The Witchling of Alsira

Skaldt Tales 3 - The Siege of Gullcrest City

The area around the vhulkovyr barracks was as dark as pitch. The open, cliff-side area was lit by only a few guttering, standing torches spaced out a dozen feet from one another. None of the moons that usually traversed the night's sky were present. The canyon overhang above the space that the warriors used for training and drills were darkened with looming shadows eating away at the star-filled night's sky.

A little more than a hundred armed and armored warriors stood at attention on the cliff-side plateau of the canyon. Their arms crossed behind their backs, their legs spread out to shoulder width. Their polished and sharpened implements of murder were either sheathed or strapped to their bodies. Their armors were tended, re-stitched, groomed and ready to be coated with blood. All of them stood deathly silent in the hours before the dawn. Their voices were silent, their attention was focused, and the rhythmic hum of the adrenaline coursing through their veins was almost deafening to those with the refined senses to hear it.

"Despite what some of you may have heard, this is not a campaign to conquer the city to the south." The voice was loud, deep, and rumbled with every word. Echoes of the voice played off of the rock throughout the deep and wide canyon of Alsira Thaenat.

"This is a siege, not a pillage, not a sacking, or whatever else you dogs may want it to be." The voice continued. The rocks that made up the cliff-side groaned and the earth moved slightly with each breath the bellowing man, who addressed this crowd of trained killers, made.

"We will surround Haaken Vaulthaen. We will show the Veshkoldan Delathi dogs that now inhabit it... That exploit it... That run that city into the ground with their treachery... We will show them the might, the speed, and the discipline of the Alsiran Vhulkova!" The voice stopped for a moment and was met with hoots and hollers of acceptance from the men and women standing at attention.

"We are going to free those Haakuenth fools to the south. Those debauched scholars who would allow foreign mercenaries to be their guards. Those idle fools who would pay others to fight on their behalf. We will save them from themselves. Kicking and screaming if we must." There came a further rumble and a series of great, thundering steps. The man who spoke to the crowd paced back and forth at the front of their number.

"We will show the Haakuenth, who turned their backs on us centuries ago, that they cannot live without us! We are blood! We are family! We are Hoelatha!" A few more belting shouts came from some of the warriors. A few near the front of the group slid their feet on the sandy rocks they stood upon. They stood firmer, stronger and puffed their chests out with pride.

"You must all fulfill your duty to me, your vhollen, Ylethus. I have brought all of you here. I have trained you well. I have bled when you have bled. Labored when you have labored. I have shed tears alongside you for those of our valiant dead. I expect of you what you expect of me. Loyalty, discipline, and patriotism to our blood. Our tribe." A few more thunderous booms went off as the large man addressing the crowd walked from row to row and surveyed the warriors.

"You are my children. I am your father. Remember this, well. We are of one blood. One family. One duty. You will fulfill your orders with honor. I will fulfill my duty to command you with that same honor. We will liberate Haaken Vaulthaen!" The large man stopped. His head and shoulders being visible over any of the other men and women assembled. A breeze pulled at his dark beard and ruffled the fading grey-brown hair encircling his balding skull.

"You have your orders! Prepare yourselves. We meet on the Hestrath Plateau in one hour. We march before dawn!" One more loud yell broke the night's silence. Each of the warriors gave a single shout and hit one of their hands against their chest. The hulking commander of the warriors waved a single hand and the crowd of warriors dropped out of their stances, dispersing quickly.

"Buethom, Amsthyn, Whelam, Nhulmyra, and Rhalchet!" The giant yelled out amongst the clattering of metal and groaning of leather. "You get to stay here with me and be punished for your insolence. Don't you dare move!"

The rest of the warriors filed out of the yard and made their way to whatever areas they needed to, so as to get the final parts of their preparations done. Only five of the warriors stayed where they stood. Each of them looked around and through the crowd to see one another. A bald, male warrior looked over to a blonde, male warrior and shrugged his arms in confusion. The blonde man with short-cropped hair and a long, trailing beard pointed back with one hand and drew his finger across his neck with another. A dark-haired, mustached man eyeballed the other two and then looked back to the hulking man who had given them all orders, earlier. A robust, raven-haired woman stood silent and kept her eyes forward, ignoring the other warriors around her. Finally, a dark-haired man with a scraggly and unkempt beard yelled back to the hulking commander of the army and gave a rude gesture.

Once the rest of the warriors, except the five remaining, had left or made their way out of ear-shot, the hulking man named Ylethus stepped forward. He lifted both of his hands in front of him, his fingers stiff and his thumbs up. He made a motion to the remaining few to move closer together, they did so without objection.

"What did Amsthyn do this time?" The bald man leaned forward and made eye-contact with Ylethus. He lifted one of his arms to wipe sweat from the top of his scalp. "Whatever he did, I had no involvement with it. Entirely his own idea." He paused and used the elbow of his free arm to jab at the side of the unkempt warrior near him. "I did hear Rhalchet put him up to it, though." The bald man gave a light-hearted chuckle.

"Enough, Buethom." Ylethus' voice boomed out of him like he was a container filled with thunder. "The thing all five of you are guilty of is the charge of being the best in my retinue. You've proved yourselves to me time and again." The hulking man grinned underneath his well-trimmed and braided beard. "You're being punished by having to be my honor guard in this campaign."

"Shit. I rather get the axe to my neck for treason." The unkempt and dark-haired man smiled and gave a deep, belly laugh.

"Shut up, Rhalchet." Ylethus gave a moment-long glare to the loud-mouthed warrior before him. "You will be the extension of my will during the siege. You will follow along with me, and I expect you to follow my orders exactly. You know how I work. You know what to expect of me. I shall not need to give you too many orders."

"Yes, vhollen." The words were slight and curt, coming from the robust woman standing at attention, still. "I am honored to serve."

"Thank you, Nhulmyra." Ylethus took a few steps away from the male members of the group to walk up to the resolute woman. He looked her from toe to head several times as he walked around her. "You are strong, fit, and decisive in battle. But, by the gods old and new, Nhulmyra..." Ylethus got behind her and gave her a hard pat on the back with one of his immense hands. "Lighten up, for the first time since your Kollishi Thaulp!"

Ylethus held his hand at her back, leaning forward and keeping his gaze on her eyes. His dark eyebrows lifted up and the smile on his face widened as he opened his jaws slightly. He waited for a few moments to see if the young warrior would respond.

"Yes, vhollen." Nhulmyra seemed to almost chew the words as she spoke them. "I shall try."

"Good. This isn't a war campaign. I'm not expecting casualties. We just need to scare the Haakuenth a little bit. Show those Veshkoldan Delathi pups who the bigger and meaner dogs are." Ylethus took a few steps away towards the other warriors who were huddled up in a group. He gave another swipe of his hand to the back of Rhalchet, almost bowling him over into the other three men.

"Should we expect any of your usual surprises?" The dark-haired and mustached man spoke up while taking a step away from unsturdy, Rhalchet. "We all know how much you like that children's game Jhulko's Maze. You always have an extra set of dice up your sleeve."

Ylethus gave another smile. "Of course I do, Whelam. Speaking of, I think he should have gotten his crusty, old ass here by now." Ylethus turned away from the group of warriors to look around the cliff-side training area for a moment. "Toulam, you doddering old fool. You here, yet?"

As if coalescing out of the very substance of shadow itself, a grey-cloaked, hunch-backed figure took a few steps into the light of a nearby torch. His cloak was threadbare with faded grey designs down his front and a few crimson designs stretching down his long, drawn hood. The hood covered most of his face, revealing just an old, stubbled chin and a wicked grin.

"I'm here, you uncouth scoundrel!" Grandmaster Toulam took a few jittering steps further to stand beside Ylethus. He lifted one of his arms up, a skeletal and weathered hand peeking up out of his long sleeves to idly tug on one of the braided outcroppings of Ylethus' beard. He pulled away and wiped his hand down the front of his cloak. "Still as dirty as your mother's disease-ridden, sop-"

Ylethus bellowed over the old man's words. "So! Any questions from you lot?" Ylethus clapped his large and calloused hands together, turning away from the old man still rambling out insults beside him.

"What's with the old oracle?" Amsthyn reached up a hand, combing his fingers through his beard and pulling out some errant strands. "Everyone in Alsira Thaenat knows he's blind as a bat." He leaned forward and lifted his hand to cup by his mouth so he could magnify his voice. "No offense meant, Grandmaster."

Toulam ceased his mutters and gave a little shake. "I can see things that no mortal dare see, young man. Your vhollen has asked me to put my skills to good use. I can see farther and clearer than any of your best archers. I can see through buildings, predict ambushes hours before those who would perform them have even thought them up." The old man took a few more jittering steps forward and swiped at the air with a clawed hand. "By the grace of Olthenna herself! I know when all of you lot are going to finally fall to blades of better warriors!" He leveled a single finger and swiped it across the group before him.

"In short. He's an asset we can't refuse. He can feed me information and minimize our reliance on reconnaissance into the city proper." Ylethus set one of his hands on the oracle's shoulders, dwarfing out his frail and tiny body. "Normally, the Authrakallin don't like meddling in the affairs of our caste. Toulam is doing this as a favor to me. Respect that and his wisdom." Ylethus lowered his eyelids and emphasized the last word. "Please."

"We're just focusing on the outside defenses of the city?" Whelam blurted out to try and keep the group on track. He fiddled with the feathered end of an arrow he had drawn from his quiver. "You don't want any scouts for infiltration?" He lifted his eyes up to meet Ylethus' for just a moment. He was hinting at his personal specialty.

"No." Ylethus let the word fall out of him slowly. "I don't want to breach the city in any way. I want the Haakuenth to feel like we haven't penetrated into their lands." Ylethus took a few steps forward and stood with his side towards Whelam. "That doesn't mean we can't use alternative forms of scouting, however."

Whelam lifted one of his eyebrows and shot Ylethus another quick look while placing his arrow back in his quiver. "How is that?"

"Well, aren't you still afflicted with that horrible disease?" Ylethus turned his massive head to look over and down to Whelam. "That thing you picked up from a dirty whore so many years ago. You might as well take advantage of it."

"Yes. I am still afflicted." Whelam glared hotly up at Ylethus. He scrunched his face up and curled his top lip in a snarl, making his mustache dance for a moment. "I was born with the wyrdling sight, you bastard. I inherited it from my mother..."

"Like I said, that thing you picked up from a whore." Ylethus reached out a hand and gave Whelam a hard shove to the shoulder. Whelam took the impact, causing him to shudder for a moment, but his feet remained firm. "Use it. I'll contact Lharhl at the aviary. He'll release his birds and you use them to peer into the city. I need to know movements and key locations."

Whelam gave a nod and remained silent. He turned his eyes away from Ylethus. He was getting what he wanted, but he had never quite learned how to take an insult or a jest, yet.

"Nhulmyra, I want you at my side at all times." Ylethus took a few more steps and pressed into the collection of the warriors around him. "You will be my shadow during this whole thing. You must be on constant alert at all times. I know you enjoy that, never resting, and always being at attention."

Nhulmyra gave a nod. She was still standing at attention, with her arms crossed behind her back and her legs spread to shoulder-width. She didn't even make contact with Ylethus when she acknowledged him. Despite the hard demeanor, Ylethus could see her eyes glint for a moment. She was proud for the assignment. She even puffed up her chest a little bit.

"Buethom, Amsthyn, and Rhalchet. You three dogs will be my forwards. I'll give you a few more orders as we pack up and make our way to Tarenhulf Rise." Ylethus turned his massive head towards the three men pressed up against each other. Rhalchet gave a few shoves to get Buethom away from him. "As far as you three should be concerned, you're my hounds of war. I'm keeping you on a short leash, though, so don't stray from my command."

All three men nodded in unison. Buethom gave a hard elbow to the ribs of Rhalchet and took a step to the side. The three remained silent.

"Once we take out their perimeter and establish ourselves for the siege, you must all keep the other vhulkovyr in check. Temper nerves, keep them focused." Ylethus walked way from the group and back to the side of Grandmaster Toulam. "Leave the rest to me. I will command a parley with the envoy of the city. Hopefully, with some bluster and confidence on my part, we can get the Haakuenth nobles to see their folly and take us in."

"Wouldn't a member of the filidath caste, the courtiers, work better for such a thing?" Amsthyn let his blue eyes glance from side to side while he spoke. "We're just warriors. We do the killing. And surely, we all know how much you prefer action to the idly wagging of tongues." Amsthyn lifted his eyes up to Ylethus.

"Yes. It pains me to have to do it." Ylethus gave a slight nod and rolled his dark eyes. "I want the fear of the siege to drive the desire for diplomacy into the minds of the envoy that would greet us." Ylethus hammered one of his fists against a palm of his other hand. "Once we can get the gates open, I have contacted my brother, a member of the elder circle to take over the talks. He was the one born with a gilded tongue. I was the one born with the gilded fists."

The assembled warriors each gave nods of understanding. Grandmaster Toulam wavered on his feet for a moment, cocking his head to the side. A few moments of silence passed among the group.

"Well, enough banter. You know what to do. Let's do it." Ylethus scuffed the ground with one of his immense feet and then pounded a foot down with a thunderous boom. "Get your shit in order, meet the rest at the plateau. We march for Tarenhulf Rise and then to Haaken Vaulthaen."

The five young warriors stood for a moment, hitting a fist against their chests in unison and then scrambled to catch up with the other warriors who had already left the yard. Ylethus turned his back and looked over to Grandmaster Toulam for a moment. Both old men seemed to stare at each other for a moment in silence. Ylethus leveling his dark eyes on the old man before him, and the cloaked oracle holding the gaze despite being blind, while having his head covered in a hood.

"Don't doubt yourself." Toulam lifted his head just a slight bit. He lifted one of his fingers to his face and scratched at his nose. "You know as well as I, how dangerous and unlikely this plan is to succeed."

"Still..." The large warrior looked up and over his shoulder to what few stars of the night sky he could see, through the rip in the earth that comprised the mouth of the canyon. "This needs to be done. The reports of the atrocities those depraved mercenaries are committing on the people..." Ylethus let his voice trail off and took several deep breaths, each one sounding like a gust of wind. "And what they did to your grand-daughter..." Ylethus lowered his eyes to the ground and gave a few long blinks. His face and neck began to grow red and hot with a mixture of sadness as well as rage.

"Put that from your thoughts." Toulam reached out a hand and gently pushed against the mighty warrior's leather armor on his chest. "You have larger things to deal with now. More lives to worry about than just her's."

"What they did to your family. What they did to her. I would rather burn that city to the ground." A fire roared through Ylethus now, every muscle of his body tensing. "You are right, though." He slumped his arms back down and relaxed a slight bit. "No more innocents should suffer under the corrupt hands of those moneyed, foreign tyrants."

"I appreciate you doing this on my behalf." Toulam lowered his head, allowing the full extent of his hood to cover his features completely. "I hope that I have not jeopardized your station. I know you have no love for Oelvann Molth, and now that the chieftain has passed, she will be using what powers she has, as acting regent in this city, to make your life a living hell." Toulam turned his head quickly and sharply as if reacting to a sound or presence that Ylethus was unable to see or hear.

"I owe you, old man." Ylethus narrowed his eyes for a moment but continued. "I still remember what you did for me two decades ago. I and my adopted daughter owe you much."

"You owe me more than just that." Grandmaster Toulam lifted himself up to his full height. "I've saved your worthless arse more times than I can count." He turned his head to the side and took a few steps back. He reached out with his left hand and tapped on the leather armor of the hulking warrior one more time with his knuckles. "Well, speak of the Goddess of death and she will arrive. Hush, now. We have a visitor."

Ylethus lifted his eyes up and looked to where the old oracle had leveled an outstretched index finger from his free hand. He took in the wooden and shadowed side of a nearby skappf. He squinted his eyes at the dark to see if he could look at what the old man had already seen with his uncanny senses.

"Show yourself!" Ylethus bellowed and took two cautious steps forward. Instinctively, both of his hands reached up and behind himself to touch upon the hilts of his sheathed, wavecleaver blades. "Don't hide in shadows like a coward assassin. Step forward."

A tangled mass of crimson hair moved from behind the side of the skappf and made its way into the light of one of the torches. It was Ylethus' adopted daughter, Ghelta, dressed up in her armor as if she was joining the campaign.

"Be gentle with her." Grandmaster Toulam muttered under his breath. "Press too hard and she's liable to do something foolish." The old oracle turned on his feet and began to walk way. He seemed to fade into the substance of the darkness beyond the yard with each step he took. Ylethus held his ground, turning back to the crimson-haired young woman before him.

"I want to go to Haaken Vaulthaen." Ghelta's words were demanding and forward, yet Ylethus could pick up on some slight hesitation and uncertainty. Her voice wavered only slightly. "I want to fight at your side and prove myself with the others."

Ylethus gave out a booming laugh that cut through the early morning darkness and silence like an eruption of some great volcano. He took a few moments to gather himself and his breath before speaking. "You haven't passed your Kollishi Thaulp. You're just a child."

"I've lived through nineteen years!" Her blue eyes glimmered in the flickering light of the torches. It seemed to Ylethus like the brilliant blues seemed to glow with an inward light. "You've trained me to fight since before I was even out of swaddling clothes. I can handle myself. I can bring you honor and victory. You know this."

"This isn't a campaign for brute strength and mindless aggression." Ylethus gave out one more chuckle. "If it was, I might consider your words. This is a sensitive campaign. I am uncertain as to the outcome of this." He crossed his arms over his chest. "The answer is no. You stay here. You train with vhasul Morayk. You greet me when I get back and we can have some drinks in the leiggenskappf."

Ghelta clutched both of her hands into tight fists and held them slightly ahead of her. She lowered her head down, letting her hair obscure her youthful face. "You keep me here like your pet. You treat me like a warrior, yet you never allow me to prove myself. Constant drills and training and you never treat me like your own." Her voice began to crack for a moment. "Make up your damn mind you old fuck! Am I a warrior, or am I your coddled little girl?"

Ylethus took a moment of silence, feeling a slight pang of guilt in his mind. He took steps forward to close the gap between him and the young woman. He placed one of his hands on her shoulder. As soon has his hand settled, Ghelta tried to pull back. He grasped hard with his fingers, dwarfing out her body and seizing into her armor. He lowered his face down to her's.

"Not this time." He kept his hand on her shoulder, not letting go. She looked up to him, shoving strands of her hair from her face with one of her hands so she could see him. Her eyes looked like shimmering icebergs on a vast ocean. The brilliant blues mixing with the moisture of tears. "When I get back, we will talk about your Kollishi Thaulp. You aren't going on this siege. You're staying here. If you can't accept that from your father and mentor, than accept that as an order from your vhollen."

Her pale and full top lip lifted into a snarl. "Fine!" She pulled back from his grip and he let her do so. "I'll suffer the indignity of not being good enough for you, here, in the Gehemol-hole you call home. I'll continue to be called names and have stones thrown at me by the broden here. Children half my age treating me like herdsmoll shit!" She grit her teeth down and crossed her arms. "Go and have your damned glory."

Ylethus gave out a long and immense sigh. The young woman was the most stubborn person he had ever had to deal with in his life. "You still have to prove that you can be an adult. I can't have you in the war-party as the elder circle would have my hide. For the love of Tolesh's life-giving fuck! I have enough to deal with, girl."

Ghelta narrowed her eyes, a few of the accumulated tears streamed down her pale and lightly freckled cheeks. "I'll prove myself to you. Even if it kills me." She tensed up the muscles in her chest, shoulders and neck. "Even if it kills you!" She punched forward at the armor of Ylethus' chest. "Stop treating me like a damned child!"

Ylethus' nerves had reached their limit. She was wasting his time now and he had to make his own preparations for the campaign. "Go home! Now!" His voice ripped through the night like a bolt of lightning. "You press me too much, girl. I have lives at stake right now. Go! Home!"

Ghelta gave him one last glare and then walked off. She stomped her feet as she moved away and after a few steps bolted into a full-sprint run. Ylethus remained alone in the yard, frozen still. A migraine began to spread from the sides of his skull to the front. He closed his eyes for a moment and took several deep breaths to calm himself.

He had a long siege to get through this day. Despite all the risk, all the bluster, and all the killing he would have to do. It was the stress of being a father that would probably kill him once and for all.

###

As the horde of Alsiran warriors began their run down the last legs of Tarenhulf Rise, entering into the lands of the Haakuenth people, each stomp of boots against desert rock kicked up immense clouds of dust. Some of the dust would obscure the size of the warrior army from those in the lower areas of the Jol River basin, yet the clouds of dust and sand kicked up would easily alert the Veshkoldan Delathi soldiers around the city of Haaken Vaulthaen, or Gullcrest City in the common tongue, to the attack that was now at their very doorstep.

Ylethus and his honor guard were trailing after the first rush of men and women down the incline of the ridge. He, as well as his men, were savvy enough to bring thick scarves which they had tied around their faces to keep the kicked up dust out of their mouths and noses. They had to be able to issue orders frequently; not one of them could suffer a dry throat during this campaign.

"Remember your orders!" Ylethus gave a thunderous shout over the chaos of stampeding warriors. "Buethom, to the East. Rhalchet, from the far West. Amsthyn, nearest West. Whelam, with me and Nhulmyra!" He gave a hard breath, the cloth around his bearded face was now caked with fine sand. He tried wiping it away with a free hand as he ran. "Press hard. Do not enter the city. Kill only armed guards."

The men at his side shouted their own words to the warriors under their command and the running group began to split off in several directions. Ylethus continued forward down the main thrust of the incline, following the well-trodden road to the central city gate. He barked out a few more orders for his men to slow to a light jog. This would give a few added minutes to the other groups to secure their areas before he made his first press.

The city before them was always considered a peaceful port-city on the largest and most traveled river in the Hoelatha lands. Haaken Vaulthaen was considered neutral territory between the Haakuenth in the South and the united Hoelatha tribes in the North. It was once a central trading hub that belonged to the Alsi-Kavi people of the Jolash Plateau but was surrendered over to the Haakuenth as a sign of peace when that tribe, formerly known as the Haak-Kavi, split from the Hoelatha people. There were always contests against the city from both sides, but for the last century, an accord had been reached between the two different tribes and peoples.

Ylethus was testing that peace, and in some respects, was breaching the accords and oaths that were set through hard fighting and long bouts of diplomacy. A part of his mind, the little bit that he always tried to drown away in booze, filled him with doubt and uncertainty over this action. Yet, the rest of his mind was certain that this was the correct way to move forward. The Veshkoldan Delathi mercenaries that the Haakuenth people used to fortify their lands were becoming corrupt and despotic. They were usurping control away from the Haakuenth people who could no longer bother themselves with their own defense, instead busying themselves with scholarly and esoteric matters to the exclusion of all other things in life. The depraved acts that many of the foreign mercenary soldiers had performed on the local populaces had not only affected many that Ylethus had never known, but had affected him personally through the family of his close friend, Grandmaster Toulam.

This siege was the only attempt that Ylethus had to try and liberate the city from the Veshkoldan Delathi and, as vain as it might be, make the rest of the Haakuenth city-states wake up from their ignorance to the true serpents in their midst. The same serpents they paid for, housed and trusted with their own lives. The same serpents that had squirmed their way into their beds and now sought to bite and strangle them in their sleep.

"Nhulmyra, stay close!" Ylethus gave another shout to the raven-haired woman at his heels. "Whelam! Take perch on the rocky jut a few hundred feet forward. I need your eyes. Relay all the information to Toulam through your strange affliction." He gave a look to the dark-haired and mustached man running beside him. Whelam gave a deep nod and cut through the crowd in a sprint towards the rocky incline. "The rest of you dogs are with me. Show your teeth! Howl out your rage! Let's make those cowards shit themselves with fear!"

The three-or-four dozen warriors that encircled Ylethus drew their weapons and began to shout in unison. Several of their numbers, given more towards the brutal appetites of the nomadic desert barbarians, began to work themselves up into a frothing rage. They drew long pole-arms, heavy swords, and great compound bows made from resilient and strong Jolashi wood. Others who were more at home in the canyons and subterranean shelters of the Alsiran cities began to weave on their feet, pulling grisly and clawed weapons from their sheaths. These last few were trained in the brutal and close-quarters combat of jhulkenvaelk, or trench-dueling. Ylethus had selected these warriors to cover all eventualities in this siege. The nomads were adept at large-scale fighting and could fell cavalry quite well, while the city warriors were devastating in close quarters and urban combat.

Ylethus had other tricks in mind as well, Whelam's sight coordinated with Toulam's uncanny abilities would provide him with the other half of his strategy. He had to remain patient, trusting in the private orders he gave his men, and not to reveal the hidden strength he had with him. If this plan went off properly, the city would be his without a single casualty. It all relied on patience, deception, and discipline.

Ylethus and his men pressed forwards, nearing the flat land of the basin. It was only a few more minutes before they would take up position a few hundred yards from the front gate. As long as the rest of his honor guard stayed true, this whole campaign might be over in a matter of hours.

###

"Keep low and with the river to your left!" Buethom shouted to the assembled warriors around him. The group that he was in charge of was about sixteen strong. As he ran forward to them he made is way through the group, pushing ahead and touching each with a hand on their shoulders. He recognized most of them from the many drills that vhollen Ylethus would have going on throughout the day at the Alsiran barracks.

Most of the warriors were young, with only three grizzled veterans that were older than himself. He made sure to get eye contact as he pressed forwards. He wanted each of their faces in his memory if any of them might be felled during this siege. He owed them as much in remembrance for their service.

He was most of the way through the crowd when he lifted his right hand up at a sharp angle, his fingers pressed together. He gave a deep groaning sound that ended with a single chirp. He was signaling them to move with him and they followed as one unified group. He wanted them at the river's edge so that they might use the cover of a ten-foot high dip between the high bank of the nearby river and where the low water level was currently. No doubt the glacial waters of the Alsirav-Ghaen River that flowed from the run-offs of the Ghaenath Valley north of Alsira Thaenat down into the great River Jol in the south were blocked by something, or perhaps the glacial waters were scarce this day. Buethom and his warriors would take advantage of this, either way.

Buethom crouched down low and held his hand out so the others would drop down onto the silt edges of the riverbank and cease their forward movement. All of them complied without question. He moved to the front of the group and trained his eyes at the horizon before them, where the trickling waters of the Alsirav-Ghaen flowed into a tributary with the frothy, deep waters of the Jol. He spied three Veshkoldan Delathi mercenaries ahead.

He recognized them by their crimson armor and blue standards that draped down over their shoulder pauldrons to their waists. Their armor was a mixture of leather, plate pieces, and chain undershirts made of Bretholmese Khurgra metal. He could see bits of it trailing from their gauntlets and from their belts. One was leaning his back on the silt and rock-strewn edge of the dried bank, his helmet off, while the other two were in conversation, pointing at the low waters, still in full armor. Perhaps they too were wondering why the waters were so low this day.

Buethom held his hand out behind him to emphasize the need not to move. He looked to two of the older men beside him and patted them each on the shoulder. He looked to the river and nodded. Both men, taking up his silent order made their way into the water. One of them with a greyish beard and a long ponytail looked up at him once more. It was a look of hesitation, given that the waters were near freezing. The other man, clean-faced and with trimmed hair waded into the waters without any hesitation at all. Eventually, both were up to their necks in the frigid waters. Buethom pointed his index and middle fingers forward for them to begin wading down the river towards the mercenaries ahead.

Buethom then dropped his left hand to below his waist and started waving it to the right behind him. This was to signal the rest of the warriors to press up against the rock banks of the river's edge. All of them complied quickly. He then took two steps back and turned on his heels.

"Stay against the rocks. Single file. Don't move." He whispered to the remaining fourteen warriors. He passed by them and shoved a few up against the rocks that were slow to move. "We have the drop on them. If you remain still, they won't see you. There's a slight bend in the river." He stopped halfway down the line of warriors. He had seen fresh faces that had probably just passed their rite of adulthood, and others that were grizzled with a few years of fighting. "I need one of you to come with me. You must be fleet of foot. I won't issue orders. You will have to kill."

Buethom looked up and down the line of young men and women before him. An older man lifted his hand and made eye contact. Buethom eyed him from toe to head and put a hand on his shoulder. "My apologies, you're the same height as myself. I need someone smaller." He turned his head to look one more time.

A young woman with dirty blonde hair made eye contact from the back of the line-up. Her frame was slight, she seemed to be a full head shorter than Buethom. She was young, which might prove a difficulty, but something in her green eyes was resolute. Buethom made his way over to her and grabbed her by the collar of her armor.

"You'll do."

[UNFINISHED]