The Captain

They didn’t have to run for long before reaching the village, though it was long enough for the sun to set. The village’s tall walls, usually enough to keep monsters and bandits out, did nothing to stop the shadowed figures throwing lit torches over it. The orange glow within the walls seemed to grow brighter with each torch added to the blaze.

The trio slowed to a halt as they drew near, remaining out of sight of what appeared to be more bandits. Saga ducked into a bush at the side of the road with Master Dorrin following closely after. “Dragon’s damnation…” Saga breathed, not daring to speak any louder. “They’re burning the village. This must be why they stopped sending the lumber, but it’s been days. Why are they just now burning it down?” She looked at her mentor. “Are these the same bandits you’re after?”

Master Dorrin shook his head, frowning. “No. The villages they’ve attacked weren’t burnt down. Windows smashed in, doors broken down, gates toppled, sure, but no signs of arson.” He gave her a quick glance. “This is something else.”

She nodded and turned back to the village. “What do we do? If there are survivors in the village we have to save them, but even you and I can’t take on this many.”

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again as his eyes locked on a fixed point in the distance. Concerned, she followed his gaze to see what he was staring at.

A woman stood apart from the arsonists, wearing what appeared to be a faded military uniform. Saga could barely determine her features between the light and the distance, other than her greying hair, the hard lines that made up her face, and her large dragon horns. As Saga watched, the woman turned her head, revealing that one of her horns, reflecting silver and red in the firelight, was broken off at the halfway point. A first silver.

“Captain?”

Saga, snapped out of her observation by her master’s voice, looked him with an eyebrow raised. “You know her?”

His frown deepened. “Stay here.”

“But-”

“Saga!” he hissed, his eyes locked on hers. “We made a deal! As soon as bandits become involved, you do exactly as I say. Remember?”

She met his gaze evenly. “If you recall, Master,” she began, keeping her voice low, “you were specifically talking about the phantom bandits further east, and you’ve said yourself these aren’t them.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly controlling his temper. “There’s more going on here than you understand. Please, just wait here. I promise I’ll be back.” He was gone before she could respond, disappearing into the shadows.

She growled in frustration, every fiber of her being wanting to follow him. Instead, she lifted her hand to her head, palm up in a practiced gesture, and felt a familiar weight on it. “Dapper, drop a line and follow Master Dorrin. Hurry!” The beatweaver gave her a tiny wave, turned, and leapt into the darkness.

Saga grabbed the line of silk he’d left behind, wrapped it around her fist, and held it up to her ear. She and Dapper had figured out a long time ago that his silk could carry sound a considerable distance, and they’d used the trick to great effect when she was a child. It didn’t take long for the sound of voices to come to her ear, and she kept an eye on Master Dorrin in the distance as he approached the older woman.

“What do you think you’re doing, Captain? This is too far, tell your men to stop!” This was Master Dorrin’s voice, low and gruff.

“Dorrin Chase. A pleasure to see you, too.” A woman’s voice, her tone dry.

“Not the time, Captain. Stop them.”

“I will not.” The Captain’s tone was firm, authoritative. Some of the bandits around the pair had stopped, watching them, but none of them moved any closer. “This village needs to burn, Dorrin.”

Master Dorrin stepped closer. “’Needs’? What does that even mean? What about the people in there!?”

“The people were…gone when we arrived.” The Captain spoke hesitantly, as if choosing her words carefully. “Something’s been wiping out villages to the east, and I think it came here.” She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice until Saga could just barely hear her. “I assume that’s why you’re here, but you’re too late.”

“I didn’t know it had reached this far, actually,” he replied, lowering his voice further to match hers, “and I still don’t know what’s causing it. What’s going on?”

The Captain stepped back and away from him, turning towards the fire. “I can’t say.”

“That’s a problem, Captain.” Master Dorrin moved to stand in front of the Captain, blocking her view. Well, he would be if she wasn’t taller than him by a head. “Because if you can’t tell me, it’s because you don’t know, but I’m willing to bet you do. You wouldn’t burn down an empty village, so talk. We need to know.”

“I can’t!” She stepped forward aggressively, her shout so loud Saga could hear it even without Dapper’s help. “If I tell you, it will spread the danger! If we drop it now, the threat will have passed!”

He was in her face now, shouting back. “How can you know that!? There’s no monster in Blake’s entire book that’s dangerous simply by knowing about it, and I refuse to believe these attacks have been your doing!” He took her by the shoulders, but before he could continue, several of the onlookers rushed forward. Saga lost sight of him in the flurry of motion, and she tensed, beginning to stand.

“Hold!” The Captain’s voice made both Saga and the bandits freeze, and Master Dorrin eventually reappeared on his feet. “This man is not to be harmed. Get back to your duties.” She walked confidently towards him. “I’ll handle him.”

As the other men and women departed, Master Dorrin stepped closer to the Captain and muttered something Saga couldn’t make out. “Dapper,” she hissed into the line, “get closer, I can’t hear them.” The line vibrated once in confirmation, then a moment later the voices returned.

“...sorry,” the woman was saying. She seemed genuinely distressed. “Please, believe me. Go back to Beacon’s Ridge. Tell them. I give you my word, if you walk away right now, the threat is gone.” She reached out to Master Dorrin, but he pulled away.

Saga couldn’t see his face from where she hid, but she could hear the bitterness in his voice. “I’m trusting you, Captain. Don’t make me regret this.”

Saga saw the Captain and her people prepare to leave as Master Dorrin walked back to her. They were leaving? Just like that? She waited until all of the bandits had left before giving the line a light tug and moving to confront the older man. “What was that all about? Do you know her?”

He grimaced. “You could say that. I can’t go into it, but she’s…trustworthy isn’t the right word, but it’s close.” The old man turned to observe the burning village.

Dapper appeared on Saga’s shoulder and rapidly tapped out a message to her.

Saga’s eyes widened. “Master, there’s a survivor inside!”

“What?” He turned his head to her sharply, then back to the settlement. “Are you sure?”

“Dapper saw someone standing in the middle of the village square, screaming!”

“Damn.” He closed his eyes, clearly conflicted. “If the Captain says the village is dangerous, I’m inclined to believe her, but…”

“But…?”

When he looked to her, his face was resolute. “I can’t knowingly let someone die that way, and I’m sure you agree.”

Saga nodded in agreement and began walking briskly towards the village gate, readying her mind. This is just a normal fire. No Redlight, no Redsong, no magic. You can do this. She found the gates barricaded from the outside, then surveyed the wall. “Shall I dispose of this mess, or do you want to find another entrance?”

“Do it.”

She began to ready her Will in answer, thinking of an appropriate spell. Part of being a trained mage was that her power was only limited by her imagination and her understanding of elemental forces. She could do anything from send the pieces of the barricade flying to blowing a hole in the wall to creating a set of stairs going over it.

After consideration, she decided on the first option. Blowing a hole in the wall could be dangerous for anyone inside and would allow the fire to more easily escape into the forest, something nobody wanted, and even after hours of mental rest she didn’t know if her Will was strong enough to manipulate the individual bricks in the wall to create the stairs; she certainly wasn’t strong enough to bend the wall itself. She was proficient in earth magic, but not practiced enough for that.

She held out both hands and made a sweeping gesture, as if performing a breaststroke, and channeled her Will. She could feel the energy reach out of her, grab the assorted pieces of wagons and furniture barring the gates, and throw them to the side. Thankfully, they hadn’t caught fire yet, and they crashed safely through the underbrush. What would have been the work of at least minutes with the pair of them was reduced to seconds.

The display of power left her fatigued, not having fully recovered from the fight earlier— don’t think about it —and she bent over to catch her breath. “Dapper,” she gasped to her friend, “take Master Dorrin to the survivor.”

The beatweaver waved and hopped into her Master’s waiting hand, pointing the way. With the gate now open—the bandits hadn’t actually barred the gates, probably because whoever did so would’ve been trapped inside—she could hear the screaming in the distance. Master Dorrin pulled up his green scarf to cover his mouth, then ran through the gate.

She was struck by how angry it sounded. This wasn’t a cry of grief, or of pain. This was rage, hatred in its purest form. It was understandable; this survivor had likely witnessed the burning deaths of their loved ones. Still, the scream wasn’t wordless as she’d assumed. They were saying something, though she couldn’t make it out. It wasn’t in the common tongue, and it was faint from a combination of the distance and the roar of the flames and crackling of burning wood.

Something about the muffled words itched at her mind, made her uncomfortable, and she had to fight the urge to plug her ears. She needed to be ready in case Master Dorrin called for help.

Without warning, the screaming grew louder and more frenzied, though still unintelligible, and her Master gave out a sudden cry. A fight?

She hadn’t caught her breath yet, but there wasn’t time. Master Dorrin needed her. She ran through the open gates. Had the bandits left one of their own inside?

She did her best to avoid looking at the fire as she ran, instead observing the bodies that littered the area around the gates as she passed. She couldn’t help but note they were of all ages, all crafts. She saw farmers, a butcher, based on his bloodstained apron. She stumbled to a stop and looked again. Not a butcher. That was a blacksmith’s apron. She recognized the loops at the waist and the pockets that would hold things like gloves, chisels, and punches.

There was no sign of a hammer, though, and the smith’s face and hands were covered in dried blood. She looked around at the surrounding bodies and saw the same thing. Blood on their faces, hands, and clothes. They looked like they’d all been in a giant fistfight. Perhaps they’d been fighting desperately to repel the bandits?

A dead guard, in the same condition but his sword and sidearm still in their sheaths, told her this wasn’t likely. These people had been literally fighting tooth and nail, forgoing any weapons or tools that were available.

D_ragon’s breath, what happened here!?_

The screaming in the distance abruptly stopped, and she looked up in the direction it had been coming from. This mystery could wait. Master Dorrin would need her help, one way or the other. The smoke was getting thick; she cursed herself as it invaded her lungs for not bringing a scarf or mask to block it out.

She arrived at the village center a short time later, coughing, and found him standing over a corpse. This one had the same bloody visage as the bodies she’d passed, though she guessed this was the survivor they’d come in for. Flames surrounded them on almost all sides, and she rushed forward to take her Master by the shoulder. “What happened!?” She realized she was shouting to be heard over the growing roar of the blaze around them, though it made her throat feel raw once more to do so.

He turned to her, looking dazed. Afraid he’d been injured, she gave his body a quick glance, but could see no visible wounds. “Master Dorrin, what happened!? Are you alright!?”

It was only when she shook him that he finally focused his eyes on her. “Saga? I…I don’t know.” The old man looked shaken as he looked down at his drawn saber, wet with blood, and then at the body. “He…I…he attacked me as soon as he saw me. Kept screaming something I couldn’t understand, and he came at me.” He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “I had to kill him. He came at me,” he repeated. “He was like an animal, he was mad.”

Dapper appeared on her shoulder, tapping out a message on her cheek and confirming Master Dorrin’s words. She lightly patted Dapper gratefully, looked down at the body once more, then back at the older man, her face grim. “It’s done, Master. We need to get out whi-“ she coughed again, placing a hand on his arm to steady herself as she doubled over, struggling for breath. Her throat and lungs felt like they were on fire.

Seconds later, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder and felt a cloth pressed against her mouth and nose. It smelled of pine. She looked up, seeing that her master had pulled his scarf and was holding it to her face. Evidently, her coughing and touch had snapped him out of whatever had overcome him. “It won’t keep all the smoke out,” he shouted over the flames, “but it’ll help until we get out of here! Come on, I’m not carrying you!”

Saga took a steadying breath, coughed, then tried again. This time she was able to get enough oxygen in her to recover. She stood, nodded appreciatively to him, and turned to head back the way they came.

Behind them, only ghosts remained.