Chapter 7 Calder
CALDER
Toftlund City, Treland
“Idisagree, my good Jarl. Astrian Steel is a far superior metal than any obsidian you will find. Legend states the gods forge their weapons from it.” Edmund muses while he inspects the chess game between them, which heavily favors the Gothi.
Thankfully, it was only late afternoon, and regulars, older Drengr, or off-duty city guards, sit in Feat’s Tavern. The old Drengr haunt is still owned and tended by warriors Calder fought beside in the War for Treland.
He stares unblinking at the chessboard while the other patrons laugh over their flagons. Smoke drifts out of his pipe as he contemplates his next move.
How am I losing to Edmund?
He hesitantly makes a move, only for his companion’s smug little face to appear even more cocky.
“Checkmate.” The Gothi moves a knight, trapping his king. “Three to null.” He collects the pieces. “I’ll take pity on you and buy the next round.”
He grumbles as Edmund approaches the bar. He leans back in his chair, massaging his temples. The Conclave cannot begin soon enough to relieve his idleness.
It doesn't help that a fiery young woman who awakens each day across the hall with a heart-stopping smile plagues his thoughts. Each time he is in her presence, he finds himself unable to maintain control.
She is Sigvid’s daughter.
The man I pledged eternal loyalty and respect to above all others.
No matter how lovely I find her face or how tantalizing her scent is to inhale, she could not be more forbidden to me.
“...play Aura.” Edmund slides a flagon of ale across the table.
“What about her?” He growls the question so severely that the young man tilts his head with a curious expression.
“Next time you wish to feel better about your game, you should play Aura if the other Jarls don’t abduct her first. She is terrible at chess and a sore loser.”
Calder leans back and puffs his pipe. “Did they teach you chess in the temples?” He changes topics from the Princess. “Did you pray, then spend half your day learning strategy?”
“So snarky today.” Edmund takes a drink, licking his lips.
“Aunt V taught me. She instructed all of us. Bjorn isn’t great, but he has a way of distracting you well enough.
Thora is a deadly opponent, playing with a level of cunning I consider unmatched.
Then, of course, Aura plays exactly like Uncle Sig.
With her heart on her sleeve and about a dozen explicative phrases every turn. ”
Calder resets the board, grumbling the whole time about having lost to Edmund.
However, the warrior Gothi is growing on him.
Once they return to Skalor, he will require his spiritual knowledge to retrieve the weapon to defeat one particular Draemonium.
One he thought was destroyed by his axe long ago.
Makt. God of Power.
Bedlam descends upon Feat’s Tavern as two dozen men bearing the sigil of a fish speared on a pike pour in.
The Treland regulars’ light laughter and chatter sour swiftly.
As soon as they squeeze in, another group fills in behind them.
The new buffoons display a sigil of a crescent moon.
They all still wear their travel cloaks.
Glad to see the moron brigade has arrived.
Jarl Odo of Sumpland Hold and Jarl Guy of Crescent Hold slip in behind their men. Their laughter slices under his skin, and the chess piece clutched in his hand fractures beneath his grip.
Edmund kicks him under the table as the Jarls order at the bar.
“Oh, good, your Jarl friends have arrived.” Edmund finishes off his ale with the same snarky sentiment as Calder.
They are earlier than they should be in Treland. “I have no intention of interacting with these fools.”
“We could handle these two chumps.” Edmund nods at the heavyset older man and the slender younger one, both dressed to perfection, as they cheer with a small group of soldiers. “Let’s send them home with a few broken ribs.”
Before they can slip away, Jarl Odo points at Calder, and the two Jarls thump down at their table, oblivious to his furious expression.
“Avardsson, is it true you arrived ages ago? How, in the Endless Shore, have you been entertaining yourself?” Jarl Guy asks, gingerly sipping from his flagon.
“Conclave business with the King.” He responds without glancing up.
“Here, lad,” Odo tosses a small sack of coins beside Edmund’s hand, “go next door to the brothel and fetch us a pair of lovely young women to amuse us.” Odo’s breath mists around his face.
Edmund looks appalled at the thought of acting as a runner boy. He scrutinizes Calder, who nods, wanting to hasten this exchange. With a glower at the three Jarls, he shoves his way outside with the bag of coins.
“Now.” Odo leans closer. “What of our task? Queen Lavinia promised me a harem of young, beautiful women for my Hold if I succeed.”
“She offered me wealth beyond imagining.” Guy puffs out his chest. “What of you, Calder? What did she promise the Iss Drengr?”
Death, she always promises me death.
He shrugs. “With any luck, Lavinia will slit her own neck as my reward for delivering the Princess to sacrifice upon an altar.”
Odo laughs heartily, clearly not understanding the joke, while Guy glances around awkwardly. Part of him genuinely wants these fools to believe him.
“Well, I cannot wait to finally drink in our objective. I've heard she's a cute little thing. Her fate is a shame.” Odo says while throwing back his drink. “I’ll have the lass in my bed by the end of the evening. Better enjoy her while we can.” His eyes twinkle with excitement while Guy snorts.
Both Jarls suddenly shiver and pull their cloaks tighter around themselves, despite many in the tavern wearing no tunics at all. Guy even tugs his gloves back on.
Calder clenches his fists. Frost coats his hands and the underside of the table. It creeps along the floor towards their boots.
I’ll be damned if they get close enough to so much as bask in her scent.
No, he had not relayed Lavinia’s directive to Sigvid. The King of Treland would declare immediate war on Skalor with his axe head buried in the flesh of Jarls Odo, Guy, and Rolf. After his old friend devoured their hearts, they would have a long, bloody war.
Sigvid should feel relieved, for those threatening Aura have yet to understand true suffering. The seidr Calder invokes upon them will horrify the demon gods his Lord Commander seeks to destroy. The gods will offer him a throne in the wretched Abyss.
“What if she is uninterested in you?” Calder taps two fingers along the table while pipe smoke billows around his head.
Don’t freeze their hearts just yet. There will be time for that.
Guy shivers, glancing around to see if he is the only one slowly freezing.
He and Odo are just one comment away from becoming frozen fixtures at Feat’s.
“We are powerful men of a distant realm.” Guy tousles his hair. “I think you underestimate the impressionable nature of a young girl.”
He chuckles darkly as he conjures the image of Aura’s very womanly naked body exposed on the hull of his ship. A woman with her curves and that defiant mouth belongs on her knees, struggling to take his cock. “Try telling her that, and then we will see if you are still alive.”
Guy’s smile is sickening. “I have my plans to obtain the girl. Oh look, your Gothi has returned.”
Calder takes the appearance of Edmund and the scantily-clad whores as his chance to leave.
The summer air feels stale, a stark contrast to the bitter winds of Skalor that blow nearly every day of the year.
He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and strides down the street, contemplating a return to his guest room at Blackwood, in hopes of finding the sleep that has eluded him.
A sentiment that seems more and more inviting as clusters of Trelanders pause to whisper as he passes by.
“There’s my good man!” Grim Woods shakes him from his thoughts. The older Drengr, one of Sigvid’s closest confidants, grew acquainted with Calder during the War for Treland. He strides down the cobblestone street with his arms spread at his sides.
The men embrace with a rare grin on Calder’s face. “I heard you were appointed the Governor of Timber.”
Grim nods, looking quite proud of himself.
“Avina insisted that I take the position about eight winters ago to regain control from the wretched Manchineel family. Still, I find myself in Salt more often than not. You know how Sigvid loathes Timber,” he laughs, “he tugs me away from Scarwood Citadel at any chance he gets. The more important question is, what brings you home?”
“Skalor was formally invited to the Conclave. Our Queen saw fit to send her Jarls instead.” He breathes in the comforting aroma of honey and leather that hangs in the air throughout the city.
“I couldn’t say no to walking the streets of Toftlund again.
” He glances over Grim’s shoulder at a group of women whispering and pointing at him, no matter how unfriendly they might be.
“Gods, it’s been nine winters since I saw you last. Do you remember when Sigvid, Slode, and I surprised you in Kaldrgataness?” His smile twinkles like a boon after all the hardships.
“I had just sat down to eat my midday meal when you all banged on my door.” Calder strokes his beard, reminiscing on better days. “You lot drank three of my mead barrels.”
Grim chortles, his deep laugh a welcome warmth to what little remained of Calder’s soul. “I hate to run off on you, but I am in a bit of a situation.”
“What has happened?”
“Well,” Grim scratches the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish.
“It’s Princess Aura. Sigvid asked that I watch over her now that she has healed from the Trial, but I fear she gave me the slip earlier.
She has vanished from Blackwood, and with no one else around,” he shakes his head.
“I am at a loss. I don't understand what could have upset her.”
Calder pats his shoulder. “You speak as if something truly terrible has occurred, old friend.”
She must still be struggling with the outcome of the Trial. She will seek a secluded spot far from her family's prying eyes, where she will have a solid vantage point from which to search for the Kilton woman.
He has a hunch about where she disappeared. “I’ll help you.”
Grim sighs like he is unloading a mountain of stress.
“Much appreciated, dear fellow! I am already late for a meeting with a couple of vicious Astrians. If I cannot smother the fire Sigvid has already stoked with them, we will lose the country as a vital trading partner.” His smile is sincere as they exchange goodbyes before Grim continues into the heart of Toftlund.
I bet my great axe, Freyja, that I know where Aura is hiding. And I would not say no to drinking in her gorgeous sight again.
If I don't destroy Blackwood in the process.
Since that night on his longship, he has settled into his guestroom in Blackwood at the behest of his old friend.
In a twist of ironic fate, his room is opposite the youngest princess, whom he has quietly overseen through her bedridden state since her Trial.
He realized his attempts to distance himself had failed when he agreed to accompany her to her friends’ home.
He still cannot fathom what transpired in Serk’s kitchen.
The Norn must mock his existence.
I vowed to protect her from the evil Mother awoke in Skalor, and I intend to honor my words.
Calder trudges out of town and straight up the hill to Blackwood, grateful for the nearly deserted road. As he approaches the old inn, he sees copper curls atop the right side of the roof.
I found you, Princess.