Cal Soulshadow

Cal looked down at the papers and frowned. “Kelos?”
“Aye, Commander.”
The man who stood in front of her was more than a simple messenger, but bore the uniform and insignia of a senior recruiting officer. Evidently, they had thought she might need some persuasion.
Located deep in the Kaldorian highlands, Kelos was one of the smallest garrisons in Gorimdor. Cal had been there once during an exercise, and her memory had been one of beautiful mountain scenery and bitter, unrelenting cold. She grimaced.
“I suppose I have little choice in the matter,” she said, eyeing the recruiter.
He nodded. “Indeed not, Commander. However, the posting does come with a promotion.”
“To…”
“General, ma’am.”
Cal quirked an eyebrow. She had long ago resigned herself to the fact she would never make general. No woman ever had. This was an unexpected development indeed.
True enough, Kelos was a small and remote garrison, rarely troubled by anything more than the odd bandit attack. An ideal garrison for a newly minted general, then. But why now? Why her?
Cal eyed the recruiter. “What’s the catch?”
The recruiter smiled ruefully. “Kelos has been experiencing some difficulties of late.”
“Difficulties?”
“A month ago a patrol ran into some undead. Only two men survived to warn the garrison; one of these later died from his injuries. The others, including the commander, are either dead or missing.”
“I sense we’re not talking about a few skeletons here.”
“No, Commander. It is far, far worse.”
“Xathos.”
“Indeed. General Franklin was killed a fortnight ago. According to the acting commander, he now serves as a minion, along with those killed in the first ambush. It’s a bad situation.”
“And I presume I am being brought in because of my experience with undead and Xathos cultists in particular.”
“And because you are a good Razan.”
Cal nodded slowly. “I see. And who leads the garrison now?”
“Tobias, the acting commander. But he is far too inexperienced. He only made captain six weeks ago. He is barely 24.”
“How many men?”
“Forty seven at last count.”
“Looks like I’ll have my work cut out for me, then.”
“Aye, Commander, you will. Are there any of your men you wish to take with you?”
Cal leaned on her desk, fingers steepled. “I’ll take anyone who is willing. Mordred, if he wishes. I will need a good captain. Kai…he has experience of Xathos. And he will feel at home in the mountains. Visko. She is a good Razan. Gorn. Azedine Kesh. Jess Fortus, if you can track her down. And much as I’m loathe to admit it, I’ll need a cleric. Kelen Everard would be my choice. Despite being a Dondinian, he is a good man, and has also experience of fighting against Xathos.”
The recruiter finished noting down her suggestions. “Any others?”
“Captain Duo and Jhaniara will be returning to the Eternals in Vaast, I expect? And Talon…probably has his own plans. He is a father now. I’d not want to risk him in Kelos. Perhaps McJepp or Kas Althume would like to lead the Vipers there.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Cal looked around at her library and felt a pang of regret. She would miss this place. It was highly unlikely that her new quarters would be quite so luxurious.
“How long do I have left here?” she asked.
“The ship leaves at first light on Monday morning. As you imagine, Commander, Kelos cannot wait much longer.”
She nodded. “Very well. That will give me time to settle my affairs.”

She showed the recruiter out. He had other people to see, and she had much to do. There were goodbyes to be said, and things to take care of. As resident priest, her first concern was for the Temple of Raza, but also what lay within. The remains of Tasker, and of Glory.

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Cal Soulshadow

She spent two days clearing her home; packing the necessities into crates and leaving what she could not take for the poor.
The temple had also been stripped; the tapestries packed away; the braziers extinguished. One task remained. The most difficult of all.
“I’m sorry. I thought ye’d find some peace here.” She was addressing the tomb, or rather, he who lay within. “I suppose I thought I’d find some peace here, eventually, but it was not te be. I’m afraid I’m going te have te move ye once more, old friend. I’m going te send ye back te Him.”
Tasker, first disciple of Raza and wielder of the mythic axe, Glory. He had died here; slain by Mondain as he protected Kaldor, the elder son of Wolfgang. Kaldor had gone on to become first king of the nation that bore his name and, later, the united kingdom of Gorimdor, but Tasker had never set foot on those lands. For that reason, Cal had been opposed to sending his remains there. Her home was not his; nor was it Glory’s.
Carefully, reverently, she removed the bones from the tomb and placed them in a box, along with the fragments of the shattered axe, Glory. She knew what she had to do now. She knew where she had to go.

The air above the Lake of Fire shimmered with the heat. The balron, Raza’s guardian, had not bothered her today; perhaps it sensed the precious cargo she carried, and decided to let her be.
She kneeled on the warm stone, just as she had so many times before, and opened her wrist with a sharp, steel blade. Crimson flames blossomed on the surface as her blood was consumed. She sensed Raza’s approval. Her blood sacrifice had been accepted.
“My lord Raza…” She turned her gaze heavenward, to the single crimson star that hung directly over the Lake of Fire. “…I return te Ye the First, and that which he bore.”
She placed the box upon the lava, where it floated for a moment, before being consumed in a roar of flame.
Tasker and Glory had returned home. Now it was time for her to do the same.

She slept fitfully that night, but when she finally succumbed to sleep, she found herself in familiar surroundings.
Black, volcanic sand stretched as far as the eye could see. On the distant horizon, a volcano belched ash and smoke into an angry red sky.
Raza’s realm. There was no mistaking it.
It was then that she saw him; a huge man, perhaps six and a half feet tall, and impressively muscled. His hair was cropped close to his skull; his eyes, when he turned to look at her, were a haunting ice blue. A deep scar ran diagonally across his throat.
From what she knew of the legend, the neck wound had left him unable to speak. Perhaps that remained true, even in death.
“Tasker,” she said.
He nodded once, then slung the great axe across his shoulder and set off in the direction of the volcano.

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Cal Soulshadow

It was still dark when she woke; the first feeble rays of Britannia’s sun had not yet broken through night’s shroud.
She dressed quickly and quietly, yet her movements seemed to echo through the house now that it had been stripped of its carpets and wall hangings. Shivering, she wrapped her cloak around her and stepped through her front door for the last time.

Kai was waiting for her outside, his kit bag slung casually over his shoulder. They travelled in silence to Serpent’s Hold; no words were needed.
She was both grateful and relieved that he had chosen to remain at her side, and wondered who else might come to serve with her. Victor, the former Trinsic guard captain, had promised as much, though she had given him time to think on his decision. She did not ask that he abandon his life here to serve in Gorimdor, but he seemed disillusioned with Britannia, and preferred serving with the Kaldorians.
As for the rest, she didn’t know who would end up fighting alongside her in Kelos, and who would find posts elsewhere. Many, including the general, had already returned, as though they had sensed that the recall would be coming.

The ship was waiting for them at the docks; a sleek vessel designed for speed rather than comfort. Cal did not linger; her house was now in the possession of Gorn’s wife, Calantha, and those possessions she could not bring with her had been disposed of. There was nothing to keep her here. It was time to leave.

As the ship pulled away from shore, she looked not back at the land where she’d spent so many years; where she’d lived and loved and fought and bled, but forwards, at the horizon. A new day was dawning, and a new life was awaiting her in Gorimdor.

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