Disclaimer: This story was written before I published the first Godless Lands novel and I was still working on the world. For those familiar with my work, you'll see the differences in the characters from this story to the novel as well as a complete change in the overall tale. That said, Dove Soldier was my first shot at Ferris, Bethany, and Katrina.

“What’s wrong with him, ma?” the girl asked, large eyes peering at Ferris from the other side of the road.

The woman hushed the girl and pulled her protectively behind, “Don’t get close Katrina,” she said, struggling to control her breathing. “he’s touched with something wicked.”

Something wicked… Not the worst he’d been called.

From somewhere down the road behind the two women-folk, Ferris could hear the shouts of men and the heavy pounding of hooves. The two had come around the bend at a run, only stopping when they spotted him walking in the opposite direction. The woman glanced from Ferris to the sound of her pursuers, as though considering what fate might be worse.

Ferris glanced down at his hands, cracked and darkened, but strong still. He knew what he looked like. Knew why the few folk still amongst the living avoided him. The Blight had taken the world and broken it beyond repair. Decades had passed since the last sign of sickness, but the scars remained. He was just another reminder.

“Nothing so terrible lass,” he rasped, attempting a smile. It must have been a mistake, as the woman took an involuntary step back.

The girl peeked out from behind her mother, large, dark eyes fixing onto him without a trace a fear. Just the honest curiosity of the young.

He ought to mind his own business, Ferris told himself. Press on and ignore their plight. Helping folk never ended well for Ferris; only added more pain to an already brimming conscious. Good intentions paved the way to hell, and all that.

The little girl’s eyes continued to study him and he felt a touch of something he hadn’t in years, though he couldn’t put a name to it.

“Best get off the road ladies. Settle yourselves in the thickets there and stay quiet.”

The voices were close enough now that Ferris could make out their words. The woman glanced to where he’d indicated, gave him one last look over, and rushed herself and her daughter off to the side of the road. No sooner had they concealed themselves when the first rider came around the bend, followed by four more. Each wore a chain hauberk with an arming sword at the hip. Their tabards of gray and gold, the heraldry of some lord Ferris didn’t recognize. Of course, he wasn’t interested in that. Five horses, healthy as they appeared, were a rare sight. Not since before the Blight had he seen so many in one place.

He kept his eyes away from the thicket, leaning against his short pike as he wondered how a woman and young girl could justify such force. The lead rider spotted him and pulled on his reigns, keeping a good distance from Ferris. Most folks did, once they took the time to see him. The first thing that struck Ferris was just how clean the man was. There was little more than a touch of mud on his fine doeskin boots. Tall, broad-shouldered and bright-eyed, Ferris was his opposite in almost every way.

The lead soldier evaluated him a moment. “You have the Blight,” the rider said, less a question and more statement of fact.

“No sir, but I have felt its touch.”

The soldier looked at him skeptically, “Only Withers survived the Blight, but you’ve not the look of one.”

Ferris offered his reply with a shrug, “And yet here I stand.”

“Quite,” replied the soldier, seeming to want to ask more before changing his mind, “but that is neither here nor there. Have you seen two runaways pass by on your travels? A young woman and a girl with dark hair and eyes?”

Ferris scratched his head and put his weight on the pike, making himself appear more frail than he was. Not that it was all that much of a struggle.“Now that you mention it, I believe I did. A few miles down the road, seemed to be in a bit of a hurry if I recall, but then, most hurry when they see me.”

The soldier sniffed, diverting his eyes away from Ferris, “I’m sure.” Turning to his men, the rider called, “You heard him, a bit further and we’ll overtake them.”

The lead soldier gave Ferris a curt nod, guided his mount in a wide circle around, and cantered away. Ferris waited until they fell below the dip in the road, the sound of horse hoofs fading until the forest resumed its silence.

“They’re gone,” he said.

After a bit of rustling, the woman and her child emerged from their hiding place. She kept her distance, but didn’t meet his eyes. “You didn’t have to do that for us,” she said. “Thank you.”

Ferris gave a small smile, “Was nothing miss. Figure if there’s a reason to be running though the Quiet Wood, most likely it’s good one.”

“This is Katrina,” she said, a hand on the head of the big eyed girl. “My name is Bethany. Bethany of Lightridge.”

She waited a moment to see if he would react, but the title meant nothing to him. Too many years alone to care about the changing of names from one to another.

“Ferris,” he said, beginning to raise his hand in greeting but let it fall, to Bethany’s apparent relief.

It had been some time since he’d partaken in conversation. Most people kept a wide birthe when they spotted him. He was a bit out of practice.

There was a moment of silence, the woman shifting uncomfortably as she looked from him, to the road ahead and then to road behind. The way she’d run from and the path that was blocked. It was clear she wasn’t accustomed to indecision.

“Best for you to lay low before going on ahead lass. I know a place to hide, if you like.” he offered. “Unless you’ve a better plan?”

Bethany’s lips became a fine line and she contemplated the offer, while Katrina stepped from behind her mother and approached him. Bethany reactively reached out to grab her, but the girl darted out of reach.

“Why not ma?” she asked, coming closer.

Ferris looked at Bethany, “You’re mum’s worried you’ll catch what I have.”

“Will we?” Katrina asked.

“No lass, I don’t expect you will,” he said, trying to soften his raspy voice. “Been ages since the Blight took another’s breath, but it’s your mum’s job to watch out for you.”

Bethany watched him, measuring his words alongside her options before giving a slow nod. “Just a few days. Then we’ll press on to Riverbend.”

Ferris winked at Katrina, “Good. Follow along then. We’ve a bit of a walk ahead and those men might come back when they realize I lied.”

Without another word, Ferris lead them off the road and into the forest.

Aside from their footsteps, only the creaking of twisted pine trees along with the faint rustling of wind accompanied them. Even after so much time, most animals struggled to recover from the Blight. No chirping birds or barking squirrels. He’d seen them, of course, but few and far between. They’d adapted to silence to avoid what predators remained. Only the occasional drilling rattle of a nearby cicada indicated any sign of life.

The twisted pines were another effect of the Blight. While other trees rotted and died off, the pines remained resilient. Like him, they’d been touched by the corruption that scoured the world, altered and set apart from what they’d been, but continued on.

Coming upon the first ridge, Ferris stopped to gather his bearings.

It had been some time since he’d come this way.

“Were you a soldier?” Katrina asked.

“Aye, at one time I was,” he said, scanning the rolling hills beyond them. “Long before you were born, I suspect.”

“And a Dove as well?” she said, pointing at the white he wore.

He paused in his search and looked down at the girl. She smiled back up at him.“You know a bit about the Doves do you?”

Katrina nodded, standing a bit taller now that she’d drawn a question from him.“My nanny taught me about them. She told me the Doves use to help when the Blight came. She said they were very brave.”

Ferris continued his search, “Some were.”

Unsatisfied with his response, Katrina looked about to ask another question when her mother placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Mister Farris is busy love, give him space.”

“She’s fine,” he said, finally spotting the bit of stone structure poking up from the twisted pines and winding thickets.

Pressing on, he could feel Katrina’s curious eyes on him, threatening to bring memories of the past back to haunt him. Memories he forced away as he had learned to do over the years, and continued on his way.

Eventually they broke through the underbrush and onto an abandoned road. The earth had overtaken it, the surviving foliage concealing most of what had been, save for the clear space it provided.

“An Olde Road,” Bethany said under her breath. “I didn’t know there were any in this part of the country.”

He didn’t bother commenting. Only in recent years had people decided to venture out into the world. Going too far away from a safe haven was to leave one of the few sources of food. Those who hadn’t fallen at the hands of the Blight had joined together, hoarding what goods they could. Many took the surviving seeds of food giving plants and attempted to bring them back. Some had been successful, others not as much. Those who hadn’t, tended to take from those who had.

Violent times they’d been, and still were.

As the light began to fade from the sky, they came upon what had once been a monastery. While the stone structures remained, the wood had long since been burned away. Empty stone husks the only monuments of a once sacred place. He guided them to where the main sanctuary had been and unloaded his pack. Taking out a small iron pot he handed it to Katrina.

“Outside, behind this building is a small stream. Fill this up with water.”

Glancing up at her mother, who nodded her approval, Katrina happily took the pot and left. Only when she was gone, did Ferris speak.

“Not my business lass, but you seem level headed enough to know that leaving a safe haven is a good way to get yourself killed, especially with a girl her age. You’ve got no food, no horse, and only the clothes on your back.”

Bethany didn’t move a muscle as she listened, eyes distant, so he continued.

“Way I see it, you’ve likely got a reason. Probably even a good one, but I don’t think you’ve got a clue what the world has become. You’ve heard what it’s like outside the walls by some braggart or fool thinking to make himself sound big, but there’s a reason people stay behind them walls. Simply put, they don’t want to die. You sure you’re making a sound decision?”

He could see her hands tremble a bit and she clenched them shut, eyes closed tight for a brief second.

Letting out a deep breath she said, “There are things worse than death.”

That was something he understood whole-heartedly.

“Suit yourself.”

Walking behind the barren altar, Ferris moved a false stone and began taking out stored firewood and weathered sack of beans. Grabbing one from the sack he bit into it, tasting the chalky residue as he ground it in his teeth. A bit older than he would have liked, but a long soak would make them edible enough.Bethany made herself useful by starting a fire with the wood he’d pulled out.

“You’ve been here before?” she asked as he joined her by the fire.

“I have. Been a few years since I’ve come through this way, but I lived here for a time,” he said, remembering the kindness of the priests when he’d arrived. They’d seen him, in his state, and brought him in regardless if he carried the corruption or not. They’d fed him, mended his clothes, and prayed over him in his broken moments. Even when the Blight took them, he’d never seen a group of people so generous or dedicated when pitted against such wanton destruction.

Katrina arrived, carefully balancing the overfilled pot of water so as to spill as little as she could before handing it off to Ferris. He took it, poured the excess into his canteen, and dropped a good portion of beans into the pot to soak overnight.

“Did you help people with the Blight?” Katrina asked, sitting near the gradually growing fire. “You know, back when you were a Dove?”

“Aye, some folks. Mostly worked the burn piles, but that’s not something a little thing like you need to know the details of.”

“I’ll be eight summers this autumn,” she said proudly, as if to prove him wrong.

Ferris leaned back against the stone wall, “Aye, and that’s a fine age to be.”

He left it at that, figuring the girl would give up. Of course, she didn’t.

“Have you killed anyone?”

“Katrina,” Bethany admonished.

“What?”

“That’s not the sort of thing you ask a person. If you want to ask Mister Farris something, you may, but keep it civil.”

The little girl huffed for a moment, “Fine. What happened to your hands?”

Bethany looked about to scold the girl again, but he waved her off.

“It’s alright. A child her age should have questions.”

He held up one of his hands, “You see, my hands were like yours once. I used them to till the earth, to cradle my children and hold my wife, but you see, my hands are magic. They gave love to those I cared about. With every little bit of love I gave, my skin grew darker and darker until they became what you see today.”

Katrina’s brow furrowed as she looked from Ferris to his hands, “Did they become darker when you helped us on the road?

“What do you think?” he asked, bringing one hand closer to her.

“It’s darker than before!” she exclaimed, then suddenly became somber. “What happens when they darken completely?”

He gave her a wane smile, “Then I’ll have given all the love I have left.”

The night grew longer and the sun sank below the distant hills. Katrina lay her head in her mother’s lap, staring at the crackling flames while her mother softly snored.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” she asked again, eyes fluttering.

Ferris stared at the inquisitive girl, “Only when I had to.”

The little girl nodded solemnly, then smiled, “You’re a Dove Soldier then. You’ll keep me and my mum safe?”

“Aye lass. Now get some rest.”

Katrina closed her eyes, her breathing getting deeper as sleep finally took hold. Content that they wouldn’t wake, Ferris rose from the fire and walked outside the sanctuary to clear his mind.

What was he doing?

He’d spent years alone, wandering the now empty roads of the world. Unlike most people, he could go days without food. Whatever curse had befallen him, it corrupted his appearance, pushing people away, but it kept him alive. Alive long enough to see the world crumble. God had decided to damn him and, deep down, he suspected he knew why.

He was a coward.

As the Blight spread, he’d volunteered himself to become a Dove. It required a strong stomach and a willingness to do what others could not. Having spent most of his life as a career soldier, he thought he’d be up for it. He’d held himself in a pike line against a cavalry charge, marched countless miles just to fight on arrival, and looked death in the eye more times than he could remember.

None of it prepared him for the Blight.

Putting down a man trying to kill you was different than finishing off a woman begging you to give her a chance to recover or a child asking what the knife was for. It wasn’t fighting, it was murdering. He didn’t think there was a difference until the knife was in his hand.

Instead of doing his duty and preventing the sickness from spreading, he hid people away. Hid them with his own family, doing whatever he could to avoid the unavoidable.

And how many more died because of his cowardice?

His mind filled with memories of the past, Ferris wandered to the outskirts of the monastery grounds until he found a particularly large pine tree. Before it lay several stones, set there as headstones for the priests that had fallen to the Blight. He’d buried them before setting fire to the rest of it. For people so kind to him, he couldn’t face the idea of burning them with the rest of the infected.

So here they lay.

He settled himself against the tree as a faint mist of rain began to fall, mind drifting to better times until fatigue overcame him and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

A scream ripped through the morning air, causing Ferris to bolt upright, blinking sleep from his eyes.

In the center of the standing stone structures, five horses had been tethered. Katrina was crying and Bethany’s voice called out in protest.

How’d they’d been found so quickly was beyond him. He didn’t give it much thought as, taking up his pike, Ferris ran toward the sanctuary.

*****

Bethany crashed to the stone floor as Ser Havius, Captain of the Lightridge Watch, backhanded her.

“When I tell you to do something,” he said, calmly shifting the brass rings that marked his station, “you had best do it.”

“Mum!” Katrina cried, rushing toward her.

“Stay back,” Bethany slurred, her mouth filling with blood as she struggled to her feet, hand going to the knife hidden within her dress. The other four soldiers watched silently as Ser Havius gave her a sharp kick to the stomach.

All the air rushed out of her lungs as she rolled on the ground. Bits of color flared across her vision, eventually fading to black. Try as she might to put herself between the captain and her child, she couldn’t get her body to respond.

Havius squatted down beside her, bright eyes contemplating her with curiosity more than anger, “I still can’t figure out why, my lady. Why take the Baron’s heir? The both of you would have had first claim to rations, not to mention a safe place to lay your head. You could have lived the life of comfort.”

Still fighting for air, Bethany felt her anger ignite just as it had when she learned what the Baron had in store for his ‘heir’. The sick intentions of a man wrapped up in the purity of his own bloodline. She’d not prostitute her daughter for comfort.

Hands shaking, she tried to push herself up again, but failed.

“Your loss I suppose,” Havius said. Then turning to his men, “Finish her off.”

Hopelessly, she watched Havius step over her to get to Katrina.

Then a voice like leather dragged across cobblestone drifted from the other end of the sanctuary.“Bad business beating a woman in the confines of a sanctuary.”

Bethany looked up to see Ferris standing in the entrance, pike held in loosely in one hand, shield in the other. She’d thought he’d seen the soldiers and left, but there he was. Her hope faded as she realized her supposed savior was little more than a disease ridden old man. In that moment, she’d wished he had run away. A small payment for his kindness the day before.

Havius raised an eyebrow, faint smile spreading at the audacity of the old man. “Holy places are as empty as the rest of the world old boy. You of all people should understand that.”

Havius gave one of his men a slight nod. The soldier drew his sword and advanced. Ferris watched the man come forward and, in a sudden flash of movement, thrust his pike through the man’s neck, dropping him to ground where he writhed, choking on his own blood.

“Aye,” Ferris said, watching the man die. “I supposed you’ve a point there.”

The captains eyes went wide, his calm demeanor falling away.

“Kill him,” Havius shouted, drawing the sword at his hip.

Ferris remained in the doorway as the captain and his men advance. Bethany, finally able to breathe again, found her strength returning as Katrina rushed to her side.

“Get up mum,” she said, doing what she could to help her mother rise to her feet.

Standing, Bethany watched as the soldiers rushed forward. Ferris’ pike thrust out, rising and falling in surprisingly rapid motions as the men funneled themselves through the doorway. One fell, the pike going through his eye, followed by another as the heavy head of the weapon crushed his collar, not cutting through his hauberk, but snapping the bone. Ferris managed a final thrust into the captain’s thigh as the remaining two rushed ahead, knocking the old man from the doorway.

At this point, Bethany was up on her feet, leading Katrina out a back entrance, away from the violence. Katrina resisted, dragging her feet as she looked back.

“We can’t leave him,” she cried. “He needs our help.”

Bethany picked the girl up and carried her out the back anyhow, her lungs on fire, limbs sluggish as she moved. Katrina fought her every step of the way, kicking until she finally broke free. Bethany staggered and righted herself before falling back to the soft, rain soaked earth.

“I’m not leaving,” Katrina said, standing over her mother. “Not without my Dove Soldier.”

Bethany stared at her daughter, not comprehending why she wouldn’t listen. Then she spotted the horses on the other side of the sanctuary. A horse would get them away from here faster than anything else.

“Fine,” Bethany said, getting back up. “But you do as I say.”

Katrina nodded and fell behind her mother.

Bethany crept along the side of the stone building, hearing the grunts of the fight ahead of them. When she peeked around the corner, she saw the three men. The last soldier was gripping his groin, blood pooling around his body, further soaking the already damp earth. Covered in mud from the fight, Captain Havius straddled Ferris’ lifeless body, clutching his ribs while smashing the pommel of his sword into the dead man’s face before rolling off, exhausted.

“Get to the horse,” Bethany whispered.

“But,” Katrina began, before her mother cut her off.

“Now.”

Katrina looked from her mother to Ferris’ still form. Tears in her eyes, she obeyed.

Bethany didn’t waste any time. Just as Havius began to get to his feet, she rushed toward him. He turned in time to see the knife she’d been hiding in the folds of her dress, drive through his eye and into his brain. His body went limp, crumbling to the ground before she could pull the knife free.

She felt sick at the sudden violence at her own hand, but kept herself from vomiting. It had to be done, she told herself.

Tearing her eyes away from the man she’d killed, she found herself staring at Ferris.

Why had he done it?

He owed them nothing. There was no reason he should give his life to save theirs. Anyone in their right mind would have fled.

One of the soldiers that had fallen within the sanctuary groaned, drawing her out of her reverie. Regretting she couldn’t do more for the man that saved them, she turned away and joined Katrina in the saddle.

Her daughter continued to stare at the dead man. Bethany was about to tell her to look away, but her daughter did so of her own accord, squeezing her mother’s waste tightly.

“They didn’t kill him mum,” she said, voice suddenly hopeful. “He just gave the rest of his love away. He gave it to us. Look!”

Bethany looked down at the dead man, seeing his arms covered in mud from the altercation.

Her throat tightened and she squeezed her daughter's hand. The girl didn’t seem to see the wounds in his chest and face. For a moment, Bethany wished she too could see the world from the eyes of a child.

“That’s right,” she said, releasing her daughter’s hands and urging the horse forward. “He did.”

As the fine droplets of rain slowly picked up, Bethany lead her mount away from the ruins of the old monastery. Not looking back at the carnage they left behind, she focused on the Olde Road before her. Had she spared a last glance behind, she may have seen the rain slowly wash the mud and gore away from Ferris’ broken form and the frail movement of his hand as it clenched the soil.