BROKEN

Prologue

Beyond seven mountains, across seven rivers, and many, many years ago was where the story began, with two men who had just met.

The story was not about them.

"Blind luck our paths crossing the way they did." The merchant clicked at his oxen then smiled as was his habit. Burly and good-natured, he had bored Elder Fane Ricar with his second- and third-hand stories. "Never have done met a Fane before."

Ricar grunted as was his way. "Not many of us left." Once the Order Eleemosynary of Benevolent Light had flourished across all the kingdoms in the land, with hundreds of champions giving aid and rendering justice.

That had been long before his time. Less than a dozen had taken the oaths with Ricar when he'd been a young man, and he hadn't seen any of the others in decades.

"My da used to tell me tales of the Fanes." The merchant's dark eyes lit up like a boy's. "Wonder how many of 'em are true."

Ricar let that pass without comment. It wasn't an actual question so he need not answer. The merchant had done well for himself, if his covered cart and oxen were any indication, but he wasn't smart enough to navigate the nuances of conversation.

The merchant cleared his throat and began again. "Heard there's good trade in the next valley, but no one seems to know the path through the mountains."

Most likely no one wanted to share their advantage with this merchant. Ricar kept that, too, to himself.

"Besides you, of course. Came across the token in my travels. Like I said. Blind luck meeting you." The merchant laughed, though it held a touch of unease. "A token for a deed, just like in the tales."

"As the precepts guide us," Ricar said.

The merchant had presented Ricar with the Order's token, rare as they were, and had asked only for a guide. Not the worst request Ricar had ever been called to perform. At least this time he wouldn't have to kill anyone.

The path wound through the hills at the base of the mountain range. The rains had eased over the last week, and the road wasn't too muddy to travel. Pale skies of high clouds blocked the sun and suggested an autumn chill would soon bite through their clothes.

Past one bend, a thick column of dark smoke rose in the late afternoon light.

"Looks like fire."

Ricar frowned at the merchant's need to state the obvious. "Aye."

The merchant stopped the oxen at the top of the hill and cried out to his gods, but Ricar stayed silent.

The village still burned.

Every hut, house, pen and field had been set ablaze. Dozens of bodies lay dead, men spiked or beheaded, women and children with their throats cut. No animals joined them, so the executioners must have claimed them all. A ring of grass trampled to mud circled the village, a sign of armored men on horseback.

"Who - who could have done this?" The merchant made a gesture of warding against evil.

Ricar spit to the side before speaking. "Marauders." Usually they kept to the lowlands where the passage was easier, but someone must have been enterprising.

The merchant might never seen such desolation but Elder Fane Ricar was more familiar with it than he cared to be. More than once, he had come across a place such as this, where an entire community had been slaughtered for someone's greed.

The merchant frowned in confusion. "Isn't this the King's road?"

Ricar scoffed. "Which king?" He tilted his head and pointed his nose at the mountain range to the east. "Four different kingdoms have claimed the mines in those mountains, but none of them ever take much interest in the nearby lands. Where we stand has changed hands several times in the last ten years, but I'd wager all the gold in those mines that these people never heard from any of them."

The marauders had likely been the first visitors in a long while.

The merchant looked like he might weep. "So no one will come to avenge these people?"

Unspoken, Ricar lamented the passage of the Order. Once, he and his brethren might have cleansed the land of such horrors, but as far as he knew, his tenets and the history and precepts of his oaths would die with him.

In silence, they bore witness to the horrific tragedy before them as the afternoon faded to darkness.

"Look." The merchant pointed into the woods. "There."

Two children peered from the dark, faces lit from the flames. A dark-haired boy, maybe seven or eight years old, clung to the trunk of a birch. He stared at them with blank eyes, frozen in fear or from whatever he'd endured. How much of the butchery might they have seen?

The other child was a girl of perhaps ten years with long yellow hair. She stood behind the boy, one hand on his shoulder, the other clutching a rock.

Foolish, but brave. Ricar squinted at her to get a better look.

"How in the gods names did they survive this?" asked the merchant.

The girl pulled at the boy, and took a step towards the woods to flee.

Not so foolish after all.

"We won't hurt you," the merchant called. "You must be hungry. I've got bread if you want it." He climbed from the cart, slowly no doubt to demonstrate he presented no threat.

Ricar stayed on the wagon. The girl watched him more than the merchant.

Clever girl, then.

They made camp beside a nearby stream. The children nestled together near the cart, wrapped in a blanket the merchant had given them. They ate stale bread as if it were a feast.

The merchant leaned closer and lowered his voice. "No one else here lives, and if no one else will come, they will starve."

Ricar stroked his beard. "Mm. That's if the wolves don't get them." Or worse.

The boy was so focused on his meager meal, he paid them no mind, but the girl...

Ricar could knock her unconscious with one blow, but she stood fast between them and the boy, small hands clenched at her sides as if preparing to fight. Her eyes said she knew she had no chance of stopping them, but her fists communicated she'd make the attempt nevertheless.

The merchant shrugged. "I can use the boy, certainly. Another pair of hands is always welcome, but I can't feed both of them." He sighed. "We'll have to drop her off at the next village, see if the reeve can find her a home."

By first light, Elder Fane Ricar had devised a different plan.

***

Ricar fulfilled his task and delivered his quarry to the river port in the next valley. The merchant took the boy and went on his way.

The girl screamed and cried as Ricar held her fast by the arms, and he was impressed by the strength and venom in her small body. She fought much longer than he thought she might, and he chose to travel downriver lest she give him the slip and chase after the boy she said was her cousin.

Some hours later, he finally cuffed her against the head, not ungently. "Stop your crying, girl."

The hate in her clear blue eyes almost gave him pause, but her fire only fueled his plan.

"I'm sorry about your kin. This world is not kind to those left behind, and you have seen far too much for one so young. I wish I could tell you that the men who killed your people will face justice."

He was surprised at how deeply he felt that wish. "But...I will never lie to you."

Though naught but a slip of a girl, she stared Ricar down, and he knew he'd chosen well.

"I will feed you and clothe you. I will shelter you and I will teach you how to stop men like the ones who destroyed your village, and in return, you will learn."

She took a long time to consider his offer, but the moment her eyes changed from fear and anger to vengeance would live in his memory for as long as he lived.

"What is your name, girl?"

She stared at him as if searching for a trap, but it was a simple thing to yield.

"Kara."

Ricar nodded. "Well, then, Kara. Let us begin."

The girl never saw her cousin again.