Page 6 of Veil of Vasara (Fate of the Five #1)

CHAPTER 6 - HESTAN

“I heard she was a Banshee.”

“I heard any man who’s ever been with her, is cursed with an insatiable desire for her.”

“Didn’t Barlan say he’d been with her?”

“Barlan says a lot of shit.”

“So do you Kaspian.”

“At least I don’t fall for this nonsense. Banshees don’t even exist anymore.”

“I’ve heard some do. They’ve gone to the Cliffbanks,” Purcell said.

“Nobody could live there,” Zain chimed in.

“Maybe Banshees could.”

“Banshees don’t exist,” Kaspian insisted.

“I’ve heard their ghosts can haunt mortal men.”

“You’ve been hearing quite a lot.” I cut the members of my unit off, approaching their campfire. They clutched onto their spears, and drew their swords, startled by my presence.

“Gods, Hestan, you scared us,” Purcell sighed in relief.

“Xora is not a Banshee.” I grabbed a piece of bread they had taken out over the campfire and settled down beside Zain.

“She could be!” Purcell asserted. “She’s won every fight she’s ever been in. She never seems to get tired. I don’t even think I’ve ever seen her wounded.”

“Maybe that’s because she’s a better fighter than you are.” I glanced in his direction, as I freed my silver hair from the tie it had been in.

“That’s hardly difficult to accomplish,” Kaspian quipped. In response, Purcell flung an apple core in his direction, which he dodged.

“Like us, she’s a member of the Hunt, and a good one at that. I won’t have you spreading rumours about her.” I pointed at them. “She’s twice the fighter you all are, so if it came down to keeping her… or you, then it would be her,” I declared.

“Come on, Hestan, don’t be like that, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Purcell said, approaching me with his arms outstretched.

“Don’t even think about—"

But then he was on me, his arm wrapped around the top of my chest. Zain followed his lead and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I protested, freeing myself from their clutches. “Leave the woman alone,” I said sternly.

“We meant nothing by it,” Purcell said as he shrugged his shoulders.

I looked at them all in turn. “You all know the punishment for those who even speak of sorcery, let alone those who are accused of practising it. Your conversations are dangerous, both for yourselves and for those who you would cast under the shadow of doubt. Xora would not have a chance to defend herself, she would be dead within a day if certain people caught wind of what you were saying. Speak on this no more, that’s an order.”

The three men looked at each other, not entirely without guilt in their eyes. “Sorry Captain,” Kaspian said, clearing his throat. “We will.”

“Did you lay with her then? Charmed her with those pretty purple eyes of yours?” Purcell jested, nudging my elbow.

“You don’t need to lie with a woman to see her value,” I replied. “I just warned you about your jokes. Did you not hear me?”

Purcell’s face flushed red from embarrassment. “I did, Captain. Sorry.”

These men were my friends, yes, but I was also the leader of their unit. I was responsible for making sure they didn’t get themselves, or anyone else killed. It mattered more that they respected rather than liked me. I could live without their friendship. I would prefer not to live with their deaths.

“What did we catch today?” I asked.

We began going through what we had obtained during the past few hours. The Hunt was crucial to the survival of Kalnasa, it had been for centuries. Food was scarce here, our diet mostly consisted of plants. The altitude of our Kingdom made it difficult for many species to survive and while our people had adapted to it, many animals could not. It hadn’t been an issue decades ago, but now there was a lack of meat at all times. It was our job to traverse the difficult terrain required to catch plants, as well as the large birds, fish, mammals, and bears that could feed our people.

The task was gruelling, difficult, and harsh on our bodies. It was also dangerous. There were several members of the Hunt who had died after being attacked by animals or falling from high peaks. There were fifty members of it, and each year, around ten of them perished. I had been in charge of the Hunt for four years and each year, each death, only became more difficult.

After totalling up our catches, Zain sighed. His hands were resting on his hips. “It’s getting worse each time. What are we going to tell the King?”

“The truth,” I replied. “We tell him the truth. He is already aware of the situation.”

“But what if he thinks it’s us? That’s what some of the villagers are saying now.” Purcell sounded nervous. He fiddled with his chestnut curls.

“He knows it’s not,” I reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Kaspian’s dark eyes squinted at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if you are concerned about facing blame then you need not be. King Dunlan has been trying to resolve the situation regarding our resources with Vasara for some-time.” I questioned whether I should be telling them this information, but it seemed harmless to share it.

“You mean to say” – Zain peered at me under his dark brows – “that Vasara could be helping us, but they are not.” He laughed. “That’s hardly surprising. Asking the rich to protect those less fortunate is like asking the sun if it could stop drying up the rain.”

“I have said nothing of the kind, and I’d suggest you refrain from claiming such things yourself,” I said. I knew there was discontent about Dunlan’s handling of our situation amongst the people. I could feel it festering like a disease. I was trying my best to stop its spread, its destruction.

Kaspian glanced up. “We should be marching on Vasara and—”

“That is not the answer,” I interjected. “To fight another, thinking it will end a fight of your own, it is only a folly that will end in blood.”

Kaspian scoffed. “Right because that’s going to work isn’t it.” He stood, long dark hair slipping over his shoulders as he pierced the ground with his spear. “Let’s all just keep quiet and pretend our bellies are full, and our children aren’t starving. As long as Vasara is satisfied I suppose?” He sounded agitated.

I stood in kind and strode towards him. He inched back slightly in surprise. “You know it is not that simple. Innocent people dwell in Vasara, and we cannot make demands of our King or—"

“Demands?” Kaspian laughed. “To have access to food? To eat? It’s not as if we’re asking for riches Hestan.”

“The King is dealing with it.”

“Is he? How long has it been since you had a full meal? Any of you?” He looked at Zain and Purcell. “It’s been seven months for me. But I can bet my right arm that The King, who’s ‘dealing with it,’ has been eating plenty. The Royals are probably responsible for consuming half the food we catch alone, while the rest of us beg for the scraps. He’s not going to deal with it when it doesn’t affect him is he? He’s not going to barge down to Vasara and fight for us. Wake up, Hestan. You’ve always been naively loyal when it comes to our King.”

“He is the King.” I could feel myself growing frustrated.

“Yes. He is the King. Only he’s doing a bad job at being one isn’t he? When his people are struggling to survive, and he hides away in his Palace amongst the clouds.”

“That’s enough Kaspian.” My voice dropped.

“I see. The King comes before your own men now does he?”

“I owe him my life. You know that.”

“For how long?” Kaspian asked.

The confusion was visible on my face.

“So, he saved you once, years ago. Now you’re going to kiss his feet for the rest of your life, even if he’s in the wrong?” He persisted.

The King had saved me, many years ago, when I was but a child. Some sorcerers, rebels, they had said, slaughtered my entire village, my family. The King and his men arrived at my house, after it had been taken over by the intruders. The intruders who killed my parents, my older brothers before my eyes. I could still remember the sound their blades made as they forced their way into bone and flesh. I could still remember the sound of their screams, of all the screams of the innocent people, merging into one.

Kaspian waited for my answer. Zain and Purcell were watching us anxiously, looking at each other with a silent question in their eyes as to whether they should intervene.

“You are dismissed Hunter.”

“Fine. I’m going home.”

“You misunderstand me. You are dismissed from your duties until further notice. Give me your medallion.”

Kaspian’s face fell. “What?” he murmured.

“Give me your medallion. Now.”

Purcell’s voice came from behind my shoulder. “Hestan, don’t –”

“You’re going to kick me out because I spoke my mind? Do you want a unit that is afraid to voice their concerns around you?”

“I want a unit that will not talk of treason.”

“Treason?” He grimaced.

“Give me your medallion.”

After silently staring at me for a few more seconds, Kaspian, rather than handing me his medallion, ripped it off his neck and threw it to the ground. The silver tinted circle, engraved with the moon, Kalnasa’s emblem, was now covered in dirt.

Kaspian scoffed. “Your loyalty to that man will be the death of you.” He backed away from the group, still facing us until he reached his horse and retreated into the night.

The palpable tension that hung over the remaining three of us lasted until we had ridden back to the Celion, Kalnasa’s Central City. We were to ride to the Palace to deliver our bounty, which would later be distributed amongst the people according to the Kingdom’s laws and policies.

As we neared the Palace, several people stepped out of their houses to catch a glimpse of our stock. Their hungry eyes grew more and more ravenous the longer our journey continued. Zain and Purcell shifted in their seats, ill at ease.

It was growing worse, this desperation, this fragile unspoken peace between us and them. We were a symbol of authority, an authority they felt had let them down, had abandoned them. All the members of the Hunt were keenly aware of that, each time we travelled down this road. I looked around, keeping an eye out for any sign of ill intentions.

Rain began falling, sputtering against the ground, sliding off the curved roofs, drenching out clothes.

Through the downpour, I caught sight of a figure approaching our cart.

It was small, lithe, and clad in a cloak. We were used to thieves trying to steal from us on our return, we had been for a while now. But this figure, shrouded in shadow, was fast and quiet, unlike any of the thieves we had encountered before. They shuffled between the villagers on the road with precise and clean movements, weaving themselves through the denser parts of the crowd.

“Halt!” I shouted, clutching at my spear. Zain and Purcell stopped behind me, and catching wind of the situation, reached for their own weapons. The crowd grew nervous, and their murmurs grew louder the closer the figure approached.

“You there, stop!” Purcell shouted, but the figure paid no mind to his command. Now it was closer, I could tell it was a woman. The leather of her clothing was covered with a blue bodice and shoulder pads. A hood attached to the grey cloak she wore concealed her identity. Only her mouth was visible.

I dismounted from my horse in an effort to intercept her, but before I could, she had reached our cart. Zain took a swing at her from his horse, which she deftly avoided in one swift manoeuvre, but Purcell, who had been anticipating her move, knocked her exposed side with his spear, hard.

The woman fell on top of the cart and clutched at its contents. She grabbed some of the food we had managed to retrieve. She had no weapons on her, at least none which were visible. We tried our best not to kill or hurt those who attempted to steal from our cart, after all, we knew they were hungry, we knew they were struggling, but we also couldn’t let such attempts be successful. So far, we had been able to stop the attempts in their tracks. Sometimes the King’s guard killed the thieves, in an effort to deter others, a method I detested.

But I knew it was only a matter of time before a thief succeeded. Once that happened, other villagers would start planning their own raids on our crew.

If that happened, civil war would soon follow.

The woman leapt off the cart, skilfully avoiding another attack from Purcell, but her landing was awkward, slipping against the wet ground. The tightening of her lip revealed she had hurt herself in the process. It would be easy then, I calculated, to stop her now.

The crowd had begun cheering, some of them willing her victory, some protesting at her selfishness. Their hollers intertwined with the sputtering rainfall, a torrent of discontent swelling all around us. If food had not been scarce, there is no doubt in my mind they would have started throwing it at us, or her. She turned around abruptly, scanning the scene for a quick exit and found what she was looking for almost immediately. I followed her gaze but found nothing. She had likely planned her escape in advance.

She shifted away but I was upon her now. She shoved the stolen goods down the front of her clothing and grabbed at the inside of her cloak. She drew out a knife. It wasn’t a dagger, or a sword, or any weapon of any craftsmanship, but it could cut me, and it could certainly kill me.

She crouched in front of me, her arms were outstretched, waiting for my next move. Her hands were gloved and gripped tighter around the knife.

“Put that down, give us back what you stole, and I promise we will not hurt you,” I said.

The woman didn’t move, didn’t indicate in any way she had heard me or intended on doing as I asked.

I could hear horses approaching. “The King’s guard aren’t here yet, but once they are I won’t be able to protect you. They will kill you.” I spoke softly, attempting to get through to her.

It was louder now, the sound of the King’s men approaching the street. As was the rain, which fell more ferociously. By the slight parting of her lip, it was clear she understood, but even this close, the skin of her chin was darkened by shadow. I couldn’t tell her race, or what Kingdom she may be from.

I reached for her arm, but she dodged my hand and slit my bicep with her knife. I looked at her in disbelief. None of the people who had ever attempted to steal from us had ever actually tried to wound us before.

She looked more determined now, but her balance was off, likely from her painful dismount from our cart earlier. I stood forwards and moved my leg towards her feet, in an attempt to sweep her off her own, but she drew her knife across my outstretched thigh.

I hissed at the pain, losing my patience. I resolutely stepped towards her. Sensing my aggravation, she ran directly into the townspeople. Some made way for her, some were scratching at her clothing, trying to remove the hood from her face.

But there were equally as many people doing the same to me, angry at the Hunt’s lack of service to the people. There were many who believed the Hunt took the food they acquired for themselves, only pretending there were shortages.

I greatly regretted the fact my hair remained loose. Its wet strands were now the perfect target for the civilian’s clutches.

The King’s guard were here now, likely alerted by all the commotion and noise. One of them approached me, pushing people off them like dirt.

“What happened?” she shouted.

“The woman in the hood there,” I pointed in her direction, “She’s taken from the cart.”

“What did she take?” the King’s guard asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have the time to check,” I shouted, gesturing towards the scene going on around us.

As we were talking, three of the King’s guard had begun to force their way through the crowds in her pursuit. But she was far ahead of them, even with her injury. She swam through the crowd like a fish in a stream.

I lost sight of her until, in the distance, her figure could be made out, climbing one of the houses. She scaled its sides until she reached the roof. She turned around to assess the situation, glancing at the King’s guard, but they were no longer paying attention to her. They were dealing with the angry mob of villagers who were yelling, demanding answers, demanding the King do something about their hunger.

I looked back at the woman. She was still facing me. She ripped something off her clothing, held it up in the air as if to signal she had done so and threw it down on the roof.

She stared in my direction for a few more moments and then disappeared into the night.

Nobody else had noticed, they were all too distracted, too overwhelmed by the noise.

I stood in place for a few minutes, wondering if she would return, knowing she would not.

I walked back towards the cart to find an exasperated Zain and Purcell guarding it. There must have been several more attempts to steal from it during the uproar and distraction the woman provided.

Purcell’s eyes widened when he saw me. “You’re bleeding.”

I’d honestly, forgotten. “It’s nothing” I mumbled. She hadn’t cut me deeply, whether that was deliberate or simply due to a lack of training, I couldn’t say.

Before I could even catch my breath, another King’s guard member was upon me, his beige skin was plastered with rainfall, the water glinting off his silver armour.

“What did she take then?” he asked gruffly.

I nodded at Zain and Purcell in a silent instruction to discover the answer to that question.

Zain lifted a cover off the cart, protecting its contents from the weather. He turned around looking bashful as he said, “Practically nothing.”

“What do you mean practically, what did she take?” The King’s guard demanded to know.

“She took some Riggon.” Zain shrugged.

“Riggon?” I asked, narrowing my brows. Riggon was a plant, its nutritional value was almost next to nothing.

“Why by the Gods would she take that?” Purcell asked.

“Well, I don’t give a shit as long as I don’t have to report to the King we’ve got less food for this lot.” The King’s guard gestured to the townspeople behind him with his thumb.

“But isn't it just used for seasoning?” Purcell asked nobody in particular.

“Can be, but it’s also used for tea,” Zain said.

“Of course,” Purcell chimed, “That must be it, she just wanted some tea.”

“As opposed to your theory, where she would be using it to season the non-existent food, we all have.” Zain leant against the cart with his arms crossed.

“Alright hilarious.” Purcell's voice was flat.

“Maybe that’s where all the meat is,” Zain continued, enjoying taunting him, “With that woman, she’s got the entire supply.”

“Prick.”

Then it dawned on me. “It can also be used as a medicine.”

Purcell and Zain turned towards me at the same time. “Can it? I’ve never heard of that,” Zain said.

“No, he’s right,” Purcell spoke up, gazing at his feet. “For…fever, is it? No…that’s not right. Pain?”

“Yes, it can be used for pain,” I confirmed. “But it can also be used to treat wounds, when it’s ground into a paste.”

“Well, with any luck, she’ll perish from whatever injuries she’s got, and we won’t have to look for her,” the guard stated.

“Captain Hestan.” The first King’s guard who had approached me earlier came towards us.

“Captain Mulani,” I nodded in greeting.

“You’re coming with us,” she said, raising her chin.

“Nothing was taken, we defended—" Purcell began to protest.

“It’s not about that,” Mulani asserted.

“What is it about?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

“You will know soon,” Mulani replied, as expected.

“My unit and I were just making our way to the Palace with this stock.” I nodded at them.

“Don’t worry about that. The guard will take care of it. Your men can go home.” On hearing her command, members of the King’s guard approached the cart, relieving Zain and Purcell of their duties.

“It’s fine,” I assured them, “Go.”

“See you tomorrow,” Zain said to me.

“No, you won’t,” Mulani replied on my behalf. Zain and Purcell’s eyes darted towards each other, shocked.

“Am I to be reprimanded, Captain?” I would rather have known beforehand if I was about to be punished.

“I’ve already said this isn’t about what just happened. No, you are not to be reprimanded, Captain.”

“What then?”

“It’s not to be discussed outside the Palace walls.”

I nodded once more to Zain and Purcell. “You can go, and Zain, you’re in charge for now.” Zain nodded, with a tense expression on his face. The two men looked at each other and reluctantly walked away.

Mulani, sensing my restlessness over the situation, came closer towards me and whispered. “Everything will be explained once you arrive, but”— she looked around quickly to make sure nobody was within hearing distance— “you are to escort someone somewhere.”

“Who?” I frowned.

“Enough.” She silenced me with her decisive tone. “I can tell you no more.”

She walked towards her horse. Her men gestured for me to do the same. As I waited on my saddle for the other men to join us, my gaze drifted towards the roof the woman had been standing upon, framed by a greying sky.

If I was about to be tasked with escorting someone, then I had very little time left in Kalnasa.

If I wanted to find out what she had left on the roof, I would have to go there.

And it would have to be tonight.