Kalin's Story
"Goddess damn, my head hurts," Slenna groaned. She collapsed against the cold stone wall, and let it support her weight. She'd just had a dream, and it had been incredibly intense. She couldn't remember it well, just a feeling of panic and pain... The image of blood, but it wasn't hers... Then a silver and blue glow and a giant white wings....
She'd awoken to one of her headaches. They hadn't happened recently, not since she'd taken her son to Cresula, but when they did happen, they were more intense.
"The cold air will help," Jorden offered. He was her partner—well, not quite; they functioned as partners, but she outranked him—and they were close friends. He'd been the one who helped her finally leave her husband, and she knew that if it wasn't for Jorden's organization, the Knights would never have followed her.
She was the one percent inspiration to his ninety-nine of hard work. Which wasn't to say she didn't work herself, just that her skills lay in the different areas that his. She inspired people when she spoke, she could convince anyone to follow her into a flaming hell—or, as the case had been, a frozen one. And she could fight, too; she'd never met her match on the battle field.
But Jorden was much calmer than she, and more rational. He preferred to work behind the scenes; she'd declare that everyone would be migrating to the southern island, and he'd figure out how to carry all of the supplies, where they were going to store them, and all of the details. He was amazing with details.
"I don't think I can go," she said. "I can barely walk."
"Lean on me," he offered. "I'll help."
"I hate executions," she whined. "They're bloody."
"Len, you're a Knight. You kill people in battle. That blood doesn't bother you?"
"Of course it bothers me!" she snapped. "But it's necessary."
"So's this," he pointed out.
"No, it's not." She sighed. "Get me a drink of water, would you?"
"It is necessary. What else could we do with them?"
"Him," she corrected. "The rest have already..." She shuddered, and it made her even more dizzy. "Goddess. I really don't think I can do this. My head hurts..."
"You captured him, Len. You have to be there."
"I don't want this to happen." She tried to straighten and lean on her own two feet, but it didn't work as she'd planned. Instead, the world suddenly lurched to the left and she'd have fallen, but Jorden caught her and steadied her.
"You owe him this. It's respect."
"I know!" she half yelled, setting her own head spinning. "But I don't want..."
"What?"
"I don't want to have to explain to my son that I'm a murderer."
"Slenna Malistar. You are not—"
"I am, Jorden! I shouldn't have brought him in, I don't know why I did. I shouldn't have. But I did, and that's the death sentence."
"You did what you had to."
"I didn't have to! That's the thing. I could have stabbed him and killed him there—"
"So instead you're giving him a chance to make peace with his God and he's going to die now. That's the way it works, Slenna. This is merciful."
"The hell it is! Merciful would have been the sword thrust. This is disgusting. This is... It's..."
"It's going to begin without you."
"Good."
"Slenna. You have to go. It's not pleasant, that's the point. It's a decree from the Goddess Herself that the capturer observe the execution, so that we don't get self righteous and start taking life for granted. You live because he dies; if he hadn't been captured, he'd have killed you on the battlefield. You owe him the respect."
She sighed, resigned. "I do."
"I'll get you that drink. Here, sit," he said, carefully helping her to a chair.
"Wait," she said, as he left to get her a glass of water. "What's his name?"
He glanced back over his shoulder. "Sanasset. Taylin Sanasset."
[OPENING CREDITS]
Episode 11: On The Way Home
The journey home from the Alayrin's home took several days. They traveled at a fairly slow pace, as the group was somewhat larger than the it had been upon arrival. Kieris, his mother, and several sisters were joining Serissa and Elthis; with them were various servants and retainers.
Elthis was taking the chance to get to know his pending son-in-law, but found him somewhat disappointing. Now that he was sober Kieris proved to be a calm, rational man. He mentioned several times he disliked violence (and ignored guffaws from Lisandra, who was muttering something about being a hypocrite.) He even seemed to hold the war itself in contempt; something Elthis found incomprehensible.
They stopped at an inn at the boundary between Taylin's land and Kieris'. As everyone was heading off for bed, Elthis stopped Taylin to discuss what he perceived to be Kieris' main flaw. Most of the rest of their group had headed for bed; the two were walking together towards the suite of room where the men were staying. Taylin was carrying a large goblet in one hand. "The boy doesn't understand the way the world works; he's in denial that what we do is necessary."
"I don't think he's in denial. I think he just disagrees," Taylin protested gently.
"How?" Elthis protested. "How is it possible to grow up in this age on this island and not see the necessity of this war?"
"I have no idea, Elthis," Taylin sighed.
"Of course you don't," Elthis agreed. "You'd know more than anyone; I mean, you were captured. Sundancer only knows what they did to you... If the scars show anything, though, they certainly didn't treat you any better than a common slave."
"I don't remember." Taylin stopped walking, leant against the wall and took a long drink. That isn't even true any more, he told himself, almost feeling guilty. Elthis was his brother in arms and a close friend, but he hadn't uttered even a syllable of what he remembered to anyone except Kalin.
But he didn't really remember what had happened to him. He remembered Slenna; he remembered falling in love with her. He remembered that she'd been patient with him when he was angry or depressed, even after he'd attacked her. He remembered how much he'd loved her, and she him...
But what they'd done to him, where the scars had actually come from, he still had no inkling. Why he'd been allowed to live instead of executed out of hand, as the other Warriors had been, he had even less of a thought; at least the scars gave some clue.
They ran all over his back, leaving the skin marked up and nearly dead years later. They looked almost identical to the ones that marred Kalin's skin, except much older; this implied he'd been whipped rather severely. If the Healers who had examined him were right, then probably within an inch of his life.
He could at least guess that was what had happened, but had no idea why. And, of course, he could never quite come to terms with the nagging question of why they hadn't just killed him... Why they'd let him live for two years and then escape.
He sighed.
"Some days, I wonder if it's worth it," Taylin said softly, after a long pause.
"What do you mean?" Elthis asked, as they began to walk again.
"I've been a Warrior since I was twelve and we're no closer to winning the war now than we were then... That's twenty-nine years."
"Only nineteen if you discount the two missing years," Elthis offered. He only sort of understood Taylin's frustration; it had never occurred to him to question their fight.
"Yeah...." Taylin shook his head, trying to rid it of thoughts he knew he shouldn't be thinking. "Well, I'll keep fighting until Ocando tells me it's time to stop. 'Night."
"'Night, Taylin," Elthis answered, and the two went their separate ways.
Kieris wasn't quite sure what to make of Serissa's home; it was nice but rather country and low class compared to what he was used to. But it was Serissa's home, so he wanted to see it—that was why he'd bothered to make the trip at all. Or at least, that was why he'd told everyone he wanted to make the trip; the real reason was that he was curious about Kalin and wanted to meet him.
The two first saw each other shortly after Kieris' arrival. Serissa was giving him a short tour of the manor house when she stopped suddenly at an intersection of hallways, distracted. Kieris followed her gaze and saw a figure standing in shadows down what looked like the less used of the corridors, he could only assume it was Kalin.
Riss gave him an anxious look, and he nodded slowly. "Go to him," was all he had to say, and she abandoned Kieris and dashed down the hallway to her love. Kieris smiled faintly as he watched them embrace, and then kiss.
He stood for only another minute, memorizing Kalin's form, and then walked off to go exploring by himself. Serissa deserved some time alone with Kalin, he decided.
Later he decided he was going to meet Kalin, but he wanted to do it on his own terms, to explain that he understood and that he wasn't going to stand between Kalin and Serissa. He was certain Riss had already explained, but thought it would only be polite to introduce himself.
He wanted until most of the household had gone to bed, before slipping outside and to the slave village. Again, people were mostly asleep, but he caught on of the slaves who was awake and asked to be shown to the hut where he could find Kalin. He tipped the slave generously enough to ensure his silence, and let himself into the hut Kalin called home.
"Kalin."
All of the people in the hut sat up, with varying looks of shock on their faces. The least surprised was Kalin himself. There was a tense silence. "Yes, Lord Alayrin?" Kalin finally answered with forced politeness.
"Walk with me. Please," Kieris said, glancing around.
Kalin nodded and stood slowly. Kieris dug into the purse he kept on his belt and tossed a few coins to Kalin's roommates. "For your silence," he explained, and he and Kalin left the hut silently.
They walked for a few minutes, still in silence, until they left the slave village behind. There was a small brook that ran across Elthis' property and helped feed the manor's well; a small footbridge crossed it, surrounded by a miniature flower garden. They stopped on the bridge and Kalin stared out at the water trickling through below. "Well?" he asked finally.
"I thought you might want to know me somewhat," Kieris explained. "Serissa told me about you."
There was another long silence.
"She seems to be very nice," Kieris added. "I just wanted to tell you not to worry. She and I... Well, she loves you. So I won't... I'll protect her. But I wouldn't ask her to... She's yours, Kalin. She loves you."
Kalin looked over at him, surprised. "How much did she tell you?"
"Everything, I think," Kieris answered.
"But... If you know about the two of us... Why would you marry her anyway?"
Kieris shrugged. "Someone needs to protect her. I know you want to, but to be blunt, you can't really. And I won't stand by and watch an innocent suffer. I won't."
"So what, you'd marry her just because you're nice? You know how she and I feel about each other. You know she and I would be together."
"Yeah. But..." Kieris sighed. "Getting married at all wasn't my idea, so I don't really care about that part of it. And besides..." He clenched a fist. "I really hate Soran Candis. This certainly wouldn't make him happy. And any enemy of his is a friend of mine." He turned to Kalin and offered his hand.
Kalin looked at it for a moment, then, "If you hurt her, I will kill you."
"I won't hurt her, Kalin. Not ever. I swear it to Ocando."
Kalin nodded and shook Kieris' hand.
"One last thing," Kieris added. "I know you were planning to run. But... Once we're married, I can talk to Elthis. I can buy you—I know about the bet, but I can offer him enough to make it worth his while. So you and Serissa can be together."
"No." Kalin turned away from him and stared back over the edge of the bridge.
"No... No?" Kieris asked. "What do you mean, 'no?' Why in heaven not?"
"You'd buy me, Lord Alayrin?" Kalin demanded fiercely. "Put a value on me, pay someone my price. I'm not a fucking animal."
"I know that!" Kieris snapped. Kalin's reaction had surprised him a lot. For one thing, he was being more than generous to the slave; for another, he wasn't used to being told no by anyone, let alone a slave. He took a deep breath and remembered everything Serissa had told him about Kalin: he was stubborn and willful, and he hated that he was treated as property. So it made sense he'd turned down Kieris' offer, but surely he could be made to see reason. He wanted to be with Serissa more than anything else, after all.
"I know," Kieris repeated. "But if you can swallow your pride and let me handle this, then you can be with Serissa. Away from Elthis. And the two of you will have my protection. You won't be free, but you'll be with her. Safe. Think about it," Kieris offered. "I won't... I won't act if you don't want me to. But for Serissa's sake, for your sake, think about it."
Kalin didn't answer, but the silence was less hostile feeling. "It was good to meet you," Kieris said finally.
"You too." He paused, then, "and thank you. For helping Riss."
Kieris smiled and nodded, then walked off.
[EYECATCH]
It was a dismal, overcast morning. The sky was gray and the sunlight was watery and hesitant. There was a good foot and a half of snow on the ground, but it had been cleared from most of the area.
The execution was taking place in one of the training fields... Well, it would be a training field when they were finished building. For now, it was an open area with the base of four walls around it. A few Knights were there to witness the execution, though most didn't come. Death was always a depressing event.
A flagpole had been erected in the middle. Snow had been cleared in an oval shape around it; this was where it would take place.
Slenna shuddered. She was sitting on one of the walls, still leaning heavily on Jorden. They, like everyone else, were clad in thick, fur lined outfits to combat the biting cold. Slenna glanced at the gap in the wall where the door would be eventually, and waited.
"What in Goddess' name is taking so long?" she snapped to Jorden.
"I imagine the prisoner is being difficult," he guessed.
She groaned. "I don't want to be here."
"So you keep saying. It's too late now, though..." He pointed to where the door would be, and they could now see the prisoner being half dragged up the path. Two Knights were holding him, forcing him to keep walking, and he was clearly fighting them every step.
Taylin Sanasset was tall and thickly muscled. That was blindingly obvious; where everyone else was wearing layer upon layer, he'd been stripped of his shirt. Part of this was that he'd freeze to death.
His hair was dark red, almost brown, and his eyes were hazel. He was fairly scruffy, as he hadn't shaved since his capture, and judging by the way he was fighting even now that his death was inevitable, he was a spirited and passionate person.
The two Knights, clad in black to denote their duty, thrust him forward onto his knees in the oval clearing. "If you have any last words, say them now," one intoned in Taylin's language. "The Knight responsible for your capture is here." And he pointed to Slenna.
The Warrior followed his finger and gazed out to see the face of the woman who'd killed him. She was tall, too, and if his memory of their brief duel served she was taller than he. She was slender but far from fragile, as he'd learned, and even here she had a sword strapped across her back. Her hair was black with numerous white streaks, short for a woman's (barely down to her chin) and held out of her eyes by a headband. Her eyes were green, and he caught them for a moment. And for a moment he couldn't look away. He was lost in the emerald green of her eyes, but— "Yeah," he said, forcing himself out of her gaze. "Yeah. Fuck you."
She looked away from him, but something in her eyes said as clearly as if she'd spoken aloud that she was sorry.
The two Knights grabbed his arms again, and he twisted one away and managed to clobber one of his captors in the stomach. The man lost his breath and doubled over, and so Taylin whirled to face the other. He lashed a kick out towards the man's knee, but the Knight was ready and had his sword out.
It flashed forward, even as he sidestepped the kick, and Taylin gagged with pain. It had scored on his stomach somewhere, and while it was probably only a minor wound, it was enough. He wanted to keep struggling, but was too cold. His body rebelled and he started to go into shock instead, and he felt the other Knight grab hold of his arm again.
He couldn't even struggle as they rigged him up, arms above him and hooked to the flagpole. His back was to the crowd and his chest felt as if it was freezing to the pole itself. He tried to keep his head up and stand proud, but couldn't.
Behind him, one of them Knights was holding a whip.
He heard the crack and screamed as it connected, cutting a line across his back. Blood dripped down and into the snow.
And again.
And again.
This was going to take a long time, and he realized he'd be hoarse long before he was unconscious.
Four. Five. He would count until he blacked out. Maybe he'd scream numbers. That would probably upset the damned Knight who'd brought him here, maybe she'd think he was cursing her.
Six. Seven.
Sundancer, let it end soon... he thought, as he felt himself yelling in agony.
Nine.
Ten.
That scream was sustained and faded into eleven, and that faded into twelve. He lost count, and all he knew was that he wanted to die. He wanted it to end, because that would have been better than the agony.
He could feel blackness gathering around him, hovering in front of him. He wanted to take its offer and let go, but he wanted to live if he could. But they were killing him...
They have it wrong... Hell isn't full of fire. It's full of ice.... was the last thing he thought before he couldn't think anymore.
He was just about to make his way to the slave village for the night when the messenger arrived. It was loud and caused a lot of commotion; whoever had let the messenger in immediately sent a runner to alert Elthis.
The messenger himself was a young Warrior, probably not long out of training. He was frantic; he'd practically ridden his horse into exhaustion by the time he made it to Elthis' manor, and Elthis saw him immediately after he arrived.
Kalin carefully listened from behind the door.
"Missing, my Lord. He never got home!"
"He's... He's what?! .... Explain. From the beginning."
The warrior took a deep breath. "Lord Taylin was supposed to return home several days ago; he never did. After a day, his steward sent a messenger to Olatho—" Kalin wasn't positive, but he thought that was the nearest Warrior's station "—and they sent me to investigate. I did. He... There have been reports of Knights' activities nearby in the past few months, haven't there?"
Kalin couldn't hear what Elthis said, but apparently it was affirmative. "The forest road from Larath to Taylin's castle was the one we expected him to take. Somewhere near the middle, there were signs of a fight—they were a few days old when I found them, so I couldn't be sure. But....
"His horse was found a yesterday, saddled and riderless. He's disappeared, my Lord. I think... I think the Knights must have captured him..."
Kalin hurried away, startled, to the sound of Elthis yelling several choice expletives.
"No." The Healer was adamant in his refusal to rouse the prisoner Erra had brought him.
"Why not?" Erra demanded. They'd been having this argument on and off for several hours; Erra was impatient but the Healer was stubborn.
"Because he needs time for the Healing to take effect before you start slamming him around, Sir Prince."
"Don't call me that."
The Healer shrugged. "You hit him fairly hard; if you don't wait for him to be well Healed, he won't be in any state to answer your questions—and if he dies, he's no help to anyone."
Erra gave the Healer a final glare and stalked off. He had finally agreed to lead his group of Knights on a very short marauding mission, little more than hiding in the forest and watching. They'd only attacked this man, the one unconscious on the cave floor, because he was clearly a Warrior and clearly a high-ranking Lord, and when they saw he was traveling by himself, the chance was too good to pass up.
The Healer was right; he knew that. And even if he hadn't known, he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, as the Healer outranked him when it came to medical matters. They had hit the Warrior fairly hard when they ambushed him; he'd barely been able to fight after that. And Erra had gotten a bit too enthusiastic and stabbed him and... Well, he'd definitely needed the Healer's care.
And the Healer had said on no uncertain terms that the only way for the Healing to be fully effective was if it was given a chance to work, which meant waiting for the Healer to decide it was all right to rouse the Lord...
"Erra!"
The Healer shouted his name suddenly, breaking through Erra's haze of thought. Erra jogged back over to him, and broke into a grin when he saw the captive was groaning in his sleep, stretching slightly, on the verge of consciousness.
The Prince-turned-Knight glanced at the Healer, who nodded, rolled his eyes and stalked off. Erra nudged the tied Warrior with his foot, and the man blinked a few times. His eyes came into focus and he saw the Knight leering down at him...
"Welcome to Hell," Erra greeted him.