XXXVII. The Clouds Prepare for Battle

Rémann opened the flap to the Lady Alice’s tent and peaked his head in. She stood with her back to him, intently studying a map hanging from a map board. He cleared his throat loudly, and after a moment's delay, she turned to usher him in. With her bright blonde hair pinned up and dressed in the severe black and stark white of her academy formal dress, she looked matured. Or perhaps recent events had worn and aged her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked after several moments of silence.

“Well my lady, the clerics have restored my sight, and aside from a slight ring, my hearing is back to normal.”

Alice nodded as she pressed a blue tack into the map. “I’m glad to hear that, Master Rémann.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the humidity caused Rémann’s shoulder to ache. A sudden heat wave had swept through and melted the last of the hard packed and dirty snow drifts. As quickly as the warmth came, however, it was quickly dispelled by another cold snap. Now it seemed like rain was inevitable.

Rémann coughed and examined the map. “I have other news my lady, General Swyddog of the third infantry division has arrived.”

“Excellent,” Alice said disinterestedly as she pushed another tack into the wall. “send him in.”

“Perhaps the lady should have some coffee before the audience.”

Alice swatted him away and drew a line on the map. “No, thank you.”

Rémann sighed, she had been melancholic since Auld Ferrons, and members of the camp were becoming concerned. For days on end she holed herself up in her tent, barely coming out, and certainly not speaking. The soldiers were in need of reassurance that she was in a proper frame of mind to lead them, especially after the display last week. The fact she made them set up camp so close to the ruins certainly did little to bolster the men’s morale.

“If I may speak freely ma’am,”

Alice’s lip curled in a semblance of a smirk. “As opposed to your usual thinly veiled condescension? By all means.”

“This pain will last for a long time I suspect, but distancing yourself from responsibility and those who care about you won’t help the healing process.”

Alice took off her glasses and cleaned them on a rag. “I sincerely hope that wasn’t meant to be inspiring…”

Rémann blushed and shuffled his foot, averting his gaze, he thought his words had been rather profound. “Well, not necessarily inspiring my lady…”

Alice gave him a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “Well, you tried…”

A short knock on the doorpost was followed by a rather average man of slightly above average height in a brigandine and the colors of Aes Sidhe. His brown hair was long and tied in a ponytail, with bands of grey running throughout, and a scraggly beard was cropped close to his face. On his legs were silver plated greaves, and a duelist cape was draped over his shoulder. He placed a gauntleted fist to his heart, and bowed at the waist.

“I apologize for the intrusion my lady,” The general stood and flashed a smile, “But I was given explicit orders by Duke Briartach to lay eyes on you as soon as possible.”

Alice smiled and motioned for the general to take a seat. “My father tends to worry overmuch about me. Tea? Coffee?”

The general waited for Alice to take a seat behind the table before sitting himself. “Tea, please.”

Alice flicked her hand in Rémann’s direction. “Rémann, if you please.”

Rémann bowed and hurried out the tent. General Swyddog retrieved several letters from a small satchel and slid them across the table to Alice. Two were from her father, of course, the third was from her cousin, the king, and the final letter bore the seal of Asketill.

“What is this?” Alice asked, turning the letter over.

Swyddog stroked his beard with a content smile on his face. “It seems word of your exploits have reached the valley. His majesty had the Master Mage himself grace the halls of Coheed.”

“Huh,” Alice traced the edge of the envelope with her finger, burning enough away to open it, “it looks important.”

Alice adjusted her glasses as she read the paper, written in an elegant and flowing script. It began with the usual platitudes and empty praise for representing the virtues and principles of Asketill. The final line however was rather confusing, it was a warning regarding the dangers of drawing too much on one’s spiritual element. She had expected maybe an early title, or perhaps even an offer of residency, but not this. There was no way anyone from Asketill could have known what she had been doing.

“When did you receive this?” Alice demanded.

The general’s smile suddenly faded with her change in demeanor. “Oh, well, I imagine it was before I left my lady, we’ve not picked up any more letters or encountered any couriers. Is the news unwelcome?”

Alice smiled wanly and destroyed the letter with mage fire. “No. Just, unexpected.”

She knew full well the dangers, but what other choice was she left with? Their enemies could cast complicated spells without uttering a word, in order to even hope to compete against that sort of power, she needed some kind of trump card. The worst that could happen is that the element consumes her entirely, given the alternative is death, it was more or less a wash.

“I must say,” The general began thoughtfully, “I am surprised to see you here. With a force your size, I would have suspected you’d already lay siege to the capitol.”

Rémann returned with a small tea service, and poured each of them a cup. Alice pressed a glowing red finger to the wax seal and burned open the first letter from her father. It was a gushing sob fest alternating between his pride and fear for her. Alice smiled, she could almost hear his voice as she read his words.

“Our enemy is no longer in the capitol.” Alice set down the letter and took up the teacup. “He fled several weeks ago, the only thing we are likely to find there is a proverbial viper pit.”

“Begging your pardon ma’am, but are you certain?”

Alice nodded and cradled the cup in both hands. “You were likely too far away to see, but a column of light from the heavens struck somewhere in Alfheim. This occurred at around the same time General Aichlan was escorting the new King of Duvachellé to a tomb they have in the Gojira mountains. This tomb also happens to serve as some sort of portal, one that leads into the forest.”

The general pulled a stern face as he scratched his beard. “I am afraid you will have to clarify a few things my lady…”

“The forest is protected by some sort of magic barrier.” Rémann said as he poured himself a cup of tea. “One goes in, but without fail, after wandering for a bit, you get spit out at the very same point that you entered.”

“I take it you speak from experience then, Master Squire?”

A gentle patter of rain fell on the tent.

Rémann slurped down some tea and nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes. When I first set out to find the Lady Alice and Lord Aichlan, my men and I ventured into the wretched wood as we scoured Arlien.”

“Only the elves know how to enter it,” Alice added, “and fortunately, they make up the bulk of my forces.”

“I assume you have a plan of attack?”

Alice smiled nervously. “More or less. I want us to follow the river east of here into their territory, it should lead us into their capital and to Osric.”

Swyddog nodded and removed a small notebook from his satchel. “A sound enough plan. How big is the enemy host?”

Alice exchanged an uncertain glace with Rémann. “That is…difficult to say. His army from Xanavene was presumed routed nearly a year ago. We’ve only encountered him with a vanguard of demons or, alone since then.”

“Alone?” Swyddog said with an incredulous chuckle. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

Alice leaned back in her seat and took a sip of tea. “I believe it would be in all our best interest if I brought you up to speed on this conflict general.”

The gentle patter of spring rain turned to a full-on downpour, as thunder rumbled across the plains.