Chapter Text
The silver gleam of a blade under moonlight was a beautiful thing. Maybe one of the most beautiful things Tarryn of Arondale had ever seen. She was no one’s bard, but she believed there was something poetic about the arc her sword made under the muted light as she raised it above her head to meet another blade, the clash of steel on steel ringing throughout the glade where she fought. The best music Tarryn had ever known.
Unfortunately, her opponent was quick, and Tarryn was distracted by her own thoughts, and the opposite blade slipped past her defenses, to strike at her. If Tarryn hadn’t twisted her torso to the side the blow might have been fatal. As it was, it grazed her, creating a dark bloom of blood near her ribs.
Tarryn let out a hiss of pain, countering with a heavy attack of her own, the force of her blow knocked the sword of the other fighter down and to the side, and Tarryn pressed her advantage by kicking up and against their chest, knocking the figure prone. She advanced, sword pointed steadily at their throat.
“Surrender,” she commanded, voice steady. The figure, a slight gnomish woman with features twisted with rage, did the smart thing and tossed the blade she still held several feet away. “Good choice,” Tarryn acknowledged. She reached down, grabbing the woman by the arm and hauling her to her feet. Considering she couldn’t weigh more than 60 lbs it was an easy feat for the strong fighter. She spun the woman around, producing a rope to bind her hands behind her back. “Hannah of Bayside, by the power vested in me as a Hunter of the Guild, you’re being taken into custody for the…” Tarryn paused, trying to remember what was written on the warrant she’d picked up a couple of days ago. “For the crime of thievery in an amount exceeding 300 gold pieces.” She let out a low whistle. “That’s an impressive amount, I’ll give that to you. You’ve got guts.”
“It were for me partner,” the woman spat back, giving a halfhearted struggle against the bonds. “She got in some trouble, owed the wrong people. I did what I had to.”
“Good for you,” Tarryn answered, unmoved.
“It’s not like that bastard duke even missed it.”
“I really don’t care. I took the bounty on you, I’m taking you in and getting paid.”
“Cause that’s all what matters,” the bound woman muttered. “Ain’t you ever been in love?”
Tarryn arched an eyebrow at that. A memory wrestled itself to the surface of her mind. Teasing laughter, being pushed to the ground by someone stronger than her, a kick to the ribs, a slur spat down at her. Tarryn banished it by shoving the other woman forward. “Not once. Get moving, we got a long ride ahead of us.”
They rode the rest of the night through, Hannah seated in the front with her hands tied to the saddle horn, and Tarryn focusing on the steady breathing of the horse beneath her, the changing landscape of forest to farmlands and fields that indicated they were getting closer to town. Her side burned with every rock of the horse between her, focusing on that as well. Still, the woman’s words had stirred a pain in Tarryn’s chest that beat in time with her hastily bandaged side wound.
“Kick her again. Spit on her. Teach her a lesson.” Too small, too weak to do anything but wrap her arms around her head and wait for it to be over. The betrayal hurting as much as the actual blows.
Tarryn shook her head to banish the memories. That was a long time ago. It didn’t matter any longer. All that mattered was the hunt, in being strong enough to protect herself.
Eventually, as the pink of dawn lightened the sky and the farmers started to stir from their homes, Tarryn saw the walls of Arondale rise in the distance.
“What will happen to me?” Hannah been silent the whole ride, and Tarryn had nearly forgotten that she was there.
“Trial, probably,” she shrugged. “Prison, maybe. Not really my purview.”
“What will happen to Ella?”
“Ella?” Tarryn wondered if they were speaking the same language.
“Me partner,” Hannah’s voice wavered on the answer. “She still owes bad people. They won’t let her get away.” She turned as best she could in the saddle to look at Tarryn. Her wide blue eyes were pleading. “You could let me go. There’s still time. Can whatever the bounty is really be worth ruining lives?”
It wasn’t the first time someone had begged Tarryn for mercy, and she felt the familiar shields shutter around her sympathy, protecting her heart from the arrows of the pleas. She shook her head. “Not the job.”
“Your job sucks.” Tarryn didn’t argue with that as they approach the gates and she called up to the guard tower.
“Eh, it’s me! Tarryn of the Guild!” A helmeted head peaked out of the window, gleaming dully in the morning light.
“Right!” The figure hollered back. “Hold on!” A few seconds later the heavy portcullis of the gates raised, and Tarryn was granted admission to the city, Hannah trembling against her.
Arondale hadn’t always been Tarryn’s home. She was from a small fishing village a few day’s ride up the coast. Shortly after the incident as she considered it, she had packed a bag and left, heading for whatever city might be big enough to reinvent herself in, and eventually found her way to the home base of the Hunter’s Guild. The city dwarfed everything she’d ever known, and was packed with an eclectic mix of new construction, built for style and adorned with flourishes, and buildings from a time longer than the history Tarryn knew, showing their wear in the worn layers of paint and eroded stone. Bustling with enough people to get lost in, Tarryn quickly made the unwashed streets of Arondale her home.
She spent years working for whichever shop owners would have her and spending her free time training, building muscle mass and skill with the blade. Eventually, she’d gone to the front door of the guild and applied to be a Hunter, one of the mercenaries who traveled to nearby lands to apprehend and deliver whatever target they were paid to go after. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t even an honest living, but it gave her solitude when she wanted it, and an outlet for her anger when it popped up.
Before going to the Guild Hall Tarryn stopped by the city’s prison, dropping off Hannah, who gave her one last baleful glance. Tarryn tried to push aside the guilt in her chest as she turned away. It’s not your job to ask questions. You track down the bounty and you turn them in.
The Guild Hall was the sort of all purpose home of the Hunters- dorm rooms, commissary, and— most importantly right now— infirmary. As well as where they got the jobs. Tarryn didn’t like to stay there too long, or in the city at all. She preferred the quiet spaces and rolling hills of the wild lands while she was on a hunt. Less people to bother her. But she would be stupid to deny a proper bed, a hot meal, and some first aid care for the aching wound in her side. Five days, she told herself. You have to rest up for five days, then you can pick a new job and get out of here.
The building of the Hall itself was large but not ornate- a square facility half the size of a city block with unassuming stone walls and shutters pulled tight. Tarryn approached the simple wood door and gave three quick raps, two short ones, and three more quick ones. The code that indicated she was a member, not a guest. The sound of a heavy bolt being moved was heard in the still quiet early morning streets and the door opened just enough for Tarryn to make her way in.
Inside, the building opened to a tastefully but conservatively decorated foyer of dark wood paneled walls and floors, offset by dark green paint and tapestries and paintings depicting hunts, landscapes, feasts, and other perfectly pleasant scenes. The commissary to the left, where the tantalizing smells of warm porridge and meat beckoned, as did the hall to the right that Tarryn knew led to the dorm rooms and infirmary. Straight ahead another unassuming door indicated the office of the Guild Captain, Daryn Kinkaid. Tarryn had rare occasion to enter it and was thankful for the fact.
It was still early enough that the medic would have to be called in to tend to Tarryn’s wounds, which was an extra charge that she’d rather avoid. So, side still twinging with pain, she turned to the savory smells of the commissary.
The room was a large hall lined with solid oak tables and, at the far end, a cauldron of porridge and trays of meats already set up, along with several carafe’s wafting steaming coffee. The members of the Guild did tend to get an earlier start than a lot of the city, and the room was already filling with members. The clanging of weapons on armor and the raucous greetings were familiar music to Tarryn. That being said, she tended to keep to herself. After all, it was hard to be comfortable in a room full of mercenaries, even if you were one yourself. She quickly grabbed her breakfast from the girl serving and gave her name to add it to her monthly tab before taking a seat at an empty end of a table.
She’d barely started eating when a rising wave of familiar laughter had Tarryn groaning, nearly dropping her head into her bowl. Of course he’d show up. It’s too early for this.
Jasper Fallox was one of the most profitable Guild members, a formidable Hunter. So was Tarryn, but Jasper had the bonus of being well liked in the Hall. She was too solitary to bother. His popularity was the only thing that kept her from kicking his ass half the time. Tarryn focused on her breakfast, hoping that she could finish eating and be gone by the time he noticed her, his favorite verbal punching bag. When another excited cry echoed behind her she knew her hopes were in vain.
Still, she kept her gaze focused on her bowl as Jasper slid onto the bench next to her. His broad shoulders and tall stature loomed in the corner of her gaze. “Top of the morning, Red.” Tarryn gave him a side eye.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why? I thought we was friends.”
“And what gave you that impression, Fallox? You asked me for a drink and wouldn’t take no so I almost kicked you in the manhood. Don’t see how that engenders friendship.” Jasper waved one large hand dismissively.
“Water under the bridge.” Tarryn didn’t respond, taking another bite of her bacon.
“Heard ya got another bounty in this morning,” Jasper tried again. “Another pretty lass.” This time Tarryn did bother turning to face him.
Jasper Fallox was maybe handsome. Tarryn had heard as much whispered around the Hall. He had bright blue eyes, and a manly stubble that might cause someone to swoon. To Tarryn it was too carefully curated. His hair tousled just right, his beard just long enough, his long nails— as vicious as any weapon he would wield— filed away to points in a way that must take hours each day.
Still, next to him, her hair a frizzed red halo around her head, her pale skin making freckles and dark circles stand out like scars and bruises, a sweaty mess from riding all night, Tarryn felt woefully self-conscious.
“Was she?” She remarks, kicking herself for taking the bait. “Didn’t notice.”
“I’m sure you did.” Jasper’s grin widened infuriatingly, revealing gleaming white teeth. He knew he had her. “How come you always manage to get the pretty ones, Red? Doing that one purpose? You can tell me.” Tarryn ground her teeth together.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think ya do. I think you’re a little sweet on ‘em.” Feeling her temper rise, Tarryn slammed her hands on the table on either said of her food. The dishes jumped a good inch with the force of her blow and up and down the table she attracted wary glares. She was about to shoot back a retort, or maybe finally take a swing at his smug face, when a voice called out through the hall.
“Tarryn of Arondale? Special warrant.” Tarryn gave Jasper one last glare before purposefully rising to her feet and, leaving her dishes, headed towards the main door. She barely heard the call of “Hope it’s another pretty one!” behind her.
On her way to the Captain’s office, where special assignments were received, she stopped in the washroom for a moment to catch her breath and straighten up. Being called to Kinkaid’s office was a rare occurrence, less so for a special assignment. Those were reserved for elite clients, and usually paid in excess. Even as a consistent high performer, after five years this was her first time being called in for one. Tarryn paused in front of basin of water kept in the room, splashing some on her face. She knew when her temper rose it showed in the easy flush of her cheeks, her bright freckles. She even smoothed down her wild red curls.
Look presentable. Don’t let Fallox get to you. He doesn’t matter, what matters is that you were chosen for a special warrant. After she was sure that she looked less like she’d ridden through the night and nearly gotten into a fist fight in the commissary she gave her tunic one final tug before leaving the washroom and continuing her way down the corridor to knock on Kinkaid’s office door.
“Enter,” came the call from inside. Kinkaid, a tall and large man with greying hair that offset his dark skin, sat behind his simple wooden desk and gestured that she should take the chair on the opposite side. Tarryn did so, taking in the room as she did so. Kinkaid’s office was only as decorated as it had to be for appearances, furnished with the desk, a cabinet, and a bookshelf with plain texts Tarryn doubted he’d read much of. The captain was a man of action and few words.
“I heard that there’s a special warrant, sir?”
“Aye,” Kinkaid’s deep voice seemed to resonate in the room as his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. Tarryn suspected he appreciated that she, too, wasn’t interested in wasting time on formalities. “One for which discretion is key. In addition to your efficiency you’re known to not be a talker.” He reached in a drawer in the desk and produced a parchment, laying it on the desk between them.
Tarryn’s eyes widened as she examined it the warrant set before her.
“Sir, this is…”
“Yes.”
“The Lady of the Lyre. She’s famous.”
“Yes. But we take any bounty.”
“What law has she broken?”
“None. It’s a private warrant.” Kinkaid steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “Turns out she’s of the elvish lands. Not too surprising, considering-” He didn’t finish his sentence, instead using his hands to indicate elongated ears. “Her father wants her home and is willing to pay us to make that happen.”
Tarryn sat back in her seat, taking in the text of the warrant. Rosalinda… known as The Lady of the Lyre… Returned to Joesphus Of Elfort… Her eyebrows shot up when she got to the amount of the bounty. “Six hundred gold to the Hunter that brings her in? That’s… that’s almost unheard of, sir.” Kinkaid pierced her with his gaze.
“It is. This is quite the responsibility I’m trusting you with, Tarryn. And it needs to be expedited. As soon as you’re able you need to start on this.” Tarryn didn’t even mourn having to cut her five day’s downtime short. You knew you were only going to stay for three days anyways.
“Yes, sir. I- I have some injuries to tend to, and I’ve been riding all night, need to catch some sleep. Then I’ll set off first thing.”
“Good. I believe she was last seen in Farrowdown. With travel I expect her brought back here by the end of two weeks.”
“Yes, sir.” Shock subsiding, Tarryn tried to hide her excited grin, the way her hands itched to already hold the reigns of her horse again. Money aside, this was an honor. One that Jasper certainly hadn’t been given. “I won’t disappoint.”
“See that you don’t. You’re dismissed.” With a respectful bow of the head, Tarryn got to her feet and eagerly left the office. She no longer felt the long hours of riding, the pain in her side, or the frustration at Jasper’s ribbing. She was granted the most profitable special warrant in years. And she when she brought back the Lady of the Lyre, she would finally have some respect around here.