“The Vitmar Chronicles Volume I: And Ending & A Beginning”
Part I: Frost 12th, 231; 3rd Era
A brisk gust of snow and wind accompanied Kaldor Vitmar as he burst into the Golden Ember smokeroom and roared, “Rian, I need a dram of dragon!” A few heads around the twilight-darkened room turned to see what the commotion was all about. Kaldor stomped the snow from his boots and shook his cloak off his shoulders while waiting for the owner to appear.
The proprietor emerged shortly from beneath the counter, looking as breathtaking as ever, with a tight wrapping over their ample bosom, paired with a light, flowing, chaotically patterned lounge cloak draped off one shoulder. Their ankle-waisted pants rode low on their hips, showing off the multiple green and gold tattoos that flowed up the curves of their body. Their hair was shaved on one side, with a long black flop swept to the other, while tired, bright green eyes with heavy lower lids and an easy-going grin were nearly permanent fixtures on their face. They hefted a crate of jars onto the counter and seemingly drifted over to a collection of home-brewed bottles that ranged from green and yellow to orange, brown, and nearly black on the display shelf behind the counter.
“What’s your leaf?” they asked.
“Lemon Dew,” Kaldor sighed. His host nabbed a bottle of a green-brown liquid from the shelf, whose decorative paint of elaborate swirling yellows had long chipped away so that only “L mo Dev” was visible. “Full dram, half, or quarter?”
“Quarter,” Kaldor said, breathing deeply through his nose to calm himself.
The host swished the bottle and smoothly poured a quarter-dram into a small clay cup. Kaldor marveled briefly at the lazy fluidity of their movements. They pulled out a jar of gherkins from underneath the counter to use as a chaser, but Kaldor held up a hand, gesturing for them not to bother. He downed the cup’s contents, winced sharply, and then set the clay cup down, dipping a finger in to wipe the dregs of the tincture from the bottom. He inhaled deeply one last time and exhaled the world from his shoulders.
The Golden Ember smokeroom—one of several Ember-named smokerooms around the north of Ilynika—was Kaldor’s go-to place to relax. Brianna O’Garthy, whose regulars called them Rian, was a well-known hedonist and proprietor of all things recreational, from games to smoking to the occasional matchmaking. If you were in need of something, Rian O’Garthy could help you find it, answer every imaginable question on the subject, and then give you a safe, comfortable environment in which to partake. In Kaldor’s case, he had been looking for an herbal tincture to help him calm down and regain a measure of focus.
The main shelves behind the counter housed jars of buds and herbs, separated by effect. Ready for easy access in tall glass bottles on the main display was an infusion known as the dragon, a strong tincture for fast and easy consumption. In the cupboards below, the smokeroom housed tins with different snacks that were also flavored with various herbs for different medicinal and recreational purposes.
Moonlight waltzed in circles across the walls as branches danced in the wind outside, casting shadows around the lantern-lit room. A fire burned brightly at the far end, where Rian guided Kaldor to a squashy chair next to a low table. The Golden Ember was always busy, but it was full of alcoves, dark corners, and private spaces, as well as a handful of fireplaces. Some had couples, others hosted games, while many just sat leisurely, pipe in hand, in the soft cushions and chairs. The counter was situated right in the center of it all, so Rian could easily foresee the needs of their patrons. As they urged Kaldor into a corner near the fireplace, they lit up a carved wooden pipe, took a few puffs, and then passed it to Kaldor. He took a long drag, coughed for a moment, and then passed it back.
Rian put their elbows on the table and positioned a cute, pouty-faced look at Kaldor. Though their cleavage was mostly covered by their top, their chest was still strategically pointed in his direction to get his attention. “You only order the dragon when you’re feeling wound up,” they said. “I’m bursting with curiosity as to what’s got you so tense.”
“It’s almost too horrible to mention,” he said with a familiar tone of melodrama, making nearly the same face he had on drinking the tincture. “Have you met my brother’s partner, Amakela? The orange-haired monster that monopolizes all of his time these days?”
“Is she the one who made Gabriel give up his patronage here?” Rian asked, eyeing an empty stool on the small corner stage. “The charming young woman who called me a ‘smoking trash whore,’ I think it was?”
“That sounds like her on a good day,” Kaldor groaned, rolling his eyes and taking the proffered pipe from Rian. “It’s been going on for a while, but I think she might be ruining my brother.” Kaldor took a long puff, tasted it for a moment, and exhaled before he began regaling his tale to his budtender.
He had been sitting on the upper level of the brothers’ home, reading through a book he had picked up from the market and trying to follow its rather hard-to-understand plot, which was not made easier by the woman on the main floor. He set the book down and sat up, leaning on the wooden railing, sighing loudly and pointedly down at them.
Gabriel Vitmar bore only a vague resemblance to his younger brother. His hair was longer, straighter, and far darker than Kaldor’s, and his frame, while of a similar height, was narrower and leaner. Wrapped in his embrace was the source of Kaldor’s annoyance.
Amakela was not unattractive, per se. Her hair was the shade of tangerines in the sun and her skin dusted with light freckles. Her thin figure suggested that she had never done a day of manual labor in her life, though, and she seemed rather flimsy. Despite Gabriel’s adoration, Kaldor felt a yearning to fall through a door to a different plane of existence whenever her mouth opened. Her laugh was a rapid offshoot of shrill sounds and, while her voice had a perfectly normal cadence, the words that came out of her offended all of Kaldor’s senses.
“We should really move to Andranei,” she was saying as Kaldor scowled down at them. “Isidor is a country of plebeians. You’re such a good musician. If you quit playing storied songs and sang more about romance, you would be renowned down there. You’d have patrons lining up to reserve your time.”
“Something to think about,” Gabriel said, pulling her in for a kiss. She stopped him and slid a few strands of hair off his face.
“And you should tie your hair back,” she said, pushing his face further away from hers. “I’m tired of always having to move it before you kiss me.”
Kaldor flopped angrily back down on the sofa and groaned irritably into the cushion. Suddenly, with a great heave of energy, he leaped from his place and rushed down the stairs, his woolen socks muffling the intended heavy thumps of his feet against the wood.
“Kaldor,” Gabriel said, startled by his brother’s sudden appearance. “What’s the rush?”
“I can’t spend another minute around you two,” he said sharply, avoiding eye contact with either of them.
“What?” Amakela started, sounding like she was ready to give an opinion, but Gabriel interjected.
“We’re heading out to the woods shortly. We won’t disturb you much longer.”
“You look like a fop with your hair like that,” Kaldor grumbled, looking at Gabriel’s ponytail and shoving his boot onto the wrong foot. He muttered a petulant curse. “An ugly one.” Amakela rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed sigh.
Kaldor darted out of the house and saddled up his horse faster than ever before, bringing him to the Golden Ember and his short drink of Lemon Dew.
Rian slumped despairingly onto the table when Kaldor took the pipe. “Now that is a true shame. Gabriel Vitmar is an extremely eligible young man.” They winked and blew Kaldor a kiss at the shocked look on his face as he began to cough.
“He’s been making plans lately too,” he said once his throat had cleared. “Asking around if Earthworks are the best leathercrafters in Whiteridge, when he knows full well that they are! Muttering about what the best private romantic spots are, even though he’s lived here his whole life and knows every corner of this town. He even looked into what scents are the most popular in Andranei, despite never having worn a scent before! And,” Kaldor dropped his head back and sighed, “he tied his hair back this evening! The last time someone asked him to tie back his hair, he struck them!”
“It was your mother, and he was eight turns old. We’ve all heard the story,” Rian said, rejecting his melodrama while reclaiming the pipe.
Kaldor ignored them. “She’s not even pleasant. When will he see that and find someone who suits him better?”
Rian gave him a smile so sympathetic that he almost winced. “I hate to have to tell you this, lovey, but it sounds like Gabriel is going to ask her to join him.”
Kaldor perked up instantly, like a hound called to alert, ignoring the proffered pipe. “What? How do you know?”
Rian tilted their head and thought inwardly how adorably naive Kaldor was. “Well, you know that people who are joined usually wear leather cuffs, right?”
“Of course I know that,” Kaldor said irritably. “I’m not a newborn.”
“Well, that would explain the interest in Earthworks. Also, I know Gabriel wasn’t very interested in scents or southern styles, but if he really likes this lady and she likes men wearing scents with their hair held back, it doesn’t surprise me that he might do those things for her. So with that and the fact that he’s been looking for a private place, suggests that he might be waiting for a special occasion so he can ask her.”
Kaldor perked up even more. “But tonight is their anniversary! All of the plans were for their outing tonight!”
Rian gave him another sympathetic look. “Sorry, lovey. It’s probably happening right now then.”
Kaldor jumped to his feet. “Oh no, no, no. This isn’t good. Gabriel can’t join with her. She’s horrible. She doesn’t deserve him!” He looked sharply at Rian. “I have to stop this.”
“It’s really not any of your business who your brother chooses to love,” Rian said. “If you didn’t like his partner, you should’ve told him before now.”
“No, no,” Kaldor said, ignoring them, eyes darting around as his body moved faster than his brain. “They were going on about magic. They were talking about how fortunate they are that their anniversary is falling on a full moon, the most magical time of every pass. They wanted as much magic as possible, so they were going to walk down to Druid’s Pond!”
“I really can’t believe you didn’t know what was going on,” Rian said, half-teasing, half-concerned, with their chin resting on their hand and pipe hanging out of the corner of their mouth.
“That’s not fair,” Kaldor said, rejecting the gentle tease. “You’re supposed to talk to your family before asking someone to join you. That’s the whole point of a joining, as opposed to that nonsense they do in Andranei.”
“You’re not wrong there,” Rian conceded.
“I just thought,” he said, flinging his cloak on and taking the pipe from Rian’s mouth for one last long drag, “that he was bored or lonely. Maybe she was a good romp and it was worth putting up with.” Kaldor looked down miserably. “Maybe it’s not my business, but… at least, I believe that you should have something in common with your partner. That your partner should want what’s best for you, not for themselves. Or at least what’s best for the both of you. It’s alarming to me that he didn’t talk about it with me, because he usually tells me everything. She seems like… she’s too lazy to find the person she wants, so she’s trying to force Gabriel to be someone he’s not. But those things she wants, they’re not what he likes. He can’t be that lonely. He’s a good person, he’s kind and…” He suddenly looked down at Rian and his face turned bright red.
Rian wiped away a false tear from the corner of their eye. “I honestly never thought you’d have it in you to say something like that, the way you two rag on each other. If it means so much, stop telling this business to me and go tell him you think he deserves better before he has a baby with a woman you hate and she becomes a part of your life forever.”
Kaldor was halfway across the room before they were even done speaking and shouted, “I owe you for the drink!” Rian chuckled and waved their fingers at him as he hurried out the door. He scared the girl working in the stables half to death as he burst inside to reclaim his horse, muttering an apology as she caught her breath and regained her senses. “They’re on foot, so I should be able to catch them before they get into it,” he thought, pulling his scarf up over his nose before leaping into the saddle.
Chunks of packed snow and dirt landed with soft thuds as Astraea’s hooves thundered down the weather-whitened path that led to the edge of town. The wind’s lazy movements were in direct contradiction to Kaldor’s urgency, and he lamented that the casual blusters couldn’t seem to decide whether to help or hinder his journey.
“What do I say to him? How do I convince him to stop?” Kaldor’s mind took off into overdrive as he encouraged his horse to go as fast as she could through the thick powder, but he was so focused on finding their footsteps that he wasn’t coming up with anything sensible to say. Their house was a league or so to the east, so he judged that if he rode straight towards the forest a short distance away, he might get lucky and encounter their footprints before he hit the thick of the woods.
“There!” he shouted to Astraea victoriously, as he spotted a trail heading south towards the Druid’s Forest. He turned Astraea to follow it into the tree line. “As though Eivind Gaul has reason to cast a spell our way!” he said, patting his horse on the neck and urging her to go faster.
Kaldor counted himself lucky that Amakela was such a priss when he reached the edge of the forest. She would never dare step through a bush, let alone a snowdrift, so the route they had taken was easy for a rider to manage. The woods were only half a league deep before they opened back up onto the small lake, commonly but unofficially known as the Druid’s Pond—a place the local mystics found to be optimal for practicing their arts.
Coming out of the darkness of the forest, Kaldor’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright full moon shining down on the freshly fallen snow, the occasional swirl of wind sweeping up drifts into spritely jigs before falling fresh once more. The dubious foot trail led straight across the windswept frozen surface of the lake, but Kaldor didn’t dare take Astraea onto the ice, not knowing if it was thick enough to hold his weight on top of a horse. As he urged her around the shore, he scanned for where the trail led. Sure enough, a short distance across the shimmering surface of the lake stood two dark silhouettes against the white. Kaldor nudged his horse into action once more.
Gabriel and Amakela had frozen in startled confusion as a rider thundered towards them from the other side of the lake. It was only when Gabriel realized that it was Kaldor that he began to breathe again.
Kaldor flung himself from his horse, stumbling on his dismount.
“Kaldor, is everything okay? What on earth are you doing here?” Gabriel asked, holding Amakela close and looking somewhere between annoyed, confused, and concerned.
“What are you two doing here? …Is the more important question!” Kaldor panted stupidly, pointing an accusing finger at the couple.
“You’re interrupting something important,” Amakela said angrily, shaking free of Gabriel’s arms so she could cross hers over her chest.
“This is it. You have to be subtle. Choose your words wisely,” Kaldor thought to himself quickly. “You can’t ask her to join you!” he shouted in a panic, gesturing exasperatedly to Amakela. “Doors,” he cursed to himself, knowing that was exactly the wrong way to approach the subject.
Gabriel’s face flashed a confused look before his brow knitted in anger. “And just why not?”
“You’ve only known her for a turn! She’s not nice to you, she makes you play romantic ballads, she dresses you in clothes you find uncomfortable, she covers you in powders and scents, she doesn’t let you play your music where you like to, and she wants you to move away from your home! I do not want this woman to be part of our family,” Kaldor said, his shoulders heaving from the trip and the outburst combined.
“Chaos doors, Kaldor, you’re like a spoiled Andranaean princeling!” Gabriel sighed, his face bright red between the cold and the anger. “You’ve never made any effort to spend time with Kela or get to know her. You don’t have any idea what she’s like, or how she treats me. You’re acting like a jealous child!”
Kaldor was taken aback by this. Maybe it was true. Maybe he hadn’t put any actual effort into getting to know her. Maybe he was jealous. But… that didn’t change the facts. He took a deep breath and faced his brother’s angry glare with equal, if not stronger fervor.
“You didn’t talk to me first! That’s the whole point of a joining and I would have said no! Gabriel, you’re a bit shy, so you haven’t got much romantic experience. But if you had just a bit more confidence, everyone in Isidor would see how clever and smart you are. Most people already know that you play the lute like an Eldren and your voice is like a purring wolf.” He started to ramble, panic rising as the angry look remained on his brother’s face. “Okay, maybe you’re not great with words, but that’s what you have me for. I’m not a master of the lute, but together we’re stronger.” He turned his glare to Amakela. “She doesn’t seem like someone who strengthens you. You do so much for her. Sacrifice for her. Do things you don’t like to please her. Does she appreciate it? Does she do the same for you? Do you want to have a family with someone who treats you like a servant, not a partner?”
Gabriel’s anger broke and he looked over to the seething woman, who bore a striking resemblance to a snarling archival scrivener. She was speaking to them, but the words passed right over Gabriel as he gazed at the woman he loved. Her orange hair was pulled up and she was wearing expensive furs and more powder than Gabriel honestly liked. Pretty, yes. But pretty wasn’t enough. There had to be something more to her. He was sure there was. What was it though?
“Gabriel!” she snapped sharply, bringing him back to the present. “This interruption is childish and idiotic. Will you get rid of him already?”
Gabriel turned to her and shook his head a bit, almost as though he was awakening from a spell. “He’s right,” he said to her softly.
“Excuse me?” she said, an eyebrow raised while her crossed arms pulled even tighter to her chest.
“You’re completely self-involved. You’ve never even shared a blanket with me next to the fire. And you don’t like anything that I enjoy,” he murmured softly. “Why did I think I was having fun with you?” The last sentence was spoken as much to himself as to Amakela.
Amakela snapped her gaze up to Kaldor, inhaled sharply, and let out a shriek that lasted far longer than any human sound he had ever heard. It quickly became so loud that Kaldor flung his arms over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. Behind his closed eyelids, he saw a great flash of hot light.
When he dared open them again, Gabriel was on his knees with a creature wreathed in flaming amber-colored light leaning over him. She had his head tilted back in clawed hands, and hissed with a victorious and savage grin at Kaldor before dropping her mouth onto Gabriel’s. Kaldor shouted and Amakela, ignoring him completely, clenched her teeth onto what seemed to be nothing and pulled her head slowly away from Gabriel’s.
Gabriel’s face immediately began to turn red. Not the gentle flush of embarrassment, but as though droplets of blood were rising out of his skin. A soul-rending wail began to emit from his throat as a silken, ethereal copy of his face began to draw away from his body, stuck in Amakela’s teeth.
Kaldor dashed over to his horse and pulled his war axe, Doom, free from the saddle. Amakela, or whatever she was, was steadily and brutally pulling at the ghostly figure, as Gabriel’s lips began to spatter with blood as he screamed. Using all his might, Kaldor swung the axe blade at Amakela, who ducked her head and kicked him in the knee. Kaldor stumbled but regained his stance. Amakela took the opportunity to position herself behind Gabriel, hands around his throat as she pulled the silky copy away from his body in the hopes that Kaldor would be dissuaded from coming straight at her.
It had been to Amakela’s detriment that she hadn’t taken any time to get to know Kaldor either. Otherwise, she might have known that he was the type to act first and think later. And in that moment, all he could think about was getting his brother away from whatever she was.
He took a deep breath of the brisk air and rushed her head-on, kicking his brother into a snow drift, assuming that any damage he would cause would be less critical than whatever she was doing. He put the full weight of his dense body into ramming her. She took the blow but used Kaldor’s momentum to fling him away with inhuman strength, sending his axe into another drift. They both scrambled to their feet.
The face of the pretty, freckled girl was completely gone, replaced by a savage-looking creature of amber and light, flickering like the flames of a bonfire. She glared at Kaldor, and he was certain that she would rush him, but instead, she darted back to Gabriel. Kaldor bolted after her, heart pounding in his ears, pausing only to retrieve Doom. Amakela took up the ghostly form of Gabriel in her jaws again and began to tear at it like a wolf ripping meat from the bone. Gabriel’s wail immediately restarted and increased tenfold as she tore what appeared to be his very soul away from his body.
That was Kaldor’s best guess as to what was happening, at least. There were creatures out there that consumed the life forces of others. Perhaps that was what she was doing: tearing his essence free.
“Don’t touch my brother!” Kaldor roared. He raced towards Gabriel, who was spewing blood into the snow as she ripped maniacally at him.
Knowing she didn’t have much time before Kaldor was back, Amakela dropped Gabriel and cartwheeled away when Kaldor lunged at her, leaving Kaldor swinging at an empty swirl of cold air. She swept a leg towards him, connecting with the back of Kaldor’s already bruised knee, knocking him to the ground. He felt his right elbow connect with something hard and cursed loudly.
Amakela was on him before he could regain his senses, and he only barely raised an arm in time to block the claws that flew at his throat, though he still felt their hot sharpness part the skin in several places. He shoved her off and groped into the snow for his axe once more, finding it and bringing it up in an arc at the last moment, cleaving Amakela from the ribs up to the jaw. The wound sprayed bright golden-red droplets into the shimmering snow as she sunk onto her back, lifeless.
Gabriel, soaked in blood from every visible pore, was crumpled in the snow. The scream emanating from his throat had been so raw that his teeth were as bloody as his face. Fortunately, his wails had faded when Amakela released him, but even with her death, whatever she had done to him didn’t stop. Kaldor dropped his axe and ran to his brother. Gabriel began to spew blood and gasp, and Kaldor could only be grateful that the screaming had stopped. The ghostly copy of Gabriel remained partially separate from his body, dead-eyed and translucent.
Kaldor melted some snow in his hands and used it to wipe the blood from Gabriel’s face. It was pointless. Whatever Amakela had done had drawn blood directly to the surface of the skin through his face, like his entire body had a bright red bruise. Kaldor tried to touch the silken copy of Gabriel’s face but found that he could scarcely feel it. It wasn’t completely incorporeal, rather, it felt like it had decided to stop existing when he touched it. Kaldor assumed that it was best to disturb it as little as possible.
Not daring to clean Gabriel further with only freezing snow, Kaldor led Astraea quickly to his side and pulled the heavy woolen blanket from her saddle, wrapping Gabriel tightly and tucking the copy next to him as much as he could. Fortunately, the blanket seemed to contain it, insofar as mushing it next to and somewhat inside Gabriel counted as containment. As gently as he could manage, he hoisted Gabriel onto Astraea’s back.
He then pressed his somewhat sweaty scarf to his bleeding neck and went to gather Doom, panting as the cold and the adrenaline and the throbbing of his injuries caught up to him. He paused at the crumpled corpse still bleeding out in the snow. Feeling a great deal of defensive anger still roaring through him, he let out a final cry and swung Doom one more time, brutally parting Amakela’s head from her body. He snatched it roughly by the hair and tied it to his saddle. After all, the more details he could give the mages about what had happened to Gabriel, the easier it would be to help him.
Thanks for reading!
Hey, Bear here! Thank you so much for popping by and checking out the teaser for my first “The Vitmar Chronicles” novella! The story is available now and there are a couple of ways to pick it up, if you’re interested!
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