Chapter 9
Crossroads
oOo
Weeks later
oOo
The late afternoon brought with it an unusually warm breeze that rustled the empty branches of the tall trees in the woodlands. A pleasant reprieve from the near constant biting cold that has swept through the vast seaside valley the last few months. Within the woods the soft trotting of horse hooves accompanied the loud chatter of two soldiers on horseback as they led their mounts on a languid patrol through the remote roads weaving between the trees.
The third companion was a knight, the eldest amongst the small group with the faintest of silver in his black hair. He paid little attention to the bickering of the two young men behind him, choosing instead to watch as rabbits bound amongst the dry foliage and a raven dart about overhead in search of insect prey. Yet he huffed; having to spend until nightfall with the new recruits who still fumed at each other over the lose of coin at the card table the previous evening wasn't his idea of a smooth patrol. Young blood they were, still unaware of how dangerous the northern woodlands can be when the Stone is the only thing standing between vermin and Gran Soren.
They will have it lucky tonight.
"My mother gifted me all that coin before I left, she'll kill me if she knew I was gambling!"
"Then you shouldn't have bet all of it. Besides it was your idea 'Hey Marcus, let us show these northerners how real men win at cards', splendid." replied the curly haired companion with a mocking tone in his voice.
"You didn't have to agree! It's as much your fault as mine!"
The older knight rolled his eyes. If these young men weren't sons of the noble houses within the region he would've sent them to the stables shovelling horse muck while he alone continued the patrol. Would save his ears some trouble.
He remained silent and continued guiding them along the familiar roads of the norths farthest reach. The tracks more worn and pronounced with constant patrolling as of late. The surge in vermin and bandit activity kept all strongholds constantly on their toes since the coming of the dragon, an attack could come from anywhere at any time.
He started to hear the sounds of armour clattering against itself. The boys had started to claw away at each other as their argument escalated. Though too afraid to actually dismount their horses for a proper fist fight, they kept on trying to reach out and smack the other over the head as their horses instinctively moved apart; the young knights then steered them back inwards again for another well timed hit on the others head.
Had they not been patrolling since late noon, the elder knight would have gladly let them brawl until the loser had his lights knocked out. But now was not the time. With a tug he halted his horse and turned to the two youths.
"How do your lungs hold enough air to still keep bickering for-" The two young men had suddenly froze, starring past their superior in alarm. The older knight immediately pulled his horse back around.
Standing in the middle of the track was a woman shivering in her rags. Alone.
In roads where few dare to travel, they were hesitant to approach. This woman just stood there in a simple dress that was faded from colour and marked with sewn patches. Her hair red and matted, eyes downcast to the ground and seemingly muttering to herself frantically, shivering with the passing breeze.
"We should help her." The younger knights immediately stopped bickering.
"No, stay put-" But his superior's words were ignored as one of the young men rode up to the woman. In frustration the elder knight turned to the remaining knight, pleading him to stay back before he followed behind.
The young man nodded and stayed in place. As the seconds rushed by his horse began stamping its hooves on the ground, head swaying side to side as if something was spooking it. He patted his mare absently as he watched the other ride up to the woman. He craned his head to get a better look ahead.
His friend dismounted and slowly approached the shaking form; equally intrigued and wary. Her face was smooth and pale, her almond shaped eyes large and coloured with lovely light brown reflecting the woods itself.
But all he could think to himself was witch.
He started to look around. The woods suddenly feeling too barren, too open to the dangers beyond. What about the birds? The chirping insects? The running hares? The young man gripped the reins tight and lead his mare closer to them, even if it were a few paces, he wanted a bigger distance from the shaking fear of vulnerability that was closing in on him.
There was yelling. He looked ahead in time to see the round form of a head thumping onto the ground followed by an armour-clad body.
Was that-?
No. It was.
A sword was in the woman's hands, fresh blood riveting across the blade and dripping onto the ground. A chocked cry came out of his mouth as the remains of his friend lie still on the ground. His mare began swaying, begging him to give motion to flee far away from the sight and scent of blood. But he swallowed his anguish and drew his sword and charged forward to back up his superior who was already unleashing a flurry of blows to the woman.
She simply glided under, over and out of reach of the broad quick silver blade like a hummingbird in mid flight. Her face a mask of concentration. The elder knight backed away, nerves drawing sweat from beneath his neck.
"Marcus, ride hard out of here. Warn the fort."
Twigs began breaking and bushes rustled beneath the pounding of slim leather boots. The ambush was now in full effect.
Marcus bolted, forcing the mare through the line of slim bodies that tried to force his mare to a stop. One of them – whoever they were – was trampled over as the long arms snaked around the mares neck to snatch the reins.
His horse was frothing at the mouth as they broke through the sparse tree line back into more familiar, open road. Marcus turned himself back and forth to find his direction again but the snapping of dried undergrowth was catching up, the speed of it uncanny. They must be witches, here to kill him and burn the north fort and all it protected before spreading their foul presence over Gran Soren like a plague. But never had he seen a witch armed in fine studded leather and a silver rapier, unlike any an outlaw could craft or acquire without spilling the blood of whoever first owned it.
She was tall, and she leapt high above the ground forcing his mare to rear up in a screech. A swift kick knocked him hard to the ground, his lip split as the side of his face landed first, helmet rolling to the side and curls spilling free. Before he could move again a boot presses against his neck and pushes with crushing force, his whole body screamed for air. He flails his hands feeling for his sword but the rapier pricks through his skin and breaks through the back of his palm like a knife through butter. As swift as she forced it in, she pulls it out and brings the needle like blade above his head. Marcus had no time to scream.
There was a searing pain on his forehead, but to his shock it numbed out all too suddenly, his vision swimming in red as he could faintly see a woman, different to the one that slaughtered his friend; taller, older, her wide manic eyes the last thing to accompany him in death.
oo
ooOoo
oo
"Selene?"
The voice dragged the young witch out of her light slumber with a start. Her heart raced as she looked over her shoulder, palms tingling with the first hint of magic.
It was only Morigan standing by the doorway. Selene let out a calm sigh; the older mage lingered, waiting for the young witch to settle at her sudden presence.Selene made to move but soon realised she had been slumbering on the same stool she had been sitting on for hours, Quina in front of her settled in soft blankets on a neat pile of clean straw.
Selene reached out and let soft light flow free from her palm, she gently let it caress the young woman's face, sensing for any change within the complexities of her body. Selene drew back quickly, the light dissipating.
Quina had changed since the Arisen had run off on her own, and since then yesterday, and the day before, had been much the same; Selene couldn't find it. When Selene summoned her healing power, she used to feel the tiny flutter that was Quina's magic connect with hers as if feeding for dear life, even in slumber. But now it lingered out of reach, refusing to connect at all. Quina was deathly cold, dark rings had formed around her eyes and her body grew thinner by the day. The gentle thrum of life within her body remained, but was struggling. The young woman looked so much like a corpse.
When no response came Morigan settled beside Selene. "I've been studying the spell. Quina made no mispronunciation, did not forget the adverbs nor noun. I suspect only you know why it still went wrong."
Selene looked down at her feet. "I...I don't know why. I..." She clutched the edge of the wooden stool firmly, trying to think. But it hurt. It hurt a lot. This had been her doing, giving whatever dangerous tomes to a woman who had no idea of the extremes her master was driven to in order to create such a spell. In hindsight, Quina should have been dead the second she uttered the incantation.
Morigan touched Quina on the forehead and shook her head wilfully; she was already giving up on her. The older mage somewhat reminded Selene of her former master, or rather, what little memories she still retained of her previous life as a pawn. The constant stern look, upright posture and the elegance of her presence. Her master had been such a powerful being and Selene still wondered why she had been allowed to serve – her own magic underwhelming – even for a witch.
Selene suddenly frowned and said. "I...have a guess."
"Oh?" replied Morigan, drawing back and standing upright.
"Quina is not like you, is she? You tried to fight the ogre. She didn't."
Morigan said, "It is my duty to protect my Master. That includes all she holds dear. I was ordered to take Quina to safety, not let her engage in combat."
"But she can't cast big spells like we can, even if she tried. She is a healer, not a mage."
"I...uh, that is true. Her potency with magic is...minimal."
Selene stood and turned off the lantern on the barrel beside the bed. "Perhaps she wasn't strong enough to...endure it. Maybe...Maybe..." The young witch struggled to say it, wrestling with the strong will to stay silent; this could end horribly, what if she was wrong?
Morigan beat her to it. "Then it must be someone with strong magic power to endure it. Perhaps you or I could try mastering it. Just as your master had." She held up the very book Quina had used, and Selene dreaded seeing it. Suddenly remembering why she had locked it up in an old chest. She can't disobey her master. Not even on her own free will. It had been her last order, her legacy, to keep Selene hidden and protected from the outside world.
"N-No, we can't...Master didn't want me to see her books. She had been strange before going through the mountain and...and...told me to be safe – left me behind – It's dangerous, I know it." She stared at the floor, trying to avoid everything by wriggling her toes against the earth harder and harder until it hurt.
Morigan looked at Selene through stern eyes, unfazed by the young witch's babbling. "Who knows what this will do to a dragon in the right hands. I must endure this, even if that means I have to reach the power your master once had. But I need your help."
Selene looked at Morigan, seeing those sharp eyes on hers. They were surprisingly patient, almost pleading.
Morigan outstretched her hand. "Come, help me study these tomes. Let us help defeat all that stand in the Masters way."
The young witch looked up to her, her toes still. "Alright...I-I'll try." It was all they could do.
ooOoo
The rumble in Halibel's belly went unattended to for the third day in a row. Food tasted like wet dirt, and even the simple act of drinking – water or wine – felt like she was about to fall and drown in it's endless depths. The days spent in solitude had done little to ease the hard acceptance of Quina's inevitable death.
Halibel was tired, and nearly dizzy from the few steps she took to meet with Mason. When he took a look at her, he said nothing, but her sluggish state was apparent.
"Have you found him?" she asked.
"Yes. Pip is by the river outside the city walls."
She slowly turned away from him to make for the river.
"Arisen," he said, "In regard to your cousin, you have my sympathies."
Halibel gave a curt nod and picked up the pace as much as she could without breaking into a run. Her jaw tight and chest gaping with emptiness.
She made it out of the city with only few people stopping her; eager to beg the Arisen for a favour or a first hand account of facing the dragon in Cassardis – again. In hindsight of the unwelcome distractions, Halibel was glad Mason sparred her the chatter about her duty, Salvation and the city's nobility.
She made it to the river to see the boy standing on top a rock near the edge of the slow moving currents. He grasped a small fishing reel tightly in his little hands, lips pursed in focus. With a heavy sigh Halibel walked towards the boy with a letter in hand.
She stopped a few paces from him, letting him work on the haul of a rather large freshwater trout. Pip chatted to himself enthusiastically as he slipped the fish into a basket beside him. It was then he spotted her and immediately stood up to attention.
"Dragon lady." He said firmly.
Halibel nodded, "Have I not warned against calling me that?"
He smiled, and Halibel came to sit beside him, long legs nearly breaching the waters surface. She took a long look at the letter in hand. "I was a little worried about you since our last run in. How are you fairing, Pip?"
Pip seemed more lively then he did when he last caught Halibel at the Dukes castle. Whatever had the boy so subdued and solemn that night seemed to be gone.
Pip cocked his head to the side, edging closer. "Fine, I guess. Just doin' some huntin', Gran can't feed herself y'know?"
Halibel smiled to herself, a small warmth spreading through her. "You provide for her, the one you care about most. That's good of you."
"Yeah." Pip said quietly eyeing her with uncertainty.
Halibel look over the river, watching the light dance through the ripples of water. No calm overtook her, just an empty silence in her head. "But who's taking care of you?"
Pip opened his mouth to answer that question on reflex, as if he knew it without a doubt. But he snapped it shut and turned away, that same angry expression overtook him. Just like it had in the castle. He answered with bitterness directed somewhere beyond that flat rock they resided on. "Me. I take care o' myself. A man don' need no one to rely on."
Halibel looked at him. Having struck an unseen nerve Pip slowly packed his things, but paused, not yet ready to leave with his catch while the Arisen still sat comfortably.
"I take your still on bad term with that Lord. Doing nothing won't fix anything." she said before folding the letter in half and giving it to Pip.
The young boy looked at it, and then back at Halibel. Unsure what to consider first and foremost.
She clarified, "Please, take this to Cassardis. Give it to Adaro, the towns elder, and only him. Please. I'll have your coin when you return."
Pip took the letter, puzzled at all he was hearing. "Y-Yeah."
With that said, they sat there on that rock for a moment longer, slowly becoming comfortable with the sounds of the river and rustle of the tall grass around them. Just another solemn afternoon.
oo
ooOoo
oo
Julien knew what happened the moment his retainer entered the room with a note in hand. The giant of a man stood by the door waiting for permission to speak. Julien remained silent for a minute, resisting the urge to laugh at himself; it was foolish to hope against the undeniable, and yet he dare let himself do it again like an ignorant fool.
"Is it about the patrol?" He sighed, all humour gone within a heartbeat. Cold hard acceptance back on his face like a mask.
The bald man nodded, eyes sharp and beady as they ever were. He hardly ever spoke either out of indifference or strange respect, years of service in Julien's noble House showed no strong inclination to either.
Julien took the note, cracked the seal and read. The scouts sent out some days ago were returning with what was left of the missing patrol.
"We received it only moments ago, yet they were spotted on the hill just as I came in, Commander."
Julien's eyes widened, outraged as he left the note aside and stormed for the door. "Clear out the training yard immediately, send two men to meet the scouts on the road, tell them to bring what they have to the rear stables."
By the time he gathered his second in command, descended the stairs and reached the middle of the courtyard the constant presence of knights and foot soldiers training, socialising and working slowed but nowhere near as empty as he'd hoped. It didn't bode well.
Just as he ordered, the scouts were escorted along the road where they waited, joined by his retainer. The scouts were guiding along a cart - something they insisted on but hoped was not needed - pulled by a single horse which eased to a stop. The remains of two young knights and a senior patrol commander were successfully recovered.
They couldn't reach the rear stables quick enough, by the time they posted guards outside and closed the doors the murmurs were already spreading amongst the soldiers of the fort. Their curious eyes quickly catching onto the situation if the disappearance hadn't already raised concern.
Dario, second in command spoke first, his disapproval apparent. "Such time you have given us to avoid a show. Are you not aware of the situation at hand?!"
The lead scouter removed himself from his horse and stood beside the cart already peeling away the layers of sheets. He simply muttered, "With all due respect sir, it is you who's unaware of the situation. Be glad we even risked bringing the bodies of our comrades back." The second shorter scout lingered behind them all, trying to find a point to focus on besides the bloodshot red of Dario's wrath rising in his face.
"The nerve you have! You dare speak to your commanding officer in such a-" He made a move towards the scout who simply kept peeling away to the final layer of cloth, a look of loathing plain and clear.
Julien cast a look to his retainer. "Lars." He commanded.
The big man easily stood between them, his presence stopping Dario from going further and causing a bigger problem.
Julien said, "Just show us who you were able to recover, we will discuss the rest afterwards."
The scout nodded, letting a breath out in relief. He pulled the final sheet away and stood back, his eyes fixed to the barn door with a force of steel.
Julien took just one look, and quickly closed his eyes. All was quiet in the stables as Lars and Dario peered into the cart, the stench the first thing to hit them all face first. He could hear Dario gasp and stagger back, following the impulse to make for the exit to flee away from the savagery he had just seen.
The thud of doors closing brought Julien back for a moment, he dare not look again and pulled the white sheet over. "You," the scout hovering about the door jolted, "fetch a healer or alchemist or...whoever. See what they can fix about the state of them. Their families will riot if we send them back like this."
He turned to the other. "Is this all of them? I only see two bodies."
"All three, Commander. Uh, the hand was all that wasn't eaten away."
Julien said, "Alright. I will see the both of you in the council room as soon as you are finished here. Lars, fetch Dario."
With that said Julien was too glad to leave the stables.
ooOoo
Word of the recovered bodies spread quicker than an infection. By late afternoon, the damage had been well and thoroughly done. The mood about the fort was forlorn and the soldiers silent as they went about their duties with very little vigour. As if the fort hadn't been through enough misfortune already.
Julien was penning a quick message back to Gran Soren, when a curious soldier had knocked at the door, asking whether it was true that the missing patrol had been found. He said yes, adding that they died nobly in service to their country and will be received with honour when they return to their families. The soldier simply nodded before being dismissed. The whole fort would hear that tale within the hour, it would be the best form of damage control Julien could give, albeit it hollow since the scouts hadn't yet told of their other findings.
But he didn't even need to hear what happened. He had seen this particular kind of savagery to corpses before. He knew exactly what was about to befall the North Stone within the next few days, possibly sooner. Wether they would survive the onrush without drastic measures or not; he wouldn't know. But something needed to be done soon if he is to keep the fort alive and strong.
His message was complete and sent off for delivery when the scouts finally arrived at the council room, armour cleaned from the labour of their mission. Lars and Dario followed behind.
Without needing a prompt, the leading scouter gave his full report with a heavy heart. They had found the bodies a long ways from the assigned patrol route and surprisingly close to the forts major road. Torn up in pieces with most of the armour removed the bodies were skewered onto stakes that were driven into the hard ground of the road, harpies and crows were beginning to gather in droves when they found them. Their horses nowhere to be seen, not a single bone evident. The scouts decided to load the cart with pieces they could remove and cleared up the area before investigating the roads the patrol had taken for evidence. It didn't take much wondering before they found more victims of the carnage; a caravan broken and stripped of its resources, and its people strewn about the ground a mess of blood, broken arrows and armour. No one was alive. As they ventured further a large camp was discovered, rapidly becoming a small stronghold made of wood and fortified by spears at it's border. Camp fire burning bright and smoke rising high above the trees, the scout dare not stay long to discover who the occupants were.
Dario immediately turned to Julien. "We have been active along those roads since that wyrm came through. How is it that the construction of another fort completely slipped through your fingers, Commander?"
The Commander frowned, letting that particular barb slip away. "It hasn't. Had it not been for the patrol, we wouldn't have know until it was too late."
"Fool. It is already too late. We reinforce the Stone, ready the men and march immediately."
Lars shook his head and grumbled in his harsh voice. "We will not march."
"Now you're giving me orders?" Dario spat.
The scout spoke up, "Please Commander - uh, Commanders - I believe they have been building since the demise of the last patrol, which was only four days ago. And already their stronghold is sturdy enough to withstand the beasts of the valley. Whatever we do may not...matter."
"Are you suggesting this was all a plan of theirs? That they were prepared?"
The scout nodded, "Sir, whoever these people are, they clearly have a plan in place to do something soon. I'm certain of it."
Dario drummed his fingers on the table, "The bastards don't care that we know. They aren't afraid of our presence here; they must have an army backing them up, we act now!"
Lars placed a firm hand on the hilt of his sword as Julien finally retaliated, "Dario, don't forget it is I who commands this fort. However much you fell out of favour with the Court, it's out of my generosity that I still allow you to speak."
The second in command jutted his chin. "And I am the only reason the men of this fort tolerate being ordered around by a foreigner. You lot have stuck your little fingers into the Court and the Duke, and theirs naught I can do about that. But know this Julien, the men have been loyal to me long before you strut in to play. We attack."
Julien bit back the desire to verbally shred the man to pieces, but there was a sting of truth in what Dario said. The Duke made a bold move displacing the former Commander, much to the Stone's outrage, and the transition for Julien as replacement had been difficult to say the least. Disobedience, lack of discipline, near riots and an attempted assassination were one of the few incidences that came to mind. But it spoke volumes of what Dario had been willing to risk to be able to retain some control of a stronghold he had been tending to with devotion for three decades.
Yet Julien hadn't been sitting about idly drinking his fill of tea and doing nothing during those painfully testing months. It took humiliation and a gruelling duel to gain the begrudging obedience of the ex-commander before long. And afterwards, the soldiers of the Stone fell into line almost as quickly. If push comes to shove, he was certain a good half of the knights will follow his sole command, something Dario either refuses to admit, or was simply ignorant to.
But here the ex-commander was now, louder then he had been before and Julien began to feel faintly suspicious – anxious, even.. But he returned to the matter at hand."We have no intelligence on them, the scouts were lucky to escape unnoticed. I wouldn't put it past them to have been watching us beforehand, to know our numbers, strengths and weaknesses already."
"We've faced worse. They are a band of clumsy highway men at best, bandits at worst with sorcerers scattered in their ranks. Scavenging supplies along the trading roads would leave them roughly armed, nothing compared to the might of armies we used to deal with. Organise our steel tonight and we will crush them by the afternoon tomorrow. Just in time for midday meals, in fact."
"We will bring the fight right into rigged territory where they have full advantage, we risk high casualties, let alone severe consequence if we go on a full march without the Dukes consent."
The ex-commander stood there in disbelief. "Fuck the Duke; we are too valuable to punish at this point. He's left us hanging too many times and we pulled through it all alone. We don't need his word or graces any more and you out of all of us know it too well." Dario stood, having had enough to make his decision, resolve iron clad. "I will let neither him nor you cause the ruin of the last stronghold standing between Gransys and every fiend out there."
Julien shot up, hand ready on his weapon at the hip, the others firm stance stirring the fear within. He knew it. Dario had just been craving an opportunity like this, waiting to seize back control or have him 'tragically' killed in a battle. Julien just hadn't anticipated this moment to come so suddenly. Everything he had planned will fall to ruin if he can't keep the ex-commander contained for a little longer.
Not now, it cannot be now.
Dario slowly drew his sword, and stood his ground sure and ready.
Each waited for the other to make the first decisive move.
The poor scout now drained of whatever will to rebel he had in the stables, now sat there wishing he could be anywhere else.
It was Lars who took the first step. But the bells of the tower suddenly rang, low and heavy.
Dario sighed and waved the scouts to duty, they eagerly scrambled out the room in panic. "Seems the decision is made for us."
All had to be put aside for the moment to brace for the oncoming attack.
oo
ooOoo
oo
Much less jumping around from now on I swear!