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14. Decisions III - A clash of schemes[/u]

Upon this night so promising,

Grace, I hear the winter sing.

And when the winter spells a gale, they say the snow has come to quell—

Sweet dreams upon their silent wails, sweet rest upon all fears held.

Say, what tidings does it bring? Oh grace, I hear the winter sing,

Upon this night so promising~

-Winter's Lullaby

Halkone goaded the horses to a beat faster as the road evened out, hastening the clatter of hoofs on the stony pathway. Boris sat idly beside him. They had both taken the role of drivers for the rear wagon and they both disliked it—Boris for the fact that he could barely drive and Halkone for the reason that he had been left alone with a novice. The reassignment of guards left Boris and Halkone alone in the rear. The only respite for Boris came from the fact that Elaine and Thea sat behind him, within the wagon.

“I’ll tell you again, lad,” Halkone muttered, “Don’t draw unwanted attention. Needlewoods is different, dangerous. Ours maybe the shortest way to Bizeon without crossing over the hills but it’s infested with bandits and monsters the year round.”

Boris pulled a sour face. “I heard you the first time Halkone. You’re being redundant.”

“Redone—what?”

“Forget it.”

“Yeah and you forget about snooping around, alright? No use keeping watch here, ranging spells work far better than eyes inside the wilderness.”

“Are you using one?” Boris asked. Diana had often used the spell when he was in Laur but Boris could neither use nor be discovered by that spell.

Halkone frowned. “How would I be using one? I am a Scythian, these things are up the alley of you elves and humans.”

“So none of us is using it? Then what’s the purpose of being here?”

“To guard the rear,” came a tepid reply.

“Doesn't that put them in danger?” Boris motioned his head towards Elaine and Thea.

“It does,” Halkone agreed as he stroked the reins, “And that’s their problem.”

“Elaine, I think you and Thea should have taken a safer wagon,” Boris declared, bending his head into the canvas.

“This is safe enough.” Elaine rejected his offer without a thought.

“You are wrong there, girly,” Halkone lectured, “This is among the least safe ones. Front and rear are the first to fall, the middle is most secure.”

“Which is safe enough,” Elaine asserted.

“Oh, alright. What do I care?” Halkone stared at Boris in disapproval. “I’m not responsible for anything that happens after this,” he grumbled.

“You heard him Elaine. I really think you should—

Boris had barely begun when the wagon jerked to a sudden stop. He balanced himself back into the seat and swore at Halkone in one of his crude dialects, “Rotten jergils, what are you doing!”

Halkone grabbed his head and turned it ahead. “The roads blocked!”

The entire caravan came to a stop before the manned barricade ahead. As some guards and a merchant disembarked to approach the armed men ahead, Boris noticed the emblem that shone upon their flags and gulped. Four swords through a dragon.

“Halberds again…. This doesn’t look good,” Boris surmised.

“Don’t worry,” Elaine replied softly from behind. “They aren’t looking for us.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Elaine was right. The roadblock was not meant to catch any culprits. It was meant to deter passage. A sullen merchant soon explained that due to Cultist threat, the main route had been blocked indefinitely. The detours were still available though.

“So are we stopping?” Halkone asked.

“Don’t be stupid. There’s a safer route up northwest. Do you know it?” the merchant asked.

“That’s not safe,” Halkone objected. “And it takes a day more at least, a day inside the Needlewoods.”

“Not anymore,” the merchant disagreed and held up a map. “You see this,” he stroked a route among the hills, “this is our shortcut. It will take the same time as the original journey. For all we know, we will be outside the Needlewoods before the night falls.”

“You’re pulling my beard, right? There’s no way something like that exists. It’s dangerous at the least,” Halkone said. The merchant refuted his claim with a heavy hand.

“I have three dozen guards here, Scythian. Enough to take anything by the horns. And I have goods that better not be delayed. Now either you take the reins or you hand them over to the next one and lose your pay.”

“Who gave you that map?” Halkone asked bitterly.

“That’s none of your business,” the merchant replied. As if conscious of it, he gripped the amulet of Thiracus tightly and hid it away inside his robes. Boris noticed the glint of gold as it disappeared but did not mention it.

“You damned penny pinchers,” Halkone cursed. “I’ll take the reins but we will need a guide. The visibility is bad in the hills and I hate getting stranded.”

“Don’t worry. I’m prepared for that,” the merchant answered and returned. A moment later another driver joined Halkone and Boris retreated into the wagon.

The caravan turned northwest into a wilder path that curved around the hills and climbed up a few. This gave Boris a wider view of the forest and he drifted to the edge, taking in the sights. A maze of trees unfolded before him.

Surprisingly, the Needlewoods had both evergreen and deciduous trees. Most looked like conifers but still held patches of green upon their supple branches. What did stand however, were trees so tall they seemed to be raising pillars into the sky. Their naked grey bark stood exposed in the winter upon them and ended far above in tapering green tips. Boris did not have to ask to know what these trees were called. Though he would have preferred to name them the ‘sky-piercing-lance’ or the ‘heavens-need-acupuncture-too’. Sadly, the people here did not have a good sense for names. Boris shelved that thought and started observing the surroundings again.

There were animals here, Boris could tell, though most stayed hidden within the thickets.

“You’re doing it again,” Elaine remarked and Boris discovered he had been unconsciously using his will probe around. “Ah,” he scratched his head, “I didn’t realize it. It helps me feel around for others. Why don’t you try it too?”

“What are you two talking about?” Halkone interposed, bending back a little.

“I’m not interested,” Elaine told Boris.

“As you wish…” Boris replied, “If it is not bothering you too much, can I keep at it for a while?”

Elaine sighed in defeat. “…Keep it mild alright? And don’t even try to probe into me. I will throw you out if you do.”

“As you wish,” Boris answered, turning to face the forest again.

“And don’t provoke anything outside either. It will come running for your blood before you know it,” Elaine cautioned with a gesture.

“As you wish,” Boris repeated.

“And stop being sarcastic.”

“As you— so difficult to please, aren’t you?”

“Is she your mother?” Halkone snorted.

““Heavens no!”” The two jerked abruptly in reply.

“Sister?” Halkone enquired, amused.

“Not at all,” Boris shook his head and looked at Elaine. “She is— what are you to me?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Elaine responded crossly.

“Right,” Boris agreed, “Let’s just say she’s sort of a nosy guardian.”

“At least she is pretty,” Halkone offered with a wink.

“I know, right? That’s half the reason I put up with her.” The strong nod from Boris sent half a cramp up Elaine’s face. “Oh really!” she narrowed her eyes in scorn, “And what is the other half?”

A puerile grin bloomed on Boris’s face. “The other half isn’t reasonable I’d say,” he gloated.

“Huh?” Elaine’s annoyance drowned into Halkone’s laughter as he held his sides. “You’re on the right track lad,” he congratulated Boris and continued to laugh until Elaine drove a cold stare into him.

“Alright, I’ll shut up,” he surrendered, “Don’t want to be the third wheel here. Or is it the fourth wheel? …She doesn’t speak either?” Halkone pointed at Thea who sat rooted beside Elaine. Thea grabbed at Elaine’s sleeves in reply. No one else answered Halkone.

“….”

“….”

“Oi lad, at least you should say something.”

“….”

“Goddammit, kids these days can’t take a joke.”

For the rest of the journey a sour Halkone kept to the driver, not sparing a glance at Elaine or Thea.

Boris concentrated upon his will, spreading it out feebly so he could feel the forest as if it were alive. A few birds made it to his lap even here and he fed them some breadcrumbs he had packed earlier. The others watched him pet the snowbills and scatter them about occasionally. He offered one of the birds to Thea who was gazing intently but she froze in fear and retreated behind Elaine. Boris shrugged and turned back to the forest, working his will slowly through the wilderness.

The critters numbered in thousands here, some too faint to be felt at all. But Boris knew they were here as surely as he knew there was a snowbill pecking at his hair. There was a flair to feeling the animals that differed from humans. They were not hazy clouds of emotions, bubbling and cluttered. They were a stream of instincts, clear and fluent. Sleeping, searching, hiding, hunting, eating. Yet the multitude of their numbers made them formidable. To single out any one would require him to stress his will and probe harder. That would surely alarm the wilder ones.

Boris wondered how Diana would have done it and where she was now. He decided it was no use and turned back to honing his will. Maybe someday he could do it the same way Diana did.

It was afternoon when the first hint of trouble dawned.

“Something’s wrong,” Boris commented. Elaine and Halkone looked at him in query.

“The birds are acting up.” He grabbed a snowbill that was poking into his sleeves and put it on the wagon’s floor. The little one tweeted a shrill note, conjuring a film of mist around, and scooted back up his sleeves. “See? They’re afraid,” Boris stated.

Halkone straightened up and beamed at him. Boris watched as the tattoo on Halkone’s neck pulsated softly while he sniffed the air for a long while. “You may be right,” he said after some deliberation, “Ready your bow.” Boris grabbed his bow and quiver and climbed out, passing by Elaine who now sat alert.

“Any word from ahead?” Halkone asked the driver while gripping the bastard sword at his back.

“None,” the man replied. “Should I sound the whistle?” he asked further.

“Wait a while,” Halkone decided.

Meanwhile, Boris knelt vigilantly and strung his bow. He fastened the quiver around his waist and hung a pouch of smokescreens and stinkers by his belt. The latter was a product of stinker’s weeds with an awful smell but no firepower. Along with a roll of rope and a sling, he had little else that could serve as a weapon. He would have considered himself poorly armed if not for Halkone’s threadbare armor and two swords.

“See anything?” Boris asked Halkone while sweeping his will farther along. He felt confused. The liveliness thinned out here and the wild animals all but disappeared. Yet there was nothing unusual to see, just a slight curve of tracks as they moved between two hills.

Halkone sniffed the air again and frowned. “This is confusing,” he answered while rubbing his bearded cheek. “I could have sworn that I—

A horn blew in his face before Halkone could speak anymore, alarming all the guards that something was awry. In perfect mockery of that, the ground erupted.

With a deafening bang and a battering blow, Boris found himself flung into the air. Wheels screeched through his ears as the trees spun and the sky vanished from sight. A loud whinnying of horses brought his senses back and Boris grabbed a wayward branch to delay his fall. As it broke and he clamped another, the jittery wagon came back into his view. The horses had stormed off with the front half in tow, leaving only two occupants within the broken remains.

“Elaine!” Boris screamed, then saw her jump off the teetering vehicle with Thea in her arms. She grasped his desperate arm right as she fell and Boris labored against the atrocious weight pulling him down. The supporting branch creaked and he jammed his foot against another as he began to contemplate his fall. Next moment, the wagon struck something and blew into the air with another blast.

Upturned wheels whooshed past Boris by a hair’s breadth even as the wood groaned above him, ready to give. Boris swayed one last time and kicked the airborne wagon hard as he could, using to it to leap at the thicker truck. There was a thud as he collided with the tree and let go of Elaine's hand. Then with a thump, he slid down and hit the ground.

“Anybody hurt?” Boris asked in a daze.

Elaine had barely registered his question when a shout jarred their ears. “Heads down!” someone roared from behind. Elaine dove to the ground promptly, taking Boris and Thea along.

For a moment, Boris lay in the cold, numbing grass, cursing whoever had shouted at them. Then he saw it. Something flew in a blur through the air above and crashed into the tree. With a crunch and a bang, the trunk shattered into a hundred splinters that rained down in assault. They bounced off Elaine's hasty spell but for a heavy log that Boris kicked away. He had sprung up just in time to recognize the culprit.

A monstrous boar grappled with Halkone as it razed the forest down to shreds. The Scythian himself had swollen to nearly twice his size and had the monster by its tusks. It looked crazy.

“What the—

“Stay alert! Here they come!” Elaine cautioned. She extended her scepter with one arm and dragged Thea behind with another. Boris looked to find two creatures leap into the air with a threatening growl. Elaine smacked the first into the ground while Boris grabbed the second's limbs and threw it at the shattered tree. The creature howled as splinters tore through it then rolled away.

“What is that?” Boris questioned.

“Fellynxes,” Elaine answered while firing a lightning streak as warning. “Nasty little hunters.”

They withdrew a few steps and Boris sneaked away hastily to grab his bow and quiver off the ground. Fortunately, most of the arrows were still present. Unfortunately, he had no time to use them. Several hostile presences crept up around them and Boris felt them growing closer. He sighed and wrapped away his bow. Crazy as the situation was, there was no time to ponder.

“Elaine, we’re surrounded,” Boris warned but Elaine simply nodded. “It’s good that you can at least put up a fight,” she answered while shaping a new spell. “I will keep up a small barrier spell and let a few in at a time. We will mow them down and move on. Remember, keep them from the girl and keep yourself from their teeth. Their bite is worse than a thousand needles.”

“Alright, I'll try,” Boris gulped, trying to keep calm.

“Eyes sharp and ears perked. We still don't know what else is here.”

“Sure,” Boris gulped again, trying to contain his unease.

The first Fellynx stalked out of a shadow with an angry snarl. The creature was small, barely two feet in length. Two bloodshot eyes stood against its vulpine snout and its fur of hazy red ended in two quivering tails—one was white with streaks of red and the other red with streaks of white. A dozen other tails behind the fellynx marked its companions. Upon each of their throbbing necks hung something unnatural.

“They have... collars?” Boris remarked.

“Well now you know what was stolen from the town's keep.”

“Wh—the cult is here?” Boris exclaimed just as the first fellynx lunged at Elaine. She struck it through the neck, ripping the collar off in one precise blow. The monster squealed and fell lifeless with a second prompt blow. It happened so fast Boris could barely register her movement.

“Where are you looking?” Elaine cautioned again, swiping the sceptre behind her and striking another fellynx even as two more clashed against her barrier spell and failed. “I said,” she repeated at the dumbfound Boris, “keep the girl safe,” then shoved Thea at him and sliced a third fellynx through its jaw, “and keep alert.” She pulled Boris in behind her to face a fourth. “Where's your do-it-myself spirit now, boy?”

That ticked Boris off. Diana he could understand, but Elaine was another matter. He saw Elaine drive the fourth fellynx unconscious with a bitter feeling and sandwiched Thea in between himself and Elaine.

‘Keep calm,’ Boris reminded himself with slow breaths, ‘Calm, I can do this, I have done this.’ With an awkward pause, his will receded in. The air grew quiet, the forest dull and the fellynxes sluggish. In just a moment, Boris went into action.

He slipped around the next fellynx as it leapt for Elaine, grabbed it by the tail and pivoted. The flickering tail sent a jolt of pain up his arm and went limp. The fellynx growled in surprise. Then it was spun around helplessly and thrown into the ground full force. As it clawed into the grass defiantly, Boris plucked an arrow and drove it through the collar's link. The metal shattered with a shriek and the monster scurried away in agony, leaving a trail of blood in grass.

“So it is the collars,” Boris suggested while grabbing another fellynx out of the air. Caught mid-lunge, the monster's snout followed his hand swiftly until it was fed upon another's tail. The resulting squeal sent the surrounding monsters into disarray while Elaine and Boris broke a collar each. “What did you think it was?” Elaine retorted while driving her scepter up another.

“Mind control of course,” Boris struck back. He caught two fellynxes this time, both aiming for Elaine and drove them into each other with aching arms. “Why are all of them targeting you anyways?”

“That's just how it is.” A curt response came as Elaine felled the last of fellynxes into the heap of unconscious ones. Boris looked from his side to Elaine's in evaluation and frowned. “You got twelve, I got four. That's unbelievable.”

“Hardly,” Elaine responded while pulling Thea close again. The girl blindly obeyed while Boris rolled his eyes and stopped short. Halkone was approaching again. Boris could feel him. When he appeared, the Scythian was still wrestling the boar but unlike before, he was the one pushing it. Boris watched agape as Halkone spun the same way Diana sometimes did. Only this time a whole boar was lifted into the air, spun around like a little kid and hurled across the canopy of trees.

“Now that,” Elaine offered subtly as a tremor ran through the ground, “is unbelievable.”

Boris did not counter. He was too busy trying to add physics to fantasy. “Gather your things,” Elaine said again, “we need to move. Now. Or it'll be too late.”

In the commotion that had occurred, they had lost sight of the rest of the caravan. Boris swept his will around a little farther but he could feel no humans nearby. He held his head and contemplated awhile in thought. “Can we still catch the caravan?” he asked Elaine.

“Let us hope,” Elaine answered.

A fiery Halkone reappeared before them riding a wounded boar. Upon his curved lips was a proud smile. “Need a ride?” he offered.

Boris almost accepted gleefully before Elaine tugged his collar. “No,” she said with a stern voice. “We will ride the horses.” Halkone clucked his tongue and abandoned the boar. It scurried off into the forest as they went looking for the horses.

The driver lay lifeless among the wreckage of the wagon. The look of surprise still held upon his hollow eyes but the rest of his body was a mangled mess.

“There goes our guide,” Halkone said. “Any ideas?” he asked Boris who was desperately suppressing an urge to vomit.

“Take the horses,” Elaine told Halkone, loosening the yoke and passing the reins to him. “You’re good at this aren’t you?”

The Scythian took the reins with a shrug and turned to the pale Boris. “I’m starting to see why you put up with her. I wouldn’t myself mind—

The rest of Halkone’s banter drowned out as the earth caved and swallowed the driver whole, then clasped shut like a monster’s mouth. After it evened out, there was no trace left of the wagon or the driver. Elaine brushed the ground and plucked one of the reins from the stunned Halkone.

“You know, forget what I said just now,” Halkone stated as he and Boris mounted the second horse. He rubbed the mane tenderly and calmed the horse. “She’s a little scary for my tastes.” Boris did not hear him.

Elaine helped Thea aloft the horse and galloped on ahead of Halkone. “Hurry up, there’s no time. We need to find the rest before the night falls.”

A bit of calm helped Boris reassess the situation along the ride. The situation was anything but calm. They were trapped inside hostile territory. From what he could see, at least two other wagons had suffered the same fate. Shattered remains of wood and iron littered the twisted pathway as it climbed up a hill. The ground itself had been gouged at places and broken trees hung at awkward angles around them. This trail of debris would lead eventually lead them to the caravan, if the caravan remained.

Fortunately, Boris did not witness any more dead men along their path, just dead monsters. The wind was picking up westward and though it had cleared the dust, the scent of blood still lingered. Boris scrunched his nose while Elaine carried along undeterred, not stopping to examine the wreckage.

“I don’t understand,” Boris said, “We had guards but we didn’t even see them coming. I felt nothing at all.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Halkone reminded him, prodding the horse to go faster. “You felt unease remember, I felt the same.”

“We tripped a snare,” Elaine explained softly, “a warded one. Snares may be common but wards are nearly inexistent among bandit traps. It takes an excellent mage and excellent mages have better jobs, more lucrative and less risky. They don’t waste their lives robbing passing caravans.”

“Unless?” Boris asked, disheartened.

“…unless they’re a fugitive or a black guild, or the Cult.”

“You’re not saying—

Halkone had barely begun when Boris confirmed his worst fears. “She is saying exactly that, Halkone. The Cult raided Water’s Fill a week back, hence the Halberds, hence this.”

“Oh screw this!” the Scythian swore, “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“What were you doing last night even?” Boris asked with vehement sarcasm.

“Not having a drink at your cruddy inn, that’s what!”

“Both of you, quiet,” Elaine ordered. “It is done. We can think of why or when later, for now we need to regroup and escape.”

“I agree,” Halkone confessed, “Now if only someone knew where our comrades are.” He pointed at the trail of wreckage that had ended and the wheel tracks that had disappeared into the forest. It did not help that the terrain had turned rough and disorderly. “Beggar’s dream! This is as much a shortcut as taking a labyrinth.”

“Wait, I think I found them,” Boris remarked from behind him. He had felt something against his mind.

“Where?” Halkone asked doubtfully.

“Give me minute,” Boris answered and closed his eyes, trying to drown out the noises around. He stirred his will repeatedly until flowed down the hilltop and all around it. ‘Don’t rush,’ Boris told himself, ‘calm down.’ The ripples of unease inside his mind died down. His will receded once and he swept it back outside again, filling the dam and letting it spill over.

“Boris do not disturb the monsters here, are you listening?” Elaine’s caution fell on deaf ears. Boris could feel the forest starkly now—a contrast of subdued monsters against excited ones. He searched deftly, brushing against the minds of hundreds of monsters until he found a horde of humans. Now where was that? He opened his eyes in a daze while trying to reach for those human minds. Suddenly, he jerked and came back to himself.

“…Boris! Are you listening? What happened,” Elaine asked while supporting his shoulders.

“Hey lad, are you alright?”

Boris saw Halkone appear on the horse above and found his aching body on the ground. ‘When did I fall?’ he wondered. Shaking his head, he struggled to his feet and pointed a finger where the rest of the caravan lay. “There,” he said with a tired voice, “let’s hurry.”

Halkone gazed curiously in the direction and smiled. There was faint trail of birds scattering away from there. Elaine frowned and pushed Boris up the horse. “You did not have to do that! I could have found the place easily,” she told him.

“I thought we were pressed for time,” Boris answered, trying to subdue his headache as he held onto Halkone’s back.

“Not so much that you need to faint for it!” Elaine countered before climbing back up her own horse.

“Let’s hurry Halkone, I think some monsters are coming after me,” Boris said weakly. Halkone swore and spurred the horse to a gallop, rushing across the terrain. Elaine followed soon after.

“I swear though,” Halkone said, gesturing discretely at Elaine, “you should take her as your mother.”

“Nah,” Boris replied with a snarl. “With how much she nags, she’d be better as a wife.”

Halkone burst out laughing at those words and drove a few monsters away in fear. Inside his mind though, he was actually appraising Boris. It had been a long time since he had witnessed a spirit so tremendous. For someone like Halkone such surprises were rare indeed. If Boris asked him, Halkone was sure he would join Boris’s side. Akin of Jzeth deserved loyalty and honor, even if it came at the hands of a fallen Scythian.

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Captain Brom marched in morbidly into the Water’s Fill prison. It was not the utter absurdity of his duty that troubled him. Nor was it his destination. Captain Brom prided himself a balanced member of the Divine Hand, and a balanced man, if such a thing existed. He did not share the ardor of his comrades towards Thiracus, or their revulsion towards the pagans. He only shared their thirst for reward and recognition. That was reasonable, he knew. After the sacrifices their Order had made during the Sumarian War and the shame they had suffered despite it, it was only reasonable that they deserved compensation. A compensation that was long denied.

Captain Brom brushed his errant thoughts and walked in. Inside the gloomy doors was an establishment of murky rocks and trusty metal. It had reeked of despair and dread for years, serving as both the cage and the grave for the bandits of Needlewoods. But as he descended the twisted stairs into the prison, Brom knew it reeked of worse today. Of cheap blood, wanton death, and fickle carnage. General Cleya was a monster.

Brom passed the bloodstained walls and the marred corpses warily, making sure to stab any that were still moving. To clean up after his superior was a tiresome task and not one he preferred. By the time he reached the basement, the death toll was twelve guards and twenty prisoners. After he opened those huge double doors, it was at least double that.

Indeed, General Cleya was a monster. That monster now sat upon a pile of corpses, smiling casually. Red splattered her pointed face and stuck to her chestnut hair. Her soft blue eyes held no emotion, her wrinkled cheeks no tension and her scarred brows no doubt.

“Oh Brom, did you bring it?” she asked happily.

“Yes General, I brought your meal.” Covering his nose with a scrap of cloth, Brom walked stiffly towards the General and produced the food. Steak and sweet-beans wrapped in an overcooked loaf of bread. Brom did not know which was worse, her taste in food or her taste in ambience.

General Cleya snatched her meal and leapt off the pile of corpses onto the sticky red floor. Brom evaded the splash of blood and swept the dead guards off the wooden table, offering her a seat. Cleya took it with pleasure.

“Thank you Brom,” she said, “I swear, what would I do without you?” and proceeded to eat.

“It is my duty,” Brom replied and took a seat himself. At least Cleya did not bother with formalities. There were generals who wanted their subordinates bowing or kneeling until ordered otherwise. He would leave Cleya for them in a heartbeat. If only Cleya would allow it.

“General,” Brom began again once Cleya had eaten her fill.

“Yes?” she asked.

“We have reports,” he hinted softly. It was not good to cut to the chase before her. Cleya had a history of killing in excitement.

“Which one?” Cleya asked, drooling.

Brom withdrew a piece of cloth to wipe her mouth and explained in a flat voice, “The third caravan that departed today. They took the northwest route through the lesser hills. They’ve run into trouble.”

“It’s not the bandits?”

“No. Bandits are rooted in the southwest, as evidenced by the previous caravans. Northwest is not a good place to hide unless you ward it off. Wards and tampered collars were reported too.”

“Very good Brom, I knew you’d do well.”

Brom accepted her praise with a shallow smile. “Thank you. Should we send the troops?”

“Yes. Send word to the allied forces in Goatswind and Barrelfarm. Tell them they owe us one for this. Recall the fifth squad. Tell them to remove the barricade, it’s useless now. The mutts have fallen for the bait. It’s time to raze them down. We will move out immediately. Any questions?”

“Should I have this cleaned up?” Brom asked, gesturing his head at the corpses. Captain Gretkin’s severed head lay there, cradled among the disfigured remains of numerous bodies. Brom did not pity him; Gretkin had always been both wanton and foolish. But in his death, he could still be offered the false honor having battled the Cult.

“Oh no,” Cleya exclaimed. She wiped her mouth and climbed the mess of bodies. A practiced kick launched Gretkin’s head into the air and she caught it like a ball, parading it before Brom. “Don’t you pity him Brom?” she asked petulantly. “The innocent Captain Gretkin and his loyal subordinates. No, we can’t sweep them under the rug! This is evidence, my dear,” Cleya said with a wide, eerie smile.

“Evidence?” Brom asked uneasily. He was sweating but his hand never grasped the sword by his side.

Cleya cackled seeing his dumbfounded face. “Brom, Brom, when will you learn to discern the truth? Tell me, who visited this prison today at the earliest?”

“Elaine Sithe, the maiden of light.”

“Yes. And, did anyone visit afterwards?” Cleya asked with an understanding smile.

“No,” Brom widened his eyes in realization, “No one.”

“Very good. This here,” Cleya tossed the head and Brom caught it gingerly, “is evidence therefore, of the inhumane atrocities the Maiden of Light committed in the name of the King. She didn’t even spare the prison guards or the prisoners.”

“….but there’s no precedent for this,” Brom answered, still reeling under the alacrity of her scheme.

“I wonder about that. Elaine Sithe was the only one to discover the Cultists in Laur though she claims to have killed them. She came here around the same time the Cult invaded. Now she is on the very same caravan that ran into the Cult. Oh, but we are not accusing her. We are just sending a report. The King and the Legion can decide how to interpret it.”

“You are right. We are just sending a report,” Brom nodded, still sweating, “Just a report.”

“You can go now, captain. Have all the squads ready by the time I arrive. And Brom, you know what to do if that caravan sends for help, don’t you?”

Brom nodded once again. “The only help they will get will come from us. Their messages will not reach anyone else.”

“That’s the way,” Cleya praised him. “Keep that up and you’ll be a general in no time at all.”

Brom found a ray of hope in her encouragement—a chance to rise and a way out. She was certainly shrewd, perhaps even more than the Holy Archpriest himself. Brom kept a sardonic chuckle to himself as he walked out that cursed basement. Maybe Thiracus had thrown his fate with Cleya for a reason. If he had Irilea’s mercy along too, he would certainly come out alive and rewarded. A new age was coming. And Brom Drewfort was determined to leave his name upon it.

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A slashing sword greeted them the moment Boris entered the trough where the caravan rested. He did not see it coming at all. Halkone parried the sword with his own while Elaine pushed the guard away, creating a gap between them.

“Wait!” Halkone cried before another guard could attack. He raised his arms and shouted, “We are the rear guards you loonies! Don’t be attacking us!”

“You are still alive, you goddamned scythian?” another voice answered him. Halkone turned to find Gabe and Wylf approaching. A discontent look stood upon their bloodied faces.

“Oh, hi there, friends,” he greeted them as Elaine dismounted the horse with Thea in tow.

“You’re escorting ladies now?” Gabe looked from Elaine to Halkone.

“Not at all,” Halkone replied, prodding Boris to get down. “We were all in the rear wagon when it crashed. What happened here?”

“You tripped a snare?” Gabe asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s all the same. They trapped the whole damned path and sicced the monsters on us. We haven’t even seen their damned faces and we’re four wagons down. Sly bastards!”

“Anybody knows where they’re hiding?” Halkone asked as he dismounted and handed the reins to Boris.

“No we don’t,” a third, crooked voice answered from behind. Boris turned with a start to find Kale treading slowly towards them. It was the second time he had heard the man speak. He sounded like a wheezing smoker.

“Thanks,” Boris told Kale. “For pointing out where you were.” He did not know how, but Kale had certainly touched his will when he was struggling to find the caravan.

“Pay it no heed,” Kale brushed him off. “You should go meet with the merchants and tell them you’re alive. Help salvage the remains and repair the wagons.”

“We need to escape. This whole place is weird.”

“And how do you propose we do it?” Kale asked, looking into the west at the descending sun. Red streaked across the horizon and the wind picked up harsher still. “It’s evening soon. Marching in the night without preparation is suicide.”

“We are inside the enemy territory,” Boris protested. “If we hurry we could make it out before night. That’s what the merchant said.”

“That merchant is dead,” Gabe replied with a bitter face.

“Well that makes it clear,” Elaine interposed with a smooth nod. “We will need to camp here. It is better to fight full and rested and this is a good place to make a stand. With a little preparation we can at least half of us be alive when morning comes.”

“Oh, my first time seeing a woman who understands it well,” Gabe remarked with a grin. Boris watched the other guards nod with grim expressions. They had all just agreed that half of them could die, come night. And if they were not insane, he certainly was. He still believed that they could emerge unscathed.

“What’s your name woman?” Gabe asked Elaine while she pondered over their predicament.

“That’s not your concern,” Elaine replied with her scepter upon his neck. “Now tell me where the head merchant is. If we are going to fight, we are going to need a chain of command.”

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Torchlight fell in uneven circles upon the labyrinth’s wall. It left pockets of darkness where Diana crept stealthily, evading the sentries and the traps with delicate precision. This labyrinth was not as large as the one in Laur. Nor was it as heavily populated. But the wards here held a touch of practice and a sense of experience. Nothing Diana could not invade through though. If the Cult could surpass the elves at wards, it would have done so long ago.

Diana passed by another sentry as silently as death. It had taken her some time to find this hideout and she was not about to let this go downhill. She needed to know what the Cult was after. And the Cult needed to know that murder had consequences. That the blood of elves was far more precious.

As the last fork of the labyrinth came into view, Diana delved into her will again, bringing out a faint weave of scrutiny. Ranging spells would have worked better at this but Diana preferred not to alarm her opponents with magic, or set off any irregular wards. The only spell she had used was to mask her presence and she needed to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Diana’s hunt led her down the left tunnel through a broken wall into large, well-furnished hollow. Stairs and furniture had been installed into the walls and dwellings had been partitioned out of wood. At the far end, a huge curtain draped an elevated dwelling. The labyrinth ended afterwards in a mesh of giant boulders and trees. The roots had divided the boulders into a hundred mosaic pieces and yet these very same roots supported them. It was an old labyrinth, Diana decided, at least four or five Infernal wars old, perhaps older. There was no doubt that the Kingdom had forgotten it. The question was how the Cult knew of it and for how long. Very soon, Diana expected answers.

Cult leader Nashwere sat rubbing his knuckles in expectation. After receiving word that a pureblood elf had boarded one of the caravans to Bizeon, he had planned to find out and intercept it. By the grace of Solomon, the fools had walked right into their territory and he had dispatched a force to capture the pureblood. A force he deigned sufficient.

The date of the ritual was approaching and while he was anxious, Nashwere did not want to be as rash as Viker who had attempted the ritual even before the alignment occurred. Nashwere decided to be patient. Little did he know that patience would drop an elf right into his lap that moment.

The first thing Nashwere felt was the cold touch of steel against his carotids and then a colder sense of dread as a full grown elf stood before him, his mouth gagged by her hand. Then his legs froze.

Diana pressed the Cult leader against his own bed, freezing his legs with magic while she gagged his mouth. “We have much to talk,” she told the gangly man with derision, “and only your tongue can keep my blade from your throat.” The man resisted and she knocked him out.

When Diana woke him up again with a shower of water, he was tied and bleeding. He screamed but it fell deafly upon the wards she had set up around her. He tried to use a spell but she stunned him and stabbed her knife down his knee. The man groaned in pain and yielded his spell, choosing to curse Diana instead.

“Go to hell you damned vixen! You will get nothing from me!”

“I will get answers from you and you won’t like it if you force me to get them,” Diana answered honestly.

The man wasted another effort at a spell and got stabbed again, groaning in defeat. He did not seem to be particularly resilient. Tears were already streaming down his eyes and his face was cramped and sweaty. Diana healed his wounds a little as he cursed her and spoke again, “I have no qualms against your twisted kind,” she said, making a faint cut across his neck, “and a particular hatred because of what they pulled inside Laur. A young elf was sacrificed for summoning demons. I want to know why?”

Nashwere felt the dreadful assault of Diana’s will as he stared into her reddening eyes. It took a lot of effort for him to control his bladder. Now there was another urgent reason he needed to be free. “You will never know elf,” he sneered. “You will die ignorant and despairing. Such is the fate of traitors and heretics.”

That was not a wise move. A solid smack rang against his skull as Nashwere spit out blood and saliva. Another cracked his nose open and a third tore his cheeks into his teeth. Diana did not spare any mercy. “I am not interested in your gods and prophecies,” she uttered with apathy. “Ignorance has been your faith and despair your destiny. But when you drag elves into your lunacy you had better tell me why.”

Nashwere spit at Diana’s face and lost four teeth in return. She healed him a little and stabbed his hand. “Why?” she asked and healed, then stabbed again. Nashwere cried and cursed, Diana stabbed and healed. The cuts were shallow but painful. They healed easily and wounded easier still. Diana wove her will around Nashwere's mind, assaulting him with a storm of rage and ruthlessness. It made Nashwere go nearly insane as he babbled incoherently.

“I know you want to summon the scourge,” Diana insinuated. She looked at the contorted face of Nashwere and afforded him a moment's rest to think. “Why?” she asked, pressing her will harder against him, “What do the scourge have to do with this?”

“Curses and curses more!” Nashwere babbled, laughing madly through his bloody lips. “Seventeen meets seventeen again! It comes.... It will come! Wahahahaha!” He looked at Diana in madness and sneered.

Diana sighed. This was not going the way she wanted at all. The wards she had planted were only temporary. If she did not have an answer soon, this would end in futility. She healed Nashwere again and hit him with a lightning spell, sending a spasm through his body. “Do you hate me?” she asked. “Well?”

In the end, Nashwere’s anger made him slip. “You will not win elf!” Nashwere roared, “We will.... get what we want! We will! ...get that which your kind has hidden for centuries!”

“Yes. That which my kind have hidden for centuries, yes,” Diana nodded, healing him again. “What is that?” she asked, stabbing again. Nashwere mumbled ludicrously in reply. “What?” Diana repeated and bent closer. Nashwere flashed a toothless grin and executed a spell, catching Diana off guard.

As the wards exploded and Diana leapt back cautiously, she caught a few verses out of Nashwere’s mouth with growing horror. “By eight of thin of green blood and one of Solomon’s kin, Shall last of rites be fulfilled and end in last of sin….”

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Alright, since I have space and time here, I have decided to conduct a Q&A session. Of course, you people don't have questions to ask. But someone does. Here we invite, Mr. Rancor *slow deliberate claps*

Mr. Rancor, welcome to the first prestigious Q&A session by your truly! *cue dramatic music* *more claps*

Me: Take a seat Mr. Rancor. But before we begin, can I interest you in revealing the meaning behind your unique name? It sounds quite offensive (and retarded).

R: Dude, I am the one askin' the questions, rite?

Me: Of course! (What a snob!)

R: Whatevs, since I'm in a happy mood, I'll tell ya. My name is short for Random Concerned Reader. See?

Me: Oh, what a clever ruse! (This sucks already!)

R: Yeah, yeah, can we get on to the important stuff? Imma start askin' questions.

Me: Ask away

Q: WTF happened!

A: (Looks like we got a bad mouthed one!) Er? Oh, well what happened is that Halberds didn't want to waste their force by splitting it up across the Needlewoods so they tricked the caravans by blocking passage and sending them all through various routes as bait for the Cult. The cult instead wanted a pure blood elf and they got hooked by the caravan Boris boarded. Diana left as soon as she understood the cult was here (because Halberds) and went in search for them. Does that answer you?

Q: How fuckin' jumbled! Make this simpler!

A: Halberds X Cult X Diana and the caravan is caught in between. (Retard!)

Q: Kay, then like Boris got too much will thing man? Ain't that cheating?

A: Nah, that's logical. You will understand in time. (Why the fuck do you care?)

Q: And like that will thing is so confusing. He can feel and attack both?

A: Yep. Just like you can do a lot of things with mana, you can do a lot of things with will. (use your head man!)

Q: Damn, and then there's this spirit thing too?

A: No, no, spirit is just what Scythians call the will. That's a vague description and they often confuse it with other things. (again, use your head)

Q: And who the hell be Jzeth?

A: You'll get to know.

Q: You got damn too many characters. Remove some, maybe kill them.

A: (Pff! You wish!) Sorry, that's not going to happen. (Unless I want it!) You only need to remember the prominent characters anyway.

Q: Then you got damn too many women. And why the hell are they so strong?

A: (Fuck! He caught on to that! Need to use big words, big words.) Well, I understand the relevance of your concern regarding the unusual depiction of women in a medieval fantasy as being both anachronous and incongruous but considering that the fundamental premise of this work constructs a world that is both anachronous and incongruous in itself it should serve as a sufficient rationale for depiction of women in a different, albeit unusual, light even if it was merely designed as an exercise to indulge a rather clandestine imagination and stimulate those senses that commonplace works often both appeal and allude to.

Q: Lolwut?

A: (Got you sucker!) As for your concern over why the women depicted have so much strength I can only counter that it is not that the women are all strong but merely that I have biased myself and hence you by a deliberate mention of only those women who are indeed strong and have enough merit to rise in this world. I assure this is certainly not due to my taste in women or some such insignificant issue but that the plot necessitates that I forge my characters of a stronger mettle and spirit in order to face immense odds if they are ever to overcome it. In conclusion--

Q: Fuck this shit! I am leaving!

A: And that concludes our first prestigious Q&A session. If you have more questions, leave them down here. Who knows you might actually get a half-decent answer. *curtain falls*

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