“Go ahead,”
“We have to plan for any possible contingency, including the possible loss of the pass,” he said. “If the battle becomes hopeless, return to Krux Aev’then with the talents. The High Mage believes they will be valuable even if the pass is lost.”
“Are you in contact with him right now, chatter?” Forec asked.
“Yes, sir,”
“Ask him at what point we’re supposed to retreat,”
“Forec, don’t be daft,” the chatter said. “You’ll know if they aren’t going to make it. There’s no reason for you to die as well. We can sacrifice the pass and attempt a second stand Quisen, if we fail there then we will move on to Riskyrd.” The chatter shook his head. “That was from the High Mage, sir.”
“Is there anything else, chatter?”
“No, sir,” he said. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?”
“Plenty,” Forec said. “But I’d like to keep my tongue.”
Vyra woke as rays of sunlight shined on her face. She resisted for a moment and hoped that sleep would return. But she knew better than that. Besides, it wasn’t as if she wanted to go back to her dreams. She was powerless in them. At least in the real world, she had some control.
She braced herself as she prepared to open her eyes. The light blinded her, but only for a moment. Her vision landed on the field the elves had camped in. But there were no elves. There wasn’t even a sign that the camp had been there. It was an empty field.
She accepted it was time to move and sat up. The water in her canteen was warm and tasted worse than it had the night before, but it was better than nothing. It would have been nice to have food, though. Even if it was the bland bread and sour cheese she stole last night.
The only signs that the camp had ever existed were holes in the ground where tents were secure. And the stained ground where she had killed the elves. Trampled ground ran in all directions. She couldn’t tell which was the group that had been there. It troubled her, but she chose not to investigate any further.
She checked herself over one last time. Her canteen was full, and the pack of clothes she had used as a pillow was full. The clothes she wore were repellent. Covered in sweat, mud, and blood. But so was she. There was no reason to change out of them until she could clean herself.
Two options faced her. She could try to follow the elves that had camped the night before or make her way toward the mountains. To find the elves would be to wander as she followed trampled ground. There was no guarantee that she would follow the right path. There was no guarantee that she would even get back to the mountains. The other option was to make her way toward the mountains.
In the end, only one choice made sense. Vyra had gained some insights into the elves. Their numbers, their organization, and somewhat their culture. There was no point to waste all that as she chased ghosts. She would follow the mountains in the distance and get back to Forec.
It was strange how much trust she placed in the mages. They fed her, gave her a home, and gave her direction. She supposed that was enough reason for her to trust them. Plus Forec had told her not to die. That was as close to affection as she had experienced since the elves had come.
The first few days were the worst. Her body resisted the journey. During the days, she was too tired to walk as far as she wished. In the nights, she was too restless to sleep. After the first few rough days, though, her body began to adapt. Even though the terrain became more difficult as she continued, she found it more manageable.
After a little less than a week in the same foul clothes, her route began to follow a river. It took all of the will she could muster not to dive into the water immediately. Her veil would be less effective if water moved around her. She would have to wait until sunset. In that time, she could also look for a place where the waters were calmer.
She followed the river for hours before she found a calm part. The sun had almost set, and the sky had turned pink. On the horizon, the mountains loomed.
As darkness fell, Vyra stepped into the water. It was cool, but not unbearably so. She continued in with her clothes still on until the water reached an inch above her knees. It ran gently, not even enough to push her. She sat on the bottom of the river and leaned back until the water reached her chin.
She stripped off her muck-filled clothes. There was no reason to keep them, she thought. So she let them ride the current of the river as she continued until she was naked. She used her hands to wipe the dried blood and dirt that had stuck to her body for days. What she would have done for a clean cloth and soap.
It would have been easy to stay the water too long. Vyra didn't want to make that mistake, so she stood and stepped back onto dry land. She took a long drink from her canteen and emptied the stale water. It was still warm and tasted awful, but she didn’t want it to go to waste. Some water was better than none.
She dunked the empty canteen into the river and waited until bubbles stopped. In the water, she saw small dark spots that coasted with the current. Her stomach grumbled. How hard could it be to catch a fish?
She spent hours knee deep in the river as she tried to pluck one of the fish from the water. Apparently, it was hard to catch a fish. It was a waste of her time and energy, but she had spent too much time to quit.
She dipped her hand back into the water and waited as another fish glided toward her. The fish continued toward her. She held perfectly still. Not even her hands could tremble, or it would dart away. When it was beneath her, she grabbed it and pulled it out of the water.
It was slippery and flailed as she kept it out of the water. She held it with both hands as she waded out of the water and threw it onto the shore near her bag. It flipped and spun as it tried to get back to water. Her bare foot stomped onto its head and ended the struggle. She had fish. She forgot she needed to cook it.
Vyra wanted nothing more than to scream in frustration. But that would attract attention. So would a fire, she thought. She stared at the dead fish. It teased her.
A fish wouldn't beat her. She dunked it into the river and washed the sand off of it, then bit into it raw. Blood dripped down her mouth, but she didn’t care. It was the best fish she had ever eaten. She chewed at it relentlessly until all that was left was the head, organs, and skeleton. She could have picked at the head, but decided to let it go and tossed it downstream. Content, she washed the blood off of her, then laid down with her head on her pack.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chapter 18
Freedic had to remind himself to fight like one of the elves. He had to be confident as if he were invincible. Decisive in all his movements. And every attack needed to bring with it the threat of death. It was difficult to spar with them now. The soldiers had finally begun to pressure him. For the first time since he had started training them, he feared for his life during spars.
He raised his sword at a soldier who he had knocked to the ground, but two others flashed to either side of him. Instinct took over. He couldn’t ignore the two threats. The sword in his hand vanished, and he flung himself onto the ground. Swords crossed over him as he landed. He spun with a leg kicked out and tripped both of the soldiers.
He regretted it immediately. As scared as he was, he knew he had to steel himself during those spars. Not for himself. He knew what they were about to face. But for the men he trained. This was the closest to actual combat they had ever been. And as close to an elf as they could experience until the battle started.
Even as they marched toward the mountains, he quizzed and tested them. He probed every inch of the knowledge he had given them. After weeks of the brutal regiment, he began to feel comfortable with their skill. Comfortable enough that he started to send them out to other squads to do the same that he had done for them. But not comfortable enough to say they would survive.
Rumor had spread that they would soon arrive at the pass, as shown by the more frequent appearances by High Leader Sepherance. There was no reason to avoid meeting with him, Fre
edic told himself. He had the list in hand. Those men would die anyway. All he did was protect the lives of those who could fight against the elves. But he was still in charge of the deaths what would be thousands of men. Probably more.
Still, it would be worse if he did nothing and allowed those men he had forced into training to die for nothing. He would bring his list to Sepherance. The men who couldn’t help themselves would pack into the pass. Maybe they would be able to thin the elves numbers some, but he doubted it.
Despite the widespread rumors, the High Leader was near impossible to track down. Rumors said he had been in every corner of the march at once. Freedic wondered if the High Leader was even there or if the rumors only that.
After he ran into the High Leader’s guard—stiff men who he was sure acted much more experienced than they were—his doubts faded. He pushed past them with little resistance until he reached the crowd around the High Leader. Dozens of men clamored for his attention.
Freedic pushed his way through the crowd until he found himself stood beside a panicked Sepherance. The High Leader was frozen, voices shouted at him from all directions, but he said nothing. Freedic put his hand on the High Leader’s back and in his best authoritative voice began to spit out lies.
“High Leader, your presence has been requested by Council Mage Forec,” Freedic said and saluted. “According to him, it's urgent, sir.”
“Ah, yes, of course,” the High Leader said. “I apologize, but my attention is needed. The requests of the mages are quite important as you know. Your needs will be seen to, though. ”
“It is quite urgent sir,” Freedic said. “No others may be present. I do apologize.”
He led the High Leader out of the crowd and to the back of the march where the mages trained the talents. Freedic led and Sepherance followed with his chest puffed and head held high. When they were a comfortable distance from the crowd, the High Leader dropped his posture and relaxed. He finally started to breathe again.
The High Leader decompressed but his face was still clearly stressed. Freedic continued to lead him toward the mages. In the chaos, he had completely forgotten why he had looked for the High Leader in the first place. He felt as if a weight had crashed into his chest. Air escaped his lungs. He took as deep a breath as possible and turned.
“High Leader,” Freedic said, “I have the list of squads.”
“Right,” Sepherance said. “Give it here. I’ll have it dealt with.”
“Sir, those marked squads are the ones I’ve been training personally to fight the elves,” Freedic said. “Make sure they’re kept out of the pass.”
“Yes, of course,”
His hands shook as Freedic handed the High Leader the sheets of paper and turned. He walked back toward the main body of soldiers as his heart thumped in his chest. Among them, the men he had trained had started to prepare the others. A small flame of hope began to burn in his stomach, but he knew better.
He closed himself off to the idea and thought back to the elves he had fought. If the orc had been right, they hadn’t even been soldiers. It was possible that the ones that they were to head off at the pass were. And that would be a massacre worse than he had ever seen.
Vyra’s stomach grumbled at her as she followed the river toward the mountains. It had been a few days since she had caught her last fish. They were rarer the closer to the mountain she got, and harder to catch. There were plants and fruits aplenty, but she couldn’t tell what was edible and what wasn’t. It wasn’t worth it to die from a poisonous plant. Instead, she kept her stomach full of river water, though even that had risks.
Days began to blend as the only thing that changed was the mountains in the distance. Each day they loomed a little larger in the distance. But they were still distant.
As she prepared to sleep on yet another night, something in the distance changed. There was light by the river. More fires than she could count were on either side of the river. She could roughly make out shapes of people that moved around them as well. What she couldn’t see was who it was. It could be the elves from before. Maybe even the soldiers from Auverance. Perhaps something else entirely. There was only one way for her to know for sure.
Vyra walked toward the fires. She was careful to stay off of anything that would make noise or otherwise give her away. But confident that whoever it was by the flames wouldn’t pay her much attention.
Giants in black armor sat by the fires. Elves. Different, though. Their camp was disorganized. Tents weren't in neat rows and columns. They were scattered haphazardly and in some cases, barely put up. Most of the elves sat around fires with their helmets off. Food and drink passed around, and the talk from the camp was loud and boisterous.
She continued forward when it was clear the elves guard was down. Maybe she could get close enough to kill some more, she thought. If not, she could at least get a proper count now that they were out of their tents. She arrived at the edge of the camp so quickly she wondered if she needed her veil up at all. There were no guards posted between the tents to worry about. Just the occasional drunken elf that stumbled by.
The elves wore all black armor. None of them had the painted trim of the elves before. They didn’t have the demeanor either. The orcs had been right. The elves had brought soldiers. However, those soldiers weren’t headed to the pass. These elves were.
There were too many for her to get a proper count. She thought it was at least five thousand, but it was impossible to tell. They were sat too close to eachother and in too large of groups for her to kill any of them. That, and she couldn’t know who she should kill. It wasn’t worth her time to kill someone who didn’t lead.
Vyra kept continued to walk through the night. She wanted as much distance between herself and the elves as possible. Even if they weren’t soldiers, she had no idea what they were capable of. Nor did she want to find out. As the sun rose and night gave way to morning, she arrived at the foot of the mountains. A well-worn path showed the way. She followed it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Chapter 19
Forec’s mind drifted off to his chamber in Krux Aev’then. He longed for the long days that he would spend reading. He wiped sweat from his brow. The cold had always bothered him, but now, he missed even that. Even the talents—all men and women from Auverance—struggled in the heat. He hoped it would snow once they reached the mountains.
The mage boy was improving faster than any of the talents around him, and it had not gone unnoticed. Both by the talents he trained with and the mages. Mauvia, in particular, had begun to pressure Forec to take the boy’s training seriously. But Forec knew that wouldn't help anything. Training others was far from his forte.
After days of Mauvia’s insistence, Forec decided to approach the boy about his training. It was a warm night when Forec found him alone. He stood alone and played with bubbles of water. He would force them into the sky with air magic and pop them. The water would fall like a burst of rain. When the rain should have fallen atop him, it curved and dropped to the ground beside him. He used an air bubble. One Forec’s favorite tricks.
As Forec approached, he copied the boy’s bubble of air with a slight difference. He didn’t let the water to patter to the ground, he sent it back to the sky and every direction. It was enough to get the boy’s attention, as he had intended it to.
“You’ve got any other tricks?” Forec asked.
“Some,”
“Care to share them with me?”
The boy grinned and raised his hand before him. Above each finger, a bubble of water appeared. Again, he kept them together with air. Amused, Forec repeated the trick, but instead of water, he used fire. Massive spikes of it that shot into the night sky. The bubbles of water above the boy’s fingers began to boil.
“Impressive,” Forec said. “No stone?”
“I thought that would be more impressive,” the boy said. “I’m not just a talent, am I?”
“A talent that can use every form of elemental mag
ic?” Forec asked. “They don’t exist.”
“Sure they do,” the boy said. “My dad was one! But he was in armies just about his whole life. He never got to learn.”
“Your father was a mage?” Forec asked. “And no one ever said anything about it?”
“We never saw much of him. He didn’t like to stay in one place for long,” the boy admitted. “Never used his powers all that much, either.”
“Boy, your father was a mage,” Forec said. “A renegade, but a mage nonetheless.”
“What does that mean for me?”
“Means we have to train you specially,” he said. “You’re a danger to yourself and others without proper training. Your father was too.”
“You’re going to take me away then,” the boy said. “Just like he said they would.”
“Not yet, but eventually,” he said. “You’ll learn to make use of your abilities to the fullest. In bygone years, I’d probably have taken some pity on you. Saved you from the dull fate of a mage trapped in Krux Aev’then for all your days. But I have a feeling your life will be much more interesting than that.”
“Frankly sir, I’m excited to be able to get the hell out of here,” the boy said. “Marching is horrible. I don’t even know where we’re going.”
“Bad news,” he said. “You’ll be stuck here until we’ve lost enough to call for a retreat or we manage a victory.”
“I see,” the boy said. His shoulder slumped. “For now, should I stay with the others or-”
“You’ll be staying with the mages,” Forec said. “And training with the talents. And then after you will be training with the mages. You’ve got some shitty days ahead of you.”
Forec led the boy back to the small section of camp that the mages stayed in. The boy carried himself awkwardly. Somewhere between the anxiety of a soldier and the confidence of a mage. It was probably his age, Forec thought. At the camp, High Leader Sepherance sat with Freedic and the other mages. They sipped at bowls and spoke in hushed voices.
Homecoming (Homecoming Chonicles Book 1) Page 14
