Liv was helping set up elevated Hrafn's camp. She had always been the helpful sort, before becoming a warrior, she had been a servant too, and certain habits did not leave the body easily. It had taken her years gathering coin here and there, working more than her father thought decent, until she had managed to buy herself a battered set of gear and a bit of training. It was not much but it was enough to begin.
"Hey, rookie, let the servants do that," one of the other warriors remarked, seeing her help raise one of the tents. "Those who fight don't help."
Liv did not look back. She kept bracing the stake with her foot and pulling the canvas alongside the servant. "Helping a little does no harm," she shot back. "Your hand won't fall off because of it." She was new, and she knew it, but she was not one to bow her head, never had been.
That was her first official mission with a real group. Nothing worthy of song, but still a real journey, short and serious enough that Dagny had brought her along. The leader of the group was a woman too, which for Liv was already enough to make the other seem almost legendary, she had liked her spirit, it seemed and had decided to test her there.
"Leave the tent, girl." The leader's voice did not come out like a request, but an order. Dagny was walking toward her, chewing something with patient calm.
"But—"
"No more, girl." Dagny spat on the ground. "Those who fight should not tire themselves with chores."
She had an orange in hand and without even looking at the fruit, began to cut it. Liv saw that and felt a different sort of shame. "If that thin little arm of yours tires a few seconds too soon," the woman went on, separating one segment with the tip of the knife, "you die."
"Y-yes, ma'am," Liv answered, her voice coming out lower than she wanted. It was so logical it shamed her through and through, experience really was a great thing. One day she would be experienced too and cut oranges without looking at them.
She promised herself that, one day she would be like a hero.
The thought made her look at one of them. He was young, younger than Liv expected a voroir to be, but he already looked as though he had fought far more. He lacked an arm, something that surely must have been lost bravely, and even so he still moved as if that had not taken anything important from him. He wore armor too fine to be common, too heavy to be false, and the way the mace rested near him made it seem as though the metal had a will of its own and obeyed him gladly.
A pity the Star had not favored Liv yet. She would not give up, though, for there were those who awakened late, those who proved themselves only after they were old. The Star valued those who fought, the Veil guarded those who did not stray, the Salt opened the way for the persistent. That was what Liv believed and it was why she had become a warrior.
As she watched the young man finish whatever it was he had been doing, looks like training, though Liv could barely call it that, she noticed that the weapon moved too fast for her eyes to fully follow. She had no idea how much strength that required, and even less how much skill.
At last he sat near a fire made for him alone and for the butler and the butler, in turn, held a thick old book in his hands. Liv had seen something like it before her father had one, full of figures on the cover, one of those books of tales, with stories as old as they were unlikely.
Liv liked them, they had been part of what pushed her onto that path. Her father had not liked that, he had liked it even less when she refused marriage, even less when she spent money on training. The funny thing was that it had been he himself who read those stories to her, night after night, without realizing he was opening doors he would not be able to close later.
"What do you think he's reading?" asked one of the nearest warriors. The fire was doing its best to sketch the man's face beneath the hood.
"No idea, i can't read," answered another, laughing a little and drinking in secret while Dagny pretended not to see. "Only little lordlings like him know how."
"You're blind if you think he's noble," Dagny said from her corner, opening her eyes and eating the orange now peeled. "And if you take one more swallow, I'll tear your tongue out."
"A swallow? What—" The man met her gaze, sighed, raised the bottle before the leader's eyes and poured the contents onto the ground before lifting his hands.
Dagny said nothing more, she merely sucked at the orange and spat once before going back to ignoring the rest of the group.
Liv thought the woman too severe. Very little showed itself so close to Sahirid, if there were any trouble in the mines, it was probably some frightened worker, some beast grown too large, or some crooked story swelling in the wrong mouth. The group was there more because an elevated voroir should not travel alone than because there was any real need.
She looked at him again, she liked watching him. The reliefs in the armor, the posture, the loyal butler beside him and the way he seemed to belong to some ancient tale even while standing still, as if there were always more weight around him than around other men. One day she would be like that.
It was during one of those glances that something changed. The young man closed the book quickly, got to his feet and took up the weapon before beginning to spin it in that strange way, his eyes turned toward the night.
"Weapons! Up! Up!" Dagny shouted, snatching up the axe at her side and springing to her feet. "Workers to the center!" The servants ran to the middle of the salt road, bunching together near the cargo and provisions and the warriors spread along the edges.
"No gaps!" the leader bellowed, making everyone hurry to form a circle. "With us, boy!" she shouted to the elevated one.
Liv ran to what she thought was her place after a long moment of consideration. If it had been a cavalry charge, she would already be dead. She had time to realize that and hate herself for realizing it. As for the elevated youth he remained where he was, ignoring the leader's calls.
"Damned brat," Dagny snarled, before striding toward him with something ugly in her eyes, as though she meant to drag him by force into the formation.
At the same time, the young man said something to the butler and shoved him back with a short gesture. And then it happened, first came the sound, a noise rising from the earth, like horses plowing through dry ground, only deeper, so the soil split open and a blur of fur, flesh and teeth leapt out of the opening, hurling dirt in every direction as it launched itself through the air toward the elevated one.
The mace kept spinning,
At the instant the creature was about to fall on him, the angle of the weapon changed. A diagonal swing, rising with the turn, struck the thing full on and hurled it back into the middle of the salt road. The sound of the brutal impact traveled all the way to Liv's ears.
The voroir dug his feet into the road, tearing a little through the salt as he was dragged backward.
"A crawler!" Dagny shouted, and the rest of the group seemed to understand at once. Some dropped their shorter weapons and drew spears or weapons with more reach, others ran for bows. The leader herself kept the axe.
"Keep it on the road!" she ordered. "Don't let it bite!"
Liv took a little longer than the others, again, but soon she tightened both hands around the spear and ran forward. She stopped beside the voroir and only then managed to get a proper look at the thing. Its body resembled that of a rat, but far longer, the size of a small horse. Its feet smoked where they touched the salt and a thick drool ran from its mouth as if it were rotting from the inside. It had no eyes, at least not where eyes ought to be and despite the likeness to a rat, it had no tail. In compensation it had six legs, all thin and twitching, moving with a horrible speed.
The thing growled, no, screamed. The sound came out of it like living rust, a mixture of hiss of hunger and hatred. Liv felt her spine seize all at once, but she did not step back. She would fight there today, before the Star, the Veil and the Salt, she would prove her worth to the miracles. Perhaps they might smile on her after all.
Beside her the elevated one said nothing. He only adjusted his stance and the mace turned once more.