The Sorceress and the Vigilant
Chapter 1
Rain fell on the anguished town of Hart. Some days it fell lightly, barely more than a mist pushed around by the wind. Other days it fell with vengeance, strong gales blowing sheets nearly sideways as if determined to erode all traces of the town's bitter past. Either way, light or heavy, the rain fell.
The day the Sorceress Edrea rode into town, it fell easily. As the thinning forest gave way to the farmlands that surrounded Hart, the pitter-patter of rain slapping the autumn leaves faded into the dull splutter of light drops on the muddy road. Curtains of mist cloaked the lakeside castle in the distance, occluding its features so that it loomed over Hart like some great, sleeping beast in the forest. Edrea hadn't laid eyes on this place since she was a little girl but wasn't surprised to find that nothing looked the same. Would the town remember her, the girl of five who'd lived and served in the castle with her mother? Even if there was anyone left to remember her, they'd not place the connection between the brash, inquisitive little girl and the woman she'd become.
They'd see only a sorceress.
With her heart-shaped face, button nose, and dark hair that fell to the middle of her back in waves, she could be mistaken for any minor noble at court. The demeanor with which she conducted herself, however, was unmistakable. People were drawn to sorceresses the way they were drawn to things that frightened them, things they didn't understand. There was a certain gravity to a sorceress' very existence that was as easy to distinguish as a face. Once you'd seen it, you knew it. A good sorceress embraced that. A great one used it.
Having been on the road for a few weeks without a proper stop, Edrea was a little weathered and in need of a hot bath. Sorcery provided many wondrous gifts, but the ability to conjure a proper bathtub wasn't one of them. Her riding leathers—a stiff jacket and a pair of worn trousers—were beginning to feel like a second skin that she wished very badly to shed in favor of something soft and silky.
Edrea tucked a strand of perfectly dry black hair behind her ear and pulled her horse to a stop in the middle of the road, her eyes drawn to the lakeside castle. There was something there, all right. She could feel it pull at her, a curiosity that she felt obligated to satisfy. The rhythmic beating of the rain on the road lulled Edrea into a daydream and, for a moment, she was a young girl again, seeing the castle from afar, in awe of its beauty and mystery.
Snapping out of her momentary trance, she hailed her companion over. Dahn had been riding slightly ahead, his eyes swiveling about as if expecting attack at any moment. Ever her faithful knight, Dahn cut a splendid figure, even battered by rain. His armor was blueish silver and lined with arcane runes, well-polished and cared for, and he wore a hand-and-a-half sword strapped across his back, the silver hilt glistening. As he rode his horse into Edrea's immediate sphere of influence, the rain ignored him, warping around his body as if he'd unfurled an umbrella. He shook water from his hair and wiped his hard face with a soaking glove. His blue eyes were like captured lightning.
“Monsters nearby,” Dahn reported. “Slighters, by the look of the tracks over there.” He pointed to the edge of the forest and Edrea nodded. She could feel the tainted presence of monsters. It was almost like a smell, an arcane residue, that clung to her nostrils like skunk spray. It was rather faint, here, but noticeable. The news wasn't surprising. There was no shortage of monsters in the world, and since sorceresses had been all but outlawed from Hart there were sure to be plenty around.
“It's expected,” she replied. “Keep your eyes open.”
Dahn nodded with a grimace but stood fast.
Edrea arched an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”
“This feels wrong, Edrea. Why did we come this far out of our region, off our scheduled rounds?”
She thought again about the castle. And about the Harrowing, the destruction of the entire town of Hart by something that nobody left alive had been able to explain, herself included.
She was five years old and running through the woods towards the town. She remembered screaming and fire. Lots of fire. The smell of smoke and the acrid stench of monster blood were thick in the air. The screams of grown men filled the night, chilling Edrea’s blood as she forced numb legs to plod along, one step at a time. She saw two bright purple eyes, impossibly bright, hovering in the darkness above everything.
And then she was back in the present, regarding Dahn with a casual air while she debated how much to tell him.
“As I said, this was the town of my birth, and I’ve an interest in reminiscence.”
Dahn’s reply was a look so dry she considered letting it rain on him again. Instead, she waved him onward. He stood fast.
“We can still turn back,” he suggested. “I understand seeking answers about your childhood, but we'll find no love here.”
The knight was right, they'd find no love in Hart. But he couldn't feel what she felt. That little supernatural curiosity that whispered in the back of her mind. She was here for more than simple reminiscence, but there was no good way to explain it to him. Dahn simply wouldn't understand.
Additionally, there was the matter of her parents. They'd died in the Harrowing when she was only five, and she'd never been able to get any real answers about them, not even simple answers like their names. Her return might be her only chance of finding some of those answers. She told Dahn that much.
“Regardless of our reception we'll stop for a time. If all goes well, we'll be gone before our presence can kick up any serious fuss.” Edrea glanced back at the castle, once again feeling that pull of . . . something unnatural. Arcanic.
Dahn finally relented and, with a shake of his head, kicked his horse forwards without another word. Edrea followed a moment later.
They saw a few farmers at work in their fields as they rode by, doing what they could while the rain permitted. Large trenches that funneled rainwater away from the dry crops cut through the fields like old scars, feeding runoff ponds where aquatic crops were grown. Flocks of sheep and cattle huddled under thatched roofs that had been erected in the fields or otherwise under trees with large canopies, gnawing on fresh vegetation.
There was no wall around the town of Hart, though there were in the many towns and cities Edrea had visited. Small towns rarely had the resources for such construction. Instead, there were several tall towers erected in a rough circle on the outskirts of town. Running up the sides were windows for archers, and at the top Edrea imagined there would be a bell to warn of incoming monsters. Those were certainly new—and likely the handiwork of the Vigilant. Her lips curled into a sour frown at the mere thought of them.
Once they drew close enough to the town that Edrea's identity was unmistakable, three lightly armored riders in dark gray hooded cloaks rode out to meet them.
“As if they could read my thoughts,” Edrea mused, too quietly for Dahn to hear. They halted, Dahn pulling slightly forward, and waited patiently for the Vigilant's enforcers.
The lead enforcer came to a stop and inspected Edrea and Dahn with a critical eye. His companions stopped on either side, blocking the bulk of the road, and eyed them as well. Edrea could sense the fear in them. It was normal. Natural. They'd probably never met a sorceress before.
The leader wore two gold bars on the breast of his cloak signifying him a lieutenant. He was a grizzled-looking fellow, with salt-and-pepper hair and a short black beard. After a moment, the lieutenant turned to the side and sneezed
“Sorry, miss,” he said, rubbing his nose. “I think I might be allergic to sorcery. I wouldn't know for sure, you see, as there hasn't been a sorceress in these parts in twenty years, and she was gone by the time I arrived, just a lad fresh in from the north side of the country. Small town near Yonheim, to be precise. But, if I was to guess based on this here, my first impressionable interaction with one, well I'd guess—” he was cut off by another sneeze.
One of the enforcers snorted and the other hissed at the lieutenant. “Sir!” He eyed Edrea sheepishly and looked away as if he'd seen a ghost when she met his stare.
If the lieutenant had heard his companion, he didn't show it. In fact, he did an admirable job of hiding his fear altogether. Edrea knew it was there, under the surface, like drops of ink spreading out into a bucket of water, but he affected a smile anyways.
“What brings you to Hart, sorceress? Surely not our reputation as a charming, welcoming town? If it's monsters you're chasing, well, the Vigilant looks after Hart. So, thanks, but no thanks.”
“Be careful how you speak, Vigilant,” Dahn said. Edrea could see his grip tighten on his reins. Dahn was as loyal as they came, but he could be a bit brash. They didn't need another fight . . .
“Easy, Dahn.” She rode a couple steps forward until she was in front of him and addressed the prickly man.
“Lieutenant, I am called Edrea. I was born here twenty-five years ago, and I return to Hart with no ill intentions. But neither am I here chasing monsters. I wish to see the castle, the home of my youth, and stay a short time in hopes of learning something of my parents. They died in the Harrowing.” Edrea let that sentiment ring for a few moments in silence. The lieutenant eyed her hard, as if trying to convince himself that a sorceress must be hiding something.
“Lieutenant Kanduin,” he finally said, nodding his head. “Rough, about your parents. There are a few left here with similar stories. Most either died in the Harrowing or did the smart thing and left afterwards.”
“Then what drew you here?”
“Clearly, I'm not a smart man. Just ask my wife.” He took a deep breath and spat to his side. “Look, I'd love to sit out here in the rain and chat while you stay completely dry over there, but the bottom line is that we're a tightly knit community. Like a good sweater, yeah? There are only three people in Hart who can welcome you or turn you away. One's the mayor, and he's a bit air headed—but you didn't hear it from me—and the captains are both out of town at the present moment.” He sneezed again and scratched his nose. Edrea truly couldn't tell if the sneezing was intentional or incidental. “This puts me in a pickle, you see? Normally, I'd keep you 'locked up' in the 'temporary housing chamber' until one of the captains returns, but, to tell you the truth, I don't fancy being turned into a newt or anything untoward.”
Dahn didn't move a muscle, but somehow his presence grew more menacing. Edrea smiled at Lieutenant Kanduin.
“For an idiot, that was a remarkably smart line of thinking,” she said. “Your wife will be pleased there's promise in you yet. Unfortunately, I don't have all day to wait around chatting, wet or not, so here's my solution to your little pickle: I'm going to ride up to the castle, have a look around, and settle in for the night. You are going to go back to doing whatever it is that you do, which I'm sure is very important. When one of your captains returns, send them out for a visit. I'm sure we'll clear things right up.” Edrea nodded to the lieutenant and then to Dahn, who kicked his horse forward, following her. They rode right between the enforcers, the horses whinnying and balking. Like most animals, if they weren't raised around sorcery, the very presence of it bothered them.
Turning back after she'd ridden past, Edrea called to Kanduin, “Oh, and I wouldn't turn you into a newt. I'd simply blast you into a pile of ash.” She shrugged a tad dramatically. “Much simpler.” Edrea tried not to appear too pleased as the color drained form Kanduin's face, but part of being a sorceress was wielding power and knowing how to wield it effectively. Sometimes power was intimidation.
The town of Hart itself was a rather shabby affair. One long, barely cobbled road led them through the town's center. Log houses and buildings had been erected randomly, with no rhyme or reason to the madness of their layout. Copses of overgrown vegetation and vines clutched at what must have been the foundations of stone houses and buildings before the Harrowing. Now, they lay half-entombed in the earth like the bones of something long dead, and the new town had been built right on top.
In the center of Hart there were a few mismatched stone buildings, larger than the rest and easily recognizable. One was the smithy. The cry of hammer and steel rung from within. Another was an inn with a tavern. In a secluded town like this, Edrea imagined the inn was seldom used but for the tavern. The final stone building looked more official and was likely reserved for the leadership of the Vigilant and the town council to host meetings and conduct business.
On the east side of town, peeking over the rooftops, was a brick fortress squashed between two towers. That was most certainly a Vigilant construction, and Edrea couldn't help but feel like it was an eyesore on an already blemished town.
Townsfolk wandered here and there, some carrying umbrellas and others simply putting up with the rain. The fashion in Hart was only a few years behind that of the larger cities. The men wore loose trousers with knee-high leather boots. Tucked into the pants were plain linen shirts that buttoned up the front, and over top of those they wore leather vests or wool coats. The women wore simple cotton and wool dresses with or without collars, leather corsets or vests, and often gloves. Some of the women wore trousers as well, though far fewer that would in the city.
Nearly all of the townsfolk stared at the sorceress and the knight riding through town, parting the rain impossibly around them and striking a stark contrast to the sodden lot. Most faces bore various expressions of curiosity or befuddlement. Many sneered, betraying a deep-rooted fear of sorcery that Edrea knew must exist here. A pair of young boys ogled Dahn, as usual. Little boys idolized knights even—it seemed—in places where sorcery was taboo.
None said a word to them. They simply watched Edrea and Dahn ride past and whispered to one another when they were out of earshot.
Edrea was no stranger to isolation. Even where sorcery was understood, where it was lauded, she was treated as an “other.” Veneration or consternation, there was little room between. Pemona, the Guild Matron, had warned her of this, of course. At first it had made her bitter. Over time, she'd learned to embrace the stigma. She'd learned to wield the mystery like a weapon, just another in her arsenal. If she wanted companionship, she had Dahn. Riding by these townspeople and imagining their small lives—so immediate, so inconsequential in the grand scheme—she felt pity. They might live their entire lives without making a meaningful impact on the world.
The opposite edge of town ended more abruptly, giving way to thick forest. The road continued on, however, winding through the trees and up the hill to the castle. She'd seek answers to questions about her parents, yes. She was here for more, though. Whatever power there was in Hart—the source of the tingle in the back of her mind—certainly came from the castle, growing stronger the closer they drew to the stone behemoth.
Edrea was going to find that power, and with it she was going to change the world.