Chapter 17.2

Author's Notes: 2,139 words.

Despite Iasquam’s long steps, Yorew caught up to him easily. They uttered snippets of a quiet conversation between them, Eremia straining to hear as she walked alongside Katerina. Yet, try as hard as she might, Eremia may as well have been listening to the wind. She quickly grew impatient and turned instead to look at the dreary landscape and piteous homes. Perhaps Iasquam’s would look better, though she was tired enough that she would be fine with anything as long as she didn’t have sit on the ground.

Katerina nudged Eremia, who turned her gaze from a partly demolished, empty mud-brick home just off the road. “They haven’t been saying much,” Katerina said when Eremia saw Katerina’s large ears perk up. “Just greetings and comments on the weather. Yorew still looks so tense, though.”

Eremia focused on Yorew and realized that Katerina was right. His hands were balled up in fists, and she could almost see the muscles from beneath his suit. It was a discomforting sight, since he was hardly ever this stressed by anything. A few faint words reached her ears, furthering her suspicious – “Have I seen you before, Yorew?”

For a few lengthy seconds, a heavy silence fell on everyone. Yorew leaned over to mention something in wherever Iasquam’s ear was. Iasquam nodded in response and stayed quiet, a bead or two on his head being rustled off by his pace and landing on the ground. As the group turned from the path, heading onto a smaller dirt road, Katerina picked up the beads, feeling their smooth surfaces in her furry hands. She passed them over to Eremia, who moved them through her fingers as she looked at their fading colors.

“To answer your question, I am a mercenary, yes,” said Iasquam loudly enough for everyone to hear. Eremia saw Katerina’s arm reach out to block her; they stared up at the small earthen house that appeared to be Iasquam’s home. Blushing in embarrassment, Eremia handed the beads back to Katerina, who accepted them happily. “Apologies for my home. I used to be wealthier once, but my sister was the reason for it. Did you notice that the blacksmith’s place was empty?”

"I did," Eremia said. She hesitated until he glanced at her. "My condolences. Is it rude to ask why?"

Iasquam silently turned and pushed open the door to his home, holding it for Yorew to pass through (and duck under, since it a short doorframe). Eremia followed just as Iasquam responded. "This is a cruel place, and it destroys even the best of them. And she was the best."

"I can believe that," said Katerina as she entered the tiny shack and admired the pristine swords attached by strings to the walls. Many of them had been battered with age and neglect, but the rest still looked in great condition - some even gleamed. "So, she made all of these?"

Closing the door behind him, Iasquam nodded, taking a seat on a wicker chair placed by the center of the home. "She was proud of them, and often wouldn't sell them to anyone that she didn't like. But, with her skills in battle, she was legendary enough that to even be able to speak with her was considered a privilege."

"In this, of all places?" asked Eremia, gesturing to the barren landscape outside of what might've once been a small, rounded window. She took the only other seat, placed opposite Iasquam. Yorew remained standing, while Katerina poked her head through the once-window and watched the lowest clouds roll past.

"It was better, once," Iasquam said, nodding. "That town used to be alive with mercenaries and traders. The Kings of Walenty funded wars on the desert, and she was one of their crown jewels. So to speak."

"Until the last two kings ruined the nation's fortunes in their civil war, where Kasimir crushed his father and took the throne," Yorew said quietly. Eremia looked at him in surprise; as she'd been kept out of the loop about Exedor’s neighbors, his own knowledge was disturbing. "Even before then, neither had any desire to support a 'wasteland'."

Iasquam sighed. "The soldiers trickled away, the funds dried up, and the desert charged in. My sister led all the people she could muster to defend this town. And she did - or, at least, the heart of it lived - though at the cost of her life."

"And you?" said Katerina, peeking back inside to ask the question.

Silence. "As her brother, they all looked to me. I was her - her apprentice, and she trained me to - follow her path. I couldn't do as well as she could, though. I couldn't. I was scared to, and I didn't have the talent." Iasquam bowed his head, shaking it as he struggled to find any remaining words, which he said slowly. "They left, and the rest of the town fell apart. A victory, indeed."

"Do you want to stay here any longer?" Eremia said, struggling to hold back tears. Yorew raised an eyebrow at her. She said it without thinking, but it was clear to her that there was no purpose in his staying, beyond an weakening attachement to a weakened land.

Iasquam turned his head up, looking at nobody in particular. His beak seemed to shift into a frown. "They don't often ask that," he mused. "Usually they need a guard while they make their way towards anywhere else." His gaze focused on Eremia. "What do you have in mind?"

"I would like you to train me," Eremia said. "For as long as necessary. The army that I am a part of is making its way to Wyandanch, and we could use more helping hands."

"I can't imagine I'd be a good trainer," Iasquam said despondently, after a long pause. He raised his wings suddenly, sending a small gust of wind sprinting through the cracks and holes of the home. Eremia gripped the legs of her chair, and Katerina pulled her head out of the window and ducked, crying in alarm. The hawk shouted in the same tone, "This is pointless, this is all pointless, this is even more cruel than usual! I can't just leave her! I - I can't just leave them."

Yorew stepped between Iasquam and Eremia. He stared down the hawk in such a way that Iasquam retracted his wings and cowered. "She knows some of the basics, and wishes to learn the rest. Surely you should have some knowledge of those. You know what you can do."

"Is there anyone left that wants you?" Eremia said, pushing her hair back in order. It was a cruel question to ask - she knew it - but she was close to finding herself a trainer. Perhaps it would be healthier if he were to leave this cold and abandoned place, where he didn't have to face what he'd once been so fond of.

"Whoever cared disappeared when the raiders killed her and set fire to the town," moaned Iasquam, burying his head in his wings. "Only her swords are left, and they aren't her. You make a fair point, yes."

Katerina stepped behind Iasquam and embraced him; he didn't respond. "You can take the swords with you, if you'd like. I'm sure we can find someone to fix up the broken ones and keep them all safe. Won't you come with us? You could see the world, make new friends, find a special someone." She winked and nudged him.

Iasquam gently moved his wings to push her away; she obliged. "I might never come back here," he said.

At this point, Eremia could only think of him as a ball of rustling feathers with legs. It would've been funnier in other circumstances. "Do you want to?"

"- No." Iasquam poked his head out from his feathers and sighed. "I've disappointed everyone. I was too young, and too afraid, to fight with her, so I've also disappointed her. Though, she’d never show it. I loved them all so much, but they've all become ashes and spirits. I need to admit that. It may be best to leave them to my memory. I can teach you, Shy, as long as her swords are safe."

"They will be," promised Eremia, nodding her head.

Iasquam pushed the chair aside and stood up. "Then let's go."

They were ready in fifteen minutes. Iasquam had almost no possessions; if he wanted to sleep, he would turn into a hawk and perch on one of the chairs. The clothes he had on his back, which he said were a gift from a caravan he defended, as his old ones had been torn apart fighting would-be robbers, were his only ones. The group pulled swords from the wall, strapping them onto Yorew and Iasquam, who now looked like oversized pincushions. Iasquam chose not to look back as they exited the shack for the final time, walking along the endless maze of dirt roads.

Nobody spoke. Eremia, sobered by Iasquam’s story, trudged along. She hadn’t needed to walk this much distance in most of her life; her feet ached, though she tried to distract herself by taking long, deep breaths. Nevertheless, Eremia slowly fell behind Yorew and Iasquam, and Katerina eventually started to push her forward, arm at Eremia’s back. Eremia appreciated the gesture, as personal as it felt to her. Not that Katerina liked the concept of personal space.

As they neared the camp, Eremia stared up at the position of the sun. A couple of hours had passed, she guessed, and she’d traveled about a few miles. Everyone else appeared fine, whereas she felt exhausted. Her weakness was embarrassing to her, but Eremia tried to hide her frowns and scowls around Katerina’s beaming (if restrained, thanks to Iasquam’s story) smile.

Yorew put his arm in front of Iasquam. Both stopped as Eremia and Katerina caught up. Peeking through the space between them, the girls saw an assembly of soldiers and cavalry at the edge of the encampment in front of them, waiting patiently for what Eremia realized was her arrival. “I don’t think we tricked them with our disguises,” Katerina admitted, rubbing the back of her head. Eremia rolled her eyes.

“Did you honestly believe that would work?” said Alarick furiously, stomping over to them in his thick suit of armor. He held his helmet with one arm, pressing it to his side.

“Yes?” replied Katerina, before ducking behind Iasquam. The two men blocked Alarick from going any further, much as he seethed at them.

“I’ve had spies watching you since you left that house with him,” Alarick said, setting down the helmet and poking Iasquam in the chest. The hawk narrowed his eyes, but Alarick ignored it. Eremia saw Alarick trying to peer behind the men in search of Katerina and herself. “Why would you put yourselves in danger?”

Tired of hiding over something she had good reason to do, Eremia walked around Yorew and looked up at Alarick defiantly. “I needed a trainer,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I found one.”

Alarick turned to face her, his expression consumed in wrath. “Do you know how vital you are?”

“You wanted me to be a general,” said Eremia, pointing to him. “That you had not the thought to bring in anyone dependable who could teach me swordplay is your fault.” She poked him in the chest.

Burying his face in his hands, Alarick groaned. “What I wanted you to do is-” he began, voice muffled. A pause. “-can he fight?”

“He says so.”

Iasquam pulled out a sword and swung a few graceful arcs in the air before sheathing it.

The rest of Alarick’s soldiers moved forward cautiously, none drawing their weapons. Alarick, for his part, yanked his head out of his hands and ruffled his hair. His expression and voice returned to their usual melancholy. “He can stay, as long as he works for free. Promise me you won’t ever leave this camp again, not unless I know when and why.” He turned around, picking up the helmet in the process.

“That went better than I expected,” Eremia said, watching Alarick bark orders to his soldiers about Iasquam and a tent.

Katerina laughed. “He’ll take anyone. With the battles we go through, he’s not strict on getting new soldiers.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Eremia rearranged her hair.

“I doubt I’ll be a good fighter,” said Iasquam, bowing his head and sighing.

Yorew frowned. “They’ll find a purpose for you. I couldn’t fight, and they made me a healer.”

“You can-” began Iasquam, but Yorew marched off.

“Do I know him at all?” asked Eremia, eyebrow raised as she saw Yorew leave.

Iasquam shook his head. “It appears not, and he told me not to say anything more. Let’s go.”