Blood Song

They found a vessel from the Northern Reaches for Al Sorna, ships from the Unified Realm’s northmost holdings apparently enjoy rights of anchorage in Meldenean waters denied their countrymen. I had heard and read a little of the Reaches, how it was home to peoples of varied ancestry, and was therefore unsuprised to find the crew mostly dark-skinned with the broad features common in the Empire’s south-western provinces. I walked with Al Sorna to the ship’s berth, leaving the Lady Emeren rigidly immobile at the end of the mole. She stared out to sea, refusing to grace the Northman with another word.

“You should heed her,” I told him as we neared the gangplank. “Her vendetta won’t end here.”

He glanced over at the still form of the Lady, sighing in regret. “Then she is to be pitied.”

“We thought we were sending you here to your death, but all we have done is set you free. As you knew we would, I’m sure. Ell-Nestra never had a chance. Why didn’t you kill him?”

His black eyes met mine with the piercing, questing gaze I knew saw far too much. “At my trial Lord Velsus asked me how many lives I had taken, I honestly couldn’t tell him. I’ve killed many times, the good, the bad, cowards and heroes, thieves and… poets.” His eyes became downcast and I wondered if this was my apology. “Even friends. And I’m sick of it.” He looked down at the sheathed sword in his hand. “I hope to never draw this again.”

He didn’t linger, made no offer of his hand or any word of farewell, simply turning and making his way up the gangplank. The vessel’s captain greeted him with a deep bow, his face lit with a naked awe shared by the surrounding crew. The Northman’s legend had flown far it seemed, even though these men hailed from a place long distant from the Realm’s heartland, his name clearly carried a great meaning. What waits for him? I wondered. In a Realm where he is no longer merely a man.

The ship departed within the hour, leaving half its cargo unloaded on the docks, keen to be away with its prize. I stood at the end of the mole with the Lady Emeren, watching the Hope Killer sail away. I could see him for a time, a tall figure at the prow of the ship. I fancied he may have glanced back at us, just once, perhaps even have raised a hand in a wave, but he was too far away to be sure. Once free of the harbour the ship unfurled to full sail and was soon vanished beyond the headland, heading east with all speed.