Kindred Spirits – Part One

The autumn twilight descended slowly, bringing with it the darkness of night. Stars began to appear in the velvet sky beside two moons; one of silver and one of red. A third moon, unseen by its black color, blocked out a circle of stars in the distance.

A blazing fire came to life below, sending eerie shadows flickering across the open field. The war camp was organized, unlike some camps; the soldier tents formed a ring around the officer tents, which in turn surrounded the supply wagons and horses. Soldiers of every race were everywhere, most of them clustered around campfires with their rations. All were fully armored in black, the emblem of three diagonal silver slashes embossed on their chests.

A young officer weaved his way through the wagons, his green eyes set on a large black tent in the distance. A crimson cape lined with fur spilled over his broad shoulders, his helmet held easily in the crook of his arm. The helmet was shaped like a panther’s head. He pushed the flap aside and stepped into the darkness.

“Commander?” His voice was deep and imposing, but there was a sliver of fear in his tone. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he vaguely observed the outline of a woman as she sat at a desk, her legs propped up on the smooth top. He saluted briskly. “General Michael Jerleton reporting, Commander.”

“Is everything in order?” came the cold, female voice, the silver scar marking her right eye shining menacingly in the darkness. Three more, appearing exactly like the army emblem, were gashed jaggedly across her throat.

Jerleton took in a breath, relaxing his salute and letting his arm fall easily to his side. “Of course. Kraaka’s talon is on watch duty with archer sentries on call. The thirty-third is taking second watch.”

The woman nodded with only slight approval. “And the troops? How many were lost today?”

“Nearly a hundred were wounded. Only seven appear fatal; we have the mages working on them.” He cleared his throat. “Twelve from Auran’s regiment and nineteen from Brin’s were killed.” When the woman said nothing, he continued. “The twenty-fourth was lost. Most deserted and were immediately slain by our own, and the others were killed in battle. Captain Reiffort was struck and killed by a stray arrow and his regiment needs to be reassigned.”

“That idiot,” she cursed quietly, shaking her head. Spidery fingers folded themselves in her lap, over her own light armor. A look of suspicious thought crossed over her features for a brief instant, then was gone. “Captain Brin is no longer a captain,” she remarked coolly with a shrug. “In the morning she will be reassigned. Meanwhile, her regiment will be under Auran’s command. I also do not want Reiffort’s talon reassigned just yet. Go inform Generals Daxar and Winterheart that I wish to see them at once.” She waved her hand lazily. “Dismissed.”

Jerleton nodded swiftly, saluted, and then exited, leaving the tent in silence. The woman sat there for a moment longer before pushing herself up out of the chair in thought, silver eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. Alone, she looked tired and weary, much different from her imposing exterior moments before. The tight black leather armor that clad her entire body creaked slightly as she paced, the single candle that brightened the room flickering briefly from the circulating air. She exhaled quietly.

Only seconds passed before the tent flap was again pushed aside for two figures to enter. The larger man nodded to her in acknowledgment instead of saluting, his hands folding themselves behind his back. “Generals Amberle Daxar and Sivar Winterheart reporting, commander,” he said briskly, his voice laden with a thick foreign accent. “You sent for us?”

“Yes.” The commander returned to her chair, her gaze sliding over two of the only three people she could trust in the world. Finally she met the eyes of the younger woman who stood at so rapt attention she appeared almost statue-like. “Amberle, you know of captain Reiffort’s death, correct?”

Amberle nodded quietly, but said nothing. A lone finger rose up to brush a strand of fiery red behind a pointed, elvish ear as her lips pursed. The commander went on. “I need you to take over his talon. If there are no arguments, then you are dismissed.”

“The men of his talon are disorganized,” Amberle said quietly with a shrug. “But I suppose that was the reason you assigned it to me.” Beside her, Sivar cracked a smile. Amberle saluted once. “It will be so. I will announce it this very moment. By the end of the week, those men will be willing and able to fight.”

“I expect nothing less,” the commander whispered.

Amberle bowed her head once in respect and then turned, armor clinking as she returned back into the cool night. The commander watched her departure for a moment and then turned her attention to Sivar. Her gaze took in his large, muscled frame hidden beneath the ebony plate he wore, and once her eyes fell upon his own extraordinary slitted golds, she wondered again what he could possibly be. Though she trusted him with all her heart, there were still many things she did not know about him; things she didn’t think she wanted to know. His hand rested as it always did on the hilt of the massive longsword at his hip, his strange clawed fingers tracing the designs on the pommel. She cleared her throat. “Sivar.”

His gaze rose to meet her face. “Khissa.”

The acknowledgement was brief, and for a moment, silence reigned. Finally he spoke again. “I don’t suppose it was orders that you called me here for.”

“It can be taken as an order, if you’d like.” Khissa shrugged. “I wanted you to stay with me tonight.”

Sivar was quiet for a moment. His hand drifted upwards to brush back long strands of black from his face, revealing a dark jagged scar that cut deeply into his right cheek and stopped only under his bottom lip. At last he laughed quietly. “I thought you didn’t like me that way.”

“You know I do,” she said in soft response. “You know I wouldn’t be here without you. You know I couldn’t do this without you.”

“I know a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them.” Sivar moved closer towards her, setting his helmet down upon the table in front of her. “You could do anything you wanted to by yourself. You do more for this army than you think you do.”

Khissa took a breath and let it out slowly. “You never answered my question.”

“You know I can’t. The men need me.”

“I need you.”

Sivar sighed with slight frustration. “Khissa… I can’t. There are rations to distribute, wagons to fix, injured to heal, horses to tether. I have to supervise all of those things tonight. We won’t be able to move out tomorrow if they aren’t done…”

He was cut off in mid-sentence as she rose to her feet, her lips touching to his own for a brief, enjoyable instant. His hand fell to her cheek, brushing through her thick locks of silver. It was he that broke the kiss after a few moments. He stepped back. “Please, Khissa. I don’t want to go against your wishes, but I have to do what needs to be done. If there is time, I will return here in the morning.”

Khissa only watched him for a moment, and then her features returned to the cold expression of a commander. “If that is what you wish, General Winterheart. I will be in my quarters. I expect the troops to be assembled an hour before sunrise, the generals and talon leaders up front. We will launch our attack at dawn. Dismissed.” She stood, pushing her chair aside and walking to the curtain in the back of the tent, throwing it violently aside. In seconds she had disappeared behind it.

Sivar sighed quietly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning heel and exiting to reunite with his troops.

The call of trumpets rang loud and clear through the camp, announcing the forthcoming dawn. Khissa groaned as she pushed herself out of her bed, picking pieces of straw from the makeshift mattress out of her hair. A silent exhale brushed past her pale lips as she sat on the edge of the cot for a moment. Hazy silvers stared unfocused at the trampled grass that made up the floor of the tent, one hand rising to feel the scars on her throat as if they were fresh injuries that needed to be tended. Another sigh and she had pushed herself up, drawing a blanket around her naked form.

A bowl of steaming food had been left on a table for her. Someone had even taken the time to stoke the dying fire that she had let burn out the previous night. She idly wondered if it had been Sivar, but then dismissed the idea from her mind; if he was too busy to spend the night with her, then he would be too busy to check on her.

As she returned to sit on her mattress with the bowl, the glint of metal caught her eye from the dresser. The ring had been there ever since they had set up camp right outside of the town of Geldaria, hoping to liberate the mostly-human town from the Valkavian army that had taken it over. It had been nearly a week. They hadn’t even been able to pierce the Valkavian’s defensive line and get into the city, much less liberate it. She was beginning to lose hope.

All interest had been lost in her breakfast as those slitted silvers took in every contour of the ring she had known so well. The wedding band had been discarded long ago, but still she took it with her as a reminder of her past; her painful past. She had tried to get rid of it numerous times, but every time she had broken down and was unable to do it. Even now tears burned her eyes, one or two of the salty droplets falling into her stew. She blinked them angrily away and stirred her spoon around in the thin concoction.

“Commander?”

The voice from the front of the tent jarred her and she nearly dropped her bowl. “Amberle?”

“Yes, commander. I wished to speak with you for a moment.”

“Come back, then.” Khissa wiped her face and drew the blanket tighter around her body as an act of simple modesty while the young elven ranger entered the small quarters. Amberle’s long, red hair was braided back out of her face, her light leather armor betraying no sound as to her movements. A black cape with the army emblem was secured loosely around her shoulders, hiding the Daxar family sword underneath of it. Khissa had seen Amberle fight with that sword. She hoped she would never have any cause to be her enemy.

“The troops are ready for inspection, commander,” Amberle said quietly, fidgeting slightly beneath Khissa’s scrutinizing gaze. “They await your presence.”

Khissa nodded faintly. “I will be out momentarily. You have talked to your new talon?”

Amberle smiled quite cunningly. “But of course, commander. They are quite ready to fight with us.”

“I don’t want to know, Amberle,” Khissa said with a hint of a smirk, shaking her head. She pushed the bowl aside; her appetite had evaporated. “The generals are ready to report?”

“Yes. Everything is in order. We can launch the first attack at dawn. Our archers are already set up around the city walls, ready to fire on command.”

“They better not fire without my command.” Khissa stood. “Any archer that fires without my orders will immediately be executed. Tell them that. I will carry out the sentence myself.”

“Of course, commander.” Amberle saluted. “If there is nothing else, I will wait outside for you?”

“That would be nice.” Khissa forced a smile and watched as Amberle departed through the tent flap. Immediately the false smile vanished; she knew she needed to keep the army’s morale up, but it was hard. She didn’t know how much more she could take before they returned to Palanthas.

It was only a few minutes later before Khissa and Amberle were on their way through the camp towards the front lines. Black leather armor clung to Khissa like a second skin, her own midnight black cloak bristling lightly in the wind. Her helmet was held under her arm.

All nine hundred soldiers were lined up neatly in rows, grouped by their talons. The color of their capes drew them apart, but all held the three silver slashes of the insignia across the back. The generals stood up front, waiting for further command.

Khissa stopped in front of the army, her eyes seeking out General Auran. After a moment she spotted him and beckoned him over; he obliged quickly, his dark purple cape fluttering. “Commander.” He addressed her smartly, bowing his head. Khissa glanced him over; he wasn’t exactly attractive for a half-elf, but he had a quick mind and strong military leadership. Murky brown eyes gazed to her as a thin finger reached up to scratch his copper-colored beard. “What are your orders?”

“How is the new regiment doing? Brin’s old regiment?”

Auran shrugged slightly. “As well as could be, I suppose. Our losses were dramatic yesterday because of her. Hopefully we won’t lose so many today.”

“Hopefully not.” Khissa leaned closer to him, her voice dropping. “Soldier Brin will be executed before we head off to battle. She was the instigator of the deserters from the twenty-fourth. I expect you will take care of it?”

Auran had paled considerably, but kept his composure. “Are you… sure, commander? I cannot order the execution of an innocent soldier, especially one as trained and battle-hardened as she…”

“I am sure.” Khissa didn’t mention that Brin was also the murderer of the nineteen dead soldiers of her regiment. “She cannot be trusted. If you do not have her executed I will have you arrested for treason to the army of Tal’Shiar. What will it be, General Auran?”

Auran bowed his head, looking aside. “She will be dead by the time we ride, commander. I will do it myself.”

Khissa nodded. “Thank you, Auran. It’s the only thing we can do. If we exile her she will only go to the other side.”

Auran said nothing, and Khissa didn’t think he would. She turned and walked from him towards the other generals. Sivar, Amberle, Jerleton and a draconian general named Zagar stood side by side with their arms folded behind their backs, watching her silently. They had all heard her command, no doubt. She knew no one but Amberle would understand. It couldn’t be helped.

“Today we will again launch attack against the walls of Geldaria. This will be the sixth day. We must get in the city soon; the Valkavian troops already inside will no doubt send for backup. If we are caught here by then, we will all be dead.”

“But how would they send for those troops?” Jerleton asked, his green eyes on her. ‘We killed all the messengers they sent out. They have no other way.”

Khissa shook her head. “Not true. One of their messengers is in this army this very moment.”

“You mean Brin?” Zagar shook his head. “Brin wouldn’t hurt a soul except for the enemy. I can’t accept it.” He swallowed slightly, clawed fingers rubbing the end of his scaled snout.

“We are the enemy, Zagar.” Khissa exhaled. “I myself saw her slaughter nineteen of our own yesterday. She was not aware that I saw her. She had killed a dozen of them before they even realized what had happened. You heard my command to Auran; she will be executed this morning. I cannot risk the lives of the other men.”

The generals were silent, eyes to the ground. No one wanted to say anything. Only Sivar was bold enough to meet her stare, his own expression unreadable. Khissa couldn’t tell if he was angry with her for her action or if he agreed with her. She hoped he understood.

“We must take the city today. We don’t know how long ago it was that the enemy called for reinforcements. They could very well be here today. Once we are inside the city, we will have the Geldarian army on our side and the walls for defense and will easily be able to hold against the troops.” She took in a breath. “I expect you all to inform your talons of the plan. Generals Zagar and Winterheart’s talons will be riding with me. Jerleton, you and General Daxar will wait here until all the riders have left, and then will follow us as reinforcements. Hopefully our leaving will give General Auran enough time to join you.”

“But shouldn’t my archers be with the riders? We can rain arrows onto the soldiers on the walls if we’re up front,” Amberle suggested with a shrug. “It’s worked all those other times.”

“They expect it, now,” Sivar answered quietly. “This time it will be an all-out charge. Today we take the city or die trying.”

“A suicide mission,” Zagar muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Khissa glanced to him. “Maybe so. But it is our job and we will do it.”

“You want the draconians up front, commander?” Zagar’s copper-colored wings trembled uncomfortably in the cold morning. “Most of us are bozaks…”

She paused for a moment. She had forgotten about the draconians; when the bozaks died their bodies exploded, killing everyone around them. Finally she nodded. “Yes. If this plan is to work and we can get the Valkavians out of the city to fight, then our army will be behind them and hopefully out of range. The explosions will kill the enemy.” Zagar only bowed his head inaudibly. She glanced around to all faces; most were averting their eyes. She cleared her throat. “Any more questions?”

When only the silence answered, she nodded. “Good. We ride in ten minutes. Dismissed.”

Khissa couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had ridden a horse. Since she had left Rhydin to join the Tal’Shiar army in Krynn she had been riding almost nonstop, which was a large change for her. Her entire body protested as she trotted through the underbrush; places she couldn’t even mention ached terribly. Trees blocked out the rising sun above her, while the heavy wind cloaked the sound of horses’ hooves behind her. Her fur mantle was wrapped closely around her armored form. It was going to be a cold day.

Sivar rode a few feet behind her. He hadn’t said much since they had left the encampment, and that was just fine. She didn’t want to push him into conversation. He seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts at the moment, one gloved hand holding the reins of his big warhorse and the other rested gently on the gray’s neck. Every now and then he would pat the animal in reassurance.

Zagar kept pace beside her. Usually he would be complaining about riding a horse, but he was unusually silent. His wings were wrapped around his leather breastplate to keep out the morning chill, fingers inches away from the handle of his massive axe should he need it. Khissa didn’t think there was ever a time when he was more than ten feet from that weapon. She was about to ask him what was bothering him when he cut her off with the answer. “I don’t like this.”

His voice gave Khissa a chill; he had spoken exactly what she had been thinking. “I don’t, either.”

“It’s too quiet.” Zagar glanced over to her. “There should be birds or squirrels here. There aren’t. Not a damn cricket or mouse. Nothing.” A pause. “Do you think they know we’re coming?”

“I don’t know.” Khissa’s fingers trailed down to the claymore at her hip. “But something is wrong. I can’t even hear the sounds of the city. We should be able to hear it from here.”

Zagar nodded his agreement. “Should we turn back?”

“No,” Khissa said quietly, shaking her head. “We must be confident that we can handle whatever it is that is wrong. We cannot go into battle with fear. We’ll all be killed and will have accomplished nothing.”

Sivar trotted up in front of them, wheeling his gray about to stop them. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Exactly. Nothing. There’s nothing to hear.” He pulled his horse beside Khissa’s, his golden eyes locking upon hers. “We should go back. The troops are getting uneasy. They won’t be able to fight as well if they’re uneasy.”

“I can’t help that.” Khissa exchanged a look with Zagar. It was obvious that he, too, wanted to return to the camp.

“We can’t fight what we can’t see, damnit,” Sivar hissed quietly, anger tingeing his tone. “Don’t you see that? Open your eyes, Khissa. Something is wrong. Very wrong. I will not die today because of your bloody pride.”

“If we don’t take the city today, we will die.” Her voice was icy. “The enemy reinforcements are coming today. I overheard Brin talking about it when she slaughtered her own soldiers. For all we know they could have already ambushed our camp. We cannot turn back. Do you hear me? We are not turning back.”

Sivar’s unreadable expression studied hers. She almost felt naked under his scrutiny, and at this thought she felt her face burning. She had never realized how much she wanted him until right now. She let out a soft breath and pushed the thought out of her mind. “I am not afraid to die today,” she whispered. “Are you?”

A deep exhale flooded the autumn air. Sivar looked to the side, at the trees towering over them and the dusty trail they were taking. “No,” he said finally. “We must march, then, and hope we are powerful enough to handle whatever is out there.” He looked to Zagar. “If you are so scared, draconian, then you can take your kind and leave. I just never want to see your cowardly face near my troops again.”

Zagar’s features locked into a menacing snarl. “I am not afraid. We will fight together, and die together… if that’s what it takes.”

Khissa acknowledged this silently, glancing to her two comrades. She could almost feel their anticipation and fear of the battle to come radiating off of their bodies. She took a deep breath. “Zagar. Ride back to the troops and send a hundred soldiers up front as an escort. Sivar and I will march ahead to confront the city and demand surrender. Stay behind us with the rest of the army until I give a signal.”

“You think they’ll surrender?” Zagar raised a brow to her curiously.

“No.”

“Then why even try? We could take them by surprise.”

“They expect that.” Khissa’s face hardened. “Now go. We’re wasting time.”

Zagar tipped his head to her respectfully before turning his mount and urging the mare to a swift gallop through the trees. In seconds he was gone, leaving Khissa and Sivar alone.

“Come on,” Khissa murmured, trotting down the path.

Sivar stared at her incredulously. “You just gave the order for an escort. Shouldn’t we wait for them to come with us?”

“They’ll be right behind us. The Valkavian army is immense. If they wish to kill you and I, they will do so, with or without an escort.”

Sivar sighed. She made sense. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t I always?” She risked an amused smirk towards him before heading off. Sivar gripped his reins for a moment in quiet consideration and then spurred his gray after her.

The battlefield was empty and still. Spilled blood had turned the grass red while the feet of hundreds had trampled it down into the earth. Broken weapons and bodies were strewn everywhere; most were of the white-skinned Valkavians, their burning violet eyes closed in death.

Khissa maneuvered her mount through all of this, keeping her gaze locked ahead on the walls of the city. Any normal horse would have panicked and ran at the sight and smell of the decay, but the animals used for her small army were warhorses, bred and trained for battle.

Sivar guided his gray over a dismembered torso without even a grimace; his eyes were locked ahead on the city walls. The wind toyed with his long hair, black and streaked with gold, which he had decided to leave down for the battle. “The city is dead,” he whispered, as if it were sacrilege to shatter the morning stillness. He pulled up beside her without looking at her, his eyes instead focused on the carrion birds circling above. “You don’t think they slaughtered everyone and left, do you? Would they do that?”

“No.” Khissa’s brows furrowed as they neared the gate. Spidery fingers tightened on the reins. “Something is very odd about this.” She stopped and looked upwards at the deserted battlements, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. There wasn’t any hint that anyone had been here in days, but Khissa knew better. She exhaled and passed a momentary look to Sivar. “Now what?”

He shrugged. “You’re the commander and this was your idea. Don’t look at me.”

Khissa narrowed her eyes slightly at him and was about to shoot back a cynical retort when her voice was drowned out by the sound of violent shouting. Immediately she whirled, face taking on a rare expression of shock and surprise.

Hundreds of Valkavians were pouring towards them from the trees on both foot and horseback, brandishing their trademark raakei—deadly spear-like weapons with blades on either end—and other miscellaneous armaments. Khissa’s claymore was out and ready in seconds.

“What do we do?” Sivar shouted over the melee, his own blade gleaming in his hand. “We can’t very well take them all!”

“It was a trap…” she whispered to herself, not even attempting to calm her nervous mount beneath her. “It was a trap all along… we should have known! We should have turned back!”

Sivar growled at her. “Well there’s nothing we can damn well do about it now! I’m not going to stand here and be cut down. I’m going down fighting and I would hope you’re brave enough to do so as well!”

Khissa closed her eyes for a moment, memories choking out the noise and clamor of war. Flashes of home, of Rhydin, filled her thoughts. She didn’t want to die; not now, not ever. There were too many things left for her to do, to accomplish. The world came back into focus at someone shouting her name. It was Sivar.

“Khissa! They’re almost on top of us. Fight with me! Go down with honor!”

A nod was all she could manage as she turned her horse towards the enemy. They were so close and yet so far. She could hear the sickening sound of rotting bodies being trampled beneath equine hooves, bones snapping and shattering under the tremendous weight. Their angry shouts were deafening. Khissa thought she saw Sivar mouth something to her before he galloped towards the fight, but she wasn’t sure. Her horse started off right behind him.

Instinct was the only thing that saved her as she crashed into the Valkavian front lines. An axe came sweeping towards her and she leapt from her mount, only to hear the dying scream of the animal as it took the blow for her. A silent prayer for the horse was shoved to the back of her mind; there wasn’t time for it now.

They were all around her. Khissa felt like she was suffocating as the bodies pressed in close to her. Blood splashed across her face as she swung her sword wildly, not even seeing who she hit and not caring. All she could focus on was survival.

She was astonished when she managed a glance around the area; her own soldiers had joined the fray and were managing a brutal counterattack. Khissa didn’t let this distract her. She pounded into the fighting with renewed energy.

“Khissa!” The voice was unfamiliar but frighteningly close. Khissa whirled to the sound and was immediately knocked flat by the butt of a spear. Brin stood over her. Dark curls of ebony framed a hideously scarred face, a twisted grin tormenting her cracked lips. A lilting laugh was aimed at the sky as Khissa touched the bruise that was forming below one eye.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Khissa snarled, attempting to scramble up. Brin was faster and delivered a kick to her gut, doubling her over on her knees.

Brin touched the spear point to Khissa’s throat. “Your lapdog Auran was sacrificed in my place. You’re about to join him.”

Khissa denied her an answer and instead slashed out with her foot, her heel catching Brin right below the knee. Brin shrieked in pain and stumbled off balance. The spear stabbed jaggedly into Khissa’s shoulder, piercing both armor and flesh. They both fell painfully to the grass.

Khissa, dazed, was momentarily incapacitated. She could hear her opponent getting up beside her but was unable to move; her body was on fire. Brin drew in a wheezing breath. “The poison will kill you. It will burn up every vein in your body and pollute your brain…”

But Khissa wasn’t listening. Her gaze was locked upon the shadow that had crept up behind Brin and now overpowered her tiny frame. In one mighty blow of Sivar’s sword, Brin fell dead to the ground, her eyes staring lifelessly up at the darkening sky. It started to drizzle.

“Are you all right?” Sivar knelt beside her, wiping blood from her face. His concern was not on the losing battle surrounding them but instead on her. “Khissa, answer me.”

She could not. She could not feel her limbs any longer. She could only manage a faint whisper, and Sivar had to lean close to her even that. “Poison…” The word drew the remaining breath from her lungs and she fainted into blackness.

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