The Deadshield Woods were white. A thick blanket of snow expanded to the horizon in a sea of cottony clouds. The heavy shroud lay still under a lack of wind, frozen in time. This deep in the forest, the unnatural stillness had grown even more pronounced. It killed conversations with every falling tuft of snow, every creaking branch that caught the eye of the column.

From afar, the oppressive sensation had been replaced with deep tranquility.

It was a good thing, then, that Viv was watching it from her troglodyte room dug into the side of a small hill.

The forest ignored caves for some unknown reason. Viv had seen offshoots invading clearings she had dug with black mana, something that should have been impossible given the short time frame and her own power’s ravenous effects, and yet, here they were. The Deadshield woods jealousy reclaimed territory lost to invaders. The deeper one went, the more pronounced the effects. Caves stood untouched. Their current base was spacious and well-provisioned. It was also camouflaged through natural means by the expert hands of the scouts, including Two-Six.

More importantly, fires provided heat. They had no shortage of wood to last the winter, even if it was a bit green.

Viv enjoyed the sight before turning to her prepared washbasin. The snow had melted. The logs were ready. She grabbed Arthur in her arms and winced under her weight. The big glutton’s main body was the size of a large dog now, lean, with wings much larger. Only her increased power allowed her to maneuver her dragonette into position.

“Right. Arthur, do the thing!”

“EeeeeCOUGHeee.”

Gouts of flames torched the logs, turning them into an instant inferno. Viv almost shielded her face from the heat. The temperature of Arthur’s fire was unbelievably high for something that came out of a living being, she thought. They waited for half a minute for the fire to settle. By the time it was done, the bath was already pleasantly warm. Viv made sure that her section of the cave was partitioned and closed the curtain above her ‘window’. Time for a bath! She peeled off her skin suit and jumped in. Arthur followed her with serpentine grace, sliding in front of her with barely a splash.

Viv scrubbed herself with pleasure. It felt good to get cleaned up after a week on the road. Arthur was next and she squealed her approval when Viv gave attention to the best spots, which were the chest and that space between the wings. Arthur’s scales were smooth and warm, so warm that the bath temperature was actually increasing. When they were done, she reclined to soak and picked up a steaming mug from a nearby rock. It was klod with a dollop of honey.

The Yries had somehow gotten their hands on a hive. Viv was surprised but it turned out that the strange owl-like beings were quite good with agriculture too. Or apiculture, she supposed. In any case, the first jars had arrived with winter and Viv had gotten one for herself. The Yries were getting more involved in trading which was encouraging.

“Actually, I never asked,” Viv mused aloud, “are you alright with being called Arthur?”

Not name.

Calling sound.

“Hmmm so you’re not happy?”

Good sound!

Short and effective.

Real name has meaning.

Grows with me.

Viv wondered if it was an instinctive dragon thing. It felt like that. They did not use sounds much, or at least that was what her meeting with the green dragon had indicated.

“So, what is your name right now? Have you picked one?” she asked.

Of course!

Behold, me!

She-who-feasts-on-squirrels-and-gets-much-gold.

“Squeeee!”

“Glorious!” Viv bellowed with enthusiasm. It was important to validate the dragonette’s choice so that she could grow with confidence. Probably. Viv was still a bit iffy on this whole raising kids thing.

It appeared to work because Arthur spread her wings with pride, standing on her hind legs with her arms held outstretched. Viv got a mouthful of water in her face for her trouble.

They didn’t stay in too long because the water was getting really uncomfortably hot. Viv used it to clean her skinsuit and left it to dry before returning her attention to the task before them. There was another convoy on its way from Enoria, according to Farren’s dreams. The difference was that this one was mostly made of actual refugees. It appeared that news of Kazar’s defiance had reached the general public and there were some in Enoria who thought that it made for a tempting destination.

Viv wondered what kind of lunatics would come to the conclusion that a rebel city with a target on its back hidden behind a monster-infested forest would make for a good haven but what did she know?

Viv changed into a comfortable dress and turned down for the night soon after.

***

The convoy walked under the overcast sky. Errant flakes fell from the grey clouds with slow regularity. Those that landed on the path were crushed by the iron-shod boots of the Harrakan heavies. Viv reclined on her chair atop the largest wagon and let a flake land on her tongue, then she scolded herself for getting distracted.

They had no choice this time but to take cornudons and turn it into a real expedition. The servants of Neriad had dreamed of another group to fetch. This one reeked of hunger and despair. Those would not be veterans armed to the teeth and ready for anything, but genuine refugees, and so speed had been sacrificed in favor of protection. Five newly-made heavy wagons as large as buses trudged along the road. To protect them, Viv had brought a hundred men. Sixty of the trained heavies, mostly first generation and mountain folks under Ban, and forty witch-pact crossbowmen and women walked in ordered ranks around the massive horned beasts. Viv had no idea how the soldiers could walk with that much gear on their bodies but she suspected skill shenanigans.

She had to admit that they looked fancy. The armors of the Kazaran soldiers were rough and ugly things of dark iron, pitted and grainy. Each soldier then decorated it with their own tightly-attached scarves and pennants. The natives had picked tree patterns while the Enorian immigrants like Ban favored an upward sword on a broken shield, a reversal of the Enorian royal arms. They had insisted on placing a layer of metal with their pattern on Viv’s round shield. The lightweight item was getting heavier and more unwieldy as different power groups added their mark but Viv didn’t mind. She used it as a wall between herself and thrown stuff anyway. And people were happy.

As for the witch-pact crossbowpersons, many of them wore a white scarf over the lower parts of their face over mail or gambeson. They inspected the treeline, hands over their impeccably-maintained weapons.

//We are making good time, Your Grace.

//At this speed, we will be out of the woods by tomorrow afternoon.

“Then we are on schedule.”

It was the first time Viv was officially in charge of the group. Most of the elites including Marruk had stayed behind to train and recover. She only had Ban and Solfis to help her. Things were thankfully going fine.

Viv didn’t consider herself a leader of men. At best, she had always been a figurehead-cum-portable-artillery, which was fine. Her kind of leadership was more political than martial and even during her stint in the French army she had never commanded a fire team in a combat situation. That was why this expedition was so important in proving herself to, well, mostly herself.

Except, everything had gone smoothly. Most of the fauna as well as the most aggressive flora had retreated deeper into the forest, or in some caves or other refuge. No bird calls disturbed the tranquility of the convoy. Small shrouds of frozen breath puffed up from the soldiers walking in their column. They rose into a pleasantly crisp air. It was dry and fresh air, not the smog-filled frigid horror of a Parisian winter, but an honest cold that kept people cool in the middle of effort. Ban’s long white beard was already covered and well on its way to a proper icicle. It was in this moment of pleasant appreciation of the moment that, naturally, Viv’s danger sense pinged.

Like a shiver down her spine, the warning spread across her mind and forced her to look around. Ban immediately picked up on her reaction and raised a fist.

“Attention!”

Like a single man, the hundred soldiers grabbed their weapons and turned outward. Nasty barbed quarrels locked in firing mechanisms while steel spears aimed out, kept aloft by magic-backed muscle. The wagons stopped and everyone looked outward for five seconds.

Nothing moved among the snow-covered boughs. The landscape around her had the immobility of a painting. Viv’s impression did not change.

Then…

//That is the correct conclusion, Your Grace.

Fucking Solfis trying to teach her through self-experiment and positive reinforcement. The enemy was above.

Danger sense: Beginner 9

White and black feathers on a lean body reminded her of a stork, but there was something raptor-like in its fantastic wings beyond their span, a ferocious shape that told its victims that this was a dive hunter. That creature did not hunt fish.

“What is this? I don’t recognize it from the bestiary.”

//A dark-sky kingfisher, Your Grace.

Ok so it did eat fish, whatever.

//They often fly in flocks.

//Some of those can grow to impressive numbers.

//They also tend to migrate north during the winter.

//I estimate that this one was separated.

//There is a more than 85% chance that it is quite hungry.

//Rounded down.

“Yeah thanks, so it’s after our cornudons?”

//They will eat anything, Your Grace.

//Up to and including armored soldiers.

Viv focused and mana came to the forefront of her mind. She could see the gray mana in the air and far above that, the form of the kingfisher. It was too far away.

“How do they hunt?”

//The kingfisher dives and skewers its prey, then it flies back up.

//The last thing most victims see are the shadows of the stretched wings as it slows its descent.

//Hence their name.

“Hmmm”

It was still quite far and circling around them.

“Any chance that we could hit it with a volley of bolts?”

//You should conduct this extermination by yourself, Your Grace.

//It will be good training.

“You could just tell me what the best method would be.”

//You could just practice thinking for yourself in a tactical situation.

“What if people get hurt?” Viv asked with her eyes on her foe, though it was merely banter at this stage. She was already considering her options.

//People will get hurt if you underperform.

//Therefore, do not underperform.

Solfis’ yellow eyes were fixed on Viv, unblinking, unwavering. He would not hesitate to sacrifice soldiers if he judged that it served the cause, she realized.

“You know, you backtalk an awful lot for a weapon of war.”

//Implementation of the ‘sass’ module completed successfully.

//Now, focus.

“Sergeant Ban, what are the chances that our crossbowmen could hit this thing?”

“Pretty good. Not sure if the bolts will have enough strength to take it down though,” the old man grumbled.

The kingfisher was probably fifty meters high, maybe half a football field, more or less. It did not beat its wings. Instead, the creature was slowly circling, seemingly born on a draft they didn’t feel on the ground. Viv had her suspicion but she wanted to be sure.

“Alright. Give it a try.”

Ban turned to his troops around him and bellowed orders.

“On my mark, single volley, free skills. Aaaaaaaim. Fire!”

There was a pleasant thrum when all the metal split limbs spat their payload at the same time. The quarrels traveled almost too fast for Viv to see. Only the afterimage of colorful streaks remained, their mana imprints clear in her perception.

The kingfisher beat its wings once and most of the projectiles were brushed aside. Only a few hit it, and the only reaction they got was an offended screech.

“It uses grey mana,” Viv confirmed, “quite a lot of it.”

“Everyone here is second or third step of their path. We won’t have anyone capable of piercing through that sort of defense,” Ban lamented.

//Interesting.

//The penetrative power of your shooters is better than I expected at this stage of their path.

//It appears to come at the cost of range and firing speed, however.

“Nevermind that. It’s still here.”

The kingfisher was still circling them looking no worse for wear. A malevolent cry dashed Viv’s hope that the quarrels would deter it.

“Hungry fucker,” Ban said. “Goodmother, we can do scattered volley? See if it works better?”

“No. We’ll need those quarrels later. Any projectile we shoot up will be lost.”

The truth was that they simply didn’t have any to waste. Those didn’t grow on trees and they also cost a silver talent for every twenty-five. Disgrace. Too expensive to throw at birds willy-nilly.

“I’ll try my own spell.”

Viv jumped down from the carriage and traced a circle in the pristine snow. She inscribed the symbols for range with patient attention, keeping an eye up just in case. Ban set up a circle of soldiers around her.

“It’s still not doing anything,” she remarked.

Solfis answered from his spot above her.

//Kingfishers are patient, Your Grace.

//They can keep circling for days until an opportunity arises.

“That’s fine.”

She finished her circle, taking her time. It was nice and would support her well.

“Blast.”

The kingfisher barrel rolled out of the way before the spell had cleared the top of the tree. That was fine. She was an instinctive caster. Spells were not hard constructs that had to be followed meticulously, they were malleable blobs of mana, alive to some extent. She waxed the construct to make her spell small, leaner. Faster.

“Can you see the kingfisher’s eyes, Ban?”

“Not from here, goodmother.”

Viv refrained from telling him to stop with the Enorian expression but now was not the time.

“I can,” one of the witch pacts said.

“Is it looking at me?”

“Yes ma’am. Intently. Its head is lowered.”

“Right,” she said, moving mana around. “And now?”

“Still looking.”

Viv flexed mana inside of the circle. The construct waxed and waned while the bird-monster circled.

“Still focused, ma’am.”

Half a minute went by. The kingfisher’s attention did not waver. Viv could only see the head clearly because the creature had very small eyes but its head did dip, especially when the power inflated. Black mana purred inside of the circle. It waited, tame and eager. Only she could do something like that at her level, she thought. It required a very high attunement.

“Still loo—”

The crossbowman’s comment was interrupted when the bird brutally swerved down as if smacked down by some divine hand. There was a squawk of surprise and pain and a gout of fire. A puff of feathers was left behind the blazing carcass as it crashed down, trailing smoke.

“SQUEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Thus was dive-bombed that which thought it would dive-bomb.

“And I am triumphant yet again,” Viv nodded to herself.

//This is the second time that a training exercise gets unduly interrupted.

“Why do you think I would worry about air supremacy when I have Arthur on my side?”

//The purpose of my actions was to lead you to the optimal way of handling this type of creature.

“Let me guess, lay a trap and wait for it to dive so it gets in range?”

The golem kept to a sulky silence for a second.

//Yes.

“And did I not do just that?”

Viv stood with her hands on her waist and all the smugness she could manage.

//You are technically correct.

“The best kind of correct!”

//I hope that a time will not come when you only have yourself to rely on.

//Nevertheless, you demonstrated quick-thinking.

//I shall have to be content.

“The all is well that ends well. Now let’s go get the thing. I bet it tastes like chicken,” Viv said, using the earth term.

Behind her, one of the soldiers whispered in his neighbor’s ear.

“Arlen, can drakes do that?”

“I don’t think it’s a drake.”

“Then what is it?”

“You really don’t want to find out. It’s beyond the two of us anyway. Better to keep our eyes open and hope for the best, you know what I mean?”

“I hear you.”

Viv found the carcass next to a tree missing most of its branches. It did not, in fact, taste like chicken, but Viv plucked the small feathers and made herself a pillow.

***

They left the forest the next day in the afternoon almost by surprise. The end of the Deadshield Woods left Viv’s mind roiling for an instant as she tried to reconcile her mind with the notion of perspective. The road under her feet disgorged into a deep valley broken far in the distance by another patch of forest. The break was not obvious by sight, but her perception of mana allowed her to feel the frontier between the woods and ‘normal’ Parram land with brisk clarity. In front of her, the wind picked up and sound traveled more openly. Wheels creaked and groaned again as the strange restriction lifted while more than a few men breathed in relief as they crossed the boundary. Those smiles froze on their faces when they took in the landscape before them.

Anelton had always been a border village. Caravans to and from the deadlands stopped there before attempting the crossing. It had subsisted on some basic trading and the sort of activities that proximity with a large forest allowed. Even now, Viv could see hunter cabins with skins still hanging to dry. Some gaps in the treeline hid logging camps, currently silent and deserted.

The place was destroyed. The hand of man had descended upon it, sweeping aside a palissade designed to stop beastlings and gutting it of its inhabitants. A corpse pile still smoldered in the ruin of the town square, visible from up high despite the distance. Trees and posts bore bloated fruits pecked by dark birds. Some of the structures had utterly collapsed in an uncontrolled fire. Not a soul remained.

There was, however, a camp. It sprawled over snow-covered subsistence fields like a skin rash.

Now, Viv had seen some shit in her years, including a brief and ill-advised trip to a humanitarian camp when she was sixteen. There were usually guards and some neat tents set up by the Red Cross or Crescent or whoever was on hand for the refugees to gravitate around. Plastic containers and off-brand shirts offered some bright colors to contrast with the endemic poverty of those who had left everything behind to survive. It was missing here. The few erected tents sagged under a thin layer of snow while the wisps of dying campfires dispersed quickly. Masses huddled around the campfires, idle and bent. She could see the shapes of haler men laying corpses on a pile. The more she looked and the less she liked what she saw. The camp was clearly split between two factions with some resources and a gathering of dying folks that spread with no structure to the edge of the dead village. It did not take a genius to see that this was a powderkeg with its fuse lit. Viv was suddenly happy that she had brought so many soldiers.

Ban stopped by her side.

“Your orders ma’am?”

“Stay in formation. Let’s get down there and put some order to that chaos.”

The column made their way through unbroken snow at a snail pace. Even the lethargic refugees saw them arrive long before they arrived. A few started running around but most stayed where they were, prone and despondent. Two groups started to put on armors without enthusiasm. When Viv’s detachment kept going as a column, despair turned to hope. Viv got close enough to reach the most miserable members. A child munched boiled bark from on top of the frozen corpse of his mother. He was skeletal.

One part of Viv’s mind recoiled in horror at the sight of someone who looked as alive as a horror movie prop, sunken eyes following her with eerie intensity. Another calculated the number of refugees and their state. No matter how bullshit magic was and how high their stats were, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell that they could survive a two weeks trek across the woods, much less walk through it. They would have to recover and reorganize.

There was a father holding a truncheon to protect the rest of his starving family. He glared at anything that moved.

Had to start with soup. Use cauldrons to make a soft congee or those people would die trying to digest solids. Organize the refugees in a column and feed them. Secure a better location, like the village itself. Why were they even out in the open? They had more than enough grain and dried stuff to last them for a month but she guessed that with food and restoration magic, a week or so would be enough to get moving.

A woman was hacking at wet wood with a rusty knife in an attempt to break it. She struck once every five seconds in order to recover, gasping for air as she went.

“Useless. We should just leave those wretches behind,” someone muttered.

“Who said that? Who the fuck just said that?” Viv yelled.

“Company, halt!” Ban ordered.

The soldiers were as unmoving as statues. Viv placed her hand on the pauldron of the man who had spoken. Her voice rang in the frigid air, so that the refugees themselves gathered. Viv was a little bit annoyed.

“Let me make one thing clear. I became Kazaran by choice, a choice I made when the city fell and we traveled through the mountains with nothing but what we had taken with us. I stayed because folks needed my help. Because you needed my help. If it were not for me and a couple others, most of you would be Baranese indentured servants or worse right now. The armor you wear, the weapons you wield, those come from my deal with the Yries. The training you follow was taught by Solfis. I gave us a chance, and I’ll keep giving us a chance come spring when those bastards come back with a war mage. Those starving people are at their lowest just as you could have been if we had even less of a warning. If you had been less lucky. Now, the god who lets us regrow limbs has said that we should save those folks and so they are our responsibility while we do so. And we will set them up on their feet and then see if they are worthy of becoming Kazarans too. They will get their chance just like you did. In the meanwhile, I order you to help and you will do so or you will leave the army. We clear?”

Ban took a step forward and bellowed.

“Company, are we clear?”

“Yes sir!” a hundred voices roared back.

Viv did not ask the column to move on because two groups of people were heading her way. The first was led by a military man in the armor of a temple guard. He had dark wavy hair that reached his shoulders, surrounding an angular face. Most of his followers were missing limbs.

A beautiful woman led the second group. Viv noted that part of her long hair was dyed green and she wore clothes of good make. Her followers were the only ones to have fur and jewelry, though they were emaciated. Everyone was.

“Hello,” the woman started in a smooth voice, “my name is Amehe. Reigan and I are in charge of this camp,” she said with a forced smile. The man scowled.

Arthur landed gracefully on the snow by Viv’s left. She raised her horned head and huffed with pride. Viv heard the ominous clicks of Solfis deploying to his full height somewhere behind her.

Both groups took a collective step back.

“Not anymore. Now, what the fuck happened here?” she asked.

This time, it was the man who answered, He stomped on the ground and Viv realized that his right foot was actually an elaborate prosthesis. His voice was rugged.

“What didn’t? We have raiders on our asses, there are aberrants in the woods, and something’s been stealing folks at night.”

Viv stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Why couldn’t things ever be easy?