The Call
Authors: Elí Freysson
THE CALL
The Silent War, Book 1
Published by Eli Freysson
Copyright 2015 Eli Freysson
Contents
Chapter
1.
The year 299 Post Dissolution.
There came a point where Katja was glad for the anger and fear, as they distracted from her physical difficulties. The fall weather was early this year and a cold wind blew down from the highlands, which was one reason she hadn't stopped since the journey began. She was quite cold enough, despite having marched from sunset to close to midnight. And though she'd always been proud of her stamina she knew a lengthy rest could be fatal if the temperature kept dropping.
She cursed her haste in leaving the village. She'd brought nothing except her father's axe and the wool blanket she now held around herself like a cloak. She had been both upset over the events of two days ago and unwilling to risk waking anyone. Because how could she have answered if someone asked why in the world she was heading for an area everyone avoided, and after dark at that?
People Katja had known all her life had looked at her strangely enough the day before and if she'd answered truthfully the looks would probably never, ever stop.
Even she herself wasn't that far from considering herself insane and the feeling intensified every time her bruised leg buckled in the rocky landscape or she did something which strained the cuts on her back. The village healer had been surprised at how well she'd come away but still told her to take it easy for at least a week. Yet here she was, out in the waste, without a lamp.
Just damnable haste. But the voice had been too clear to be a dream, and Katja hungered for immediate answers. She was angry with her kinfolk and neighbours over the looks, angry with herself for rushing off like this, angry with her cousin Maria for dying, angry at the creature that had killed her and two others and angry with the voice for denying her sleep after all that had happened.
I have the answers you yearn for. Walk up the slope until you see a fire. Come alone. This is between the two of us.
The voice had been calm but firm, utterly certain that Katja would obey. It had practically been a command and so on top of everything else Katja was angry with herself for giving in. But she had to know what was going on. She would go mad otherwise.
If I haven't already
, she thought to herself as something moved in the darkness. It could very well have been some small beast, but the fear that gripped her thought otherwise. She let the blanket drop on the ground and the cold cut deeper as she raised the axe. She assumed the pose that had served her so well the other day and heard more scraping of pebbles. The miserable howl of the wind prevented her from telling whether the noise was moving closer or farther away.
“Come on!” she shouted and shook the axe. She heard the quiver in her voice and tried to convince herself it was due to fatigue and cold rather than fear.
The noise ceased and Katja had no idea whether to consider that a good sign or what. She slowly turned in a circle and balanced between hope and fear. Fear of finding that, yes, there was something coming for her and hope of then being able to cut it down and quell the fear with violence.
She didn't see any movement, but did finally spot the light of a campfire. Katja's heart lurched, filled her with renewed strength, and she jogged towards it.
Her footsteps echoed a bit among the small cliffs which dotted the slope and she smacked into two of them on her way, but she didn't care about pain any more. No one crossed the slope this time of year. No one. This fire could only belong to the one who had promised her answers.
“Hello!” she shouted but only echoes replied. She sped up and felt a strange tension grip her as she scrambled up a rocky bank to reach the cliffs the fire illuminated. She stumbled but crossed the final metres on all fours and finally beheld the campfire.
It seemed to have been burning for a while and some fresh kindling had recently been added. A blanket lay between Katja and the fire, as well as a thick cloak with a hood. Beyond the fire sat a woman wearing frayed but well made travelling clothes. She was tall, probably a bit taller than Katja, with her hair in a stiff ponytail, a big knife in her belt and a sheathed sword within reach on the ground. Katja rose and took a hesitant step towards the stranger.
“Well, you're tough, girl,” the woman said with the same calm but firm tone as before. “Which is good. It will make what comes next simpler. Your name is... Katja, correct?”
“I... yes. Who in the world are you?”
“You can call me Serdra, and in a way we are kin, even though we do not share blood.”
Katja didn't know how to respond to that.
„I,“ she said and stuttered. „I... are you a sorceress? I heard your voice though you were nowhere near. You promised me answers.”
“Yes, it falls to me to explain the situation to you.” Serdra pointed at the blanket. “Have a seat. We have much to discuss.”
Katja wanted to object to the authoritative tone simply on principle, but fatigue drove her to obey. She slumped down on the blanket and wrapped the cloak about herself. The warmth of the fire was wonderful and she noticed a water bottle and some smoked meat next to the blanket. Hunger and thirst made themselves known and she glanced at Serdra, before picking both up.
“You sure were certain that I would come,” she said a bit testily in between chewing.
“Of course,” the woman answered. Up close Katja noticed that her hair was brown with white streaks, but she showed no other signs of age. Just how old was she? She spoke and in some ways carried herself much like the elders of the village, but the face was... well, perhaps not youthful but somehow untouched. It was the only description she could think of.
“Of course?”
“You yearn to know what happened the other day and how I know all about it, and what it is that makes you different from other people. It was the same way with me back in the day, and all like us.”
“Those being who?”
“Let's talk about you first. As well as what happened two day ago.”
Katja scarfed down a few more bites and pondered before speaking. She was also halfway hoping to try Serdra's patience but the woman just sat stoically.
“It was an entirely normal day,” she finally said. “Most people were coming back from the quarry or preparing food when some... monstrosity came out of the forest and charged through the gate. All our warriors were working, so people just screamed and scattered before it. No one did anything.”
That was another source of the anger. If only someone had steeled themselves and met the creature with a spear or something, things might have gone very differently.
“Except you,” Serdra said. “You alone took a weapon in hand and fought back. Because of what you are.”
“That monster killed my cousin,” Katja said stiffly. She was afraid of what all this meant. And a bit excited as well.
“And were you the only one related to her? Or to the other two who fell before you destroyed the beast?”
“No. I was just... furious.”
Serdra gazed at her and Katja felt strangely uncomfortable. They were chasms, those eyes. Deep and hard.
“But it wasn't just that,” Serdra said slowly and with utter surety.
Katja pushed the discomfort down and stared back. She didn't care for how well this stranger seemed to know her inner thoughts, which she told no one. At the same time there was a certain relief in meeting someone who seemed to understand.
“Yes,” she said harshly. “There was more.”
“Fighting has always been in your blood, for as long as you can remember, and the other day you finally got to satisfy that urge. You got to do battle with a dangerous foe.”
Katja felt a chill at hearing her feelings being described. She hadn't
enjoyed
the fight exactly, but something had indeed always lain within her. Something different. Something which made her bold and fearless in the face of pain and violence, and was the reason every boy in the village had feared her since she was twelve years old.
And as the creature stubbornly refused to die and the fight dragged, on this force within Katja had finally gotten satisfaction. She'd been furious and scared and anguished over Maria's death. But as the creature finally lay dead at her feet it was all briefly overshadowed by an incredible satisfaction.
Could something like that be considered sane?
“Am I insane?” she asked in a whisper and gazed into the darkness.
“No, Katja,” Serdra answered and leaned in closer. “You are
different
. You are young and unhardened, but nonetheless stronger than the people around you. And they sense it, and fear you.”
Katja meant to protest, to speak in defence of her neighbours and relatives. But the words stalled.
“You are sixteen years of age,” Serdra said. “But are you engaged to someone in that little village of yours?”
“No,” Katja said through clenched teeth. “I suppose I've established a reputation. And besides,” she hesitated and looked down in her lap. “I still haven't started bleeding.”
“You never will,” Serdra said. “We are all infertile.”
Katja felt strange. She'd begun to suspect as much, but it was still a bit of a blow to receive confirmation that she was forever barred from having children.
“But it is for the best that you don't have a man.”
Katja gave her a harsh look.
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Our kind has no business settling down. And it's about time for you to leave the nest, little raptor. Or would you rather your enemies catch you in bed? Around those you hold dear?”
“I don't have any enemies!” Katja hissed. But the certainty in Serdra's voice made her even more nervous than before.
“Yes you do. And they are terrible. Or do you deny the feeling that has always been within you, growing stronger with each passing year? Or the dreams?”
“Shut up.”
“The need for conflict?”
“Stop!”
“
The Call?
”
Fear and anger sent Katja springing to her feet and into the pose she'd learned from all the tussles with the boys of the village. Serdra half-smiled with a frightening gleam in her eyes.
“We can fight if you wish. It would be educational, in several ways.”
Katja wanted to fight. Everything was so simple and manageable in the heat of combat. Just pain and excitement and blood pulsing in her ears. But something about that gleam held her back.
“What am I?” she asked after a few quick breaths and tried not to let her fear show.
“You are the same as I. And you are gifted with great power and terrible duties. That is what calls you. That is the
certainty
within you, whether you acknowledge it or not, that you will be called to war.”
Serdra was silent for a few moments and gazed at her with those deep, dark eyes. Katja tried to imagine what might be going on behind them but came up empty. There was no seeing to the bottom of those pits.
“Haven't you prepared for battle all your life?” the woman then asked. “Wielded twigs against imaginary foes? Learned to throw things with accuracy? Nagged warriors into teaching you what they know? Hopped to and fro on imaginary battlefields and-”
“YES!” Katja shouted and didn't know how to feel. “Yes,” she said with less force. “What-” It was all true. But she had never spoken of these strange feelings with anyone and so had always been able to dismiss them to a certain degree - and now this strange woman was shoving them in her face.
“Who are those enemies you mentioned? W-what war are you talking about?”
“I could sit here till sunrise discussing the enemies you might possibly encounter in your life,” Serdra answered. “But you should know half the answer already, especially in light of what happened the other day.”
Katja looked at her in silence for a moment.
“Monsters, you mean? Are all the monsters of the world my enemies?”
“Most of them, anyway. There is a dire need for protectors these days. Cities and wildernesses alike conceal forces which have no place in this world but have nonetheless slid into it. They take many shapes and have many different names, but all prey on mankind, be it due to hunger, lust for power or sheer hatred. And regardless of how many horror stories you may have heard, I can promise you that things would be worse the world over if not for us. It is our role, our
duty
, to resist otherworldly forces and protect the world of men.”
Katja threw up her hands. This was all so very strange, yet fit perfectly with what she saw and heard when she closed her eyes in the evenings.
“Why us? Why me? Who assigns these duties?”
Serdra half-smiled again. It was as brief as before, like a hare darting between bushes.
“Well, there are far dumber questions than those. But isn't it enough to know that they ARE assigned? You can't run away from them Katja, believe me. Some of our younger siblings try to refuse the Call, but it always finds them in the end. Or assassins sent by our foes do. Some of them are far smarter and more influential than that wretched beast you cut down.”
“It wasn't the least bit wretched,” Katja said, rather harshly. She didn't like having her victory disparaged, and still limped after being thrown like she weighed nothing.
