Time and Tide (Solo)

[Tobias Stalt]

The crumbled note rests in my fist. Salvar's icy fingers tug at it, pulling the fibers in every direction as I make my way toward the edge of the valley. The greater Testhan region is nestled in a strategically fantastic place- if you're considering military tactics. When you think about living conditions, it's the worst place in all of Salvar. Low lying and close to the frigid river system, the winter breath of Knife's Edge cuts through its people indiscriminately. There is no place more cruel or sadistic in all of Althanas. I'd hoped never to return.

But the pay is just too good. A man can't survive without work in this world. Salvar knows that better than anywhere else. That's how this place keeps people coming back. The coin flows generously, and humanity is masochistic. I can barely feel my fingers as the city road yields to the basin's edge and snakes back upward to the Highroad. A carriage ambles past, and the kindly old driver doesn't even look my way. That's pretty standard, though. If someone smiles at you, they probably want to rob you blind.

I can see the mountains in the distance, moreso with every few steps. This country is beautiful in a morose way. The peaks that overlook it promise death. If you can see them, you're close to something that wants you dead. If you can't, it's because the snow has whited out the world. If you're standing on them and you're not dead, you soon will be. That was the knowledge that they gave me while we traveled north to Archen. No wonder it's returning to me now, when I'm walking those same steps.

"Thayne's blood," I can hear the frost in my voice. My veins are already slogging, turgid with the icy crystals that Salvar has breathed into them. The paper in my hand catches on the wind as I lose my grip on it. I struggle to reach out, but my hand won't obey. It dances, shivers, and flees from me with a recklessness I can't conjure.

Another hand snaps up, some twenty paces ahead. It snatches the missive from the air and pries it to waiting eyes, which lazily tread across the words. When that gaze moves to me, I can feel my skin crawling. "Tobias Stalt," her voice is slow, measured, a far cry from the unnatural speed I'd witnessed only moments before. Everything about this woman is a lie. "I've been waiting for you," She says.

There was a time when I heard a woman say that and I would be overjoyed. There is nothing joyous in her words. Her eyes are like jade fire, burning me up. "There are many in this nation who would sooner see you hang than do this duty of yours," she wags the paper in front of me like some kind of carrot. "You're lucky that your friend Anton is more forgiving."

Brother Anton. Of course it was. Who else would have thought to use me than one of the men who watched idly while the Sway pushed me toward madness. Who else but the man who took the title of Archon after I robbed the last of life. "I'm afraid my neck's too pretty for a noose," I sound genuinely repentant. The Sway has a way of making you a great liar. "But if you're looking to wrap yourself around my cock-"

"Charming as ever, I see," she steps toward her carriage, drawn by two mighty clydesdales. They are stoic, unflinching. Whiter manes than the snow on the ground, and even as steam roils out of their noses, they don't so much as shiver. Some of the Kingdom's mightiest mares. "Come, join me in the carriage. As much as I would prefer it, we can't have you freezing to death."

What a wonderful woman. I clamber forward and step into the coach behind her, and the door slams shut behind me. I don't like this. But then, cold receptions are this land's specialty. "You haven't been in this country for some years now," she explains as her delicate fingers peel away layers of clothing. She sheds them like refuse, discarded carelessly. They piled on the floor and a servant hastily collected them, then set them out to dry. "It must be nice to come and go as you please, without a care in the world for those people who's lives you've trampled."

"A cunt from the Ethereal Sway wants to gesture me about empathy?" I ask plainly. There's no reason to be formal or even kind. It's clear that we hate each other. "Fuck you. What do you want?"

"The Archon wishes you safe passage to Archen," she tells me. When she begins to pry the cloth from her face, I'm more aware of her alabaster flesh. Golden tresses of hair spill out and fall around her shoulders. Her beauty is unnatural, even here in the frigid north. Is she even Salvic by birth? "And so, you will have safe passage. I guaranteed Anton as much."

"You're too pretty to be fucking a Witch Hunter," I sneer. "Who are you?" It's no secret who she looks like. My scowl never changes, even when she smiles at me.

"Why Tobias, you spent all that time looking at my dear sister, thinking about bedding her, and you even took her life. You can't even guess? You truly are an animal." She knows things that no one should. High ranking in the Church? Or someone who they trust, perhaps. Her sister? Was it a spiritual relation, or...

"Erica's sister," there was no other explanation. Erica had been the eldest in her household, and a virgin. She was chosen as a sacrifice and martyred for the cause as a heretic. I can't imagine this girl buying so heavily into the dogma. Not if they were related. "And you're working for the Church? Gods, there's no loyalty in your family at all."

She reaches out and I feel her icy fingers dance across my face. It wasn't painful. the contrast in her gaze is hot, her face without a smile, but her fingers steal warmth from my cheeks. I can feel her violating me with her eyes. "She wanted you," her voice is without contempt, "and I wanted everything she had. For years, they only saw her. Men of the village, my parents, and finally the Sway. You were the only thing she could never have, and that alone makes me want you, Stalt," she spoke plainly, "but you took the life of the only person I've ever cared about. I was so jealous, but Erica was kind. She paid attention to me when no one else did, and she was there when I was all alone. You took that from me, Stalt. I hate you so much. And yet, Anton tells me that I can't even have my bittersweet vengance."

"You hate me, you want me, which is it?" I ask. "Every word you say is a lie."

"You learn quickly, Tobias Stalt. So let us waste no more time on words."

"Archen is a long journey to stay silent," I tell her.

"I am quite familiar with silence."

Her pouty lips spread in the sweetest of smiles, and I can see Erica's face overlap hers for a moment. She is clad in vestments that swath her person and mask her curves, but she makes a show of her legs as she crosses them. She rests her cheek in a palm and watches me, like a child fascinated with a new pet. "Would you like to fuck me?" she asks.

"Is that how you planned on passing the time?" I have to laugh. She does have a vicious sense of humor. When I do, she smiles even more vividly. All the gods in all the worlds can't make my heart stop aching at the sight. "Not even a little."

I will never erase the guilt I feel over Erica's death. I imagine that would only be worse if I did fuck her sister. The little sadist knows that.

I can see it sparkling in her eyes.