by Pirateaba
That jarred with Thrissiam’s plans greatly. He’d expected to take seniority in the effort to hunt down and destroy the Goblin Lord and his army, but the Gnoll riding towards him on a warhorse stallion far larger than his mare was no low-level [General] he could order around.
Drakes had a social hierarchy. More than that, they had a strict way of dealing with the chain of command, even when dealing with opposing factions. Thrissiam was from one of the Walled Cities. He hailed from Pallass, most northern of the six Walled Cities. It had been chosen to lead the suppression effort against the Goblins. As one of its better [Generals], Thrissiam was naturally an important Drake although he was not quite as important as a council member, Lord or Lady of the Wall, or the most elite echelons of Drake nobility.
However, he was damn close. And coming from a Walled City conferred its own authority. Thrissiam would have felt fairly confident of his superiority to another common [General] of the same rank but the Gnoll [General] riding towards him outranked him as one of the lead generals of the coalition of smaller Drake city-states, and probably had a few levels on him as well.
So Thrissiam sighed and bowed his head slightly first as the two [Generals] met in the snow. His officers murmured quietly, but Thrissiam wasn’t here for a conflict. One [General] had to take charge and if he couldn’t state his authority without a struggle, it might as well be her.
Her. Garusa Weatherfur, of the Longstride Clan. She inclined her head towards Thrissiam, giving him the same level of respect. When she spoke, her voice was a clear, deep rumble, which was reassuring. No [General] should ever speak quietly, especially when the roar of battle called for a voice like thunder.
“Hrr. It is good to see you Thrissiam Blackwing. I trust your forces encountered no difficulties on the march here?”
“None, thank you Garusa Weatherfur. We slew four Wyverns on the way, and I hope to recover their corpses on the march back.”
“Hm. You seem to think we shall find and dispose of the Goblin Lord quickly, yes?”
Thrissiam directed his mount left, so he and Garusa could talk where their words were removed from the hearing of others. It was bitingly cold as wind blew down from the mountains, and his stupid mare seemed more interested in flirting with Garusa’s stallion than staying still. He used his tail to gently slap his horse on the side and she, used to the command, stilled.
Drakes sat on a higher saddle than other races, to allow their tails to run down and around the horse. It took a special breed of horse that was used to having a tail resting on it, but Drakes could actually give commands with their legs and tails when their hands were full. But despite his higher seat, Thrissiam still found himself looking up at Garusa. Her fur was a very light brown, almost blonde, and riffled as the wind blew it. Apart from her armor, she wore no clothing against the cold. Thrissiam was covered in cloth by comparison.
“I don’t see why we shouldn’t finish this campaign by the end of winter at the latest, no matter how far the Goblin Lord runs. One [General] is overkill for the strongest Goblin Chieftain. Two should be far more than a match for a Goblin Lord, especially given your abilities.”
There. That was a nod to her higher status. Thrissiam had to acknowledge that Garusa was a famous leader in her own right. Gnolls lived in Drake cities of course—they weren’t all tribal wanderers—but it was rare for a Gnoll to achieve high ranking in the Drake-dominated militaries. To be a [General] like her meant she truly was exemplary. Thrissiam had to admit, privately, that no Gnoll would have achieved such honors in a Walled City.
But Garusa surprised Thrissiam by what she said next.
“I do not intend to lead this army, Thrissiam Blackwing. I may be high level, and higher between the two of us, yes, but you are a [Lineholder General], yes? I think your formations would do best against Goblins, if you will leave the attacking to me.”
She was a specialist in brutal assaults, probably one of the reasons why she had been chosen to go up against the disorganized Goblin armies. But to cede command to him? Thrissiam’s eyes widened. It was what he wanted, and what was best, he felt. That she was willing to lower her tail increased his respect for her.
“I shall accept with gratitude, Garusa.”
The tension between the two [Generals] eased now the order of command was established. They were equals, but one now commanded the overall army. Thrissiam would be only too happy to let Garusa lead the attack as well—two generals made for a devastating combination, especially when their natures were opposed, such as in this case. One could use all of his Skills to defend while the other struck out.
They were discussing the compositions of their armies when Garusa said something that made Thrissiam stop his horse dead in its tracks.
“I received a communication from General Shivertail a day ago. He warned me not to underestimate this Goblin Lord. To that end, I have requested several City Runners and more [Scouts] for my army. I hope to keep them in reserve in case things become dire.”
The Drake [General] stared at the Gnoll. What was that? A group to send messages in case of an emergency? That was a last sign of desperation—as if Garusa expected their armies to be overwhelmed! It was also extraordinary because [Mages] could send a [Message] spell just as fast if they weren’t busy.
And Zel Shivertail had told her that? The famous Tidebreaker, hero of the Drakes, was certainly known to Thrissiam. He privately idolized Zel Shivertail and envied Garusa the chance to speak with him as a fellow general in the same alliance. But this? He had to shake his head.
“I hardly think your precautions are appropriate, General Weatherfur. We are two [Generals] in command of armies worthy of any on the continent!”
“Yes. Hrr. Except that the fabled army of Liscor fought in the Second Antinium War and was defeated by a single Goblin Lord’s army. Not by the King, yes? I would hardly like to compare myself to that force of old, although between us we might be close. I simply remember the past, General Blackwing.”
Thrissiam stared at Garusa and shook his head briskly to dispel the uneasy feeling her words had evoked. He put a bit of fire into his words, although neither she nor he were raw recruits.
“Thinking of defeat is a waste of time and energy. Goblin Lord or not, we are two [Generals] and we have over twenty thousand [Soldiers] between us. We’ll do this by the book.”
“Which one?”
Garusa grinned toothily as Thrissiam shot an irritated glance at her. Gnoll humor. He grunted as he surveyed the terrain. He really hoped the Goblins hadn’t retreated into the mountains. They’d die up there, and his forces would too trying to flush them out. But the hills were a more likely bet.
“We’ll take a day to combine armies, and then send out scouts. We forge ahead, and find where their war host is hiding. They can’t stay here forever, not without a food source.”
“Hm. Yes. I defer to your experience.”
The Gnoll [General] inclined her head, which relieved Thrissiam. She sniffed at the air as she turned her head to stare up at the High Passes.
“I wonder why the Goblin Lord took his forces here?”
“He probably found out we were coming and decided to hide. This one’s not a complete fool, although he’s still doomed in the end.”
Thrissiam grunted. He knew Goblin Lords could employ advanced tactics like scouting their enemy, or battle strategy, although he’d never actually faced one in combat. The Tidebreaker himself had warned Garusa? Did that mean he thought this one might be…? No. Focus.
“We’ll establish a camp on one of the larger hills. Somewhere to strike from if we can’t locate any signs of the Goblins at once.”
Garusa nodded as she and Thrissiam began riding back to their officers. It would be busy, coordinating the joint army, but Drake armies were adaptable and disciplined. Far better than Human armies, which could never work together if their [Lords] were at odds. Even the worst Drake enemies could link tails to take on a common foe.
Thrissiam paused as he star
ed around the dark landscape. A common foe. He glanced at Garusa and sighed.
“And we’ll keep a reserve unit of [Scouts] and Runners if you have them. Spread around the army. Just in case.”
She smiled, and Thrissiam gave her his own nod. He could be reasonable too. The joint suppression armies set out to find the Goblin Lord. They were hunting him.
But they didn’t realize he was also hunting them.
—-
Osthia Blackwing did not, in fact, have black wings. Hers was a dark yellowish-green, which the fanciful [Poets] of the Walled Cities called chartreuse. Since Osthia preferred straightforward words, she called it yellowish-green.
Her scales were a bright yellow, and the spines on the crest of her head were dyed bright blue. It made her stand out, more than her wings already did. In fairness, Osthia could have been the most non-descript green color imaginable and she still would have stood out in any crowd.
Because of the wings. Osthia was a Drake, a Drake [Soldier], in fact, and she had wings. Some Humans might indeed say, ‘a Drake with wings? What’s special about that? Don’t all Drakes have wings?’ and thereby prove to a listener that they were not only ignorant, but had never actually seen a Drake before. Or if they had, they’d only seen Osthia.
Because Drakes didn’t have wings. Most of them didn’t, anyways. Oh, sure, once upon a time when Dragons still flew about and burned cities to the ground and Drakes were young, they had wings. But now Drakes were wingless. They didn’t breathe fire anymore either. At least, most of them didn’t.
Osthia didn’t breathe fire. But she could do something just as unpleasant if she felt like it. Two of the [Soldiers] in her company could breathe fire though, and one could just breathe smoke, which was…something.
Now Osthia stood in the snow, back straight, tail brushing snow off of the ground. She wished she’d put on a tail warmer, but that would have been unprofessional. Tail armor, now, that would be nice. Padded for warmth…Osthia sighed, and then straightened up further as she saw two figures riding towards them in the snow. At last! She took a breath and then shouted.
“Company, attention!”
The Drakes around her immediately stood straighter. Each one looked forwards, holding their arms at the ready if they were carrying longer weapons. Osthia held her spear by her side, staring ahead.
Each Drake in Osthia’s company was wearing ornate, embellished armor. Nothing fancy; nothing that would detract from the use of the armor, but each one had a noticeable sigil, crest, or other nod to their bloodline. If the Drake couldn’t afford the armor, they were provided with specialized gear.
Theirs was a unique group. They weren’t necessarily an elite group of high-level warriors, but they were well-trained, well-equipped, and prestigious. You couldn’t just join this company. You had to be born to it.
“At ease, Captain Osthia.”
General Thrissiam dismounted from his gelding and handed the reins to a waiting soldier as he strode over to the company of Drakes. He smiled briefly at Osthia and she returned the smile. They were family and that much was allowed. Then her attention turned to the other [General], the one leading the second army sent to kill the Goblin Lord.
Osthia didn’t know who she’d been expecting, but a Gnoll wasn’t it. She was an officer though, and she immediately recognized one of the more prominent Gnoll [Generals] on the continent.
“General Garusa, this is Captain Osthia Blackwing and the Ancestor Guard company assigned to me. I hope to make use of their abilities to locate and engage the Goblin Lord.”
The tall female Gnoll smiled at Osthia and then sniffed the air as she looked across the ranks of assembled Drakes. A lot of Gnolls did that when first meeting Osthia or someone from her company. They probably smelled something quite unique.
“Ah. Oldblood soldiers. I am impressed, Thrissiam.”
Did it bother Osthia that this Gnoll was speaking so informally with Thrissiam already? A bit. But she didn’t shift her position. She was a soldier, and disciplined. She lead this company—she had worked hard for this place! It wasn’t just because of her heritage that she’d earned her rank, either.
Oldblood. That was the correct term for what Osthia and the rest of the Drakes in her company were. The incorrect term was whatever you wanted it to be, but it was wise to be wary of saying that around any Drake with the old blood. Because you might get a face full of fire or lightning in reply.
Osthia had wings. Most of the Drakes in the Oldblood company didn’t. Some had only vestigial stumps, or half-formed wings. But some had none at all. Those Drakes could breathe fire. Or lightning. Or mist. Or something else entirely. They could do this, what no other Drakes could, because they had more of their ancestor’s blood in their veins. These Drakes, Osthia included, remembered a part of what it was like to be a Dragon.
Less than one in a thousand Drakes had a hint of their ancestry in their veins. Any family could give birth to someone with the old blood, but families with pure bloodlines that went back to the dawn of the Drake species were far more likely to have a child with the old blood. Such individuals were cherished, and the families often given money and aid for simply raising them.
There was prestige in being of the old blood, oh yes. It was easier to get a job in any position, and in some circles having a drop of the old blood was as good as a noble title. Better. And this was a company of the Oldblood Drakes. As good as a company of mages, in theory.
It was one of the things that separated the Walled Cities from the lesser Drake city-states. Only a Walled City had the population and the pure bloodlines to field an entire battalion of such warriors. Only a company had been sent to accompany General Thrissiam, but it was a mark of the trust placed in him by the city of Pallass that they’d sent anyone at all. None of the Oldblood had been sent with Wall Lord Ilvriss in his dispute with Zel Shivertail.
Of course, that also had much to do with the politics and dangers of sending a force against Zel Shivertail, who might well rip apart any group of soldiers sent against him. He was popular among the old families, although he’d taken a position in the Earthwatchers Coalition which often butted heads with the Walled Cities.
In truth, Osthia preferred to fight Goblins anyways. Drakes fighting Drakes left a bad taste in her mouth, even when it was to settle a dispute.
“Blackwing? Hrr. Are you two related, General Thrissiam?”
Garusa addressed Thrissiam as she walked across the ranks of Drakes, inspecting their arms. Thrissiam nodded.
“Osthia is a relation of mine. I knew her growing up, and was pleased to be assigned her company for this campaign. You will not be disappointed with her performance.”
“I have no doubt.”
Osthia listened, watching Thrissiam out of the corner of one eye. She and he were indeed cousins. He was her uncle, technically, but they were only separated by ten years. And they were distant, very distant cousins. Practically strangers. Certainly no issue if they wanted to marry.
Osthia had liked Thrissiam ever since she’d met him as a hatchling. She hadn’t ever told him that of course—but she had made every effort to be assigned to his command, regardless of what he was doing. Now she quelled the butterflies in her stomach as Thrissiam turned towards her.
“We’ll be striking camp soon, Captain Osthia. Have your soldiers ready to move. I would like you to join one of the scouting groups with those under your command able to fly.”
“Yes sir. I would be delighted to.”
She had to stop her tail from twitching as she smiled at General Thrissiam. That would have been a dead giveaway, and very embarrassing as well.
Garusa stopped next to Thrissiam, and Osthia’s smile vanished. She didn’t want the Gnoll to think she was approving of her just yet. In her opinion, Thrissiam should have been appointed command over both armies. He was a [General] from one of the Walled Cities, after all.
The Gnoll General nodded at Osthia, smiling without baring her teeth.
�
�I have never fought with the Oldblood before. Against them…on occasion. I am honored to fight alongside you, young Blackwing.”
“I hope to have the opportunity, General Garusa.”
The Gnoll nodded, and both she and Thrissiam left. Osthia waited until they were gone and then she and the Oldblood soldiers joined the rest of the army on the march. Osthia called for several names under her command, and then leapt into the air, wings beating. She flew.
It was a sight that made the Gnolls and Drakes in Garusa’s army look up and exclaim. Osthia, wearing chainmail and a helmet, not to mention holding a spear, flew above them, wings laboring to gain altitude in the frozen air.
She flew high into the sky with the six other Drakes who had wings. It was hard, very hard, to stay aloft for long. Osthia could feel the magic burning in her depleting itself with every wing beat. She was far too heavy to fly normally, and unless she sustained her flight with magic as Dragons did, she would be forced to land.
She couldn’t fly long. Nor could she use her breath weapon with impunity. Those with abilities stemming from their blood found it was often a curse as well as a blessing. Some Drakes grew faint of breath when they used their breath weapons, or injured their own throats. Osthia’s heritage was true though, and she could use both her wings and her breath attack without issue.
She flew on, eyes peeled for any Goblins on the landscape below. The foolish creatures probably had no idea that a Drake could fly. But she didn’t see a single Goblin below, although she was high enough to look around for miles.
Perhaps they weren’t there? Goblins didn’t strike Osthia as bright enough to hide or cover their tracks. Had their intelligence been mistaken? Was the Goblin Lord elsewhere?
Time would tell. Osthia was too experienced to trust to a quick view from the sky, although the lack of any signs of Goblins bothered her. It could be they were hiding, or farther away than she thought. And if this was a mistake? Well, she could use the opportunity to get closer to Thrissiam.
