Whisper | 2 Greentide, 1723 CE

Whisper’s days consisted of a dull routine of waking, training, eating, and reading. She didn’t mind the routine, enjoying her indulgence of the part of herself that needed a break from the unpredictability of the wilds. Lawbrin however, was not handling the time off well. For someone usually so relaxed, he seemed almost unable to sit still.

They sat in the long dining hall, eating a lunch that was far too elaborate for only two people. The Council was very prominent in political and economic affairs across the Continent, but to Whisper, the benefits of such success often felt too lavish. She was a simple creature. She understood it though. The Council had worked hard over centuries to remain in such prominence. They had stayed largely free of squabbles over succession, and generally left the kingdoms of Emmeron alone to rule themselves. The wealth and power they enjoyed were based almost exclusively on the role that they served and were rewarded handsomely for the effort. With elegance came quality though.

She picked at the delicious red fish entree in front of her. The skin of the fish was perfectly seared, the outer layers boasting a tantalizing aroma of herbs and spices that left her mouth-watering. Each bite seemed to perfectly blend the rich flavors of the meat with a smoky aftertaste. The mixture of potatoes, sweet carrots, and caramelized parsnips provided a satisfying contrast to the delicate meat, their natural sweetness complimenting the savory of the fish. The finishing touch was the red wine sauce that was thinly drizzled over the top of the dish.

Just as Whisper had placed another cut of fish in her mouth, letting the flavor fill her taste buds, Lawbrin interrupted her sensory experience.

“You know they're going to send us out again, don’t you?”

She sighed lightly, opening her eyes and tracking his face. “Eventually, sure.”

“No, you saw the way Myatheil ended the council meeting. They know more about what’s happening than they are saying.”

“They usually do. That’s their job.” She was a little annoyed with him. For the last few days he’d been acting strangely unsettled.  “What are you really worried about? I know you better than to believe you just don’t want to be out on the road again.”

He took a moment to breathe and gather his thoughts. She could see wheels and gears turning being his eyes as his mind moved into coherence. He must really be struggling with something, the thought.

“Whisp,” she ignored the pet name, “these mirrors…they’re appearing more frequently, and across too big of a region. There’s got to be something bigger going on. Don’t you feel it? There’s something more that’s not adding up yet in my head. It feels like there’s a hidden hand somewhere in this.”

She took a sip of wine and placed the cup back on the table, “In addition to the mystery of who made the ones we found so far, or instead of?”

He just responded with a sarcastic glance.

“Look, the Council gives us all of the information we need. Always has. As soon as there is something to know, we’ll know it.”

“I’m aware. I’m just thinking aloud.”

“No, you’re obsessing over that last village.”

His expression turned instantly from sarcastic to serious. If looks could kill, his would have left her on the floor, “And you’re not?”

“There’s nothing more we could have done. We didn’t know…”

“Bullshit!” He slammed his hand down on the table to interrupt. It wasn’t a hard slap, but it was enough to rattle the silverware. “Look, you can put the stoic mask on around everyone else. But we’ve been doing this too long together. Like you said, I know you too well. Don’t try and game me.”

She set her fork down harder than she intended. But the clattering of silverware on the plate gave her a pointed accentuation of her tone. “Of course it bothers me! We’re out there for months at a time, hunting for things that should be better kept in our nightmares. Of course it bothers me that over two dozen women and children died because we failed.” Her voice was rising with each syllable, “What scares me is that it’s becoming so second nature to hide it. It’s like it gets shoved down somewhere in my mind only to show up when I’m supposed to have a moment of peace. But that’s still less terrifying than if I let my mind wander too far down that path.”

She realized she was standing, leaning on the table with her fingertips. She scoffed at herself and sat back in her seat with a loud slump, “So yes. You’ll forgive me if I haven’t given it more thought in during this, the only off-time I’ve had since last fall. Whatever devilry is going on out there in our absence will sure as shit be there when we set out again. We failed. Nothing we can do to change it. We can only look ahead.” 

She sat back, locking eyes on the now verbally unbalanced Lawbrin. Her voice softened to its usual timbre, “So yeah, I’m going to take the stoic approach for now, and try for a little peace until I’m told where I’m needed next.” She picked up the fork again, pointedly stabbing a piece of grilled vegetable and placing it in her mouth.

Lawbrin’s eyes were still locked on Whisper. An intensity burned behind them, but his voice had dropped to an apologetic whisper. “What scares me is that we are starting to lose our balance, right when I feel it’s most needed.”

Whisper took a long sip from her cup and sat it back on the table with only a faint sound, “Yeah.”

***

Spring on Hammerhenge Island was a unique experience. The wildflowers that grew along the edges of the grasslands and mountainsides had a look of being too heavy under their own weight. The constant rain and humid coastal air kept a thick dew on every surface exposed. Besides the early morning daybreak and late afternoon haze, the sun was mostly hidden behind a thin layer of light grey fog that coated the sky as far as the horizon.

Whisper was leaning against the rampart of one of the concentric walls that guarded the Keep. She stared out into the distance, counting the black silhouettes of sea birds in flight. It was almost evening, and the golden haze was sharpened as the sun began to dive beneath the surface of waves. Low would soon be upon the island, wherein the smell of wildflowers and salty air would give way to a scent of rot and sea.

“You always were difficult to find when you wanted your space.” Brother Rafi’que walked silently across the stones towards Whisper.

For a blind man, his gait was straight and sure. It was something that always amazed Whisper. She had never been able to figure out how he navigated so deftly, given his lack of even basic elements of sight. She didn’t turn to greet him, instead she continued to stare off into the sunset.

“Most of the others tend to see that as a sign.”

Brother Rafi’que sidled up beside her, leaning against his arms on the three-quarter wall, mirroring Whisper’s posture.

“Yes, well, not everyone knows you as well as I do. How are you these days?”

Nothing changed on her face. Her jaw was locked in a tight clench, and her teeth grinded against one another at the back of her mouth.

“Come, child. I already know something’s troubling you. It isn’t good to keep these things inside.”

“There’s nothing left to say. You and the rest of the Council heard the whole story.”

He smirked, “I didn’t ask you about your assignment. I asked about you.”

She looked over at him in annoyance. He looked significantly older, even since the last time she has seen him. Age was creeping in at the corners of his eyes, the roll of his chin, and in the leathery texture that was beginning to take over his skin. It was sad in a way that she couldn’t describe.

“If I’m being honest, I’m not doing well at all.”

“Tell me.”

She sighed, knowing the futility of arguing or stalling. He was one of the most patient men on the Continent or off of it, a trait that also happened to be the single most aggravating one that he possessed in Whisper’s opinion.

“There is a guilt in my heart that I can’t shake off this time. Seeing all those bodies. The children especially. It was our mistake that allowed the door to open to that horror. The images have haunted my dreams since we left that village.”

She paused, feeling the beginning of tears welling up in her eyes. Crying was something she could not permit. The stoic ideal she wore was her armor; her shield against the melancholic work that she and Lawbrin were destined to complete in perpetuity. Tears were a weakness and a luxury she could not allow herself. Taking a few deep breaths, she continued.

“What if I’m not cut out for this any longer?” She choked a bit on the words, stuttering them out at the end. It was the first time she had uttered the question aloud, let alone to one of the two most important individuals in her life. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this much longer.”

Brother Rafi’que just nodded beside her, absorbing her words and the weight of them. She knew he understood the difficulties that statement provoked in her psyche. This had been the life she was trained for. The life he had lived, and taught her to embrace. This had become her purpose, from a world that seemed interested in anything but purpose. Her very being had become tied to the indispensable role she played in keeping evil at bay. Yet, he just nodded. When, after a long minute he finally spoke, Rafi’que’s voice was slow, soft, and intentional.

“You have been one of the strongest individuals to ever walk through the gates of this place, both in mind and spirit. Your resolve to your task has been above any questioning or reproach. But I know you’ve seen things out there you can never unsee. And I know full well the weight of your own mind on your soul. Everyone has their limits, Whisper. If the weight of this station is beyond you now, no one would question you for stepping away.”

He turned towards her, leaning his right hip against the stone.

She turned to look at him, with something between despair and willful solemnity glinting in her eyes. 

“Ours is a terrible burden to bear.” Her lips quivered, and she fought for a moment to hold back a tear. “We save others by consuming ourselves. We get lost in the darkness so that others can find their way back into the light. I don’t think I could live with myself if I walked away, as badly as I now want to. Knowing what’s out there, lurking in the shadows. Once you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it. If not me, who else could bear the weight of that task?”

He nodded, his lower lip betraying the sadness he felt for her, “It’s not all on your shoulders to save this world. There are others to help you shoulder this responsibility.”

She chuckled involuntarily, “Yeah, but I’m the one that’s supposed to be strong for them.”

Rafi’que placed a hand on the back of Whisper’s shoulder. “I am sorry you share this burden.”

She placed her hand on his, her expression growing softer, like a child’s at the sight of a loving parent.

“Heistha, paratha isre” Thank you, Father. It was the language of their heritage, the language of the wind and the sand, a rarity even between them.

Rafi’que let his hand linger for a second longer before slipping it off her shoulder. He nodded to the woman before him who he couldn’t see; the daughter he had chosen so many years ago. Then he slipped away across the wall back towards the Keep. His sandals made a slow methodical scrape against the stone as he moved.

Whisper turned her attention back to the sea. She watched the bustle of the distant city. The movement of the docks was like that of an ant hill. The wind was blowing in from the southeast, the direction of the mainland. In the distance she could see the grey of an incoming storm mixing with the pearlescent hues of orange, red and pale lavender that danced across the sky from the setting sun. It was a fitting metaphor for the turmoil inside her. The battle of light and encroaching darkness that would play out until the day she died, powerless to stop the conflagration. She closed her eyes for only a second, breathing in deeply the smells of the sea and the land, before the images of violence and destruction flashed across her mind’s eye. It was one more battlefield from which she would wage their ongoing war.

***

As she had predicted, the storm clouds covering the southeastern sky at sunset became a gale as night grew into a new morning. She could hear the screeching of the wind, and the torrent of rain beating into the leaded windows of her room throughout the night. Flashes of lightning and booming rolls of thunder almost shook the stones of the fortress like the fall of giants in an astral conflict. Comfortable as she was with her accommodations, it was hard to sleep. When the thunderous roars did not awaken her, the nightmares did.

Near morning, the rolling thunder and lightning had largely abated. However, a steady stream of raindrops hurtled through the sky like tiny spears against the walls of the Keep. She could hear the patter of water against the windows, sounding like small pebbles thrown in large handfuls.

It was after breakfast that the summons came. Lawbrin had not come down for the morning meal, just like the last three days. She was both grateful for the space that they had now, being on the road together for so long, but there was also a constant nagging feeling in her chest, telling her that something was missing. They had relied on one another for so many years that it was almost impossible not to notice the others’ absence for any length of time.

The summons was brought by a young recruit who by the looks of him was no more than fifteen. He would be in the third year of his training, beginning to learn intermediate fencing skills, and no doubt spent countless hours attempting to avoid the readings assigned by Brother Myatheil.

“Inquisitor dai Avis. You’re person is requested to meet Brother Myrling.”

“What’s this about?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. I wasn’t privy to the details of your meeting. My instructions were to collect you, only.”

“Thank you. Lead the way.” She stood from the table, placing the cloth napkin on the top of her plate as she walked away. Her dress was hemmed just above the surface of the stone. Enough to give the illusion of being more formal, without dragging beneath her feet. The looseness of the lower skirt also allowed her a freedom of movement that kept the young man struggling to keep pace with her steps.

They had ascended two levels of the castle, reaching a large office space that resembled a mail room mixed with a library. The room itself was stationed beneath the owlery, and behind a hidden wall in the back of the room, she new that one of the great communication stones was housed, bound magically with a corresponding stone on the mainland.

Around the room, massive oak bookshelves were built from floor to ceiling on the walls to the north and south. Desks and side tables were strewn around the room in neat rows and were covered in neatly arranged and curated piled of papers and ledgers. Brother Myrling oversaw the many correspondences received at the Keep, particularly those meant for the Inquisitors and members of the Brotherhood directly. Whisper knew that the myriad tomes spread across the room and adorning the bookshelves were full of records of incoming and outgoing contracts and requests. To be summoned here, she knew meant that they had received a new assignment. The flutter of excited anticipation and dread overcame her momentarily, but she collected herself before Brother Myrling looked up from the pile of books he was studying intently with a large magnifying glass. 

“Ah!  There you are! We’re still waiting on your companion.”

“Not to fret. I’m here. Roused from a deep sleep, but here none-the-less.” Lawbrin entered with his shirt only loosely tied at the top and untucked from his breeches. He looked particularly unenthused to be awake,

Brother Myrling, preoccupied with shuffling through a series of papers paid no attention to the sarcasm dripping from Lawbrin. Whisper could tell that he wasn’t kidding. The disheveled appearance of his hair, and loosely tied cloth shirt indicated he had quite literally thrown on something to wear. She rolled her eyes at him, and he responded with a shrug, neither defending not condemning his actions. Brother Myrling was slightly portly, and he moved with a slight limp on his left leg. He had been injured during a fight with a ghoul some years before Whisper arrived at the Keep of the Seven with Brother Rafi’que. The beast had bitten him just below the knee, leaving a nasty gash and a searing infection that had nearly taken his life. He’d been left with damage to the leg as a result of the injury and necessary treatment. It had been the final straw in retiring him from the field. Since then, he had served as the Master of Contracts among many other administrative duties. 

The dwarf shuffled to the large desk near the center of the room and dropped this thick red leather tome he held onto the desk. To Whisper’s surprise, he moved the thick ledger to the side and produced an envelope from the pocket of his vest. He handed it to Whisper directly.

She took the envelope, which had at one point been sealed with the symbol of the scarred eye in a pool of black wax. The letter had been opened, and she slid the thin sheet of parchment from the envelope to read herself. Myrling’s eyes never left her face. He was watching every line, every change in her expression as she read the letter. She finished and passed the letter to Lawbrin without looking at him.

“This says we’re to investigate the disappearance of guests from a spring festival on the mainland, between Stormwatch and Whitebridge. I’m sure it’s occurred to you that there won’t be any evidence left by the time we arrive.”

Lawbrin finished reading and folded the letter neatly. He watched Whisper unload her commentary, his head bowed and looking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Inquisitor dai Avis, you have your orders. Do you accept?”

She pursed her lips, a look of annoyance and contempt. “Yes. We accept. We’ll leave at first light.” With that, she turned and marched out of the room. Lawbrin hung behind, calmly handing the letter back to Brother Myrling. “We’re ready, Brother. It’s been a long road these last months.”

The dwarf spoke to Lawbrin’s back as the man walked away. Whisper could hear his voice carry through the halls. “May the light of Aewalin guide you!”

Lawbrin jogged forward, catching up with Whisper ten yards down the hallway. He pulled at the back of her arm. “Whisper, wait a moment. What was that?”

“We have a job to do, Inquisitor. Let’s get ready and get it done.” Her face was a cold slate. Her unblinking stare was unsettling.

“What’s going on with you lately, Whisp? You gotta’ talk this out. Something is festering inside. Everyone can see it.”

“You’re right. Every night I close my eyes and see visions of the women and children from that village, strung up like cattle in a slaughterhouse. I see creatures that should be resigned to children’s nightmares, not reality. I can feel the blood dripping from my hands as I try to staunch the bleeding from a man’s belly after he’s been gored by a monstrosity. Yeah, something’s been festering, for sure. Ours is a job that must be done, and you and I are the best. But damned if it’s not starting to wear on my soul.” Her voice softened, dulling into an intense monotone, “I feel unbalanced for the first time in a very long time. It’s like my mind and body are at war with one another, and I can’t intercede. I’m here for the job, but I feel like I’m losing a piece of myself every time we leave these walls. I don’t know. I guess I’m just starting to feel the missing pieces a little more keenly.”

She pulled her arm from his grasp, and he stepped away a few paces. “You’re not the only one, Whisp. You’re not alone in this. But we still have a job to do.”

“I’m well aware of that. Now, prep your gear. We leave soon.”