I sit on the cool stone floor of a room devoid of furniture. Furniture gets in the way if a teleport goes wrong, after all. Although a failed teleport usually ends up with worse effects that scattered or broken furniture. But that isn’t something I care to think about now.
I’ve been waiting for at least an hour, if my estimate is correct. It should be; I don’t go wrong often on such minor matters as the time of day. On more important affairs, however...trust someone else. Not that I’ve ever been one for important affairs, anyway.
This is silly, I tell myself. Stop acting ten years old, Raeli. My legs are starting to fall asleep, folded before me as they are. I surreptitiously rub my hands on the fabric covering my knees; dark grey, unlike the black that most here favor. I do wear the black badge on my sleeve, the black badge with its red-eyed silver skull. A nasty thing. Shut up, Raeli. But dark grey raises less suspicion than black. I briefly move my toes inside my soft boots to make sure I can still feel them. Jarax had better hurry up; I hate waiting. Unlike Xax; that icy bastard could sit without moving until the sky fell on his head, and it’d be a wonder if he even so much as twitched then. Stupid, Raeli. Stop being stupid. But I’m so damn bored! I shouldn’t think like that. I’m not some scared kid on a first campaign, so why am I acting like it. Some people never really grow up. Maybe I’m one of them. Nah. You know you’re not. Yeah. Not after the hell the gods have put me through.
It’s sunny today, pretty and sunny, and Mother and Father are back at the house; Roric is here with me. We’re hunting, we say, although we’re really doing nothing more than following animal tracks on the forest floor. No need to worry about anyone finding us here; Mother and Father say we have to live far away from the human village to the east. Humans are afraid of things they don’t understand, they tell us, then reassuringly add that we are beautiful, wonderful children, and we needn’t be ashamed because we’re-
Roric sees smoke, back where the cabin is, and he’s afraid, suddenly. I am too. There’s too much smoke for our small hearth, and Mother and Father can put out any house fires with not much more than a look and a gesture and sometimes a word. Something’s wrong, wrong, horribly wrong, and we both know it. We start creeping back, then, like frightened squirrels, dart up the nearest trees as we hear unfamiliar voices coming our way.
“All we need to do now is find the brats, and it’s all over,” a man says. They pass beneath us, never seeing us, people never look up unless something falls on their heads. Not too often, even then. “It’s a good day for us, free from those light-forsaken demonspawn at last.” They continue walking, and their voices fade into silence. Roric and I trade frightened looks, then leap from the trees and run toward our home.
The flames leap high, greedily consuming the dry thatch of the roof. My puppy lies on the ground with a cut throat, and Mother... No! Mother! I scream in horror, and Roric turns and retches into the bushes. Father! No! This hasn’t happened! Wake me up! Mother! Father! Wake me up!
A silver-black shimmer jerks me sharply to my feet. At last! It’s about damn time Jarax got around to contacting the teleporters to bring in this new arrival. I have better things to do with my day. Like what? Hunt rocks in that waste outside the fortress? Hah! I sigh slightly, making myself stand stiffly straight, like a soldier at attention, my feet together and hands clasped behind my back.
The mist slowly coalesces into the tall form of a man, then dissipated to reveal him completely. He’s not as well-built as Xax or Jarax, but he’s young. Blue eyes look around eagerly, and his hair is a tousled reddish-brown. His features remind me for a brief moment of Roric. No! Don’t think that way. At last, he sees me, and blinks. He takes a step and nearly stumbles to the floor.
“Careful,” I warn him. “The first time you get teleported, it’s a bit rough at the end.”
He nods and smiles a quick thanks. “I’m here then?” he asks, a touch uncertainly. “Where Jarax said I should be.”
“Yeah. Nowhere else.” I smile, offering a hand; his clasp on it is strong, confident. No frightened young pup here, but not arrogant, either. Jarax did pick a good one this time. For once. Now, you know that’s not quite accurate, I chide myself. “I’m Raeli. Your personal welcoming committee. Jarax told me to be here to settle you in.”
“I’m Freesoul,” he says. “I’ve been looking forward to coming here.” Poor kid. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting yourself into. I nod, expression schooled into perfect neutrality. There are a few things you can learn from people like Xax; that blank expression is one of them.
“You’ll find it different,” I tell him honestly, tucking a wayward strand of straight black hair behind my ear. Having overcome the effects of the teleport, he studies me keenly, making a rather unsuccessful effort to hide it. Ah, he’ll learn. I know what he sees; a slender young woman, looking not much older than himself, dressed all on dark grey from the loose, shapeless hat on my head to the soft, knee-high boots that lace up around my legs. The badge of the Surkith Tanne is on my shoulder, but I do not wear the ring. A brace of daggers hang from my belt, my gloves tucked in alongside them, and a silver knotwork pendant hangs from a thin chain. My hair is straight and black, ending a few inches past my shoulders, my eyes are dark green, and my skin slightly darker than that of most. I look perpetually wary, a stance I can’t seem to help, with a world-weary expression in the eyes, and if I smile, it’s more along the lines of a sarcastic grimace. I suppose I’m pretty, somewhat, but no beauty. And none too powerful. On the whole, unimpressive and unassuming. And underestimated.
But this whelp seems to know better than to underestimate me, unlike most. He smiles brightly, and, with the tone of one speaking to an equal, asks me, “Where to, Raeli?”
“Quarters,” I reply. When I speak, people tell me, I’m always short and to-the-point. Soldier-trained habits, I suppose. “Then uniform, food, and a general tour. After that, Jarax decides. You’re his responsibility, not mine.” Perhaps a touch too blunt, there. But good enough.
“Very well,” he says with a nod.
“Let’s be off, then,” I reply, and lead him from the room.