The Last Stand (The Eleven Years War: Book One)
Chapter Thirty

The town of Marana was small, withbarely 1,000 permanent residents. It sat on the northern shore of Lake Thias,and despite its location by a major river, it remained one of the most isolatedplaces in Caitha. It meant that Eza’s arrival was met with a lot of scrutiny,but not enough that anyone caused any trouble for her; thanks to thesuperstition that ran rampant through Caitha about the figures in black. Rookswere thought to be demonic by some, immortal by most, and assassins for theroyal family by all; they were not the sort that you messed with, unless youhad a death wish.

Thissomewhat justified fear of Rooks made Eza’s job a little difficult the night ofher arrival. She went to the town’s tavern after getting settled in her room atthe small boarding house that would be her home for the next few days. Thesecond she walked in, her black cloak tied over her shoulders, she could feelthe eyes of every patron staring at her in fear. Even the tavern’s owner, aburly man who could almost give Silas a run for his money in size, cowardbehind the bar at the sight of the 16-year-old Rook commander.

Ezapulled back the hood of her cloak, revealing her scarred face, as she walkedtoward the bar. The tavern’s patrons were beginning to whisper about her, now,about who she was: the Kurzhian, a mystical being that was spoken about in thenorth of Caitha as reverently as her countrymen spoke about the saints. Thanksto her reputation, not only was she feared because she was a Rook, but she wasalso feared as the mighty being that she supposedly was. It was said by manythat her scar came from a battle with General Raul himself, the same one thathe lost his eye in, and that she’d once taken out half of a battalionsingle-handedly. The only rumor that had some truth to it was the “fact” thatshe’d started a riot in a Gisken prison and had escaped undetected while theguards tried to handle the prisoners; Mitrius was really the one who startedthe riot, and the saints know that her escape hadn’t been undetected.

“I-It’sa p-pleasure to have y-you in my tavern, m-ma’am,” the tavern’s owner said asshe sat down at the bar with a bow. She could see him shaking with terror.

Ezanodded as she set her staff down on the bar, along with a silver dram. “Get mea bowl of pottage and a tankard of ale, please. You can keep the change.” For afew seconds, the tavern owner simply stared at the silver coin, unsure if shewas really going to give it to him. Then, he gently took it, held it close tohis chest, and bowed. “Th-thank you, ma’am.” He turned around and began workingon her ale and pottage.

Ashe did, another patron entered and sat down next to her. He was a Watchman,judging by his gray cloak, and had been for a long time; the new ones alwayswalked with a sense of pride with their brand new cloaks. His was frayed andhis broad shoulders where hunched from years of being branded sub-human.

Thetavern owner came back with Eza’s ale. She swigged it as he went off to get theWatchman a tankard. “You’re a long way from your fort, Watchman; for your sake,I hope that you aren’t a deserter.”

“I’mnot, ma’am,” The Watchman said. “The Giskens captured my fort a few weeks ago.I’ve been trying to get to Asfalis for a while, but I haven’t been able to getmuch farther than here, since nobody seems to want to hire a Watchman.

“FortAsfalis has fallen, too,” Eza said. The Watchman cursed. “Which one were youstationed at?”

“FortMatisse,” he said. Eza cursed as the tavern owner came back with the Watchman’stankard and Eza’s pottage. Fort Matisse was the second largest of theintelligence core’s forts, second only to Fort Asfalis; the fact that it wasgone, too, was a huge blow.

TheWatchman swigged from his tankard as Eza at her pottage. She discovered that itwas ranked second as the worst she’d ever tasted; thank the gods, it didn’toutrank the stuff she’d eaten in Kurzh.

“So,what’s a Rook doing in Marana? I didn’t think that you people like to concernyourselves with tiny fishing villages.”

“Weintercepted a report about a northern invasion force getting ready to take Jastan,”Eza said. “I was sent here to investigate.”

TheWatchman looked over at her, surprised. “You guys just barely found out aboutthe northern invasion?”

Ezanodded. “This place has been an intelligence black hole for the past fewmonths.”

TheWatchman frowned, confused. “So you guys haven’t been getting our intelligencereports?” Eza shook her head.

“I’mfairly certain that the Giskens have been intercepting our messengers,” shesaid. “They’ve been doing a damned good job at turning our intelligence serviceuseless, and I don’t like it.”

Oneof the patrons, a burly man with thick brown hair, clapped one of his meatyhands on his shoulder.

TheWatchman looked over his shoulder at the man, his eyes narrowed; it seemed thatthe two knew each other.

“Ihope you don’t plan on being a shit to my man, boy,” Eza said before either ofthem could say anything. They looked over at her, surprised, as she took a fewswigs of ale.

Theman snorted as he folded his arms over his chest. “This is a man’s business,little girl; I’d suggest that you keep your pretty little head out of it,before I bash it in.”

Everyonein the tavern fell silent when they heard that. It was not only rare to replacesomeone who didn’t believe in the stories, but disbelieved them enough todisrespect a Rook.

“Showsome respect!” The Watchman snapped. “She’s worth fifty of you!” Eza turnedaround to look the man in the eye, holding her hand up. The Watchman shrankback, waiting for Eza to handle the situation.

“Isee that you don’t believe in the stories,” Eza said.

“Ofcourse not!” the man scoffed. “I saw one of your comrades get dragged out ofFort Matisse when the Giskens took it. He just begged for his life before theyran the bastard through, and he was older than you; a full-grown man. A littlegirl like yourself isn’t going to be much braver when her time comes to faceher maker.”

“Proveit,” Eza said bluntly. The man stared at her for a few seconds, confused, alongwith everyone else in the tavern.

“What?”Eza grabbed her staff and sat it on her lap.

“Goget your sword and prove to everyone here that Rooks are just as cowardly asWatchmen,” she said. “Unless you’re worried about your well being, of course; Iwouldn’t want to force you into something you’re uncomfortable with, boy.”

Thatlast comment was the last straw for the man. He got red in the face as heyanked his massive broadsword from its sheathe.

“Ifyou insist!” He swung his sword at Eza’s head.

Gods,was this guy a shitty swordsman; Eza actually found herself being offended bythe fact that he thought he could take her on. He used his elbows to swing hissword at her rather than his shoulders and he had a very narrow stance. It allmanaged to not only make his blow less powerful, but make him unstable, aswell, two mistakes that even a novice swordsman wouldn’t make. His inexperiencealmost made her feel guilty about knocking his sword out of the way like apesky fly, then swiping his leg out from under him, but she didn’t. If theman’s ego hadn’t been so much larger than his real capabilities, then shewouldn’t have to embarrass him in front of his friends like this.

“Wouldyou like to try again?” Eza asked as the man staggered to his feet.

Theman stared at her for a few seconds, murder in his eyes. Then, he swung hissword wildly at Eza, trying to avenge himself.

Now,if the man had realized his folly and given up after the first try, Eza mighthave felt a little sorry for him; however, his ego wouldn’t be denied. Theseries of blows he’d unleashed on her was wild and ferocious, but horribly predictable.Eza was certain that she would have been able to block the blows with one handtied behind her back. That time, she’d decided to not be merciful, as she hadthe first time. It was time to thoroughly humiliate him, the only way she couldthink of to keep his ego from getting him killed.

Beforeanyone could get seriously hurt, Eza smacked him on the wrist with her staff,forcing him to drop his sword, and slammed his face against the bar, pinninghim to it. He thrashed and squirmed beneath her grip, but he couldn’t wrenchhimself free; he was stuck, pinned down to the bar by a teen-aged girl.

“Youneed to learn to control your anger,” Eza said as the man continued to strugglebeneath her. “It could get you killed if you were to piss off the wrong person;you’re lucky that I decided to teach you a lesson in humility rather than inpain.”

Theman turned his head to look her in the eye. “Damn you; I swear on all that’sholy, I’ll have your head!”

Ezagrabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room. He stumbled and fellto the ground in front of her. Gods, she was getting sick of him; when would helearn that a little humility could go a long way?

“Don’tmake me change my mind,” she growled, pointing her staff at him. “I can stillkill you, and believe me, it won’t be a pleasant experience.”

Finally,the man seemed to understand just how out-matched he was. He slinked away,sword in its sheathe, defeated.

Ezalooked around. The people were staring at her, shocked. Even the Watchmanseemed surprised.

“Wouldanyone else like to try and push my man around?” Eza asked. The tavern remainedsilent; she took that as a no.

“We’llkeep in touch,” she said to the Watchman. “Try and be available tomorrow.”

“Yesma’am.” Eza walked out of the tavern and into the dark, cold night.