[Kraut007, Kat, Jenny-A1, and ivy27: Thanks very much for your support of this story! Sorry it took so long to update...I was busy making some cosplays in time for Halloween.
demisses: I totally agree. I love Iorveth's borderline reverent attitude towards Saskia. You barely ever see them interact one-on-one in the game, so I'm trying to portray how they would talk to each other believably in this story.]
Chapter Seven
The dark skies that had warned of rain all day finally burst, and the downpour snuffed out the remaining embers of the ruined Murivel. Saskia surveyed the aftermath of the fight. Remnants of smoke stirred up around the recouping combatants. Her eyes found their way to Iorveth, battered but adequately intact at the other side of the monstrosity's corpse.
He'd done it. He'd come through for her once more, just like in his grand intervention during the Siege of Vergen, and in helping to restore her free will. He'd upheld his word and defended the team—even the runaway Tarn and Lionel—from a monster's wrath, again calming her fears of more wasted lives. Only this time it had come at a risk to himself.
Saskia noticed Faye standing a fathom away from the elven brigand, inching towards him in concern. "You're bleeding," the sorceress said earnestly.
"Where?" Iorveth asked.
Faye pressed her palm to the left side of her neck in indication. Iorveth mirrored her. "Other side," she corrected, and he shifted to the left side of his neck, his glove coming up red-stained. "You can't feel it?" she asked, her head quirked.
"Probably just a lash from the thing's tail," he replied. "A trifling wound, by my experience."
"I could cast a spell to make it heal faster," she offered.
"There's no need," he retorted. "It will stop in due course."
Dissuaded by his terse response, Faye retreated to examine the body of the phantom beast. While she knelt over it—presumably to pay her respects and to harvest alchemy components—Saskia strode over to Iorveth.
"You did well," she commended. "Your actions may well have saved us needless losses. I should not have doubted for a moment your capability against creatures like this."
"Truth be told, I've never seen anything like it before," he admitted. "But if the caltrops hadn't worked, I would have found another way to lure it from your forces, whatever the cost."
"I can be assured now that my forces will be looked after when we arrive in the mountains tomorrow. And for that I owe you much," she said. Her hand came up to touch his, still pressed against his bleeding neck.
He shifted, but didn't pull away immediately.
"Are you sure the wound isn't serious?" she asked. Then, in haste, she added, "I just want to know that you'll be in reliable condition when we begin our climb."
"I've torn Special Forces units asunder in worse conditions than this," he assured her, taking her by the wrist lightly and, after a moment's reluctance, pulling her hand away. "However, if it will put you at ease, a length of gauze or cloth would help to stem the blood flow."
Saskia dug in her travel pack and found the cloth her cloak had come packaged in when presented to her by the young dwarven child in Vergen. She presented it to Iorveth, who held it in a wad to the lash mark. "What of those two?" he asked, gaze veered towards Tarn and Lionel. The pair was now under the watchful eye of the dwarves.
"I'll see to them. You might draw from the well to wash away the blood," she advised. With that, she turned and approached the two mutinous rogues.
Lionel donned a downcast face, arms covering his bare chest and mauled boot on his foot. He peered over at the corpse of the young girl wrapped in his shirt. Tarn maintained a confident visage, standing straight and tall with the satchel of ore on his shoulder, his hand fumbling with the partially singed sleeve of his jerkin.
"Count Marco," Saskia began sternly. "You have stolen a portion of our quarry and deserted our convoy, unauthorized. Lionel Hix, you stand as an accomplice to the Count. Under Demavend, such actions may have been viewed as treason and met with grave consequences. But I am giving you each a chance. You will have one chance apiece to explain your actions to me. Starting with you, Lionel. Why did you join Tarn in abandoning the caravan?"
Tarn caught himself in mid eye-roll as Lionel looked up sheepishly. "I-I meant no disrespect t' you, Saskia, none at all," the peasant stammered. "Count Marco, he pulled me aside this mornin', sayin' he had a better way t' get food to all Vergen's folks, without havin' to cross a whole mountain range and whatnot. And he demanded tha' I join him."
"Demanded?" Saskia echoed. "He made you act against your will?"
Lionel scratched his neck. "Well, no…" he murmured. "He…talked me into it, you might say. Gave me a reason t' go along wi' it."
"What reason?" she pried. Lionel started to look towards Tarn, but was abruptly stopped by Saskia's command of "Eyes to me, not him!"
He swallowed hard, looking her in the face. "…I got a kid in Aedirn, y'see," he uttered.
She raised her eyebrows. Lionel had been amongst her common-born subjects since the uprising, but never had he mentioned a family in mainland Aedirn, let alone children. The thought of him as a father was…unexpected, to say the least.
"I got a kid in Aedirn," he repeated. "Must be about five years ago now. I worked the forests on a certain baron's land. The baron's daughter and I, we took a liking to each other, and...well, I won't go into all that, Miss. But when the baron found out his daughter was carryin' a common bastard, that didn't sit to well wi' him. He run me off of his land and forced her into an arranged marriage, coverin' up the kid's real roots. Some lord in Aedirn thinks that kid is his. But it's really mine…and I ain't never seen it, never even learned if it was a boy or girl."
"Did Count Marco threaten your child if you wouldn't help him?" Saskia asked.
"No, nothin' like that. The Count said he knows the baron I served in Aedirn. Said he could arrange for my kid to be brought safe to the Pontar Valley," Lionel explained. "That's why I come into your rebellion in the first place, Saskia. A place where highborn and lowborn is equal…in a place like that, I could be free to see my kid. I could say that kid is mine, and pick 'em up and hold 'em without disgracin' their mother. That's why I listened to the Count, Miss. I never meant no insult to you."
Saskia's expression softened for a fleeting moment, but she resumed her stern demeanor as she turned to Tarn. "Is he telling the truth?" she asked the noble.
"I can't be expected to account for his reasons of coming into your service, Lady," he said. "But the rest is most certainly true. I'm well acquainted with the family he served and the scandal he wrought upon their daughter. And it's also true, I did agree to pull some strings so he might visit with the young bastard, if he would grant me his cooperation."
"His cooperation in undermining our mission, in threatening us and all of Upper Aedirn?" Saskia added coolly.
"I implore you to hear my side before you condemn it as such," he said. "Lady Saskia, you are a remarkable leader, bound to usher in a new era. But you must realize, if only in the back of your mind, that this trek to Hengfors can't possibly succeed. Look at my poor horses, for instance. My father put his blood, sweat and tears into raising these animals. They are the very finest pedigree in Aedirn, and they've already been injured once. Now they're to pull a heavy freight over a hazardous mountain range, with no road to travel on, and in a winter climate no less? They'll be hurt severely on the slippery crags. The cargo will be lost to the first snow, and us with it."
Saskia thrust a finger at him. "If this was your fear, you could have told me so directly."
"Forgive me, Milady, but in a way I did," Tarn said. "Shortly after we crossed the Pontar, I suggested that we might spare ourselves the trouble of journeying to the Hengfors League by negotiating commerce with Murivel instead. When I was denied, it seemed best to show you the merit in my plan, by bringing back a sampling." He patted the satchel full of ore at his hip.
She glanced off in thought, her thumb and forefinger nestled under her chin. The company stood around her, watching, waiting to see how she'd respond.
"…Perhaps you're right, Tarn" she finally said. "The Hengfors League is far away and difficult to reach. Perhaps, before acting so hastily, I should have considered the views of those in my charge and examined other options."
"You should have?" Tarn blinked. "I mean yes, I should say so, Lady."
"So, then…" Saskia looked around. "With Murivel burned to a husk devoid of merchants with whom to trade, and with the next Redanian town several days away and very likely beset by the Empire, what do you propose as our next move, Count Marco?"
He fell silent, his jaw slack, and for once without words.
"You have our ears, Count," Saskia prodded once more. "If you truly know what is best for Upper Aedirn, how shall we proceed?"
"We could…um…" He chewed his lip, and his Adam's apple quivered in his throat as he searched for a coherent sentence. "There were no bodies in the town, excluding this street urchin." He indicated the dead girl wrapped in Lionel's shirt. "Perhaps the citizens sought refuge somewhere nearby. To start, we could find out where they went."
"And where do you think they went?"
Tarn managed to smile knowingly. "In my modest opinion, I'd say this town went the way of the elven palace of Shehe…Shehera…"
"Shaerrawedd," Iorveth finished bitterly. "An elven monument in Kaedwen, destroyed by the Aen Seidhe themselves to prevent human invaders from building on its foundation. Familiarize yourself with our history before you use it to your own ends, Count."
"Right. Shaerrawedd," Tarn echoed. "So, the citizens of Murivel laid waste to their own city, as the elves did, to deny its use to…to whom?" He trailed off. "…To Nilfgaard?"
"It happens in war," Zoltan chimed in. "Keeps the enemy from laying claim to a conquered town's resources. Thing is, if these Murivel folks thought old Emhyr was set on addin' their city as a notch to his belt, there's only one place they could have fled."
"The mountains," said Lark.
Tarn turned to her. "But I've seen Lady Saskia's map, and as I established before, there's no path to offer safe passage for a team of horses in the Kestrel Mountain range."
"That map's maker was either human or dwarf, but clearly not an elf," Lark responded. "The Aen Seidhe were herded by humans into the mountains well before any dh'oine put them to paper, so they would know the mountains' secrets better."
"You mean to tell me we are using hidden elven trails, then?"
"Not so hidden anymore," she replied. "The Kestrel Mountains were the territory of my former Scoia'tael unit, which you may have heard were all killed by Special Forces. Now the trails we walked and rode are abandoned, but should still be usable."
Again, he reacted with silence.
"Are you satisfied now?" Saskia asked him. "I've no intention of sending us to an early end amongst the snow-capped peaks. We've considered the risks and prepared as best as possible for them. This is no fool's errand, nor a wild goose chase. Do you see?"
"I see," he assented. "But there is still one flaw that occurs to me. If Murivel was destroyed because Nilfgaardian forces were on the way, then their black shadows could be looming over Vergen any day now. Our sorceress claims she can teleport us back at a moment's notice…but I saw the way she struggled simply to maintain that barrier against the bandits on the forest trail. The strain of moving us all from one point on the land to another must be far more strenuous. Are we certain she can do it?"
"That's a question for her," Saskia remarked, stepping aside to let Faye speak.
"I can do it," the sorceress began, reaching for a pouch fastened to her skirt. "…With these." She emptied the pouch contents into her hand. A mound of lustrous gems gleamed atop her palm.
"I thought you said you needed a rock from Vergen to bring us back," Tarn puzzled.
"That. And these." She allowed the crystals to trickle from one palm into another. The shimmer they boasted even at this dark hour was from no natural light source, but a magical one. "The amount of The Power it will take to bring us home is more than any one mage can conjure at a time. And the further we get from Vergen, the more it will take," she explained. "So every morning, I will perform a ritual to store a little more of The Power in these. That way we will always have enough."
"You sound quite sure," Tarn said. "All my horses, all our supplies and teammates…all will be accounted for by your spell?"
"All of them," Faye declared. "And cats, too."
The statement earned her several skeptical stares.
"Cats are drawn to The Power," she explained. "When I cast the spell to conjure a portal back to Vergen, a stray might jump in and deplete some of The Power. By storing extra, nothing will be left behind."
Tarn had no reply. All eyes were on him, and his were on Saskia. Slowly, he removed the satchel of ore from his arm and extended it to Upper Aedirn's leader. "I acted in haste," he confessed. "You have prepared well for this journey, and barring the unforeseen, you may succeed after all. I shall make no further attempts to obstruct you, Lady Saskia. If you so will it, I shall adhere to the assignment you have allotted to me: negotiating with the officials of Hengfors."
Saskia took the satchel and tucked it under her own arm. "You said yourself I am bound to usher in a new era, Tarn," she replied. "What you must realize is that the era I herald in is to be one of harmony, of cooperation by all people regardless of race or caste. While you may have acted in the best interest of Vergen, you erred by acting alone. Yes, you beguiled Lionel into supporting you, but this decision was solely yours. You assumed you, and no other, knew best. For this, appropriate action will be decided upon by a council when we return to Upper Aedirn. Until then, you are not to leave the sight of this convoy. Whether we move forward, stop to camp or face aggressors, you will remain supervised at all times."
He slouched down in defeated acceptance of this. Saskia turned her attention on Lionel. "As for you," she said, "You've proven your loyalty during the rebellion. Your aid in building our ramparts was invaluable when the Kaedwenis attacked. You are no traitor in my sight…your greatest error was to allow yourself to be to readily led astray."
"I shoulda come to you first," Lionel admitted. "I done you wrong, leading the group into this burning town."
"You clearly realize your mistake, and I see you've been punished enough as it is." She glanced solemnly to the burned corpse of the child Lionel had tried to save. "So this will be your first and only warning. From here on out, you are to stick to the duties for which you volunteered when you joined our convoy. If you're asked to take on any others, you are not to lift a finger until you've contacted me first. If I find out you're acted against the good of the mission again, this time you will be met with consequences befitting a traitor."
"Y-Yes, Saskia. You're too good, Miss," Lionel sputtered. "I won't let you down again, honest."
With only a short nod, Saskia turned and brought her attention to the rest of the party. "I want everyone here to remember what it is we fought for: freedom for all in Upper Aedirn," she declared. "The old ways of the lord and serf have no place in our realm. Men are to be judged by their actions alone—regardless of whether they were born in a castle or a sty, reared in a forest or in the mountains."
She paused and smiled faintly when she was met with murmurs of approval.
"Never forget this as we forge ahead: you are all strong, but together we are stronger!" she asserted. "It took the combined might of all of us to repel Henselt. It took the combined knowledge and resources of each among us to make this mountain trek possible. And it will take the combined efforts of everyone to make that possibility into a reality. Do not doubt that to be successful, we must rely on each other…not only on ourselves."
There were a few positive responses, from "Too right!" to "Aye, Saskia!"
"With all this said, there's no time to lose," she added. "If it's true that Murivel's citizens burned their own hometown to deny its use to Nilfgaardian invaders, then the foe could be en route. It's been a difficult day for all of us, but before we can spare a thought for rest, we must press on. We'll have our reprieve a few hours northward, at the base of the Kestrel Mountains." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, ushering them on towards the town's exit, opposite the gate they had come in. "Let's go!"
On her cue, despite their weariness and wounds, everyone ambled on. There was no looking back…save for Lionel, who broke away from the procession one final time to kneel at the perished girl's side. He reclaimed the shirt he'd wrapped her in, and with all the reverence of a temple priest he folded her small hands on her chest and dragged her eyes shut.
Saskia looked on and made no objections.