Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
The Wraith
A time came when the militia training became tiresome. She was by far the units’ most exercised member, having the most training hours by far. Not being physically very big or strong, she had to focus on technique and principles to be effective. She simply couldn’t afford to solve martial problems by strength or weight like many of the men could. Her technique had to be perfect to prevail and she had every reason to spend day after day perfecting something. Bernard sometimes watched her practice.
“Your dedication to weapons drill is something to behold, Ala. I wish that my men in the Regiment would have had such single minded drive. A few more of them might be alive if they did. It’s almost too much.”
“I don’t know what it is Bernard, it just… feels right. Natural. I don’t know. Like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, most especially when I’m practising with blades.”
Swordsmanship fascinated her, the world of danger and opportunity that a swordsman saw continued to hold her attention and her lifespan meant that she had time to indulge in understanding it. The practice was also her moment of relaxation. A few hours when she had to focus on nothing more than the present. She finished the sword form and turned to Bernard.
“I’m not sure why, Bernard. Ever since I was very little I wanted to know more about swords. It just feels right, in the sword forms, I feel… comfortable. Free. I don’t know.”
“Well little lass, you’re doing alright and you’ll be a great swordswoman, someday, if you keep at it.”
She’d been in the village a century or more by now and she looked like a teenager of fifteen or so. Bernard taught her everything he could think of and she spent weeks upon weeks practising, improving on every detail of every technique with a single minded drive that frequently left Bernard shaking his head as she frequently practised into the night. She would sneak off into the forest or up to the ruins whenever she could.
She would take her own sword with her then, diligently working through sword-forms and drills on her own, again and again, perfecting every stroke, thrust and cut, often till well after dark. She always tried to understand the underlying logic of a form or technique, soaking in the system of exchange and threat that defined the way a sword form was constructed. She learned that the forms that they used to learn weren’t more than vehicles to communicate concepts. Concepts that, once you knew them well enough, needed to come naturally to a swordsman, summoned without conscious thought whenever needed. As hard as she tried though there were some forms and techniques that she couldn’t fully grasp the underlying logic of and even Bernard didn’t always have adequate answers.
The effect of the moonlight on her sword blade at night was so spectacular that she would go out on full moons especially to practice. She discovered that she could completely sheathe herself in the fire she had at her control. Somehow it was especially easy during the full moon. She liked the ruins and she had visited them regularly even before she needed a place to practice sword craft. She’d spent so much time exploring every book and cranny of those ruins she’d even found a fallen stone with an inscription on it. It was broken, but the carving was both in common and in elven. To her surprise and delight, she’d even been able to read both languages, which was a skill she hadn’t really practised in years. She’d almost forgotten she could do it. It made her happy though as it was something solid she remembered from before Thetwick. It was a kind of connection to whatever world or family she’d once had.
The inscription was damaged but she was able to make out that it spoke of a friendship between a human and an elven house. The human house, De Baerle, had a shared ancestor with the elven house of Linhad. She couldn’t really piece it all together, but it seemed that the elven woman, whose first name she couldn’t make out had borne someone called Gerard de Baerle a child and had continued to visit the De Baerle family ever since. She spent some time trying to figure out the elven woman’s first name, but she wasn’t really able to determine much other than that it likely started with a ‘Q’. The inscription had been carved to commemorate the half elf Maximilien de Baerle’s funeral about one and a half centuries before, with the text also engraved in elven to honour his half elven heritage and house Linhad.
The inscription referred to the place where the tower stood by a different name. The hill where the keep was built was called Alator, according to the elven version of the text. It didn’t say anything about why the spot had an elven name that presumably predated the keep. She hoped that one day she would meet an elf that could explain it. The inscription fascinated Ala as she’d figured out it must have been carved somewhere around the time she was born. She wondered if the Linhad lady might have known her parents and whether she might still be alive. She knew it was fanciful, but she enjoyed the fantasy every now and again.
The ruined tower was her own safe little refuge away from Thetwick and she’d go there often to practice sword work or just to meditate. Sometimes she just reread the inscribed stone or sat and watched the animals, coaxing them closer with bits of food.
One day a group of seven men came to see Bernard, the leader, Chad, who had helped drag Bernard’s chests to his house years before, nodded to Ala in greeting when she answered the door. Chad had always been civil to her. She had been busy preparing a meal but she stayed in the common room now, curious to see what the commotion was about.
Chad spoke, “Captain, can I bother you about somethin’?”
“What can I do for you, Chad?”
“Well, Cap, we’re worried. We were out huntin’ round dawn a while ago… and we saw somethin’, way out by the ruined tower, to the north.”
“Something that concerns the militia?”
“Well maybe, I’m not right sure. We saw a fire wraith, large as life, we all did,” he looked round at his companions who nodded and grunted in agreement. “Not close, but in the distance. Unmistakeable, Captain.”
The others nodded and grunted various variations of “Aye, that’s what it was.”
Ala felt rooted to the spot. She knew exactly what or rather who they had seen before dawn. She didn’t need much rest and she often crept out hours before dawn to practice sword forms. She liked to be able to freely apply her fire however she pleased. Luckily Chad and his companions gave no indication that they knew it was her. Still, she kept very quiet and tried to think of a way to get back to the kitchen unnoticed.
“A fire wraith? What’s a fire wraith?” Asked Bernard.
“I don’t rightly know, Capt, but it was like a young woman, completely covered in flame… it looked like she had a a sword and was dancin’, fairly flyin’ around those ruins, like wild fire, trailin’ long sheets of flame, musta been twenty, thirty yards behind her. We all saw it from at least half a mile, more even. It was unnatural, evil we think.”
“I see. I’m not completely sure haunted towers are part of the militia’s brief, Chad.”
“Oh Capn’ I know, but I wanted to ask you to be allowed some weapons and armour to hunt it.”
“I see. You’re not worried that this fire wraith might be dangerous?”
“We’ll bring lots of water, Capn’ I’m sure we’ll be alright. We’re stout lads, you’ll see. We’ve been payin’ attention at you lessons, we have, Capn’.”
“I suppose the militia can offer some support. Come to armoury on the morrow, after the noon meal. We’ll kit you all out. I’ll give you a arms right… say for a week?”
“That’d do us right good, Capn’, thank ya.”
They left clearly satisfied that they had succeeded. Once they had left, Bernard turned to Ala, who was still standing in the same spot she had felt rooted to.
“Want to lay a wager Ala? I bet they come back empty handed except perhaps for a tall story or two? They’ll never find this fire wraith woman thing, ha! I’d bet my beard it doesn’t exist! Probably claim they chased it off!”
Ala decided she had best fess up, before it went any further, “err… they sort of already did find her, I guess…”
Bernard looked at Ala a little more intently, “what are you on about Ala? Why are ya lookin’ so anxious, lassie?”
“Well… you know I don’t need much rest and I like to go out and practice my sword work?”
“Yessss…?” he said apprehensively.
“And… well… there’s eh… the thing with the fire…”
“What of it?”
“I can actually make quite a lot of fire… like really a lot… Mostly however much I want and it doesn’t harm me…”
“You’re the fire wraith?” Bernard burst out in hearty laughter, “truly Ala? You can cover yourself completely in fire? They’re not exaggerating? Thirty yards? Those poor yokels are going out to look for you? You’re their fire wraith?”
He burst out laughing again, unable to continue speaking. When he had finally regained his composure, he said, “that’s hilarious, Ala, but the truly interesting thing here is that you can really do all that with fire. You say you can completely engulf yourself in flames and more? Without an existing fire source?”
Ala nodded self consciously.
“Amazing, that’s some full on magic, right there, beyond anything I think I ever saw. Don’t things… catch on fire around you?”
“Not if I don’t want them to?”
He was shaking his head, “unfathomable depths to you, lass. I shouldn’t be so amazed all the time, but I just can’t help it.”
“But… I mean, I’m happy you’re not angry… or horrified. Overjoyed actually. But… what should I do?”
“Do? Nothing. Or well, find somewhere else to practice your fire-sword-dance things… or maybe just skip the fire altogether for a little while. Be better if we don’t get groups of armed peasants combing the countryside, there’s too much potential for trouble in that. I remember a vampire hunt near Easthall, by the coast, fuckin’ mess that was, the peasants were finding ‘vampires’ at every other hamlet… sometimes stringin’ ’em up or burnin’ them. It was a right nasty business. Anyway, I digress. No fire for a bit, till things simmer down,” he finished with another chuckle which built into another hearty laugh, “…simmering down… yes that’s what we need…” he was seemingly very amused by the idea of a problem with a Fire Wraith ‘simmering’ down.
“That’s it?”
“Well, we can hardly call Chad in here and say ‘oh you don’t need to go out, she’s right here and reasonably friendly too, once ya get to know her,’ can we now?” Bernard couldn’t stop himself from laughing about it again. “Don’t mind the flames Chad, we could say, it’s all good… it’ll… simmer down…” he couldn’t help but laugh out loud again. It took him some time to recover.
Ala was silent for a moment, not quite able to see the funny side, “no I suppose not,” and the she had to giggle a little too, infected by Bernard’s mirth.
“So we’ll just let them traipse around the ruins for however long they want and find nothing. They’ll probably make up a story about having chased it off or something and that’ll be that. You can probably go back to your odd habits in a few weeks. We can go out and you can show me your fire skills then too, I’m mighty curious now. One thing though, I’m not shaving my beard!”
She had to smile about that, too.
Chad and his friends did indeed go out looking for her. They came back after a few days, claiming they had chased off the wraith. They seemed to have convinced themselves that it was true. After that she couldn’t help smiling to herself when she overheard villagers speculating. Weeks later she and Bernard went out into a secluded part of the woods and she showed him the fire. He was truly speechless for once.
“Well Ala, that’s well beyond uncanny. What else can you do? Can you make it so the flames don’t hurt me either? Perhaps cover me in harmless flames too?”
To her surprise, it turned out that she could.
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