Chapter 535: As One Life Ends
As One Life Ends
Morning had barely arrived when a soldier arrived outside Martel's tent. Half dressed, the mage went outside. "What is it?"
"Sorry for the hassle, sir. That big Tyrian with the axe is by the gate, asking for you. Seemed important if he is here first thing in the morning."
"Tell him I'll be with him shortly."
"Sir."
The soldier left while Martel walked over towards Eleanor's tent. "Time for that second visit."
***
Soon after, Martel and Eleanor appeared by the gate to the camp, both of them in armour. The guards gave a few odd looks at the smiling berserker and the two prefects, but nobody dared make a remark.
"Soldier," Martel said, "Sir Fontaine and I are going to the Tyrian part of town. If we do not return soon, raise the alarm."
The legionaries widened their eyes, and one of them mumbled in acknowledgement. If the berserker understood what the exchange meant, he gave no sign of this. Looking happy as ever, he motioned for the two mages to join him, and together, they crossed the bridge into Esmouth.
Martel felt a touch of apprehension as they approached the Tyrian homes; he was betting more than his own life that he had read the situation correctly. The berserker went inside as the first, and Eleanor stepped ahead to enter as the second; Martel noticed her magic flare up as she summoned her shield. Keeping himself ready, he passed through the threshold.
Inside the house, several Tyrians stood around the room. None of them had weapons in hand, which made Martel feel more at ease. Due to the darkness, it took him a moment to notice another person, on her knees with her hands behind her back. Looking down, he saw that she had been gagged as well, and the other Tyrians stood to keep her prisoner; one on either side, a third by the backdoor.
The berserker walked over to the bound woman. "This is Gunhild," he explained. "You recognise her, I'm sure. She led your soldiers to the fight."
He was right, Martel realised; while the other Tyrians had gone ahead of the centuria, this woman had been their guide to the Khivan camp.
"It took some effort, but I finally learned she is the one you seek. She tried to kill you," the berserker continued. "She is not of our number originally. She arrived more than a month after, claiming she wanted to work for your legion as a scout, so we allowed her to join us. I did not realise her true purpose."
It seemed a little convenient that the Tyrian had discovered the culprit to be the outsider to his band rather than one of his own people. "I should like to hear from her own mouth why she wanted me dead," Martel declared.
One of the Tyrians removed the gag, and the bound woman looked up at Martel. "What do you want from me?" she asked with a sneer.
"You tried to kill me. Why?"
"You killed my brother. He was a fool, unworthy of the powers given to him, but he was my brother. I couldn't let his death go unpunished."
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Martel frowned. He could not recall killing any Tyrians except the berserker all the way back during his first months in Morcaster. Searching his memory, the name came to him. "What was your brother's name?"
"Bjarki," she spat.
"I didn't kill your brother. The authorities did." Martel had never actually found out what had been done to the berserker after he and Maximilian overpowered him, but execution made sense. A dangerous magic-wielder who assaulted two students; both the Inquisition, the Lyceum, and the Imperial administration would want him dead.
"I can't take my revenge on them, can I?" the woman asked. "And the other mageling was in the palace of your king, beyond my reach. So it had to be you. But when I finally discovered your identity after learning of my brother's fate, you were gone, and I had to follow. May the wolf and the raven curse you, black-hair, and everyone else who stole my revenge from me!"
The gag was returned to her mouth, and with a gesture from the berserker, the Tyrians dragged her away. "What will you do to her?" Martel asked.
"She placed us all in danger. She will not be seen again, unless you go swimming in the deep sea," the berserker declared. "I trust that this satisfies you?"
Martel hesitated only briefly. "It does." He looked at Eleanor. "Let's head back."
"Yes, before your entire legion storms our little home, looking for their missing mages," the berserker laughed. As the pair left the house, he followed them outside. "Thank you, mage of fire, for letting us deal with this on our own. Tell me your names, that I may know you better."
"I'm Martel."
"Eleanor Fontaine."
The Tyrian placed his hand over his heart. "Starkad. I am pleased to consider you friends and not foes."
Martel inclined his head while Eleanor narrowed her eyes. "You know, your command of the Asterian language has improved immensely. Not just over the last few months. Since yesterday."
Starkad's smile turned sly. "The less that people think you understand, the more they underestimate you."
The two mages walked away, returning to camp. The soldiers at the gate glanced at them with questioning looks; Martel simply nodded to them passing by. As they walked along the main road back to their tents, he tried not to think about how he, however justified, had just condemned a woman to death.
***
Still tired from not just this morning but the ordeal of the nightly skirmish, Martel sat down on his cot. He was tempted to make an attempt at further sleep Eleanor had mercifully agreed not to spar today when he caught a letter lying on his desk. It must have been delivered while he was out.
My dear boy,
I know it has been a while since the last letter. I wanted to wait until I could be sure what news to bring you. Your brother was married in late harvest, and it was a great celebration. Your sisters wept, and I did as well. Keith even smiled on a few occasions. William tied a rope to the tail of the weaver's cat and one of our lambs, and as the animals ran through the town square, they toppled several people and one table, making apples spill everywhere.
Now to the important news and the reason this letter was delayed. You remember I told you that Clara, your brother's new wife, was pregnant. The child was born only three days ago, a healthy girl. Had it been a boy, he would have been named after your faither. But a girl, we are not sure about. Hopefully by the next time you get a letter, we will have decided on something.
The house once felt empty after both you and your father were gone, but it only took one small child to make it feel full again. Of course, Clara is also here, so we are as many as we used to be.
I suppose by the time this reaches you, you must have learned about your posting? Write back when you know where you will be, and where to send future letters. I hope it is someplace up north, and maybe you can visit. Or at least, it will not take so long for letters to go back and forth.
Otherwise, everyone is in good health. There is probably much more to tell, but with the baby's arrival and not much sleep, I have plainly forgotten the rest. Father Julius sends his regards, and John misses you very much.
Love,
Your mother
Martel's eyes glanced over the text. This had probably been sent long ago to Morcaster, but after he had left, which explained the delay. Martel tried to imagine the house back in Engby, now with another woman and a newborn. Outside, the sounds of raucous laughter resounded, and possibly someone getting into a brawl.
Leaning back on his cot, Martel lay with the letter in his hands upon his chest, and he closed his eyes.
Follow current novels on freewe(b)novel.c(o)m