Flames of the Eagle

Part One

Late 17th century anno Domini.

—It's been a long journey... —the paladin said, resting her arms on a wooden railing at the starboard side.

—The eagle died —snarled the clawed berserker at the older of the two druid sisters.

—The great golden eagle died, there were others before, there will be others after —she replied, with absolute calm, embracing the pole of her glaive, with tiredness in her voice and face.

As their discussion continued, the captain of the ship approached the paladin, with the scout following him closely.

—How many did you say you were when all this began? —the tattooed man asked the tall woman.

—Forty-seven —she answered, hunched over the railing even more.

—There are only twenty-three of us left... counting the captain —the scout muttered, clenching the handles of her large twin knives.

—I'm thankful that you found me —said the man.

—And we that you joined us —she smiled at him.

—Only forty-seven... from all of our land... —the paladin muttered, her lost gaze fixated on the water.

—How much did you explore before finally embarking? —the captain wanted to know.

—All of it.

—We reached where the sea ends in the east, even to the island where bushido was born. Where the sea ends in the south, where the maned hunters and the long-tusked giants live, where not even rome could reach. To where the sea is ice in the north, and we could see completely white bears... and we ended up on the coast of the conquerors, where the sea ends in the west, where we met you... —the scout answered—, and yet there were only forty-seven of us.

—And twenty-four have died —then the paladin looked up—. It will not happen again. No one else will fall.

Their conversation fell silent. The voices of the clawed berserker and the elder druid also went out. Only the sound of the sea reached the deck of the ship.

They didn't even know where they were traveling to.

—Did we follow the route of the conquerors? —the strategist asked the cannibal, sitting in the hold.

—Nobody here knows anything about this sea —he answered, digging between his teeth with a knife—, much less about routes.

—We spent years gathering and meeting on land, why should the sea be any different?

—Because here we cannot hear the roots or listen to the howls —the harvester entered the room with them, walking with her long sickle as a cane.

—... Then we are adrift.

—As we've always been —the man continued, sheathing his knife.

In the stern, only shouts and blows of steel could be heard.

—Move faster! —roared the unbridled, wielding her twin axes like a storm against the ripper—. I almost cut one of your hairs!

—Take better care of your flank! —approaching the steel while dodging countless blows, she kicked her opponent on the side of her ribs—. And put more attention on the rest of me, not just my weapons.

—I've survived axe cuts, I'm not going to worry about a kick!

—You'll have to at some point —continuing her advance, the ripper grabbed the unbridled and knocked her down, much faster than she moved her axes.

—Good grapple —the warrior mentioned, watching the training carefully—. Witch, undefeated, I see you anxious.

The two women only smiled, raising their weapons already in hand. The undefeated was clearly taller and thicker, but the witch's expression, showing her sharpened teeth and white eyes, made her much more terrifying. Their training battle was slower than the previous one, but it was much more charged with brutality.

In the captain's cabin, sitting around the table, with empty jars in their hands, the hunter, the mage, the priest, the thief and the shaman were all staring at each other.

—We don't know where we are going —until the thief, the shortest and thinnest of all, covered by his hood, broke the silence.

—It is getting colder every day, and the stars are different... I could assure you that we are moving south —said the mage calmly, the color of his eyes dancing like fire.

—There isn't much we can know with just that information... —the hunter tensed up in his seat.

—The murmur of the gods sounds as loud as when we were on land, we are not adrift —the priest said, looking at him hopefully and smiling, with words like auroras.

—As soon as we see land, it will speak to us itself, and the whispers of the gods will become roars —the shaman declared. For the blink of an eye, the tattoos on her face lit up like molten metal, and her voice echoed like a blacksmith's hammer blow. Although no one could be sure of what she was saying, no one hesitated to believe her.

In the farthest corner from everyone else, gazing intently at the horizon, the defender, the youngest of the druid sisters, the champion, and the two berserker brothers were talking as slowly as they were calmly.

—The sunset here is just like at home —smiled the little berserker.

—The smell of the sea, too —the defender looked at him.

—Shut up already —said the younger druid—, this must be admired in silence.

—Even if it's talking about our homes what breaks that silence? —when he answered her, the champion held her hand.

—... Well. This time —she conceded.

As the sky darkened, when only the stars lit up their faces, the defender and the little berserker looked into each other's eyes, smiling, just as the younger druid and the champion did. Among them, the great berserker looked at the figure of an archer, made of wood, that he had inherited from his parents, ignorant of its origin.

The hours passed, some slept, others remained as they were, some joined in the training and others in the discussions... until dawn, when all looked west.

—I knew it —spoke the shaman euphorically, almost running towards the bow—, the gods are roaring.