Midnight Wardens Chapter 2 (WIP) (Patreon)

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“My name is Merain, by the way,” the tall girl said as we stepped out of our shelter to the sight of a grey but benevolent sky. "People call me Rain though. Few too many syllables for them I guess."

I flicked a glance at her from under my hood, wondering if I could trust her with even my own name. If there was one good thing that my parents had instilled in me, it was a healthy mistrust of others. Well, them and my old peers among the merchant families, scheming bastards that they were.

“Pleased to meet you,” I replied quietly, opting to keep my name to myself for now. At least until I had my binding. Then I would truly be free of my fate as the bride of some minor noble’s son. My parents had aspirations.

"The other girl is Geliveve, the bigger guy is Feron and the scrappy lookin' one is Hudset," Rain continued right over the top of my thoughts.

"Scrappy? Really?" Hudset laughed, kicking a stray stone in the tall girl's direction. "What do we call you then Rain? I think stringy, like old venison."

Watching the boy now, I found myself agreeing with Rain. He had the same sunbaked tan as the rest of them, but he was short and thin for a guy. He also had a bunch of scars on his forearms and one across his jaw and neck. Judging by the placement of said scar and how it was angled, he was lucky to be alive. A few inches to the left and he'd have been drowning in his own blood.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Rain said, giving the boy a cheeky grin.

Her smile was infectious and I found myself forcing one of my own down. Not that the task was particularly difficult, my court training had given me reasonably good control over my external display of emotions. Inside my head though? That was a mess.

The small rocky valley that was the pass into the Warden’s heartland began to narrow while the sides began to become all but sheer. This was an area known as the Cartswhidth because… well, you can probably guess. Traditionally, it wasn’t manned as a defensive position because most of the threats to the Wardens came up from beneath the earth.

On the winter solstice though, there was a squad of Wardens at either end. Five of them stood before us now, the real deal. None wore a uniform and each was as unique in appearance as they probably were as people. That was part of the reason I had chosen to run away and join them, actually. The freedom to be whoever you wanted. Well, so long as it was in service to gods and the task of keeping the Black Heart from ending humanity.

These ones looked less like mysterious, shadowy defenders of humanity and more like a well funded and very bored mercenary band. Their Warden’s cloaks were the real deal though, complete with the sigil and broach pinned to it.

As we approached, they glanced up and gave our guides a smile. One piped up, leaning against a boulder. “Back again this year too, eh Benid?”

He was tall, the man who’d spoken, and he carried a very large two handed battle axe on his back. I could see small runes etched into some of his equipment too. Were they just decorative or were they real enchantments? Probably the latter.

“It’s simple work and it pays well,” our old guide said with a laugh.

“Too old to merc for the nobles now?” the Warden asked, reaching out to shake the older man by the hand. “Last I saw you was… back in Headdon? Right?”

“Aye, the war there stirred up a hidden nest of demons,” Benid said wistfully. Shaking off memories, he gave a world weary sigh, “No, those days are behind me, I think. Only so many times you can bleed because some lordling was caught with another’s wife before you start to wonder if the coin is really worth it.”

The Warden let out a snort. “Better late than never, I guess. There’s always caravans to guard.”

“Or these little ones,” the other mercenary said with a wave of her hand towards us. “You’d never get any new members if the village folk didn’t hire us to get them here.”

“And we thank you for the service,” the talkative Warden said with an amused but sincere smile. “Speaking of, you should get the little ones to the ceremony. Not long now before they begin.”

“Right,” came Benid’s reply, and then to us. “You heard the man, let’s get moving.”

It was times like this that I was thankful for my inhuman stamina. I’d been walking for a week now, and with the end in sight I was beginning to feel truly tired. Without that little benefit, I wasn’t sure if I’d have made it this far.

We pressed on through the tight confines of the Cartswhidth. The sheer rock walls looked almost man-made, which had me wondering if they actually were, just not with conventional tools. Maybe magic?

Exiting that claustrophobic passage was an almost magical experience, it was as though I were a child from one of the old stories, stepping between an archway of twisted branches and into the realm of the fae.

From where we stood, the pass opened up into a large and verdant valley. First the land dipped down into a flat bowl, where a modest lake glistened invitingly despite the harsh weather. From there the valley rose high between two knife edge ridges of dark stone. At the apex stood the Warden’s Keep, massive and hulking in appearance. I swear it looked almost alive, like some ancient rock demon looking down on the valley.

A small town sat at the lake’s edge, and the uneducated eye might have passed over it were it not for the setting it had been placed within. It sported the typical rough hewn wood and slate roof construction of many other towns in the mountains. Cobblestone streets could be seen through gaps in the buildings, which had me wondering if they had a sewer system built in too.

Even from up here though, I could see that it was no ordinary town. It was too clean, too well maintained. The materials used in its construction looked to be of universally high quality, rather than the hodge podge that a normal town would sport. That wasn’t to say it was ostentatious, like my own family manors and estates had been. The Wardens might be immensely wealthy, but they didn’t flaunt it. At least, not as an organisation. There were exceptions, always exceptions.

Aside from the keep and the town, farmland dominated the rest of the valley with the exception of a second, smaller keep that sat at our end of the valley. This keep had the same general atmosphere as the further one, but it was more ornate in its construction. If I remembered correctly, it was this keep that held the temple to the gods where we would soon be headed.

“It’s paradise,” Rain murmured from beside me, eyes wide with wonder.

Her words prompted me to turn back and look out at the valley again, wondering what she saw that I didn’t. Sure, it was a pleasant place, but I’d been inside the imperial palace once. Just once, mind you. My family might be wealthier than many nobles, but It was the title that gained you real entrance into those hallowed halls.

“It is nice,” I agreed after several moments. “Very green and uh… rural.”

That got a snort from her, and I turned to find appraising eyes looking down at me. “City girl, eh?”

I shrugged, embarrassment burning my cheeks. Why was I embarrassed? Something about the look she’d just given me? It certainly hadn’t been entirely kind.

“I guess,” I said, turning my face away so my hood hid my reddened cheeks.

“She talks funny too!” Hudset commented loudly. I guess he was eager to shift the attention away from his scrappiness.

“Enough of that,” the mercenary woman snapped. “Let’s get moving. Temple’s just over there.”

Thankful that the conversation had been cut short, I followed along behind them. I made sure to keep out of sight of the rest of them and did what I could to give off an air of unapproachability. Just like I’d been taught. Mother would be so proud.

Approaching the temple revealed more details. Despite being a place of worship, it more closely resembled the keep I had thought it to be. Massive stone blocks made up its foundation, each one taller than even Rain was. Although, she was still shorter than the mercenaries who escorted us, so I guess she wasn’t actually that tall. Just in comparison to me, I guess.

Despite its gloomy appearance, I found myself liking the hulking, battle-ready nature of the Temple. It was sturdy. Dependable.

Which was the point I guess. The Wardens were an order designed around combat with beings made of magic and malice. The Black Heart, they called him. A god so terrible and so powerful that it took the rest of their pantheon to subdue and seal him beneath the earth. Even from within his prison though, he sought to end his kin. Corrupting natural creatures or even creating his own, he then sent those demons up through the caverns and caves of the depths. Up towards daylight, towards the surface… towards us.

So the Wardens had been charged by the weakened gods with the task of holding the line. That’s what the entire order was designed to do. Fight the grotesque demons that routinely boiled up out of the ground in search of carnage and blood.

Yeah, that’s what I was running towards. I guess I’d rather die on the end of some abyssal horror’s obsidian blade than marry a nobleman and all the crap that came with it.

The road down into the valley proper split off towards the temple and we followed wearily along its length. We weren’t the only foot traffic either, a few wardens wandered their way up towards the dark stone building, probably to watch the induction that would be happening soon. Hopefully soon. Hopefully we hadn’t missed it.