Dark Blade Read online

  “Did you hear that? War?” Faer said in amazement.

  “Yes. What a terrible thing!”

  “I know… what is sex, Markus?” she turned to her companion.

  “Uh… um… I d-dunno.” Markus went bright red.

  “Markus? You do know don’t you. Tell me, please.”

  The young man put his hand to his eyes, groaned in dismay, and then proceeded to, somewhat hesitantly, explain as best he could.

  Faer listened in incredulity. “You mean… it’s the act of procreation done for pleasure? And-and a brothel is a place where this is done as a matter of course? For the pleasure of the male visitors?”

  “I-I don’t know, Faer. I’ve never heard of a brothel, honestly!”

  She put her fists on her hips and huffed. “So how do you know about sex?”

  “Oh, the sailors. They always talk about it. They boast they’ve got women in every port, harbour and fishing village. They love to brag about their abilities and how many women they, uh, pleasure.”

  Faer snorted in derision. “They make it sound like less an act of love and more like using the women. It’s so disrespectful.”

  “I can’t argue, Faer,” Markus spread his hands. He wanted to change the subject. Seeing her angry made him uncomfortable. “He did say two days walk, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, two days.” She swung in the direction of the city. “Let’s go.”

  They tramped along the road, finding the scenery fascinating. The range of hills to their right slowly fell away and ended, and the sea came into sight in the distance. Markus looked at his companion. She had been very quiet since their encounter with the soldiers. “What’s wrong, Faer?”

  “Mm? Oh, that captain.”

  “So what about him?”

  “Called me beautiful.”

  “Which is true.”

  She sighed and stopped. “I’m confused, Markus. How can people find someone like me beautiful? I’m not normal, am I? I mean, I’m a half-elf and half-human. I’m not one or the other. The humans all think I’m an elf, which is only half right. What would any elf think of me? Half-human? See, I’m neither one nor the other.”

  Markus thought for a moment, then saw a handy stone marker by the side of the road, so he ambled over to it and sat down. He looked up at the woman who stood before him, arms down by her sides. “I don’t know about what elves would think, but humans certainly find elves pretty. It’s just that they do. I’ve heard sailors talk about elves. Only after they saw you, mind. They asked about you and nobody wanted to tell them, except me. So they talked to me, about elves.”

  “Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

  Markus spread his hands wide in apology. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear, and you were always quite touchy about everything. So I kept quiet. We didn’t talk that much anyway, did we? I mean, we’ve talked more to one another more these last two days than we did the previous ten years.”

  Faer looked up to the skies and sighed, rolling her head in annoyance. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry about that, Markus; it’s just everyone else was just so unkind to me. So what did these sailors say to you?”

  “Oh, just that elves are all pretty, cute, beautiful, whatever. It seems their natural looks appeal to humans. They did say you were just about the prettiest they’d seen. That was more recently when you’d sort of grown up.”

  Faer looked at Markus for a long moment. Then she wheeled and faced west once more. “Did they say where these elves were?”

  “I didn’t ask. They talked as if they were fairly common around the world. Other people too. Dwarves, scalers, furrers.”

  “What are those?”

  Markus stood up and came alongside the half-elf. “I don’t know. They talked about lots of things I had little idea or knowledge of. I suppose travelling around makes you more knowledgeable. Like we now know there’s a war on and the villagers back there don’t.”

  Faer was silent for a moment. “Markus, please do me one favour.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t ever tell anyone I’m a princess. Don’t ever call me that.”

  “Sure – but why?”

  Faer looked at him, her expression unreadable. “It could be dangerous. There’re people out here who probably killed my father for what he was, and they’d do the same to me.”

  “Even after all this time? How long ago was it? Sixteen years?”

  “If my enemies find out I exist, I have no doubt they’d send people to kill me. And probably you too.”

  Markus digested that. Faer sighed and set off again, her mind unsettled and troubled.

  They reached the city of Gorradan two days later, tired, hungry and footsore. The walls rose sheer from the plains it was set in, and the river that snaked through it cut the plain in two at that point. The sea came in to meet the city at this point courtesy of an inlet, and ships could be seen moored in the port, an attachment to the southern district.

  The wall ran round the city at forty feet in height, punctuated by towers at regular intervals. A gatehouse faced them as they approached, manned by heavily armed guards. Above them more men patrolled, crossbows in their arms, eyes watchful.

  A couple of carts had passed the two not long before and these were being quite thoroughly checked off to the side of the road which was paved at this point. Wearily they walked up to the gate and stopped as a guard held out a strong arm. “Whoa you two – what is your business in Gorradan?”

  Faer fumbled in her pouch and presented the Royal Pass. The guard looked surprised as he unrolled it, his eyes taking in the two dusty and tired figures before him. “Well, well. Two kids, one a half-elf, and you’ve got a Royal Pass? You must be favoured indeed. Friends of the king, are we?”

  “No sir,” Markus said, “Captain Lace.”

  “Ah yes, the captain. He gave you this?”

  Faer nodded. “We are to go to his house.”

  The guard shrugged. “This pass gives you the authority to enter this city and to go where you wish. The captain’s home is straight along the main street there,” he jerked his thumb behind him through the gates, “then up to the temple and turn right. That’s Parade Street, says so on the sign as you turn. Go down five houses and there you are.”

  “Thank you,” the two bowed, overawed by the sheer size of everything.

  “Don’t go into any tavern mind, you might get taken away.”

  “Yes, the captain said as much.” Faer took the pass back and folded it away. They entered the city, a bustling mass of people and carts. The streets were of cobbled stone and houses, all attached to one another, leaned this way and that in a dizzying variety of shapes, sizes and colours.

  “Oh look at it all – it’s so busy!” Markus said, wonder in his voice.

  “Come on Markus,” Faer said, taking him by the arm, “we must get to the house before I fall down through exhaustion.”

  The main street was wide with pavements on either side. They soon found it better to keep on one or the other and not wander staring around at the city. Twice they nearly got run over by wagons, their drovers shouting obscenities at them. People pushed past, one or two giving them curious looks before going on their way.

  “What’s a temple?” Markus asked suddenly.

  “Oh, I don’t know – isn’t it where they pray to gods?”

  “Oh yes, that’s it. Wonder what it looks like.”

  Faer stood on a corner, irresolute. A wide man with striped clothing came along, and Faer stood in his way. The man looked at her with curiosity. “Excuse me, but could you tell us where the temple is, please?”

  “The temple? Why yes, it’s just over there, me dear,” the man said, pointing at a large stone building with round-topped turrets. Coming to pray as pilgrims, are you?”

  “Oh – yes,” Faer said, then had an inspired thought. “We want to pray for a victory in the war.”

  “Ah, but to whom?” the man smiled and tapped his nose, before resuming his j
ourney.

  “Now what did he mean by that?” Faer wondered out loud.

  Markus shrugged. “Come on, there’s a gap in the wagons,” and he led her across the street to the temple. On the corner where the temple stood a sign read ‘Parade Street’. “This is it,” Faer said in relief. They stumbled down the street, narrowly avoiding a couple of men talking, blocking the pavement.

  “Hey, not so fast, my pretty one,” one of the men suddenly said and reached out to grab her by the arm.

  Faer pulled away and staggered into Markus. The two turned to face the two men who were walking after them, odd expressions on their faces. “Markus – run!” Faer gasped. She fumbled for her sword and dragged it free. The two men stopped and looked warily at her.

  “Ah so the little girl’s got teeth.” The way the man had said it sent shivers through her.

  “Come near me and I’ll cut you up,” she threatened. She backed away, the citizens giving her a wide berth. Nobody wanted to get hurt.

  “Oh, what a spirited one. A beauty too – hey, have you ever seen one with skin this colour?” the second man said.

  “Nope. Cor, the boss’ll love her!”

  Faer felt her bowels turn to water in terror. “Stay back!” She kept on walking backwards, casting an occasional glance behind her. The two men advanced, separating, leers on their faces. Faer didn’t know which one to face, and they closed in on two sides.

  “Stop!” came a voice from behind.

  The two men halted, turned and fled. Faer looked over her shoulder and almost fainted in relief. “Captain Lace,” she said.

  The captain held out his arm and she readily took it. He looked at her. She was almost falling asleep on her feet. “Put your sword away, m’lady. You’re safe now.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the sword bump home behind her. Her vision swam and she swayed on her feet. Captain Lace caught her as she fell, picking her up and turning her round, looking down at she unconscious girl. Tutting, he carried her, an anxious Markus at his elbow, to his house.

  SIX

  A soft bed, the softest she had ever experienced. She sighed and stretched out in comfort. Then she stopped. She was naked. Underneath the blankets, she hadn’t a stitch on! What…?

  She looked round. The room was small but nicely decorated. The bare floorboards, bending in some places, were well polished and a big rug covered much of it. Next to the bed was a small table with a vase of flowers in them. She hadn’t seen these sort before, but they were very pretty, tall and violet. The other side of the bed there was a space to the window, a multi-paned window of glass. Glass! Shutters were on either side and they had been pushed back to allow the light in.

  Over on the other side from the window was a single door of wood, and near this was a stand with her clothes hanging from it, including her chainmail armour. Her sword stood in its sheath below it, upright. She puffed out her cheeks in relief.

  She sat up. So who had undressed her? She tried to remember what had happened, but apart from relief at seeing the captain, she could remember nothing. What if the captain had undressed her! Or Markus! She reddened at the thought.

  A few moments later the door handle rattled and she threw herself flat and pulled the blankets up to her chin. The door opened and in came a middle-aged woman. “Oh, you’re awake,” she said, a kind smile on her face. “The master of the house will be pleased. He was worried about you, you know.”

  “Where – am I?” Faer asked.

  “Why, Captain Lace’s house. Lady Lace is downstairs, as is your friend. Hearty appetite he has, too. Been asking after you no end. Seems everyone is worried about you, me dear.”

  “Thank you – I’m fine. How did I get here?”

  “Well, you were carried in out cold by the captain himself. Saved you from those horrible slavers he did, thanks to your young friend, banging on the door crying for help he was. He brought you up here and laid you out on this bed. Oh but you looked so pale you did.”

  “Who – undressed me?”

  “Oh so that’s it is it? Don’t you worry,” the woman smiled and touched the blanket where one of her arms was resting underneath. “That was me. Such a beautiful thing you are too. Elf blood too, I’m told. Not seen one with such dark skin ‘afore.”

  Faer couldn’t help but smile at her mannerisms. “This is a really soft bed, so comfortable.”

  “Nothing but the best for the Captain and his lady. Lovely couple they are too. Such a shame they got no children, but that’s the gods for you. So, my child, where have you come from?”

  “Oh, a village called Selanic. By the sea.”

  “Oh, how lovely! I’ve always wanted to go to the sea, but all I get is a walk to the port and those rude sailors. Oh the things they say! I shouldn’t really know what they speak of but you know how it is.” She tutted.

  Faer giggled. “You make me laugh.”

  The woman looked surprised. “Do I? Oh, I dare say it’s because I talk all the time. Lady Lace is always saying I chat too much. Well, I’ll leave you to get dressed and come downstairs, and I’ll tidy up your room. You will stay a while, won’t you? I’d love to hear more about the seaside and all about you.”

  “I don’t know – that’s down to the Captain and his wife. Excuse me but I don’t know your name.”

  “Oh I am so sorry!” she put her hand on the blanket again. “There I go again talking far too much and not saying anything; that’s what my dear departed late husband always said about me anyway. If I speak too much tell me, won’t you, child? I wouldn’t want to think I’ve put you off by talking too much.”

  Faer laughed, the blankets shaking. “I promise I’ll say if you do.”

  “Good. My name’s Mrs. Balkan. And yours?”

  Faer told her.

  “Oh what a beautiful name! You know you’re such a lucky one; a name and a face that matches. I bet you’ll break so many hearts with your looks. You’ll have all the young lads wanting to court you, it’ll be so wonderful, you’ll see. I remember when Mr. Balkan, may the gods rest his soul, courted me. Pursued me for months, wouldn’t take no for an answer. Oh he was so romantic, bought me flowers, even. Such a charming man.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Balkan, you must miss him so.”

  Mrs. Balkan sat on the edge of the bed and mock-mopped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh yes, he was a wonderful man. Laziest man in all Gorradan of course, I always said he’d rust, never wear out, but such a charmer. Why he chose me I’ll never know; perhaps he saw I was a hard working house-proud woman, for he never lifted a finger to do any house work! Oh but there I go, speaking ill of the dead, may the gods strike me down for my disrespect.”

  Faer crossed her legs, she was shaking with mirth so much she was afraid of having an accident.

  Mrs. Balkan looked at the laughing girl. “Oh there I go again, taking up your time. You must be famished, lying asleep for half the morning. Such a waif of a figure too. You need feeding up; I tell you the young men much prefer a woman with a fuller figure. Don’t go believing those dressmakers – all they want to is to starve poor impressionable girls to fit into their torture devices.”

  “I have no – idea – “ Faer fought to control her hysterical laughing, “what you’re talking about Mrs Balkan, but I’ve never heard anything so funny in my life.” Tears were rolling down her face.

  “Oh now I’ve made you cry. I’m so sorry my dear. Look, I’ll leave you to dress and come downstairs. If you need anything I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll make you a lovely breakfast. Best Gorradan breakfast ever. You need feeding up. It’s been lovely talking to you, Faerowyn.”

  As she left Faer wiped her eyes. “Likewise – if I could have got a word in. Ohhh,” she drew in a deep breath and sat up. She badly needed the toilet. Al that laughing had done her no good at all. She found a small door in one corner that led to a wooden seated toilet with a bowl beneath it. In relief she sat down. A few moments later she dressed, wondering whether she ough
t to wear the chainmail or not, then decided to. It hardly weighed anything, and she thought it best she got used to wearing it. She slipped over the top of it a dark red jacket she found hanging on the stand. She had no idea what it was doing there but it hid the chainmail nicely.

  She opened the door and saw she was at the top of a landing. Voices came to her and she made her way slowly down the stairs. The voices were coming from the right so she turned that way, passed through an open doorway and found herself in a dining room. A long wooden table dominated the room, with ten chairs arranged around it. Two people were there, sat at the far end. Both stood as she came in. One was Markus, the other a woman of indeterminable age but wonderfully manicured. Faer wasn’t good at guessing ages but she looked the same age as Captain Lace.

  “Ah you’re up,” the woman said, a smile on her face. Markus was smiling.

  Faer smiled and bowed to the woman. She had no idea whether she should or not. “Thank you for the comfortable bed.”

  “Oh don’t mention it; the Captain was so concerned as to your safety. He spoke at length about you two on the road. I wondered why he mentioned you so much when he got here the other day, then when I saw you I knew why. You’re very striking. Markus here tells me you were driven out of your village; how simply awful!”

  “Yes. I have no home now, Ma’am.”

  “But a complete set of manners, just like your friend here. Please, be seated. Mrs. Balkan will bring you some breakfast.”

  “Oh yes, she said she would.”

  Lady Lace looked faintly alarmed. “You’ve met Mrs. Balkan then?”

  “Upstairs, yes. She – ah – talked a lot.”

  Lady Lace rolled her eyes. “I’ve told her a dozen times over. I hope you weren’t put off, were you?”