The Viper's Heart

The fortress was just as Canaan remembered it, but with more damage. Some of the stones on the outer wall were cracking and even after all these years the gate still had not been fixed. As he rode into the snow covered courtyard he looked around, but no one was there. They must all be inside already, provided they didn’t die. He thought to himself as he tied up his horse and threw a blanket over it. He stopped at the giant tree stump in the middle of the yard, its roots poking out of the ground. God this stump. I nearly busted my head open training on this thing. He sighed and approached the great stone keep embedded in the mountain side. As he walked up the steps to the door he could hear laughter from inside. As he opened the large oak door he came face to face with his colleagues. A blonde man with a burn scar around his right eye and a dark skinned man with a crystal arm. The blonde man dropped his drink, “Viper is that you! Gods we thought you were dead!”
Canaan smiled, “You could only be so lucky Lovec,” he said, embracing the man. “Stopvac, I see you got a new toy.”
The dark skinned man laughed, “Lost one actually, it was hell of a fight. I was working a contract in the Golden Land. There was a monster in the ocean that was tearing the fishermen apart, a classic right? So I hopped on a dinghy with a few of the elves. I lured it in with bait made of Buckthorn and holly berries. It wasn't long before it came to the surface. A Dire Turtle, biggest one I’ve ever fucking seen! It bit a chunk out of our boat so I jumped ship and landed on the things back! It was thrashing and hissing, I tell you what I've never tasted so much damn salt. I took my sword and drove it into the back of its neck, got it real deep. It flung me into the ocean and that’s when it bit my arm, tore it clean off! Luckily it died shortly after. The sailors had to bring me ashore and see to my wound. Replacing my arm with crism cost me all I earned this year but it had to be done.”
“Damn,” Canaan winced. “That’s why I never take contracts on Aquins.”
“Looks like Vac wasn’t the only one to lose something on the road,” Lovec said, handing Canaan a flagon. “What beat was strong enough to take the mighty Viper’s eye?”
“The worst kind,” Canaan mumbled, “The human kind. Where is the old man, has he made it back yet?”
“Ha, he never leaves anymore. He is in the dining hall.” Lovec said, leading the way.
As they walked through the main room Canaan took a look at the wall, more trophies had been added since his last visit. He noted the Nykur, Werewolf and Wendigo heads to be new “Who killed the Windy?” Canaan asked baffled
Lovec puffed up his chest, “Impressed eh? Yeah I took that bitch down in Eldre last year. The Torc clan pissed it off and it was picking them off like flies. Damn thing nearly got me but I was quicker, and had silver oil.”
The dining room torches were all lit and a dwarf was pulling covers off the long tables. He was 4’11’’ and had long white dreads and a longer white beard. He was wrapped in a black fur cloak so large you couldn’t see his feet. The dwarf spun around as the door opened. “Viper!” The dwarf bellowed.
“Dunlun, been awhile old man,” Canaan smirked
“Who are you calling old!” Dunlun roared, embracing the Viper. “Don’t let the hair fool you, you're still older than I am! Gods Canaan, how long has it been now?”
“Six years,”
“Fuck,” Dunlun whispered, “Come take a seat. It’s damn good to have you boys home.”
Stopvac rubbed his stomach, “I’m going to raid the kitchen for us,” he said walking out.
Canaan brushed the dust off the table as he sat down. He took a deep breath and took everything in. That carpet looks worse than ever. When will Dunlun let us replace it? Dunlun grunted as he and Lovec sat down across from the Viper. “While Vac brings us something to nibble on, why don’t you catch us up to speed?” the dwarf asked.
“What do you want to know? Can’t say I have had many interesting contacts lately.”
“Fuck contracts! It’s been six summers since you’ve wintered here with us. Where have you been boy, and what took your eye?”
Canaan clenched his fist and looked away, “Fine but let me start from the beginning. After I last wintered here I rode off for Tir Orail. I'd had my fill of Valian peasants stiffing me for coin so I decided to work for the Elves, but the road to the Golden Land was long and I would need coin in the meantime. So I stopped at a village in Greenshire, Barnwhich. I found a contract for a griffin. I thought the peasants were mistaken. It was February, Griffins should still be hibernating, but I looked into it. Only one person had survived one of the monster attacks, a farmer named Benjin. He pointed me towards the Golden Hills so I made the journey, and sure enough I found the thing, but it wasn’t alone. It had taken a child to its nest for food, why it waited to kill him I don’t know. The boy was unconscious but alive. The griffin started to loom over him, it was ready to pick him clean. I ducked into the grass and crept closer. Once I was in range I swung my chain and restrained its wings, staked the chain down with my knife and Just as it noticed I ran it and cut its head clean off.
I took the head and the boy back to the village. Got my reward but what I found next was better than silver. I took the boy home to his mother, and when I saw her, just wow. She was happy to have her son back but he was still in a bad spot. She was hysterical, made me promise to stay until her got better. We stayed at his bedside for five days, and we talked to distract her. Her name was Veela, her father left her a farm and her husband died three years prior from The Root. I expected her to kick me out when she found out I was a Naga but when she saw my arms she didn’t bat an eye. In the end we did everything we could for the boy but he didn’t pull through.
I meant to leave after that, continue down the road, but I couldn’t, we became attached to each other. I didn’t think it was possible for myself but it was love. So I put down the sword, stopped being a Dagger. Veela’s father didn’t keep the farm in good condition so we fixed it up, it started making real income. Unfortunately the rest of Barnwhich wasn’t fond of me, not at first at least. Said I myself was a monster, that Nathair belonged in the dirt, but when Veela and I got married they got over it, or kept it to themselves. I know we were raised to be Daggers Dunlun, but those years were the happiest I’ve been since I was left at this castle’s door. The village grew on me too, but it was never meant to last.
A year ago Veela started feeling ill. She had a horrible fever and she couldn’t keep her food down. We had a druid seer brought in from Greenhaven. She told us that Veela wasn’t sick, she was pregnant. We were ecstatic, hearing that news, that was true happiness. I even hand carved a crib for the baby. When she went into labor, I should have known something was wrong. She was in way more pain than she should have been. When the baby, when my son was born, he was already dead. I sat there and held him in my arms, I held him close, but he was gone. Veela saw him and she lost it. After losing her first son her pychy just couldn’t take it. She got up and started beating me. I tried to restrain her but I didn’t want to hurt her. She kicked me into a chair, grabbed a spoon and scooped out my eye. She pulled a knife on me but--she couldn’t do it. She ran outside and started screaming and threatening our neighbors. She pinned a young boy down, no older than her own first son, she was going to slit his throat. So I shoved my sword into her back…I should have done it differently, stopped her in any other way, but at the time it’s all I could do. Veela died in my arms, and the people ran me off before I could bury her. I turned back to the road, went back to killing monsters, but It's me whose the monster. I loved Veela, and I killed her.”
The dining hall was silent. They all listened to the winter winds push on the winds. The fireplace crackled and a draft ran through the room. “I’m sorry my boy,” Dunlun whispered. “You did what ya could, what you thought was right. It’s all any man can do.”
Canaan smacked the table, “Black Daggers were supposed to be better than men!”
“Aye, we tell ourselves that. Because we are afraid, just like any man. Afraid of monsters, of failing, afraid of loving and afraid of losing, but we only get stronger by facing our fears and our facing pain.”
Canaan said nothing. He rose from the table and stared down at the courtyard from the window. The snow was falling harder and the stump was completely covered. He looked to the archery range; painful memories filled his brain. “I winter here, but come spring I’m going to the Desert.”
“The Desert why?” Lovec asked
“I need answers,” Canaan growled.