Alliance I: Book of Ord Chapters I-X

The Sea was what the Lovers of Land now called us. They had long forgotten that they had sprung from both Land and I, eons before, from our first union. They had forgotten when their ancestors had played alongside those that had first chosen us and grown the wings to fly through our depths. Those who lived and loved in us had started to forget the Land as well, though it had taken them longer. They slowly changed, from their joyful swinging, swishing, and dancing in the flowing greens near our surface to retreating more and more to our darkness. They started changing in ways that seemed to frighten the Lovers of Land who encountered them.

Conflicts sprung up between our children to “protect and preserve.” For what end they spilled their brother’s and sister’s blood flowed out of my children’s minds as the tides passed. Centuries and generations flew on, with stories of the past changing like the Land I had continued to caress. Still, there were old “places,” as Land would have it called, that I had asked my children to honor and keep sacred. Land must have done the same, for I knew them to remain untouched. I had long avoided the pull of returning back to my old ways, though it pained me. Land had resisted as well, though they would show clear pleasure where I still touched them. But the blood which continued to stain my depths, which must also have flowed on Land, was a frequent reminder, to deny ourselves.

The sea-winds had been howling as long as Vinna had been stationed to patrol Gríðr fortress’s perimeter. At times it seemed as if the entire pile of gray stones they called Gríðr castle would pitch into the water headlong, meeting a fate perhaps long awaited, the marriage of land and sea.

Vinna scopes out the far gate from her position- as always, seemingly clear. Checking the near shore, the water beat viciously upon the cliff, but as yet no other forms distinguished themselves from the froth. Sighing and rolling her laden shoulders, Vinna lets herself relax, eyes drifting to the distant horizon, but her periphery trained on the water below. She suppresses a twitch as a pair of reflective orbs emerge from the water, then blink out of sight a moment later. The old trick still works I see…

Vinna remembers, back when she was a youth too solemn and boyish for the men of her village, and her eldmor was in a bad way, so could not do marital negotiations, it was decided for her to come to Gríðr and train to be a watchergirl. She learned from the Keeper designated this very spot- a tall woman with a graying braid and frowning mouth, that trick of seeming ignorance or “not-noticing.” Perhaps she had “not-noticed” too well, as she had died a month later.

Continuing to pretend distraction, Vinna detects four figures that seem to stay constant in the waves. The silhouettes are seemingly masculine, although she is not certain if her fellow people’s considerations of sex apply as strictly to these creatures of the sea, the Mennelra. The four shapes seem to face one another, as if speaking. Perhaps a fight? In her experience, these beings were easy to fight with one another, having witnessed many a brutal slashing of scaly faces. The four seemed to be continuing their congress for some time…perhaps a distraction while others climbed hidden…unlikely as they do hate to get dry. Just to be safe, Vinna glints her signaling mirror at the upper balcony of the next garret, to look out. A few moments later, a hurried glint swings back. Asleep on duty as usual she thinks to herself, lips curling despite herself What am I to do with this lot? Before being able to send back the reprimanding glint, she sees the shower of sparks flit between her upper garrets. It seems that Wittol and his gang had, as per usual, caught what she had already observed, albeit with some delay. As the chain of watchers worked, she was to observe what she did, then send her directions as she so chose, but this lot seemed to take great delight in showering the enemy with clues in the effort to catch her up and, laughingly, surpass her.

Checking the creatures’ position, she found them, to her great surprise, to be much in the same spot. They’ve been there way too long! This has to be some sort of trap or something…Jerking towards the adjacent garrett, she is met with the denial of any sightings. The watcherboy she had placed there, though not fully-trained, had a sharp eye. If he hasn’t seen anything then…what is this??

Snatching her telescope, Vinna peers into the distant waters. Just waves, waves, and then-she saw- Hearing the twang of prepared bows, she whirled to see that Wittol had readied the upper levels to strike the four figures nearby. She rushed to signal. NO. STAND DOWN. NO EARLY SHOTS. A silent darkness descended. She strained to catch any, any glint in the night sky. Perhaps they are fumbling for the mirrors in the night wind She thought desolately. She had seen a mass of shapes out there, she thought. Her pale hair flicked in front of her eyes as she craned out to see. There had been something- a solid where there should be liquid. There- then- there- then…Great Sárr the Wounded. Ranks upon ranks of the Mennelra’s strange shape were within the waves only a league away, her eyes and the shape of the waves told her.

Vinna’s armor wore heavier than before, if possible. She felt something that she did not allow herself to feel most nights. The darkness closed in. The cold ate her. The rushing pounded in her ears. If anyone made a mistake now, they were as good as dead. She was as good as dead. She knew. I pray to the great Reiðr for strength and accuracy, and for Modir and Lov to take care that most of my body will reach my village to be buried. Eldmor will mourn and bury me as she did Mor and For. The sea remains dark and the wet cold creeps into her very bones. Glancing up, a hasty and angry flash glides just across her face before disappearing on her ear, not allowing a speck of light to escape onto the water. He has a sharp signal, I’ll give him that, She thought, allowing a crack of levity in her fear. She turns in time to see the group of four doing a strange dance. A signal of their own perhaps? She glimpses out into the sea, the mass continues its chilling approach, too far away to shoot at. The adjacent watcherboy swipes an apologetic glint, having detected the formation finally. She subtly signals for him to retire to the castle and get the armory ready.

Returning to the dance, Vinna notices a new phase of movements had started…Perhaps a ritual? They gesture down then up with…almost reverence? Side, side, circle,up, down, side, side, flip, spin, side, side…Shaking herself away, she checks her weapon. The upper grade crossbow had been bestowed upon her after achieving her Tenanthood,but had started to become finicky after she had risen to Keeper. The harsh temperatures up here sometimes froze the strings where the coating wore thin. Rubbing along, she let out a slow sigh, so as not to signal her presence with a stream of foggy air. Peeking at the group again, she catches them diving deep, seeming to finish their strange movements. Looking out the ocean, she feels sinking at the disappearance of what she had distinguished of the mass. They had all gone below- to hide And wait us out. She growled.

The waiting is almost worse.

The Mennelra had yet to surface; and the sun had risen and fallen six times already. All the areas of possible entry had been secured, and all Tenants and Keepers had been wearing full gear and stocked weapons since the Mennelra had disappeared.

“They want us at each other’s throats.” Chief Keeper Breyam rumbles. “They are likely to strike at any time. Their food won’t last forever.”

The other Keepers murmur an assent, some grimacing. All habits of the Mennelra are looked at with disgust, including the consumption of fish and other sea beings. So despite its proximity to said sea beings, local farms supplied the grain, meat, and other supplies for the Gríðr stronghold.

“We should coordinate the arrival from Mitin Farm earlier this time, speaking of food.” Vinna rises to continue. “Also, the incident from this morning scattered much grain. We must replenish tomorrow instead of the planned day.” The idea to receive smaller batches of their food supply- so that unloading needed fewer hands and less time- in case of an attack, had been hers. An idea that had worked fairly well until this morning’s brawl. A watcher had seemingly stood too close to Tenant Wittol, he attempted a blow, another Tenant rose to the watcher’s defense, and a fight had ensued. A couple barrels were damaged, and she had to order Wittol, and the other, Mork, to guard below the castle.

“Now if we have Mitin’s people come in early morning, after daybreak, and right after the shift change- the old shift can unload before-” She pauses, thinking she might have heard something. Nothing. Shaking off her nerves, “-Can unload before they-” The gong resounds through the cracked door of the meeting. A held breath freezes everyone for a moment. Silent prayer. Readiness. Then, everyone grabs what little they had let off themselves to make comfortable for the meeting. It is more silent than one would think, as the men and women walk out to where the alarm had signaled an attack. Buckles are closed. Skirts are secured. Weaponry is checked. Runes are whispered over. Lanterns are seized and lit. All is done quietly and efficiently.

The alarm still echoes from a nearby entry to the undercastle, and Vinna feels a heaviness settle. She had not wanted to order Mork down, but he had intervened in a wrongful manner, as did not befit the Code. She pushes the thought away as they start down.

The stairs, fabricked with worn and patterned material, are wet and steep. They can hear cries from Tenants echoing below them. They were likely supping when the alarm had sounded, and they had gone down. They’ve come to understand our timing more. Vinna thinks grimly. Clenching her gauntlet and knives, she feels every detail. The strange symbols and rusted metal items on the wall. Roars and shouted orders. The familiar symbol which indicates the end is- a woman’s hand rests around the bend, the body obscured.

The Keepers bolt into the first room of the undercastle, sloshing the red watery floors. Then bodies meet their boots, and glowing eyes meet theirs. There are two lanterns teams of Tenants are defending to light the passageway. Light glimmers off of slimy skin and metal.

A part of Vinna disappears when in battle. There is nothing but what is in front of her, the world of blood and water and knives. She charges at the closest pair of eyes she can see.

“It is a fortunate thing for the rest of us, that deathwish of yours.” Breyam muses, wiping his axe with his glovecloth next to Vinna.

She stares at the faces of Wittol and Mork, having been turned up from their facedown position. The Mennelra had been, all the time they had been waiting for them to resurface, finishing what must have been a clearly multi-year process of weakening the highest gate by deepening a fissure they had furrowed into the exterior tunnel.

It was Wittol that had rung the alarm, or partly, as he had been struck from behind before giving it the full yank. That was the weak signal Vinna had caught. He had left Mork to fend their ambushers off, though he was definitely the broader of the two. He was a frustrating bastard like that, likely due to being a village head’s son. And Mork, idealist that he was, was an underfed farmer’s son at the end of the day. He could barely read the Code when he first came to Gríðr. Now, here they were, made equal by death. She thought of how their villages would wail for them, once they had gotten their bodies.

“You’re not wise to go down that way, Keeper Vinna.” Breyam had stayed behind after the battle had reached its bloody conclusion to ensure she stopped. Just stopped. She always still had the wildness inside her after battle. She had scratched herself bloody or maimed herself in other ways, to feel pain, other times. She had taken to knocking herself out to force sleep, but Breyam had reprimanded her when he had found out, some years back, threatening to send her home, which he had known would make her listen.

Vinna doesn’t respond. The next round of watchers comes, taking more bodies to be buried, eventually hauling Wittol and Mork too, away from her sight.

*

Breyam keeps Vinna on her trajectory up the stairs. The burly man, once a tall and smiling boy, had started as a watcher around the same time as Vinna, and knows Vinna’s mind well, her tendency to fix on one thing and not let it go, even when she wants to. Reaching her door, he turns, “I took the liberty of asking around for some ‘help’ for you.”

Vinna jerks herself a little out of her mind, letting an eyebrow try to arch, unsure which one as her entire head hurts. “Help? I arrange my own comfort men, you know this.” Tenants and Keepers often need to lay after battle, to calm their body, or to celebrate living another day.

Breyam holds up his hands, “I found out one, more remote, who is said to heal with his hands, from what I hear.” He makes a massaging motion in the air, which Vinna rolls her eyes to.

“Ugh-you-” Vinna’s limbs ache with a sudden fierce surge which knocks her protests back into her throat. Sheepishly Vinna grumbles, “Heals with his hands you say?”

Breyam’s face splits with a mirthful grin. “That’s what they say. And,” He leans in a little bit. “I have another waiting for me who’s said to heal with his mouth. Perhaps they are related.” He winks as Vinna feels her mouth twitch in unwitting amusement. She can’t even chuckle. Not sure how she’s going to enjoy anyone touching her.

“You’re off-duty for a day. Enjoy the man. I’ll certainly be enjoying mine.”

“Gods protect him.”

Breyam’s roaring laugh as he retreats down the hall hurts her ears almost as much as his greatly tamped down strike does her ribs, but Vinna very much does not regret her jest, as she enters her room.

“Gods’…blessings…”

“Oddr.” His eyes wander over to her nose at last, with some persuasion. She notices he has trouble meeting gazes, though it hasn’t mattered much up to that moment. “I would not have you cast out when I could do a kindness instead. However, I must have your honesty.” His eyes finally meet hers. “What did Breyam say to you?”

Oddr’s eyes flickered, but then settled, seeming to be defeated. “He said that-if I would please you, if you were ah…am-a-men-able that I would be well-looked after during my time here. I may be able to earn a landright-even.” Something steals across his face then, which he quickly suppresses, but which Vinna thinks she recognizes.

“Oddr…are you- promised to anyone?”

His eyes fall, and a dull “No.” is emitted.

Vinna nods knowingly. So that’s how it was. “You wish to earn a landright for another’s hand?”

Oddr’s eyes still, unsure how to respond. Eventually, a cautious, “Aye.”

Vinna nods. “I cannot help you with the landright- as I myself do not have enough to do so for you and myself, but” She leans back, stretching her sore form out, “I have a thought of how you might bend your lover-to-be toward you, as it were. No- don’t shake your head. I was once a young woman you know.” Vinna’s grin lights the young face ablaze again.

“Y-you are still- M’Lady.” His gaze had heated, though his gaze stays locked to her knees out of shyness.

“Mm. Well- I have ideas as to other shows of gratitude for this guidance, but I will soon need information on your beloved.”

Oddr proves eager on both fronts.

“It is rather annoying to have your employer and confidante sneak a husband onto you when you have determined to remain alone.”

Breyam glances up from his blades, pausing in his sharpening. “Well good evening to you as well. I see you have enjoyed your time with Oddr-” He glances out at the grilled window to the waning light outside.

“I had some matters to discuss with him before sending him home.”

“Home?” Breyam sets his work down on the papers laid before him, alert now. “There will be no sending him home. He is to-”

“He is bound to me, and so he is to obey me, before any contract. He is to barter a deal with a family in the area. Merchants. Lyfier Clan. We are in need of some additional supplies if we are to reinforce the gates below.”

Breyam’s brows furrowed. “I have that already planned out. We will reinforce the upper levels first, then-”

“But what if they were to bring more next time? What if they found another weakness for these structures? We need to seal the undercastle-”

“No.” Breyam drew himself up. “That must not be done.”

“Why not? It never made sense Breyam-the undercastle provides no advantage to us- only to them.”

“It is not something I can explain to you.” Breyam evaded, like he always did when she brought this up. “The laird of this castle was very clear, and the rites bestowed-”

“Rites? Surely you are not speaking of pagan games when we are speaking of lives-”

“I know well what we speak of, Vinna.” Breyam’s firmness is shifting into anger.

“Then why mention rites when there are burial rites still to do? Why speak of superstitions when we live above the blood of so many?” Vinna’s voice echoes on the stone as she becomes more agitated. “Do not speak to me of what a dead man has made law- Why- How can you-”

“This is not -Stop this!” Breyam pauses, stone-faced. “Stop. Do you even know how many were killed in our last three exchanges with the Mennelra?”

“No, but-”

“Then how many in the past three winters? What about in the past thirty? Forty?” Breyam’s hands had started to twitch in anger. “Do you know of those?”

“No.”

“I know them all. I know them well. The numbers are all here.” He brings out a worn pamphlet from his satchel, pausing to hold it, then throwing it at the table in between them. “It is all there.” Vinna takes it up, feeling confused as names she had forgotten about, or tried to forget, show themselves, one after another, carefully noted down in Breyam’s hand. “I have not forgotten, though you might.” Here Breyam’s words make her jolt, ashamed. “There are 469 in all. Maybe not as many other strongholds have given to the Sea, but 469 more than I wish there were.” Here Vinna looks up, surprised. “Yes, I don’t like it. I don’t- I never wished to be responsible for when men and women might die, but- but better I than you.”

“What do you mea- Breyam- tell me you didn’t-” Vinna had always wondered- she could have ascended beyond a Keeper already, but, over the years, that conversation had never happened.

“I did not do anything the Council would disapprove of, but you know-” Breyam holds his breath, becoming careful. “You know-you would break…I mean…”

Vinna bows her head. She knew that years of this should have calloused her. She shouldn’t crumple, like a child, like she had snuck away to do after Oddr had gone to sleep. She had found herself going to the undercastle- thinking of the deaths she had caused and the bloodshed after. She shouldn’t have any soft parts, but she knew she did, and that, eventually, it would kill her.

“Perhaps it was also my willfulness.” Breyam mouth bends, an attempt at mirth. “I would rather my friend not die somewhere far away from me. I would-” He turns away, losing his speech for a moment. Vinna realizes. So that is why she had never been sent away, to be Chief Keeper elsewhere. She is not sure how to feel. He turns back. “I would rather you be- be nearby-when…” Breyam’s eyes overflow.

“As would I.” Vinna’s heart surges, and she goes to rest a hand on his arm. It did not matter now. “As would I, friend. To the end, remember?”

“To-” Breyam’s light flares, but he douses it, becoming grave.

At last, “Do you know how many of the Mennelra have died in the last 40 years?”

Vinna blinks, “I’m not sure- some hundred I imagine. Wh-”

“469”

“Hm?”

“469 Mennelra. Dead.” He looks at Vinna, bracing.

“469-but that- no-” Vinna turns toward the window- “That’s not possible. How can you be sure- I mean- it’s-” She turns back. “Surely you’re mistaken. You’re mistaken. There’s no way to know that anyway. It-” She looks down at the pamphlet, then starts to flip pages. First there were names, new, complete, then half names. Then just numbers. Then. 4M -reported by H. 12M- reported by-It went on like this- M meaning Mennelra with the watchers or others who burned or buried them labeled. Reports. Hundreds. Information Breyam couldn’t have known on his own.

“The other Chief Keepers.” Her voice sounds distant.

“They did not know- they might not have wanted to know. I found some records here and there and…eventually…”

“Eventually.”

They stand together in this impossible secret.

“What- what could this- the rites-”

Breyam shudders. “I do not even wish to speak of it. It is something beyond-” He shudders again. “I am not sure what the Mennelra know either. It is something-” Breyam seems to shake himself back into the present. “Do you know- about twenty years ago, before we came- they tried what you are suggesting.”

Vinna feels a cold prickle. “I had not heard.”

“Yes…Volar- Ah Chief Keeper Vol was- he had closed the door on that.”

“Closed…the door?”

“Yes. There was…an incident.”

“An…Incident.”

“Yes. The-the rites… something happens when the undercastle becomes closed off.”

“Something?” Vinna knows Breyam’s stomach holds when it comes blood and guts, but he looks truly frightened. “Breyam-wh-”

“Something cursed-it-the men who he showed me, that they were able to retrieve, they had-hurt themselves…”

“Hurt themselves?? Why??”

“I have some idea.” He looks sickened. “It-they had thrown themselves into the water to stop- to get away from-” He starts to sweat and goes to sit down.

“To get away? What was there to get away from?”

Breyam will not look at her. “To die, to stop doing whatever the curse made them do.”

Vinna considers this. Under no circumstances would a watcher or Keeper ever ever Ever go into the Sea of their own will. That water had long been considered a source of weakness. Even bathwater was brought in from freshwater nearby- needing to come from the mountains. It had been something she had just had to get used to when coming to the tower. Seawater was cursed- but why? Why was that what I had been told?

“You aren’t being truthful.”

Breyam didn’t respond.

“Breyam.”

“We are not sealing the undercastle.”

“Breyam - if we don’t, more will die.”

“No! More will die if we seal it.”

“Then-” Vinna could not believe what she was about to say. “Then we must show them this. And hold a cease-fire.” She holds up the pamphlet.

Breyam stirs, finally looking up. “What?”

“We must show them this- and leave Gríðr castle. That is the only way to avoid any more death. To stop killing Mennelra.”

Breyam slowly picks his blades up from the table. “Vinna” Rising. “Give me the pamphlet.”

Vinna stares in shock, finally mustering, “No.”

“Vinna.” Breyam looks empty and sad. “Vinna.”

Coldly, Vinna realizes she had not brought her main weapons.

“Vinna-We cannot leave just like that.”

Vinna is slow as she steps back. She can hardly believe that he would threaten her. “Breyam-”

“Don’t-” His blade comes up- sharp but shaking. “Please don’t make me choose.”

“We must stop all this, can’t you see? Breyam- what else are you not telling me?” She finds herself shaking, knowing how quickly Breyam could move despite his size.

“I can’t risk it. I don’t know who has or hasn’t.”

“Who-” She’s committed the shape of the door onto her mind. If she just times it- “Who has-what?”

In that split second where he thinks how to respond- she springs back towards the door, praying her outstretched hand would catch wood. Breyam’s blade- flies through the air- pain, but she has the door.

Breyam’s large form meets the door as she swings it behind her. She is in the corridor, flying past the dining hall. A wall of people is ahead; she swings around a corner. There too- there are people- if they catch her- she might be searched. She must not be.

Vinna turns, looking down- to the undercastle.

The stairs have dried with the blood, men and Mennelra, and Vinna’s hurried feet find grip in the red coating. They had not even cleaned it off yet. Her stomach turns as her chainmail starts to turn cold.

She descends to that spot that she knows to be halfway- when the strange symbols start- in blood.

Human or otherwise? Vinna thinks, looking closer at them than she had in years. What exactly were these rites? Vinna had avoided hearing about the strange subject, preferring to keep her mind occupied with how to keep alive- how to prepare. What there was to do. Training, eating. A new wave of watchers to look after. Junior Keepers to keep in line. Breyam couldn’t have run after me without it raising too many questions. Won’t be long now. The chill in the air told her she was almost at the end, at the water. First she had to find that passage with tunnels- there was-

Wait- what was that?

She pauses. There had been sound, the sound of someone who was stepping around in the water. Was there anyone else down here? Impossible. The watchers had grabbed all the bodies, and if no one had come to clear the steps then there would be no one.

A sound echoes again- quickly stifled, only slightly louder than the water rippling in the tunnels. Now she could not be mistaken; someone had stepped heavily into the water. The way ahead was blocked.

Vinna remembers some vague tale about vertical passages to the undercastle- as there was no other way they would have been able to get here before her. The party’s eyes would have trouble adjusting if that was how they came, if they even existed. She must move carefully, as she might just be able to see better than whoever was there- torch-free as she had been going.

The way above would be blocked too; she must continue. She edges into the water, letting it rise up over her foot. Staying close to the wall, she looks out to see any shape in the darkness. Nothing at first- then a shadow- just slightly darker. Then two.

There was a whirring sound, getting louder, then, a pause as another shadow falls in behind the two. So there were such passages.

As if hearing her thought, the bigger shadow turns- looking in the direction of the stairs- then starts towards them.

Vinna moves as it moves- trying to match her movements to the ripples it created. The edge of the room was a tunnel, but she knew it only stopped further down. There was one- if she could just get-

“Tenant Shostram-we know you’re there.” Breyam’s voice rings out.

Vinna almost slips. Shostram? The sick one?

“Shostram, you know you can’t keep coming back here.”

Vinna knew Keeper Shostram was in his bed this morning- as he often was after a battle. Breyam. Vinna’s heart sinks. You…

“He’s surely gone back up Chief.” One of the shadows speaks. “He wouldn’t have been able to get down here that quick anyhow.”

“Perhaps. Light a torch and do a search to be sure.”

Vinna tightens her fists, knowing she only had a small opening before she could get out of sight. With the torches they wouldn’t mind how they moved, and her movements would be covered by their sounds. Breyam…

The pamphlet was tucked in her pocket. She could leave it somewhere, before she left. But do the other two know about it? What would it mean if they found it before Breyam did and recognized his hand? What would he do?

She works her way to the tunnel as the men grab the torches on either side of the bottom step. They make quick work with their flamekits. There’s no time-unless- Vinna lowers herself into the water, shuddering as she does so.

Vinna is lighter without her weapons, but her arms and legs ache from the weight of her wet clothing and mail, as well as from yesterday. A few times, the searchers had come close to her, but by crouching in the water, they missed her each time. She had made it down a few branches of tunnel, not managing to get down to a lower gate. She had lost track of the hours now- it must be almost morning. She was almost tempted to drink the water she was coated in.

I will not last long.

She had started to simply stay in one spot- in a corner of one of the tunnels she had turned down, submerged in the water and face covered with a cloth. Surely I will die down here.

Through the cloth she sees a small form come towards her with the torch. Distantly she wonders if her cloth would show the outline of her face if the torch came close enough. The shape stops before her, torch turning to each side. It remains silent.

“Chief!” One of them calls. “There’s no trace of him in the usual spots.”

“Very well. He must have gone back up then.”

“You think so? I would have seen him I thought…unless…”

Breyam remains silent.

“Perhaps- do you think…?”

“Better check then.” Breyam grunts.

The two torches, clearly tired, start cursing Shostram for keeping them from their beds. They all pass by Vinna- heading down a dark branch she had not yet reached. Breyam follows behind, slowly. Then he pauses. His torch went up and down one, two, three times. A signal. Vinna feels her strength return with a surge.

Breyam continues on, and when Vinna is sure they wouldn’t hear, she gets up to follow the party.

The way gets colder as she goes, but eventually Vinna feels a breeze. Outside. She got to a gate- left open. Vinna goes through, as silently as she can. This tunnel isn’t one she knew about.

Finally, there were the three figures, standing next to a set of bars, as far as she could see. Vinna sinks down to the side of the tunnel, covering her face again.

“Shostram would not have been able to get through here. Even he’s too large for this.”

“Armor on he couldn’t have.” Breyam.

“Are you saying-” The disgust is palpable. This water was- like all seawater-unclean- “Well- I suppose nothing is off-limits- for him.”

Breyam sighs. “Alright. Well- it doesn’t look like the grime has been shifted. Not unless he crawled through the water.” The two torches shudder. “Still, he must have turned back- up the stairs.”

“They should have sent someone then.”

“Well you two were to be down here for the night anyway- remember? Speaking of- should be change-over soon- let us go back.”

They all pass her again, but Breyam’s torch stays steady as he leaves.

*

The echoes had long died down, but Vinna had stayed still. She knew what she must do, what Breyam had essentially told her to do, but she was tired. She had barely slept or eaten for the past two days.

Long numb, Vinna starts to take off her clothes, putting them through the bars as she goes. Then she squeezes through them herself, below water, like he had said, grimacing as her slippery flesh peels off the grime. Once through- she pauses before redressing. My armor. Should I leave it? What lay ahead-outside- may require it. Resigned, she picks it up, along with the rest of the bundle, deciding to carry it as she does not need to crouch in the water anymore.

“I’ll have to find somewhere to dry this.” She murmurs to herself.

It holds its skin in its hands. I have never seen one without skin.

It has scars on its underskin , from killing my brothers. I hate It.

It smells different from the other three- wretched creature

It is smaller too- why would they make It fight?

It seems to be running

It is not running from us- but from them- three that are like It

Why?

Vinna- pauses- having the sense that Something else is in the tunnel. But that would be impossible. Shaking her head, she hobbles exhaustedly forth.

The tunnel opens after some distance into an overgrown field, populated with dramatically tall bushes. But nowhere to light a fire and hang my gear. I have to go further. Vinna struggles on, pausing behind a bush to drape her shift over herself. I probably won’t encounter anyone else out here, but, just in case. She straps a shortblade around her waist, keeping the sheath by her free dominant hand. I’ll have to switch sides to carry these things eventually. Ugh- later.

The field stretches far enough that Vinna takes all day to traverse it. She fortunately finds some berries and other greens to eat. Good thing I grew up by a forest. Vinna’s Eldmor had been of the Vol- a woman of mystical talents, and she had used herbs often in her work. She had taught Vinna much of what grew from the Earth. I now wish she had taught me more of men, and perhaps of non-men too.

Vinna carefully withdraws the worn pamphlet from her satchel. I had better dry this. She slowly unsticks the pages. It’s miraculous that the writing hadn’t been entirely destroyed from the water-

Vinna notices the symbols then, lining the book’s cover. Runes. Many of them she recognized, but some she did not. Breyam must have etched these in. She takes a closer look. Protection from elements. Keeping safe from harm. Protect the wearer- what is this? If Breyam knew these symbols- if they worked- why were we not using them on our armor- our gear- With a chill- she remembers: 469 Mennelra dead. 469 of us dead. What could it mean?

With a weary sigh, Vinna lays the book down and finishes the last of the berries she found. She is near the forest edge now. She has to find a place to rest. If she hadn’t been slogging through watery depths some time ago, she would have been able to go further potentially. Breyam must have sent men after me, whichever ones he could spare at least- and likely ones that wouldn’t listen to what I had to say about some book. She shivers, takes a few moments to stare blankly, and gathers herself together for the last slog of the day.

It is touching a skin thing with care- it is like its underskin, but not like

It is tired- going slower than I have ever seen their kind go-

It eats green, not flesh only- like I was told

It chooses well- the green and fruits are good to eat for me as well

It is afraid- but Its smell is not that

What is It? It is not like ones we were taught to hate

It is going into a dark place that smells more of Land

I like dark too

Vinna swears she hears rustling behind her as she scrambles through the forest, but whenever she pauses, she realizes it must be an echo. This hunger will make me fear my own shadow at this rate. She wanders for a long time before she spots dry wood. Breaking off what she can manage- she looks around in a circle for some overhang- Ah- here. She finds a rock jutting over a patch of earth, dry enough to make a fire. Thank you Gods- all of you- for I cannot say I remember all the ones I would need to thank at this moment. Murmuring words of protection- like her Eldmor had taught her- she makes a bed for the fire, then gathers some more wood. This rock face will keep some heat too- hopefully.

Vinna starts the fire, then makes a bed for herself, shivering less and less as the fire warms the air. The light cast makes the shadows of surrounding trees dance, but there is no other movement. Vinna is drifting slowly off, but her eyes meet-for a moment- with a reflective orb- in the distance.

Bolting upright- Vinna disturbs her wrappings as she scrambles in a defensive position. The orb is nowhere to be seen. Gods- in my tiredness I must be imagining the enemy now too!

But are they my enemy anymore? Vinna slowly drops down as she thinks. If there is some hidden reason for our war- perhaps- perhaps they have an even better reason to fight and kill us than we do. Vinna feels wobbly- from more than just the wear of the day. Wrapping herself back up thoughtfully- she lets herself collapse into darkness.

It saw me, but it is too weak to fight, or perhaps- it does not wish to

It is a deserter-? Perhaps that is why it runs

Perhaps it is too weak to fight- and runs to save its life-

I think it is not male- it is soft in the middle- like our women

She- she does not wish to fight with them-

Perhaps she is with child

She speaks blessing over her resting place- as Women do

What of the otherskin thing

It-She- still guards it under her while she sleeps

It is must be precious to Her

What is it?

She sleeps now

I could kill her and take the Otherskin

But she did not try to kill me yet

It would be worse than dishonorable

And I want to know what it is- the Otherskin-

It is a thing not of Land or ours- it is…

She is a restless sleeper-like I have seen in brothers of mine-

Why would they make Her fight-we never make our Women fight

It is like them- the devils with three legs instead of four or two

They do nothing in the right way- unnatural beasts with unnatural desires

Destroying things with all their limbs

Sending in Women to be killed by our hands

She cries in her sleep

I had started a watch-over without thinking

She has fed me- though not with her hands

She is not weak but she is weaker now

I will fight her if she points the blade I know she has at me

Until then- I will watch

It is right

Vinna awakes with a start. Did I just hear a foot near my head? Why do I feel so- safe right now-as if I was in my own room? Shaking her tired body to awaken- she reignites the fire. Hm- it isn’t as low as I would have thought- I must have gathered more wood than I thought I had.

Stirring slowly, Vinna shudders at the thought of having to get more food. Gods. At this rate I’ll starve before I even come to understand what this book is about. Warming herself up as best she can- she dresses in the dried light gear she had been wearing yesterday morning. It is probably for the best that I didn’t have my main weapons- it would have been so tiring to carry all that.

Wandering dazedly about in a circle, she comes across another clearing not far from hers. Was this here before? Finding the clearing abandoned- with an old firepit hurriedly put out- she takes a few steps and feels her feet fall into a squishy pile. No way. Vinna rapidly uncovers the long abandoned berries and greens- clearly a stash for whoever must have had to leave in a hurry. Most of the berries are passable- some even mostly fresh- and greens are not yet totally wilted. Vinna scarfs down the lucky find with blessings pouring from her tongue. I have not spoken so many prayers since I have left home. It never felt- right to do so at the castle.

“To die, to stop doing whatever the curse made them do.” Vinna remembers Breyam’s word confusedly. Whatever the curse made them do?? Is there a curse over the castle- over us? Why? Vinna draws the long-dried pamphlet out again- It only lists the number of people and Mennelra dead- no other speculations- perhaps he kept those in another book- or didn’t even write those down…

Vinna revisits the intricate runes. Protection- Safety- What’s this? Ease of movement? Unnaturally good health??? IS That how he could move so quickly? Was this how I was even able to escape him?? Vinna feels herself well up. Breyam- you were a brother to me- how could you do this? You were willing to kill me for this? Vinna almost rips the pages as her hands clench in anger. There’s even Protection from Poison- and Insight into other’s thoughts…Breyam! You coward-I’ll kill you!!!

She is in pain

I think she might throw the Otherskin

Why does she cling to what she seems to hate

There are symbols of power on it-

Can She read these symbols?

If She can- She cannot be killed by my hand even if I wish it-

For to do so would curse this place and myself

I am glad now I waited

Vinna starts up. What is with this sense of being watched? I never used to feel this in the forest when I was a girl. But then- it was different-I was different. In any case…I must get further away…perhaps I can find a place to hide out until…until when? What will I do after hiding? How long will I hide for? Will I find a man to keep me company-make a home- all because I ran? What will become of this mystery then? No- I must find another solution…but first- I must hunt. It has been too long since I have had a filling meal, and my best chance will be an animal- not too large, but with enough meat to satisfy me for the time being.

The Woman smells of killing, but She cannot see me

She is making sharp sticks and- it must be a trap- for something small

She does eat flesh, but then so do we- when sanctified

She waits out at a distance

She lies on the earth

She is good at making small and quiet

Her eyes are closed, but She does not sleep

Perhaps that is how She-

Ah- She caught something- it is dark now- She still sees

She is strong and quick with the blade- Good

She…her catch smells good

I must hunt too