Cal Soulshadow

Cal sat alone in her bed chamber, a note in her hand. It was from Kas, and detailed an incident that had happened last night, in Trinsic, after she had gone to bed.

Though she tried to read, the words would lose their focus and she would find herself looking at the bed, or rather, the half of it that remained unused. The sheets on the right hand side were undisturbed; the pillow, undented. He had not been home in over a week.

The holiday decor she had placed about the room seemed to mock her with its forced jollity. The stocking she had hung from the fireplace remained full. The beautifully wrapped presents she had placed beneath the tree were left unopened.
Sighing deeply, she got up from her chair and began pack them away.

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Cal Soulshadow

?My father once told me love wasnae fer me. I nay believed him, but now??

Beyond the archway, snowflakes fell from an iron grey sky. Cal shivered.

?No, Cal,? Megan chided. ?Love is what makes us human.?
Cal laughed bitterly. ?Oh, we all have the capacity te love. Raza knows I have loved, but I?ve lost just as often. It seems to bring me more pain than happiness.?

She should have left Tel?Mar then. She should have gone home, and got some sleep. But she thought of the empty bed that awaited her, and chose instead to go to Trinsic, and from there, to the Rose.

It was there that she found Mordred, and an outlet for her bitterness.
?I?m really disappointed.? She poured herself another glass of whisky, and swallowed it down. ?Apart from anythin?, he was doin? really well. He took a training and he lead patrols around Serpents Hold when the Marksmen were there?? She looked down at the table, eyes unfocussed as she tried to picture Kai in her mind?s eye. ?It seemed like he was fitting in, finally.?
??e might turn up soon,? Mordred said, trying to sound reassuring. ??e might just ?ave somethin ter do.?
Cal scowled. ?I?m fed up o? bloody disappearin? men. Every single one has done it te me. I?d say it might be summat about men not likin? a woman in authority, but it happened before I even had any. They all just piss off and leave me in the lurch.?
?It?s got nothin? ter do with it,? Mordred said.
?Then why, Mordred? Perhaps ye can shed some light on it,? she said bitterly.
Megan shifted in her chair, suddenly uncomfortable.
?There is no answer ter that question Cal. And sometimes things just happen,? Mordred replied.
?Aye. Things just happen. And always te me.? She eyed the whisky bottle morosely. It was almost empty. ?It?s like Raza hates me, or summat.?
?Just don?t go blamin? yerself.?
?I?m not. I just seem te be attracted te idiots.?

Unfair, Cal, she thought to herself. Mordred was just trying to help. He didn?t deserve that.
Didn?t he? He?d done it to her too. He?d upped and left without warning, not once but twice. Had he not, there was little doubt in her mind that they would still be together.
He had been the nice one. The stable, dependable one. The one who should have been good for her. And he?d screwed her over, just like all the others.
Men. They were all the same underneath.

?Maybe I should try women instead,? she said, eyeing Visko and Megan. ?They?re more dependable.?
Too much for Mordred and Megan, that. One got up to leave; the other went to sit at the bar.
Cal opened another bottle of whisky.
Men. Damn them all to hell.

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Cal Soulshadow

I just seem te be attracted te idiots.

She wasn’t meant to love, or be loved; or so her father had told her. “Ye belong te Raza, and no other, so ye’d best remember that,” he’d said, though the young Cal had paid his words little heed.

Growing up in relative isolation, she had had little contact with the opposite sex until she’d joined the army at the age of eighteen. Short-haired and athletic, she found herself treated as one of the lads, until, eventually, one young maul knight had dared to see her differently. The romance they embarked upon was tender, sincere and, ultimately, doomed. He had been transferred north, to a highland garrison, and though they wrote, the correspondence petered out before many months had passed.

Other romances followed, but none lasted. It was always the same. She would give her heart to someone, but before too long he would leave, or disappear, or die.

In time she came to realise that she was drawn to precisely the sort of men she should have avoided: reckless men like Lenar who provided excitement but no stability; ambitious men who put themselves or their careers before her; distant, troubled men who were too self-absorbed to notice her existence.

She was choosing badly, perhaps, because of her father’s words. Because, subconsciously, she felt she should be alone in order to please him. And yet, love was what she craved.

Mordred was the first man who hadn’t fit the pattern. Strong, dependable, kind. He had been good for her, and it had felt so right.
That was why it had hurt so much when he vanished, inexplicably, and without trace.
And why, emotionally, she had never quite managed to let go.

And then she had reverted to type, falling for the most distant of them all: Kai, a man who was actually afraid of women. It was almost comical, in the bitterest way possible.

Of course, it had failed.

And now? Now she lay, still fully armoured, on her bed, bleeding from wounds she had no inclination to attend to.
Brigands had come to Strongholt, and she had charged into the fray with reckless abandon. After what had transpired between her and Mordred earlier, she didn’t much care if she lived or died.

It was Veggy she really felt sorry for. Poor bastard had been looking forward to seeing Shelly again. It was what had been keeping him going while he fought off the legions of undead, back in Gorimdor.

And Natalie; poor, dim-witted guard, whose heart was about to get broken by the two-timing bastard.

Mordred, damn him. He was old enough to be Shelly’s father. What was he thinking?

She needed to get away. She couldn’t stand to be around here any longer. Or around them. Perhaps she would request a transfer. Perhaps she should go and help Veg clear out the undead.
As long as she stayed here, her faith in herself would trickle away to nothing. She needed to restore that faith, and quickly.

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Cal Soulshadow

She understood, now.

All her past loves had gone, one way or another. She'd never had to deal with seeing any of them move on and start new relationships, and it hurt.

She supposed Mordred had felt the same, seeing her with Kai, but he had handled it better. He had kept his feelings to himself.

Cal, however, could not help but show her emotions. She couldn't bear to be around Mordred or Shelly right now, and let her resentment show.

Strangely, she hadn't felt the same about Mordred and Natalie. Perhaps it was because Natalie was a Duchy guard, and if they spent time together, it was well away from Cal.
Or perhaps it was because, deep down, Cal knew Mordred still held a candle for her, and Natalie was merely a pleasant diversion.

With Shelly it was different. She was much younger and prettier than Cal, and could give Mordred the children Cal could not. She was the new, improved model. Cal was obsolete.

That was something she found hard to deal with. And that was why she could not bear to be around them. They were under her command; an ever-present reminder of her own failings.

She wished that she could put aside her feelings and be the army commander she should have been, but there was too much rage in her for that. She wished that Kai would return and take the pain away.

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Cal Soulshadow

She had spent the evening in the Rose, trying to forget Mordred and Shelly, and hoping that they wouldn’t come by.
She had drunk only tea. She would not find the answer to her problems at the bottom of a bottle; only a blinding hangover that she was better off without. She wasn’t the general, after all.
Setting down the tea cup, she stood slowly, her lower back and hip flexors shrieking in protest. She was getting old and stiff; her body no longer able to recover as quickly from the trials she put it through. The pain in her knees made her grimace whenever she walked up and down stairs; her shoulder screamed whenever she swung her sword.
She should have died before this could happen to her; the inexorable slide into decrepitude. Obsolete, she thought again. That was what she was becoming. Obsolete.
She walked through the jungle, feeling the weight of her armour every step. Trinsic lay ahead, its sandstone walls bright against the iron grey sky. A storm was on the way. She could smell the rain in the air.

Elise was at the gate, talking to Natalie. Cal lowered her head, anxious not to meet the young guard’s gaze. Mordred hadn’t told her yet, Cal knew; the poor girl was still oblivious to his betrayal. He had made Cal promise not to say anything until he’d had chance to speak to her himself. The fact weighed on her like a millstone.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you... I really am...”
Cal looked up, suddenly aware of the conversation between the two women.
Mordred had forbade Cal from speaking to Natalie, but not Elise, who had listened to Cal’s drunken ramblings after the truth came to light.
“Elise!” Cal hissed, gesturing her to come close. “Yer told her? About Mordred?”
Elise nodded.
Cal cursed under her breath. “He told me not te tell ‘er. Wanted te do the dirty work ‘imself...”
Elise shrugged. “Well, I’m not you, and the lass deserves to know, Cal.”

Natalie stumbled towards the jail, eyes glazed and face ashen.
Cal cursed again and went after her. “Natalie…”
She slumped down into a chair by the duke’s desk and began to cry.
Cal fumbled in her pockets for a handkerchief and passed it to her. “I’m sorry, I really am.”
Natalie took the hankie with and held it tightly, her hands shaking visibly. She was in shock; her pain showing naked upon her face.
It was anger that Cal felt then. Her own hurt paled into insignificance next to this young guard’s. She was uncertain what had passed between them, but clearly, it had meant far more to Natalie than it had to Mordred.
“I never thought he’d turn out te be this much of a bastard,” she muttered. “He’s not the man he used te be, fer sure.”
Natalie looked up at her then, her eyes red-rimmed. “What… ‘appened, exactly?”
Cal grimaced. “I admit I knew fer a few days. I’m not happy about it either, but he made me promise not te tell. He wanted te speak te ye himself.” The grimace became an angry frown. “He’s gone of wi’ that bloody girl. Bloody eejit. Must be a mid-life crisis.”
Natalie dabbed her eyes with the hankie. “Why?”
“I nay know, Nat. I’ve been singularly useless at relationships meself.” Cal placed a reassuring hand on the guard’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
“Never ‘ad one before…” she whispered. “’e was the only one, ever…”
Cal frowned. “I’ll bloody kill him.”
Natalie remained motionless, but for the slight trembling of her hands.
“Here.” Cal handed her some water. “Ye got anyone ye can turn te? A friend? Family?”
“Back in Skara,” she replied, at length. “I can’t stay ‘ere.”
Cal sighed. “Nat...yer a good guard. Ye got a good job here...don't throw it away because o’ that bloody fool. He’s an arsehole. Ye don't need ’im.”
Natalie’s face contorted. “’ow can I stand at the gate, seein’ ‘em go past? Better I leave ‘em ter it.”
“I can ban ‘em both from Trinsic.”
Natalie shook her head. “I always knew I was second ter Kaldor with ‘im. ‘e’ll be better off with ‘er.”
“She’s half his age and has been through more men then I’ve had hot dinners. I don’t know what he was thinkin’ of. I’m sorry, Natalie. If knew what he was going te be like I’d have warned ye off him. Ye’d think I would know the man I was married te, but apparently not.”
“I ‘ope ‘e’ll be happy with ‘er.”
Cal’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Yer a better woman than I, then. I hope he’ll be bloody miserable.”

She would not see Natalie again, she knew that now. Walking home, back to Strongholt, and her quarters with its empty bed, she knew that, much as her own situation was bad, Natalie’s was far, far worse. Her love for Mordred had broken her trust and cost her her livelihood.
What would it cost the army? For certain, the army in Britannia was no longer “as one.”

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Cal Soulshadow

He came back.

Cal sat at her desk, a huge pile of paperwork before her. She had been scrutinising the various reports she had received, and writing others, along with requests for new equipment and materials.
“Shit!”
The sky had grown dark before she had realised. She was late for Jordan Jurrel’s memorial service.

Throwing on her cloak, she ran down to the stable and saddled her horse. The beast gave her a weary look as she clambered on to his back, unhappy that his rest had been so rudely disturbed.
“Ye and me both,” she whispered, before digging her heels into his sides.
He snorted once, then set off at a reluctant canter, as if unwilling to exert himself any more than he absolutely had to.
“Move it, yer great bugger!” she shouted, but the horse chose to ignore her.

She arrived, somewhat flustered, at the Paladin’s Isle, to see a large crowd at the area where the crater had once been. She saw the brilliant white cloaks of the Knights of Virtue, and the copper and read of the Duchy guards. But one figure stood out.
Dressed in the uniform of a Kaldorian maul knight, he stood head and shoulders above the others.

Cal’s eyes widened.
“Evening, Cal,” he said quietly.
She looked up into brown eyes that were just visible through the slit in his plate helm. The creases at the corners told her he was smiling.
Feeling a tightness in her throat, she threw her arms around him in a fierce embrace.
He hugged her back, lifting her almost off her feet, and dragged her away from the crowd.
“Kai…”
“I did not wish to disturb their talk,” he said, glancing back at the crowd.
Cal stared up at him. “I thought ye’d gone…”
He reached up and removed his helm, revealing a face that was considerably more bruised and battered than it had been when she’d last laid eyes upon it. He had a cut over one eye, and his nose had been bleeding.
“I have been training,” he said, by way of explanation.
“Ye look as though ye’ve been fightin’!” she retorted.
“Well, the mountains were treacherous…”
“I was so worried!” she said, taking his hands in hers. “I thought ye’d gone again.”
Kai frowned. “Cal, I do not have much time…”
She looked up at him, suddenly worried again. “What d’ye mean?”
He reached into his pack and drew out a crumpled letter.
Cal took it and scanned the writing. It was a call-up. Kai was being transferred to Gorimdor, two months effective from the letter’s date.
The letter was dated November 6th.
“Kai! Why did ye not tell me?”
“I knew you would stop me going.”
She sighed deeply. “Kai, these are orders. I couldnae stop ye even if I wanted te.”
“Cal, I thought it best to use my remaining time her to train and nothing else. The stronger I am, the more chance there is of me coming back.”
“How much time do ye have left?”
“My ship leaves shortly.”
“Tenight?”
“It is already docked and waiting.”
Cal sighed again. “Kai, I wish ye’d told me.”
He shrugged his large shoulders. “This way is just easier, Cal.”
“Not fer me!” She screwed up her face in frustration. “Men!”

He did, at least agree to spare some time for a drink, and they talked about his new posting down at Sandholt, and the war against the barbarians of Treido.

“I’d have liked te have spent more time with ye, Kai,” she said, smiling ruefully.
“Then I’d best make sure I return in one piece,” he replied.
Looking at Kai now, Cal thought about those men she had lost. She thought about Mordred, and Shelly, and Vegeta, and then she leaned across the ale-stained wooden table and took Kai’s hand in hers. “I’ll wait fer ye, Kai.”
He returned her gaze. “Forever?”
“As long as we both are alive, and as long as ye hope te return.”
He nodded slightly. “That would be nice.”
Cal smiled sadly. “Kai, I love ye. That won’t stop because yer not here.”
He squeezed her hand. “The time has come, Cal.”
It was time for him to depart.

They made their way to Serpent’s Hold, and the docks.
Cal recognised the ship. It was the Forced March, one of the faster ships in Kaldor’s fleet. Kai would be in Gorimdor in just two days’ time.
They embraced again, and he kissed her, less tentatively than normal, before stepping onto the gangplank.
Cal watched the ship pull away from the harbour; its sleek hull carving through the dark waters like a blade. It moved away rapidly, sales billowing in the cold January winds, until it became a mere dot on the horizon, and then was gone.

“Commander?”
Cal turned, wiping a tear from her eye with her knuckle.
“Aye?”
It was the harbour master, a small, rather gruff man with seamed cheeks and pale blue eyes.
“Is it right that the March is back on Friday ter pick up two more?”
Cal looked at him blankly for a moment, then remembered. Mordred and Shelly.
She thought about Natalie for a moment.
“Ah, aye…” A slight smile formed on her lips. “There are two passengers fer Gorimdor, but they’ll not be needin’ the March. It’s fer a vacation, not army business. The Porpoise should do ‘em just as well.”
He looked at her quizzically. “They requested a double berth, Commander. The Porpoise nay ‘as beds, even. Tis just the hammocks in the general sleepin’ quarters.”
Cal smiled pleasantly. “They’re soldiers. Hammocks will be like luxury fer ‘em. It’s not as if they are married and need the privacy.”
The harbour master shrugged. “I’ll let ‘em know back home, then.”

Cal walked away, grinning wickedly to herself. The Porpoise was one of the slowest vessels in the Kaldorian fleet, and certainly the most spartan. She knew Mordred would enjoy almost a week onboard, especially as storms were predicted.

Her smile faded slightly as she turned for home. She would miss Kai enormously, but at least now she knew where he’d be. She’d be able to write and, if she could get leave, pay him a visit or two. It wasn’t the end. In her heart, she felt very sure she would see him again.

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