They saw it. Four men as far as they could determine, dressed in rough leather armours, their hair filthy and their weapons crude. They stood in a small circle.
Cid and the soldiers witnessed their last moments. The four unknown men had stumbled into the wrong part of the forest and paid with their lives for their mistake. The Reavers pounced on them, their trademark scimitars brandished with a kind of skill that did not suite these animals.
The untidily clad of men tried feebly to fight back, but the Reavers tore them to shreds within seconds. Terrible howls of victory filled the forest, the Reavers mangling the dead corpses with unnecessary cruelty, their jaws and ferocious teeth crushing hungrily into the flesh.
The party remained silent until the Reavers finally grew bored and cantered off, laughing like hyenas.
‘That was close,’ said Alex nervously.
‘Yes and it will be the death of us soon enough, we don’t stand a chance trying to fight them in the trees,’ said Cid.
‘Who were those men?’ asked Lidayel, a fear in his voice shared by them all.
‘I believe they were mere bandits, Alparack attracts all the wrong kinds,’ said Welce.
‘Man, did they choose to scour on a bad day. What would they be doing here though?’ said Brunick.
‘There are some rivers in these woods. They are mountainous, so I might say that they are sifting for gold in them,’ said Alex
‘Do we continue for the canyon sir?’ asked Girdo.
Cid thought for a moment, running maps through his mind and judging distances.
Round 9
-Stelinger had won the previous round, outclassing Cid just, tripping him and holding the staff to his throat. That was worth a win. Right now Cid was still channelling the rhythm he gained from round 8 and he could feel Stelinger giving way to a well-rounded attack pattern. Stelinger stumbled somewhat before Cid’s fury and then leapt backwards with the grace of a dancer.
Predictably Cid charged in to finish it. It should’ve have been over. Stelinger, as quick as a wink, slammed the staff into the courtyard sand and then kicked the loosened grains with the side of his foot with force. A hefty puff of sand shot up, catching Cid in the face and distorting his attack. Stelinger struck maliciously, finding mark on Cid’s suddenly exposed body every time until he could do nothing else than take a knee to signal defeat.
The men cheered at Stelinger’s display and Cid rose cursing himself.
Stelinger had remained mindful of his surroundings and I was overzealous, too hasty, to end the round-
‘No, there should be a river directly north of us right? It cuts right through Alparack and into the canyon,’ said Cid.
‘Yes sir, where the river hits the centre of the forest is supposed be Rattle point, but sir, that river is no more than a stream. It won’t help us in fighting the Reavers and we’ll be out in the open,’ said Alex.
‘I have no interest in fighting the Reavers Alex, all I want to do is travel upstream so that the Reavers lose our scent. We’ll turn around again when we’re in far enough and mount the Biridians once more.’
‘Geez captain, wouldn’t it be quicker just to dart for the canyon?’
‘We wouldn’t make it Alex, the Reavers are on to us,’ said Cid
‘But we’ll still be exposed if we travel in the stream,’ said Alex.
‘And right now it’s our best chance to get to the canyon without a following. Or get to the canyon at all for that matter,’ said Cid.
‘Right then, we’ll dismount here?’ said Alex.
Cid looked down the Biridian, frowning at the straight shot down its base with no real climbable surface to speak off.
‘Let’s find a different tree; this one makes me feel a little bit like Brunick.’
On solid ground again they followed a reasonable trail, using the sun to keep them heading north. It was an easier run than the tree tops, yet every step forward was met with a pounding trepidation in each man. The reason was that it would take but an instant for them to be discovered now and at the moment they did not stand a chance fighting while in the thick of the woods.
Another howl wailed through the woods, at least telling them the Reavers were not close, nor at where they were going.
‘How much farther?’ asked Brunick from the rear.
‘Nearly there, count to sixty,’ said Alex at the lead.
Even with Brunick running behind him Cid was aware of Brunick’s annoyance at the remark.
Without mishap the trail eventually opened itself, the Biridians thinning in the wake of the river. The sound of rushing water played soothingly on the men and at first, they each simply splashed into a trench where the water pooled waist deep. The fresh white foam was remarkably cold and all the more refreshing because of it. Cid placed his armour at the bank and his chest immediately became pinkish in response to the warmth-pinching cold river. None of them cared though, quenching their first, filling their water skins and rinsing the dirt and blood from their bodies.
They did not tarry or linger, the threat of danger not going to subside any time soon. They used the cloths from the packs to dry themselves and Brunick came up with the idea to use them as cloaks while running in order to dry them out as they moved. Dressed again the men kept to the stream, the water level quickly dwindling to ankle-depth the rest of the way up. In effect they were travelling away from the canyon now.
Cid expected Brunick to question the plan every step of the way. The fact that he didn’t confirmed how weary they all were. It worried Cid though, Brunick was often the one to disregard rational fear and it was his defiant personality that kept men’s hopes up.
Either way the water had been empowering, and the rest of the stream upwards accommodated a swift pace. It was crucial to keep to the water, as it eliminated both their tracks and their scent. The act had hazards of its own though. Wet boots and feet were a breeding ground for fungus and infection and Cid made a mental note to warn the men to dry their feet properly when the day was done.
They were barely a hundred yards further when Girdo cut his foot on a sharp unseen rock in the river bedding, tearing right through his boot.
They halted at Cid’s behest as Girdo removed the torn boot on the bank, painfully clutching his foot with wincing and curses. Alex, Brunick and Welce watched the perimeter, staring deep into the cavities of the forest for potential enemies. Cid took a look at the wound. Bandaging wasn’t going to help while travelling in the water, apart from that the pain would hamstring Girdo in any case. He looked at Lidayel.
‘I have no more healing scrolls Colonel, and I do not have the control I need to risk healing him normally,’ said Lidayel perceptively.
‘You must try,’ urged Cid, ‘if the Reavers catch a blood scent in the water then our endeavour will be for nothing.’
Lidayel consented, knowing that debating the point would not help the cause, hunching as he hovered his hand over Girdo’s foot; there would be no time for fancy herbs or antiseptics.
Lidayel became a mask of concentration, mumbling an incantation and Cid could not believe he was witnessing a Summoner struggling with a spell that a practiced mage could do effortlessly.
Nonetheless his endeavour was fruitful, Girdo’s foot repairing itself under a soft rosy light radiating from Lidayel’s hand. It was a blotched healing effort this time to be sure, as the cut became a curious ridge of calluses as it sealed. Girdo was not going to complain though and could voice nothing but thanks as he slipped his tattered boot back on and testing his leg. He smiled in the absence of pain. ‘Perfect,’ he voiced, despite the deformity.
Cid saw a faint look of personal satisfaction on Lidayel’s face.
By Cid’s Command Alex took the lead again as they continued upstream.
‘Hey Summoner, why do have to sing nursery rhymes while healing? I mean, you weren’t using a scroll just now right?’ asked Brunick.
Lidayel actually laughed. ‘The words itself are not magical. It is like I explained to
Cid, magic is often about feeling. When a musician finds an inspirational a song in his head, he rushes to pen down the notes and words to preserve them. Our incantations work in the same way, the exact feeling needs to be replicated for the magic to work, especially in something as sensitive as healing. We are trained extensively to pair up the right feelings with certain gestures and words that come from the old tongue, so that when uttering them the feelings surfaces as it should. The words are a mental trick, a rhyme like you suggested, to put my arts through the right paces.’
‘Good to know, but what of magic that come from scrolls, like that eclipse you made?’ voiced Brunick.
‘You raise an important question. Some kinds of powerful spells are prepared beforehand and then bound with very specific rituals or incantations. From a tome or scroll a magician can read or enact the incantation. If successful someone like me can summon a spell through the vast Calophrite channels even if it was prepared thousands of miles away. Although it always takes some energy and control on the practitioners part proportionate to the magnitude of the spell.’
‘Guess there’s a lot more to it than what they’ve told us in the briefings,’ complained Brunick.
‘We spend many years studying and training Master Mason, do not berate yourself for not understanding all of it in a single exchange,’ said Lidayel.
‘You know Summoner, you practiced some pretty good control back there,’ praised Cid.
Lidayel nodded. ‘It will come with time, for now I have to take it easy, burning down the forest by accident isn’t one of my intentions.’
‘It would be great finale though; us, cornered by a thousand Fallen and you Summoner lighting them up! And we’ll all go down together while forest burns to the ground!’ said Brunick in a bout of cynical humour.
Hmm, Brunick is still vocal, guess I was worried for nothing.
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that Brunick,’ said Cid.
With a mile behind them they abandoned the stream, turning on the south bank of the river again. They took a quick respite in the cover of some clustered bluegums, eating the last scraps of food from the packs. Cid had to force himself to stand up, the urge to just lie down for a minute becoming stronger. He knew the other men felt the same way.
Again they mounted the Biridians and this time, having hopefully confused the Reavers, they could make a direct shot for the canyon. They gained that rhythm again, as though they were getting better at jumping through trees. It was only Alex who ever seemed to have a complete hang of it, but it was expected as he had been a scout and forester since childhood.
They were making solid progress when Cid heard Brunick curse behind him -he was having the most trouble with this treetop path.
‘It’s only Cid who can come up with a plan where you find yourself backtracking all the way into enemy territory so that you can escape certain death!’ said Brunick, grunting as he made his jumps.
Girdo and Welce laughed in response.
Cid smiled quietly. There it is, I knew he was going to complain.
At sunset they came to a halt as it was due time for a rest. It was clear for all that they could not continue moving. They settled in the bowl of a big Biridian and Cid watched as the men laid down, each of them asleep within an instant.
Going to sleep hungry.
Going to sleep on the knotted branches of a tree.
Going to sleep with a murderous enemy on the search.
Cid removed his own armour and weapons, precariously tying them to hang onto a branch to create more space for himself in the bowl.
Traversing the Biridians had been even trickier than Cid had anticipated. Turns out nature didn’t coordinate Biridians to form a clear cut path for humans. Rather, they had to move in all directions, sometimes backtracking in order to find adjacent Biridians that were at eligible jumping distance. It was nerve wracking as well, making leaps from a tree to another, three dozen feet in the air with enemy patrols ignorantly passing by underneath. Of course these facts only caught up with you afterwards.
Wrought with paranoia Cid almost forced himself to stay awake. Rather he lied on his back with his hands behind his head, his eyelids heavy. The Reavers could so easily track them down, climb the trees and kill them in their sleep.
This was about as safe as they could get though and he could not afford not sleeping. Cid tried to press on, tried thinking about Lanston, about the army, about Elmira. Instead, his body took over and threw him into slumber.
Chapter 23
Tidings
Stelinger lingered, slowing down his horse so that eventually he became detached from the marching mammoth that was the Lanston army. Alongside him were Piatil and his personal mage, Reighler, disguised as a Sekhaimogist.
They came to a complete halt as they were joined by a rider coming down the west side ramp. The rider was dressed in Lanston armour, but like the mage he wasn’t a man loyal to the Kingdom.
‘Report,’ said Stelinger.
‘Both companies are destroyed sir, but there is no sign of Cid’s body…’
‘Explain this,’ said Stelinger, his temper coming to a boil instantly.
‘Their scouts picked up early on the Fallen. Cid went to aid Olum like you expected him to. Only thing is, with the combined strength of the companies Cid was able halt the Fallen ambush and escape right past them. That eclipse in the sky didn’t help either.’
‘What was that thing, was it the Priests’ doing?’ asked Stelinger angrily.
‘No sir, apparently the Fallen cornered a Forgotten Summoner on some conclave assignment. His powers were still non-coherent so he ended up creating that eclipse, sucking the daylight right out of the sky. The Reavers caught up with the soldiers after they escaped of course - they killed most of the men, but Cid…’
‘What about Brunick?’ asked Stelinger.
‘No sign of him either Commander, but that doesn’t mean that they are alive.’
Stelinger was fuming. Cracks were appearing in his plan. Already it was well known that Bennam was murdered. The assassin screwed up. And now Cid might still be alive as well…
‘Believe me, they’re still out there and are probably travelling with the Summoner now. Go back, tell the Priests to fan out and hunt down Cid and his men.’
‘I understand Commander, but what if Cid enters the canyon also? The Fallen can’t follow him then lest we force an unwanted encounter.’
‘We will kill him on sight as well; I’m going to assign the Rade’Remar hunter party to track along the forest border. Cid of House Rogana has just become a traitor to the Kingdom and an enemy of the Lanston army.
The fake soldier saluted and made way, retracing his steps into the forest.
Piatil gave Stelinger a cold look, one that did not hide discontent. ‘The men respect Cid, Stelinger. They will not be so easily convinced that he is a traitor.’
‘You are right on that, but it’ll help them to know that he was involved in Bennam’s murder,’ said Stelinger confidently, ‘send word to Lanston, warn them of Cid with all haste.’
Chapter 24
A Meeting Perchance
Something was going on at the Sagril residence, something other than Elmira that is, causing a much greater stir than she could ever hope for, and putting a strain on Fredrere’s face that was good to see.
A week later Elmira was once again waiting in Sagril’s lounge. She was fuming, so angry that she pictured herself strangling Fredrere. I wouldn’t get far though.
Being angry however gave her the edge over grief. She had signed herself over to marriage just like she had promised. It was a done deal, there was no escape now. Fredrere however had shown reluctance in assembling a force to send after Cid. His first excuses had been dreamed up nicely: “it’s a warzone; I need clearance before I can send any men in.”
He could have told me these little nuances before I signed the paper!
Elmira though knew that he shouldn’t have had much trouble getting authori
zation from the Dauflon of Lanston.
As it turned out he wasn’t really bothered about his end of the deal and she had come today to confront him over it. For now however Elmira was gripped with curiosity, the novelty of it tangling with her hotheadedness. Something else was definitely afoot here:
Upon entering Elmira stumbled onto a scene of Fredrere arguing with well-dressed men right there in foyer, the confronters’ backs covered by uniform cloaks of a rustic maroon; grand, tall and warrior like, maybe even royalty if Elmira didn't know of better. Spotting her past the faces of his visitors Fredrere waved her into the lounge and took the discussion upstairs.
Sounds like Fredrere’s in a spot of trouble, good for him, thought Elmira maliciously, wondering at the same time who those men were.
It wasn’t a long wait before the men in the maroon cloaks came down again. Fredrere did not follow on the stairway and Elmira steeled herself to storm into his office if she needed to. Her idea was interrupted by these maroon cloaked men though, their attentions blocking her way.
Face to face with them Elmira could not hide her surprise, the look of Fredrere’s nervous face suddenly understandable. There were five of these men, and on the chest of each of their tunics was a coat of arms that could belong to only one force in the Kingdom; the Rangers of the Conclave.
What would they be doing here?
They were well groomed, their tunics and leggings a fine cut in the place of the armours they reputedly wore in battle. Each of them did carry a sword though, the hilts and scabbards well visible at their waists.
‘Are you the lady Elmira of Merrigil?’ prodded the leader, a man with dark hair and a stern face.
‘I am,’ said Elmira faintly, a torrent of fears flooding her thoughts.
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