VALKE'S TALE
from: CHAPTER SIXTEEN ~ HOMECOMING
characters: KIAN (pov), VALKE
When the Red Spite was carried back across the Winter Gate, it brought a potent arcane power into the world - one that corrupted the body and mind of all those with Fae blood, and turned them against humankind.
Kian stepped into the cellar tavern and turned down his hood.
Looking around, the space was larger than he’d expected from the unassuming exterior, which only made the darkened barroom seem somehow more desolate and lonely. Perhaps the patter of rain on the Puerto cobblestones outside had put a damper on the mood that night, but he suspected there was more to it than that.
The small painted signboard outside had been so weatherbeaten as to be illegible, with only the faint outline of what looked like a white leafless tree. In a city as ostentatious as Ladroa, he reasoned that any establishment so understated must be hiding something, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the old Copper Goblet; certainly the glares he received as he entered felt equally unwelcoming. As his eyes struggled to adjust to the minimal lighting in the cellar, he began to fully understand what kind of place he’d found himself in.
A couple of gnarled, stunted dwarves watched him suspiciously from one alcove. In the next he saw an abnormally thin, ugly, pointy-faced woman in hushed conversation with another who, by her corpulent, swollen features, jagged teeth, and overall scale, he figured could only be an ogress. Kian had seen ogre-bloods before - many during the war years, and even a few about Ladroa, but this was his first ogress.
As he continued to take in his surroundings, he was struck by all the ways people could seem somehow wrong in some ambiguous fashion. He could make out less than a dozen patrons here, but each seemed peculiar in telling ways; too hairy, too pale, too short, eyes too far apart, face too flat, limbs too long, and so on. Kian was at a loss to identify all he saw here. He noted someone near the back donning a hat in a painfully surreptitious fashion, but not so quickly that Kian wasn’t left wondering if he’d seen horns.
The absurdity of his discomfort made him almost indignant. He’d met giants and gnomes and goblins and ancient Elvish kings. He’d faced faeries, old gods, and a literal demon from hell, and strode across the face of the moon… and yet here in this hole of a bar, he felt queerly provincial and naive. Worse, he felt judged as such by the apprehension he sensed in all present.
The barkeep hailed him. “Oi! Are you looking for somethin’ sirrah?” It was a warning, not a solicitation. This one was extraordinarily tall, with sinewy muscles and tangled hair like hanging lichen, but even in the dim light Kian could tell that he was assuredly green – skin, eyes, hair, and gritted teeth.
Kian shook off his sullen discomfort and approached the bar. As he did, his hand felt under the folds of his scarf to find one of the talismans that hung around his neck - the new one. As his fingers closed around it, he began to concentrate, and to visualize.
“Just wine. Red.” he growled, low and guttural. He pointed to one of the ceramic bottles behind the barkeep, and bared his now sharp wolf-like teeth in a feral smile.
The barkeep was briefly taken aback, and seemed almost embarrassed once his surly manner was dispelled. “Right, then.” he mumbled, and fetched the bottle. Before he could grab a cup, Kian placed his own hand over the neck of the bottle, and laid two silver pieces on the bar.
“Also, I’m looking for a woman with one red eye. And very red hair, in case that narrows it down.”
The barkeep paused, spying the cutlass at Kian’s side. “No old grudges here.”
Kian’s tone softened only slightly. “There’ll be no trouble. She’s an old friend, and I just bought a whole bottle. If things go well, I’ll be back to buy another.”
The green man nodded toward a room near the back, where an old curtain was drawn across the entrance. He gave what might have been a sad look. “She’s there. You can drink your wine, but she’s been cut off.”
Kian reflected on that and nodded back. As he turned to go, the barkeep muttered after him.
“Welcome to The Silver Glade, sirrah.”
* * *
It was hard for him to see in the shadows of the small back room, but Valke was there, and what Kian could make out didn’t look so good.
She sat slouched and listing at her private table, with her cloak gathered around her like she'd just staggered in shivering from a winter storm. Her gaze was downcast, and her hair hung lank and tangled. Her face was wan and gaunt, and in the gloom, her pale skin seemed to radiate a damp colourless light. When she looked up at him with bleary recognition, the whites of her exposed eye were almost more red than her iris. The table hosted a number of clay jugs and cups, all of them empty.
“Oh… well. It's you.” she muttered hoarsely
“Elke’s worried about you. Said you haven’t been topping up. From here it looks like that’s true.”
“Hmph. Just enough. Otherwise it dulls the alcohol.”
“She asked me to bring you this. Should be pretty fresh.” From his coat, he placed a corked bottle on the table in front of her. Even through the tinted green glass, the contents were a vibrant red.
She turned her eye away. “What if I don’t wanna?”
“Tough.” Kian dragged the unused chair out from under the table and sat himself down. He pulled the cork out of his wine bottle with his teeth and took a swig.
“What have you got in there?”
“All mine. I have a feeling I’m going to need this, but I’d say you’ve had enough already. Drink your medicine instead.”
After staring at him for several long seconds, Valke wearily took the green bottle and tipped it back, draining it in one long draught. She wiped her lips carelessly with the back of her hand, leaving a sloppy red smear across her cheek. For a moment, she just sat quietly, breathing slowly, but Kian could see the fog begin to clear, and her iris took on the more vivid red he was accustomed to.
He looked around nonchalantly. “Well, gotta say this is a damn sight less convivial than The Dancing Horseman. Didn’t realize Ladroa had places like this, but I guess I should have known.”
“Hm. Don’t be fooled into thinking that the Fading races actually like each other. Sometimes they just need a place to go with no stares or insults. I’m surprised you were able to get yourself served here."
“Yeah, well, I’ve been working on my people skills. And how did you get served? Flash your pearly whites?”
“Oh, they just love when someone like me comes in. Not sure if you noticed, but I’m one of the pretty kinds.”
“A pretty annoying pain in my backside, more like.” He gave her an earnest look. “Y’know, I was worried about you.”
Valke only sniffed at that.
“I understand why you left. Why you said the things you did. But after we sorted it, I went looking for you.
“Knew you would…”
“Y’know, faerie madness aside, you weren’t wrong. I really am an insufferable, self-important ass who makes everything about my own angst and self-pity. You’ve been there for me in spite of it, and I took that for granted. I’m sorry.”
“Kian, that’s… that’s not why I had to leave.”
“Then... can you tell me why?”
She leaned back and groaned before answering. “You remember what I said to you when you told me how you died on the moon?”
“Yeah. You laughed and said ‘Oh, was it your first time?’”
“Heh. Yeah, that’s right. I’m a fucking riot.” Valke smiled crookedly to herself, but there was no sense of mirth there.
She rubbed her brow, and tugged off her eyepatch to give him a long hard look with both eyes. It was unusual for Kian to see her like this. It wasn’t the sight of both her blue and red eyes at the same time that felt different, but rather seeing something there he’d never noticed before -- a haunted soul-sickness that he somehow recognized. That same feeling was always there for him as well, like the vestiges of a nightmare that gnawed at the edges of his waking mind. In reply to her stare, he only swallowed and gave a slow, knowing nod.
“There’s part of your answer. I’ve seen it too… the threshold, and beyond. It always changes you. Except, not all of us have a child-saint to come and kiss it better for us. And we don’t always come back all in one piece."
“I didn’t know before, Valke. When we returned, I thought about asking you... about that. But then…”
She waved her hand dismissively. “We've each other told each other bits and pieces about our pasts, but not all of it. And it's not something I really talked about.” She gestured to the scar that crossed diagonally over her right eye. “For example, you ever heard the story about how I got this scar? Not the blue eye – that’s a different story. I mean, when I lost my old eye. My real one.”
Kian felt she was trying to put on a casual demeanor, but failing. He could hear the tremor in her voice, and saw her hands clenching reflexively. Kian slowly drew his pipe from an inner pocket and began packing tobacco into it. “Nope. Want to talk about it now?”
She shook her head, then sighed in resignation. “Of course I fucking don’t want to. But it’s something you should know about me.” He saw that same haunted expression creep over her face again. When she spoke this time, it was in a smaller, brittle voice.
“Kian? How bad have you ever fucked up? And how many people did it cost you?”
“Pretty bad. And some.” He met her gaze.
“Damn it… I don’t know where to start this.”
Kian lit his pipe, took a few initial puffs, and passed it across the table to Valke. Her anxious hands took it distractedly, and she drew in a long puff.
“Start at the beginning.”
Valke exhaled, letting the gesture calm her. “You sure?”
Kian shook his head slowly and gave a wry smile “If I get bored, I’ve still got wine.”
“Have you ever found yourself in some backroad peasant village on the outskirts of nowhere, and the inbred locals have weird folk customs nobody will explain? And nobody talks to you; instead they just stare suspiciously, and all you want to do is just get the hell out as soon as possible?
Well, that’s basically every small Vaara settlement. My people don’t have a true homeland, so when they actually gather to build something, they have to do it in some little commune far away from humans. Some never leave those places. I was always too restless for that. I hated the whole idea of hiding away just because my ancestors did some bad shit. I wanted to live out in the real world.
My older sister felt the same. Vaara children aren’t born very often, and siblings are usually pretty far apart. I’m sixty years older than Elke. Between Natalka and me, it’s almost a century. I’ve been living among humans so long now, that shit even feels strange to me.
Natalka left first, and I guess I always resented that she didn’t take me with her. When my turn came, I suppose I left Elke exactly the same way, but I don’t think it bothered her; she was always the calm one.
Me, I had to get out as soon as I could. The village was like some... long, slow trap closing over around you. A thousand years could disappear easily there without having really lived a single day. I needed to live faster.
But there was more to it than that. When I left, I think... I think it was a relief to the village. I used to have a lot of rage, Kian. Not just a temper. They say some Vaara are born with this beast inside them, some savage echo of what we once were… and it’s usually worse when we’re still small. Vaara childer can be sociopathic little shits, but most grow out of it. Everyone hoped I would too.
Added to this, my family is real old. They go all the way back to the bad old days. My ancestors had a lot of blood on their hands, and there’s still a lot of that wild magic in our line. It can be hard to control… but then, my sisters always seemed to be able to handle it, so I don’t know. Maybe it was just me?
Anyway, I guess it was no surprise that I ended up a soldier. Probably the best place for me out in the world - I mean, considering the alternatives. There were always lots of children around in the mercenary Free Companies, so I was able to fit right in there. I cleaned armour, rubbed down the horses, collected arrows, carried a pointy stick when needed.
Of course, by that time I was already over a hundred years old, but I paid my dues like the others. Life in the companies taught me to fight and showed me the face of death over and over. I learned to kill when needed, and I got pretty good at it. Got pretty arrogant, too. Y’know, sometimes I see a little bit of my younger self in Jack - but don’t tell him that.
For a long while, I learned the trade, and hopped between companies. As long as there was enough turnover in the crew, people might not even notice you’ve barely aged in a decade… but that also meant that it was hard to build up a reputation. And if someone ever did notice, it was time to move on again. Sometimes you could tell them you had Elvish blood, and that would be enough. People still treated you differently, but it was still better than them knowing the truth.
Sometimes, rarely, you get lucky and find people you actually trust. I was between companies, and they were a group of treasure-hunters. Like you guys, but… wilder. Most of them were human, but still “touched by the weird” as they say. I’ve told you some stories from those times, but I never told you how it all went bad.
We were out east, and things got messy. Something to do with snake people. Me and Ara got separated from the others, and we were already in bad shape. We were all alone and on the run. It was rough.
Yeah, Ara – Aracro Balabakov. Funny how I can remember his full name now. I could never get it right back then and it drove him crazy.
Ara was from a serious Imperial family, and he was a proper-trained warmage. He was a big man who could cast battle-spells one second, and then swing a big ol’ poleaxe into your skull the next. I know Korvuus has a bunch of cool tricks and he knows a lot of stuff, but Ara was really something else.
Anyway, there we were, lost in the badlands of Rastania. We were injured, dehydrated, exhausted -- at our limit. I can usually handle daylight well enough, but I hadn’t tasted blood in weeks, and I was half-mad from the desert sun. Crawling out of that desert almost killed us.
That’s when we found these two shepherds out tending their goats. There must have been a village nearby, but we couldn’t go any further. Ara tried to barter with them for water and get a goat for me. Begged, really, but they wouldn’t even listen. We were dying and they didn’t want anything to do with us. One called me a witch for scaring his goats, and the other yelled and pushed Ara down with his crook. Looking back, they were probably terrified of us… and maybe they should have been.
Ara really tried, but it didn’t matter. I’d already had enough and I… I just lost it. I didn’t take a goat - couldn’t even have caught one in that state, so I took one of them instead. Just a poor kid, really… and I… I threw him down and tore his throat out with my teeth.
I spent almost sixty years in the Free Companies, Kian. I’m sure I killed lots of people who didn’t deserve it, but that was on a battlefield. Wartime. This was just… slaughter. In that moment, I took everything my kin had rejected - that one thing that separated us from the monsters people believe us to be - and I embraced it. I took his blood, and his life. I didn’t care. I can still remember how much I actually wanted it. It was freeing… euphoric.
I don’t know what was going through Ara’s mind, seeing me in that state. The other shepherd took off running, and we didn’t linger around… but the die was already cast.
You know, sometimes we forget… we can play the hero, slaying dragons and beating impossible odds, but somewhere out there, there’s always going to be someone bigger. And that day, a few of those someones were riding through the Rastanian marches, and found that shepherd.
They were Ebon Scourge. Don’t know if they’re still around today, but they were an order of rangers, mostly veterans of the Maloch Chaos Wars. Self-appointed protectors of the good, in their own brutal way. You probably would have liked them.
Anyway, the villagers told them what I’d done, and they rode us down quick. We never stood a chance. They dragged us right back into that village, where they were still mourning over the boy I’d killed. Seeing his body there… it should have made me feel ashamed, but it didn’t. I was… I was still a fucking maniac at that point.
They put us on trial in front of the whole village, so they could see justice done. What kind of defense could we offer? They were going to execute us then and there, but then Ara pulled out his best trick. He told them he could bring the boy back. He had the power to do it, and he would, but only if they swore to free us. He said there would be a great cost for such a deed –- a cost which he and I would need to bear. The boy’s family just needed to choose: did they want vengeance, or did they want their son back?
Nobody there that day liked the sound of that, but desperation is a hell of a thing. In the end, they agreed. Ara made them swear the oath before he performed his ritual. He said I’d consumed more than just the boy’s blood; I’d taken a portion of his life essence. Because of this, he claimed could still take it back from me. And it would hurt.
He wasn’t lying. The ritual didn’t quite kill me, not all the way, but it was close. That was the first time I saw the threshold. And as I was hanging over that abyss, just before he pulled me back... I felt something reach out and mark me. I didn’t know what it meant at the time.
Ara kept his promise. The boy lived. Shaken. Different, I’m sure. I don’t know what happened to him after that. As for us, we were even weaker than before. They kept their promise, too. Sort of. They didn’t kill us outright, but by their laws, we still needed to pay a price for our crimes against their people. So the Ebon Scourge allowed them to take an eye. From each of us.
Then they left us for dead in those hills. I can’t say I blame them. Somehow our friends found us, but Ara and I never told them about what happened; it was our dirty little secret. We moved on. I even ended up getting myself a new eye too, but this scar was still always here to remind me.
I told myself it was a small price, a reminder that I’d crossed a line, but I didn’t really mean it. Something inside me was still broken, and it just made me more bitter, more resentful. I started taking risks. Pushing hard. Like I was begging death to come at me again.
So, yeah... no surprise, some time after that, I did die. Again, and for real. And messy. A real blaze of glory.
That should have been the end of it. I sank into that black pit and I felt all that terrifying nothing on the other side. There were no Saints to carry me away. I never forged a covenant with a higher power. I guess I figured I was above all that, and I’d have plenty of time. By rights, I should have just been swallowed up, or consumed by demons, or turned into a hungry ghost.
But no, something else had already left its brand on me that first time… when Ara had tried to steal something back from the dead that didn’t belong to him.
So instead, on the other side, there was just some forgotten black-hearted pagan death god who’d been patiently waiting for me to come to the threshold again… just as it knew I would. It told me that there was a debt I needed to pay, and that it had a purpose for me. It pulled me back from the abyss, put me back together. It clad me in shadows, gave me dark gifts, and it sent me back into the world again… with orders to claim one thousand lives for it. Not just any lives - it got to choose. I agreed to those terms. Again, desperation is a hell of a thing.
My kind, they have a peculiar relationship with death. The old Alukah Princes stretched out their lives with blood magic, drinking the Blood of Kith until they were ripe for eternity. I started late, but I was making up for lost time. I didn’t understand it then, but that being took something from me, something I didn’t get back for a long time. A part of me didn’t come back from the threshold, and in its place was just a hole… a hunger. And I filled it with as much blood as I could.
I don’t know if I was truly all the way undead, but I didn’t care anymore. I just knew I didn’t want to go back to the threshold again. I killed who it told me to kill, and I drank their blood, and… I longed for it.
And in the end, some of those I hurt, they were my friends, Kian! Good friends who tried to help me! In that state, I hated people. I hated them for being weak and mortal, and I wanted to punish them for their pity, so I killed them. I don’t want to think about what I did… but this wasn’t some spiritual possession or a blackout. I still remember doing it.
It was Ara who put a stop to it finally. He claimed it was all his fault because he’d… broken laws of necromancy or something. He stood before me and said that he could make it right this time. He could bring me back, make me alive again - mortal again. This time, the debt would be his. But he said I needed to want it. I needed to choose it.
“Don’t be the ghost of our mistakes. Be better than we were. Start again. Choose life.” he said.
And so, I… chose life.
Ara should have just put me down instead. Destroyed me for what I’d become. It cost him dearly to make that transaction to save me. I’m sure he’s still paying the price for that... somewhere.
I tried to tell myself that I was in the thrall of some unholy being, a spell of madness, the curse of living death, whatever. But here’s the thing I can’t stop thinking about; somehow, in that undead state, drunk on power, with my teeth still stained with innocent blood, I chose to go back.
You get it, right? What that means? The fact that I was able to make that choice means that I had free will the whole time! After everything, I obviously felt fucking terrible. But I still did all those things.
That day in Rastania, Ara’s ritual didn’t put that darkness in me. It was always there. He thought he was making amends… purifying me. He managed to pull my soul from some dark demigod’s jaws, but the poison was always in my blood. I was never pure. And maybe the only thing that keeps me from going back to that place again is just… just shame.
So yeah, I was messed up by it for a long while. After fifty years or so, I had to bury that history and move forward. For Ara's sake, I have to keep living this lie that I was worth saving, because otherwise it’s too much to bear.
That’s how I am now - with no worries, no regrets. Good wine and good company. Every day is a gift because nobody lives forever, right?
The memories are still there, though. I know that some things can never be fixed or put right again, but at least I felt like that part of me was finally really gone.
Until that… that fucking Spite.
When you guys came back from the Moon, I felt it stirring again. After all this time, it was like… this red pit of fury bubbling up inside. When I looked at you and the others, all I felt was contempt. All I could see was just… prey.
I couldn’t let it all happen again. I couldn’t risk becoming that monster again. I had to get away from you, so I left Auspenheim, and I kept running. I was afraid, Kian. I worried about all of you. I wanted to help you, but I’m still so damn afraid!
The more distance I put between us, the more that rage seemed to fade… but the shame is still there. That pit inside is cold now, but it’s full of old thoughts and memories of things I’ve done that I... I can’t face now.
Maybe the Spite is gone, but I don’t know who I am anymore!"
Kian had listened quietly to Valke this whole time, bottle in-hand, his eyes cast downward. Now, he took a long drink and paused to think. Finally, after a long silence, he looked her square in the face. His mouth was set in a firm, angry line. In return, Valke could only slouch and look miserable.
“Valke… I know your folk live a long time, but that’s not why you don’t show your age. It’s because, despite all the time you've been around, you really haven’t learned a damn thing!”
“I learned that people close to me pay a price…”
“No…” Kian interjected. His voice was calm, but on edge. “You’ve got that wrong. Your tale of woe started when you were alone. It started when you cut yourself off from your friends. That time you touched the threshold and felt it closing its grip around you, I’ll wager you were as alone there as you ever felt. But it was your mate who brought you back, wasn’t it?”
“I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t deserve it neither…”
“It’s not about deserving it. I may just be a wee babe to you in years, but I’ve figured something in my time, and it’s that you can waste way too many lifetimes telling yourself that you don’t deserve to live... that you don’t deserve other people and you don’t deserve to be happy. You know I’ve been there.”
“Kian, this is worse. It was so much worse. I’m the last person you should have leaned on.”
“Bollocks. When the Spite got its hooks into you, and you felt that old darkness creeping in, I know you thought you needed to get as far away as you could. I also know that wasn’t about the noble sacrifice, but raw soul-eating fucking cowardice.”
“I know that!”
“I’m not finished. I’m telling you that you’re taking the wrong lessons from your past. When you feel weak...when you’re out of control… when that abyss opens up to swallow you… that’s when you need to rely on your comrades. When you can’t trust yourself… trust us.”
Valke balked. “Fuck you, Kian. Who do you even trust? Jack? Korvuus? Small children? Whatever mystery god you can’t kill? Or maybe just that thing in your talisman??”
Kian winced and began a retort, but then stopped himself. Instead, he fixed her with a long, pained look. “I can think of at least one person...”
Exasperated, Valke covered her face with her hands. “After what I just told you? And you’re the one calling me stupid?” she muttered sullenly.
“Look, I've done some shite things in my time, things I ain’t even told you about, but you've always kept me honest. And you've stuck by me – stuck by all of us. However dark your past is… well, you and I both know there's a worse place waiting. We’ve tasted it. Maybe the only chance we have of dodging that fate is to… to be strong for each other.”
She peered out between her fingers. “You really believe that bullshit, Kian?” she asked.
Kian had to reflect on that a moment. Finally, he heaved a sigh. “Maybe. Or at least if we’re going to end up there anyway, we use the time we have to make that journey worth something.”
Valke scoffed and went back to holding her head in her hands.
“Also…” Kian added, “...you’ve got a hell of a lot more time left than me, so fucking make it count! It’s time to grow up and learn you can’t do it all on your own.”
“What makes you so damn wise all of a sudden, anyway? When did you grow up and pull your head out of your own ass?”
Kian shrugged. “Sometime in the last month. It all kinda came together, I guess you could say. Wasn’t easy. It was painful. But at least it didn’t take me four-hundred years.”
“Do I look like I’m four-hundred? What the hell, man!?”
“Have you looked in a mirror recently? Maybe you’d be better off with no reflection.”
“Again, fuck you.”
“Look at it this way, Valke… as I figure it, at best, you'll only have to put up with me for maybe another thirty years, right? So in that time, I'm gonna be here to make sure that you don't fall victim to your inner monster, just like you're gonna be here to save me from my inner cunt. See?”
“Only thirty years? Is that a promise? No hanging around after? You know this eye sees ghosts, right?” She gave him a wry smile, but there was a quaver in her voice.
“Just promise me you won’t stick me in some magic tattoo, like your bloody dog.”
“Hear that, Thorn? You gonna let this sonofabitch talk that way to me? Sic him!” She pointed her tattooed left hand at Kian, but nothing seemed to happen. “See? Even a dead wolf knows when to let a girl quietly drink herself to death.”
“Valke…” Kian gave her an earnest look. “Hey… there’s something else about all this I’ve been meaning to ask you. I know it’s difficult for you to talk about, but… I need to know the answer.”
Valke took a long ragged breath and sank back in her chair again forlornly. “Yeah... I don't want to re-live it, but you deserve to know how bad it was.”
Kian squinted and rubbed his brow wearily. He looked away from her, and for a long agonized moment, only clenched and unclenched his jaw. When he finally turned back to her, his face was grave.
“When… when your kind are infants, are you really just, like… like, a baby for twenty years?”
“What?”
“Like, are you this fat little squishy thing with useless limbs and a giant head, but at the same time, totally aware of it?”
“You really are a cunt, Kian.”
“No, I’m serious, what’s that like? When do you learn to walk? I’m trying to picture you wobbling around like that.”
“We… don’t talk about it with outsiders.”
“Your head must feel so heavy.”
“Alright. You can fucking leave now.”
“Valke…”
“No, really. Go.” Valke huddled back in her chair, with her cloak wrapped around her. She couldn’t meet his gaze.
Kian pushed his chair back, and stood up. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead simply shook his head and remained silent. He turned to leave, and was just pushing the curtain aside when he heard a small, broken voice behind him.
“Kian…”
He stopped, but did not turn around.
“...thanks.”
He only closed his eyes and nodded. He then left The Silver Glade without looking back.
