirit. He then switched to his heavily accented Imperial. “Caddoc safe. No harm.” He took his flint knife from its sheath and purposefully buried the blade in the soft earth between him and Spirit. “No harm,” he repeated.
Caddoc’s gaze slid from Spirit to Hammerfist to the knife. He sighed, letting the tension flow out of him. He nodded, and then blinked as the tent flap flicked open silently behind the two Silvani. Mouse stood there, a curious expression on her face. The two older Bloodhairs gave no sign of hearing her arrival.
“You see, my friend,” Hammerfist said, “not all Stonehearted are bloodthirsty, treacherous monsters. You see the wisdom in my plan to drive them from our lands with as little violence as possible, yes?” He smiled at Caddoc again.
“Yes, dear Hammerfist, your plan is wise.” Her gaze flickered to the Silvani chieftain’s knife handle. “It would lead to a much more peaceful resolution to this conflict than I had envisioned.” She shifted, laying her palm flat on the ground. Her voice turned to ice. “That is why I cannot allow it.”
“What?" Hammerfist turned in confusion. "Spirit, what are you--" He was cut off; with inhuman speed, Spirit grasped the hilt of his knife and struck out with inhuman speed. Her hand came back empty.
“No!” Caddoc and Mouse screamed in unison. Spirit whipped her head around to see Mouse’s horror-struck face.
“Don’t move, little rodent,” Spirit said, waving her hand at the young Silvani. A chill wind blasted through the tent, and Mouse fell to her knees, eyes wide and staring, struggling as if some invisible bonds held her. The Bloodhair girl opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. “Oh, and none of that, either,” Spirit added with another flick of her wrist. She turned back to look at Caddoc with a malevolent smirk.
The young scribe watched in terror as Hammerfist gasped and clawed at the knife buried in his chest. He fell over on his side; Caddoc scrambled over to him, letting the man lean against him. The Silvani clutched at him, and Caddoc could do nothing as the light in the man’s eyes died. “No,” Caddoc whispered, feeling Hammerfist’s hot blood slowly ooze out from around the knife and patter against his hands and clothes. He looked up at Spirit. “Why?” he hissed.
He must have spoken Silvani, as her eyes grew wide for a moment. Then, she smirked at him. “Oh, so you do know this wretched tongue,” she said in turn. “No matter. All I have to do is scream, and you will be as dead as that poor deluded man you cradle so tenderly in your arms. No one will believe you, even if you can explain yourself. And she’ll be no help to you,” Spirit added, motioning to Mouse behind her, “at least not after I slit her throat as well. Poor Hammerfist. I gave him the chance to aid me, but he had other plans, as you most undoubtedly heard.”
Caddoc shook his head dumbly. “You...” was all he could say. He cast his eyes about wildly. The only way out was through the tent flap where Mouse slumped, unresponsive, her mouth agape and her eyes streaming tears. He looked down and saw the still-full washbasin by his side. “You… you’re going to tear this land apart,” Caddoc stammered. “Why? For sake of all that’s good and holy, why?” He shifted his weight, not taking his eyes from Spirit’s sneering mouth but mentally calculating the distance to the tent flap.
“Oh, is this the part in the epics where the evil villain reveals her nefarious plot to our stalwart hero?” Spirit laughed cruelly as Caddoc slid his leg out to the side. “Oh no, your part in this tale ends here.”
Caddoc bared his teeth at her. “I don’t think so,” he growled, and kicked the washbasin over on to the fire. The tent was plunged into darkness; in a flash Caddoc grabbed the upended basin and swung it as hard as he could at Spirit. There was a decidedly unladylike yelp of pain as the wooden basin connected with the older Silvani.
Caddoc wasted no time. He leapt up and shot headlong towards the tent flap. On the way there he heard Mouse begin to scream. She’s free, Caddoc thought in a flash, and grabbed her wrist on the way out. He half-dragged her from the tent as she continued to wail.
“Father!” She struggled to break free of Caddoc’s grip, pulling free her own knife and straining to return to the tent.
“Stop it,” he bellowed at her. “We need to run, damn it! You think anyone will believe me if she kills you too? We have to run!”
Mouse pulled free of Caddoc and gave an anguished cry. She sank to her knees. Shouts of alarm sprang up from all around them in the camp.
“Mousestep! Come on!” Caddoc grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. “You can’t avenge your father if you’re dead!” He pulled her into the nearby forest.
The last thing Caddoc heard before diving deep into the undergrowth and struggling through it was Spirit, screaming at the top of her voice: “Murderers!”