The Seekers: Soul Ties. Anton Anderson
«The scarce trade you were complaining about – your raids would destroy it entirely! Not me, not any of our tribes could survive without that trade. We’re stopping you before we are ruined, at all costs!»
Jaesa’s grin sank into a smile. «Glad to hear that I would finally push you into action. Yet, something tells me that you would prefer to sit on your hands. Such is your tradition, after all. Let’s hope that I can move soon enough and leave you in peace.»
Without saying anything else, Jaesa raised her hand, holding Iskrila’s artifact. She waited until Star took it, then turned around and went back to the village. Her people followed her slow and steady gait. Sabiri looked at Iskrila, at Haileen. They all silently watched Jaesa go, probably thinking exactly what was on Sabiri’s mind.
«What will she do next?» Sabiri asked out loud. «Whatever it is, it won’t end well for us.»
«Come on.» Star handed Iskrila her amulet. «Let’s try to mitigate the damage.»
No, we all made this decision
Iskrila always hated bad news. No matter how hard she tried to stay positive, or at least neutral, it was impossible for her. She was sitting at her small desk in her small room in the attic of one of her smithies. There were no windows, almost no furniture. Just a few steps behind her chair was a trapdoor that led down to the first and only proper floor.
She paused for a moment just to listen to the sounds coming from down below: the clanking of metal, the sounds of a bellows, the creaking of fire. Usually it helped, but not today. Her people were doing work, providing for the village. But for how much longer would those sounds last?
The entire desk was covered with letters that almost buried a jar with green burning bugs, whose glow was enough to light the small room. The bugs weren’t really burning, that was just their name. But their glow was bright and vibrant. Small jars of ink sat safely on a shelf, alongside some quivers.
«We can’t risk it…» «Our concern is…» «We have to stop dealing in your region…» «Unless you can guarantee the safety…»
None of those letters gave her any hope. No, Iskrila, focus! Take it slow…
As hard as it was to read these, Iskrila made herself reread every single letter, making sure she didn’t miss any. She neatly packed the ones she’d reread, slowly but surely freeing up more and more space on the table. Nothing. Not a single piece of mail that was good! Hopeless, Iskrila dropped her head into her hands. Stressed out, her long claws once again refused to retreat back into her fingertips, accidentally making a few light scratches into her skin. Staring at the brown wood of her table, Iskrila didn’t really mind the pain.
What shall we do? Over the past weeks, the Drowners had made a few more successful attacks, each being bigger, bolder, and more remote. They attacked a few caravans and robbed an outpost. Who knew what they would do next?
But every single business partner of Iskrila – every tribe, every trader, every crafter – had refused to work with her! The village wouldn’t stop needing tools, weapons, armor, or clothes. They could make good leather on their own, although it would take much longer than to buy it. They should have enough metals for a while, along with the rest of smithing supplies. But what about the future? There was no way to obtain metal ores in these parts, or whetstone, or molding sand, or flux. They could launch expeditions to find what they needed, but it would be so much harder and more expensive to produce it than to buy it. Should they move? Should they abandon the Lake, so full of food and water? The forests their huntresses knew so well? Or should they go for the insane expenses of securing the trade routes from Drowners, who could come from each and every direction?
Iskrila needed some air. On her way down, she glanced once again at the smithy. As always, it was crowded in there. The apprentices were doing simple things, like furnishing the bellows, moving raw materials, loading the hearth with more logs, or simply standing and observing what the others were doing. More experienced workers were doing the advanced stuff, working in pairs with the real masters. Iskrila had taught most of now-masters herself, and they all loved their craft, too focused to notice her walking around. She knew she must do what she could for them. But what?
What she couldn’t do alone, they could do as a tribe, Iskrila thought. So, she ventured to Star’s place. It was always hard to find her, for she was constantly on the move, attending to absolutely everything going on in the village. Iskrila used to find this annoying, but not anymore. Now she knew the advantages, and even strove to do the same.
When someone couldn’t perform their duties, Star could do them herself. She knew exactly how much time and resources every single job would take, so she could plan the village’s expansion and growth. She couldn’t be fooled by any foreign trader or crafter about the cost of their products, or about the labor of their services. And she could teach. Every young igni had the whole world ahead of her, and Star was equipped to show and tell about everything there was.
Luckily, Star was home when Iskrila knocked.
«Ha! I won’t have to go fetch you.» Sabiri let her in. «Star and I have been discussing what to do.»
Star, being a chief, had the biggest home in the village, not counting the inn. And she used every last bit of it. Brightly lit by four big windows, the interior looked like a wild mishmash of old and new, small and big, functional and entertaining.
The entire floor was covered with dozens of thick hides, muting the hoofsteps. A big stove in the far corner, black from centuries of use, hosted a variety of kitchen stuff on its top. The cabinets in every other corner were filled with food, books, tools, and games. On the floor sat half a dozen trunks filled with more books and scrolls, clothes, bedding, and puzzles. Iskrila loved those puzzles and visited Star sometimes just to solve a few. In the other corner stood a guest bed that often bore signs of recent use.
The walls were occupied by the weaponry that Star had collected over the centuries, and she used all of them in turn during her regular training. Iskrila was always fond to come here just to look at those ancient and modern blades. Among her favorites was a spear with a wide double-edged tip with a hook. She liked a slightly curved, single-edged sword with green and red gems on the handle. A double-handed half-axe, half-hammer was teasing her imagination. And she still had no idea what animal she had to find to replicate that huge and beautiful bow, carved from a single bone.
At each of the four big windows stood heavy tables. One was littered with pieces of paper, scrolls, books, and bottles of ink. That table was mostly used by Edweena, Star’s lover, who was very fond of writing poetry and plays. Iskrila never really liked acting in them, but she enjoyed watching. She loved Edweena’s talent and treasured being able to witness her constantly maturing and improving.
«You don’t sound like you’ve made progress.» Iskrila locked the door.
«We did, but neither of us like it.» Sabiri’s hooves were already clattering on the staircase.
Iskrila followed her to the second floor, which contained two separate guest rooms, then to the third and final floor. The interior here was almost the same as on the first floor but with no stove and a much larger bed.
«What do you have in mind?» Iskrila greeted Star with a fist bump.
Star gave Iskrila some space at the table. «Sit and look at the map!»
Iskrila immediately recognized Imbrergoso, the grounds around it, the road. Little black lines surrounded the walls and the woods around the village. Towards them led a few arrows with little numbers written nearby. Small rectangles were afloat in Drowners’ waters, cutting off the rest of the Lake.
With each passing moment, both realization and fear grew in Iskrila’s mind. Suddenly, a jolt of dread shook her.
«Seriously?» Iskrila exhaled, staring at Star and Sabiri. «Are you suggesting attacking them? Or is it just a blockade?»
Star sighed heavily, fidgeted