The first few days passed as they marched through the countryside of Auverance. The five mages managed to collect well over one hundred talents. Some had trained at Krux Aev’then as youths. But many had been overlooked for one reason or another. They would soon start to train the talents in combat. Forec wondered if he could possibly hate the march anymore than he already did.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Chapter 16
Vyra veiled herself before Forec opened a rift. He said it would open by the broken piece of the wall. He also said that was where the elves would likely gather. Hadn’t he told her not to die?
“You’ll have to make your way to the mountain pass on your own,” Forec said. “Do you know the way?”
“Of course not,”
“Then how are you planning on getting back?” he asked. “I won’t know where you are. I can’t just open a rift in the middle of their camp.”
“Clearly,”
“Then what’s your plan?” he asked.
“Walk toward the mountains,” Vyra said. “It seems simple enough.”
“Fine, go,”
He opened a rift. Vyra ran through it and almost into an elf. The rift vanished behind her but had attracted the attention of quite a few elves. She stood as still as possible and held her breath. They turned their attention away after only a few seconds. She inhaled.
Vyra roamed among the elves in their encampment outside of Auverance’s wall. Like the elves from before, they wore black armor. Though unlike those elves, there were some with decorative armor. A handful of colors trimmed the edges of armor segments. Red was most common, followed by green, then blue, and lastly white. Many of them wore their helmets and carried their weapons—not only swords this time—throughout the camp. The ones who had the painted armor barked what Vyra thought were orders. Every time an order was shouted in their vile language, the elves in unpainted armor dropped what did and ran to obey it.
As she made her way throughout the camp, she counted the elves. There were hundreds of them with the trimmed armor. But even among those who had the colors painted on their armor, there was a hierarchy. Red was at the bottom, and white on top. She knew there would be a way to exploit that. She just needed to think.
Before anything, though, she needed food and water. She looked for any areas that had more of the elves than normal and paid particular attention for any that didn’t wear armor. Those would be the ones to carry the food, she assumed. She wandered throughout the camp and looked for groups of unarmored elves. The longer she began to doubt herself. The ones who didn’t wear armor were only ever found around weapons. And they only ever polished or sharpened them.
Her stomach growled, and mouth tasted stale. She needed food and water, so she continued deeper into the camp. Unless the elves didn’t need to eat or drink, food and water would be around. Unless they didn’t need to eat and drink, then what would she do? Probably die. She shook the thought off. She needed a damn drink.
Night fell on her first day, and she still had no food or drink. The hunger had given way to anger, but the thirst lingered. The elves began to fall off into their tents. Only the occasional guard stood over the tents, but she wasn’t concerned with them. It was dark, and she was under her veil. She searched for any sign that there had been food or drink. Scraps of thrown away food, crumbs, or wet ground. Anything to tell her that the elves ate and drank. But she found nothing. Her disappointment only made her angrier.
She poked her head into one of the tents. A small group of elves—three or four, it was difficult to tell in the dark—slept with their armor off to the side, along with their weapons. She lingered for some time as her eyes adjusted. As they did, she found what she had looked for in the first place. By the armor were canteens, one for each of the elves. With so many elves in the camp, she figured one canteen wouldn’t be missed. She crawled into the tent and took one of the canteens. Empty. But if they had containers, then a source of water would have to be nearby.
With her new canteen, she continued. A naked elf walked out from a tent with a canteen in hand and stumbled forward. She followed far behind. He led her through twists and turns in the city of tents until finally, he stopped in front of a barrel. He took the ladle that hung from the side and drank from it, then dunked the canteen into the water.
Vyra waited until he had turned around and started to walk back to his tent. Once he had turned the corner, she took the ladle and began to drink from it. The water was tepid and stale, but it was as great as water could have possibly been. She took a moment, now with a clear head, and looked around the camp that surrounded her. There were thousands of tents set up and not much more, but set up in perfect rows and columns. A small plume of smoke wafted over them, so light that it was almost invisible.
She filled the canteen with the stale water and began to follow the wisps of smoke in the air. With any luck, there would be a group sat around a fire, and when a group of people gathered, they usually ate. The few guards she passed were half asleep and in no condition to spot her, even without her veil. Though she wasn’t sure why she would try such a thing in the first place. There was no reason to give up her only advantage.
As luck had it, there was a fire, and around it was a group of elves. They laughed, drank, and ate, just as Vyra hoped they would be. She stalked around them in circles, and inched closer with every pass. On her last pass, she was so close she could have touched any one of them. Instead, she did the only thing that seemed reasonable. She stole as much food as she could without it being noticed and scampered into the maze of tents to eat.
The loaf of bread she had grabbed was hard and flavorless. The wedge of what looked like cheese was pungent and sour. She had taken what she thought was a piece of meat as well, but after the bread and cheese, decided against it. Even though the food was horrible, she crammed it down.
Content with her full stomach, she returned to the fire. The elves still laughed and drank while the fire burnt down to coals. Their drunken obnoxiousness allowed her to walk close. So close that she could see the white trim on their armor. Perfect. She inched the dagger from its sheath, tucked it against her thigh, and extended the veil over it. With the blade invisible to the elves, she reached the blade forward until it nearly touched the back of the first elf’s neck.
He began to lean back. She jabbed the knife forward and pushed it with her free hand. The elf slumped forward as she slid the blade out and backed away. Her heart continued to beat the same. It was wrong. She knew that. It should have pounded in her chest. But it didn’t. In fact, her pulse hadn’t changed once, all day.
Her next victim was the one who sat closest to the first. The elf stretched his arms and laid his head back. Just long enough for Vyra to slide the blade of her knife through his throat. He toppled backward as blood gushed from his neck. It caught the attention of the three elves that remained. They stood over the bodies of the two now dead elves and talked in hushed tones. They were too tall for her to reach their vitals while they stood. But they would soon kneel down to inspect the bodies.
As she had expected, they knelt. She leaped into action. Her dagger punched into the throat of the first elf. She tore it out and in the same motion stabbed the elf next to him in the ear and into the brain. The third turned and fell to his back when he saw the now four dead. He opened his mouth to scream. She couldn’t allow that. She jumped into the air and landed a foot on his throat. It cracked with the same sound as a broken bone. His eyes went wide as he struggled for breath. Vyra watched with a smile on her face. Her heart beat hard now. But only because she had run around so much. She still felt the same calm.
Five dead elves laid in pools of their blood as she walked away, to the edge of the camp. She found an area that looked safe. A few hundred feet before the camp among a small grove of trees. With her back against a tree, she took a long pull from the canteen, closed her eyes, and waited for sleep.
The march through the open plains of Auverance was a pleasure compar
ed to the years Freedic had spent in the swampy forests to the south. That had been the most miserable time in his life. Though, it was where he had met Norvance. His thoughts lingered in the southern swamps for a moment. The entire ordeal seemed less terrible in retrospect. Strange as it was, he found he now longed for those days.
He shook his head and with it, the thoughts of days passed. If Norvance had seen him lost in thought as he worked, Norvance would have killed him. Norvance didn’t believe in favoritism. There was a job that needed to be finished now. It would be a dishonor to his memory Freedic started to get lazy.
The squad he walked with was disorganized and bored. They spoke about food and the things they missed at home. None even mentioned what they marched toward. By the way, they acted, Freedic guessed they didn’t know there would be a fight at the end of the march. Another group of failures, he concluded.
Freedic bid the Squad Leader farewell and moved onto the next. He looked through the papers and left the man’s name unmarked once he found it. There was an abundance of unmarked names. All of them signified the ten men that would help fill the pass. But there was barely any to fight once the elves made it through. The next squad seemed just as hopeless. The men marched out of line and out of uniform. He sighed, and let his thoughts return to the miserable days he had spent in the swamps.
For weeks, he continued the same routine. The march continued ever forward. He would spend a short amount of time with a squad and evaluate them. On the rare occasion, he found a decent squad. He gave himself a moment to celebrate. It was a thankless job. And one with little reward. But it was his job, so he continued to do it as best he could.
He shuffled through the papers. The squads marked for competency were rare and scattered. It was pathetic but expected. Near one-hundred thousand soldiers, and only ten thousand of them were prepared for any sort of combat. Among the ten thousand, only a handful would have any hope against the elves. Sepherance was right. The only difference between the men in the pass and the ones behind was the order they would die in.
With Freedic’s job finished, he returned to the mages. Roughly a hundred talents now flanked the five in Auverance’s uniforms. There were more talents in the army. He knew as much. But that was information that he would keep to himself. It was just as possible the mages had chosen to ignore those talents. Either way, if he brought it up, he would only create more problems for himself. Besides, he had enough on his conscience.
“I’ve finished marking the most competent squads,” Freedic said. “Do you know where Sepherance is?”
“We haven’t seen him,” Forec said. “We’ve had a hard time finding anyone in this mess.”
“Barely any of them were worth anything,” Freedic said. He let out a sigh. “Did you fair any better?”
“No, but it’s not surprising,” Forec said. “When was the last time Auverance had a reason to train an army? When was the last time that any of the nations needed an army?”
“Never, I suppose,” Freedic said. He tapped his fingers against his forehead. “Only really in the south.”
“Exactly,” Forec said. “But the Rangers took care of the outlying regions.”
“We should train up the stronger squads,” Freedic said. “They’ll need as much help as they can get.”
“Go ahead,” he said. “No one’s going stop you.”
Freedic looked through his papers and began to collect the squads he had evaluated. For the most part, they followed him without question. A small convenience. There also wasn’t many squads to gather, maybe a hundred in total. That was a much bigger convenience, but a sad realization.
Even among the squads he had marked as the most capable, there was little skill to be found. They fought and moved clumsily and barely knew how to use their spears and swords. For some of them, it was a shock when they knew which end was which. The experience only served to frustrate Freedic, save for the small few who were at least somewhat competent. But even they crushed the little hope he had.
For the soldiers, Freedic was as good as one of the elves. He made their training simple. They needed to be able to kill him. Each day he ended up nicked and bruised, but ultimately unharmed. Most of his injuries weren’t even from the soldiers he trained. Instead, they were from the ground when he dodged. As he trained with a squad of ten men, his mind began to wander. He wondered where the rangers were these days, but even they wouldn’t have been enough to train these men. Maybe they would stand a chance against the elves, though.
He had expected more disappointment when he gave up hope. There was none, though. Only acceptance. The soldiers would not be enough, many—probably most—would die. There was nothing he could do to save them, and he knew it. Rather than dwell on it, he accepted it. Sepherance had been even more correct than he had thought. In fact, Freedic thought, they were blessed to be on the front lines. They would never know the depth of the horrors they faced.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Chapter 17
Among the talents Forec and the mages had managed to find, barely any were worth their weight in shit. Incompetent fools who were lazier and more useless then he would have imagined. For some, it was a miracle they even managed to feed themselves. But somehow they were conscripted into the army. Freedic wasn’t wrong when he worried about them, if anything, he had been too calm.
The talents that he attempted to train were for the most part elementalists. Though none of them were able to use fire, Helien had already taken any pyros he could find. Mauvia had taken any aetherists—talents that used either light or dark magic. Ruephen took whatever sort of weaponmaster he could find. And Ausa took anyone that was left over. Each had gotten their specialty.
There was a clear difference between those who did and didn’t go to Krux Aev’then as children. Those who had gone were at least able to use their abilities. The others were more of a danger to themselves and any around them than any enemy. One talent caught his eye above all others. A young man, barely out of his teens, with no semblance of control over his power. Most apparent of all, a young man with gray eyes.
The young man claimed he was only able to control water. But for reasons Forec found obvious, his water magic was different than the rest of the aquamancers. His water would boil or freeze. Sometimes, it would move in ways that defied the natural laws. And the part that struck Forec, the young man had no idea what he did. Of course, the most obvious part about him was his eyes. Gray so light it bordered on white. Not the bright blue that were typical of aquamancers.
He brought Mauvia over to confirm what he saw. Mauvia watched on, impressed and shocked as Forec was. She nodded to Forec. Silent in disbelief, he assumed. She began to walk back to her talents and shook her head in disbelief the entire way.
It was curious how easily the young man had been passed over, but there was no way to deny it. Among the hundreds of thousands of soldiers. Among hundreds of talents, they had collected. There was an undiscovered mage. The question remained of how he managed to fall through the cracks. And now that they had found him, what would they do with him?
Forec knew the boy would end up at Krux Aev’then, but it was a difficult decision nonetheless. He didn’t want the weight of the boy’s life on his chest. But to leave him out for the rest of the world was equally as dangerous. And potentially for many more than just the boy himself. If he didn’t send him to Krux Aev’then and Insmith discovered him, it would be trouble. More responsibilities weren’t what Forec needed.
As yet another night fell and the soldiers raised camp again, the mages gathered to eat and socialize. Stale bread was passed around, as was tepid water and bland tea. For the first time in his life, Forec missed Krux Aev’then.
“Mauvia, the boy,” Forec said. “Have you had a chance to think about it?”
“He’s a mage. I can say that much for sure,” Mauvia said. “Though I struggle to say what we should do with him.”
“Would there even be any to train to him in Krux Aev’then?” For
ec asked. “Even if we brought him, would it do any good?”
“For him? No,” she said. “But it may prove a great deal safer for anyone around him.”
“What a bother,” Forec said and sighed. “I suppose you wouldn’t like to watch him, would you Mauvia?”
“No,” she said. “Neither would Ausa or Ruephen.”
“I’m not giving him to Helien,” he said.
“I don’t want him anyway,” Helien barked back.
“Looks like he’s yours, Forec,” Mauvia said.
“Wonderful,”
Forec was careful of his treatment of the boy as well as the way the talents treated him. It seemed they liked him enough. He never had any issues with any of the talents he trained with. Still, Forec knew to be careful of him, it wasn’t worth the risk to accidentally set him off. That said, he couldn’t afford to show the boy favoritism and set off a small army of talents.
He trained the talents as best he could. Most of them were brought up to a reasonable standard of ability. They would never be up to his level, nor did expect them to be. They were children when compared to him, both in age and ability. It was hardly their fault, of course, he had been given an entire life to practice and study. Most of them had used their talent to do parlor tricks.
What he could blame them for was their absolute lack of work ethic. They bitched and moaned as they marched. They bitched and moaned as they trained. And they bitched and moaned before they slept. In fact, it seemed, to Forec, that the only time they didn't bitch and moan was when their mouths were full or they slept. Plenty of incentive to keep them fed and rested, at least.
As he oversaw the practice of his talents, one of Ausa’s approached.
“Message for you, Council Mage Forec,” the talent said and saluted. “From King’s Hand Ters Versing.”
Homecoming (Homecoming Chonicles Book 1) Page 13
