“’Morning, Troublefinder. Good morning, Dauntless.”
“Is it time to go?” Pershanti crawled out of the space and looked around. “Quite the snow storm last night. It should be a good year for crops in the lowlands.”
Looking around, the boy noticed that there was indeed a fresh coating of snow on everything. They had come into the forest late last night while the storm was just ramping up, so they hadn’t been able to enjoy their new environment. Looking around, he found the area both majestic and uncomfortable. He stood still for a moment as he tried to figure out why before a thought struck him.
Not enough line of sight, and too many places for an ambush. The thought surprised him, looking around though he realized that was exactly why he felt uncomfortable. Dauntless exhaled abruptly, and if he didn’t know any better he might think the Quaelyne was laughing as the big furry shoulders rose and fell.
“What’s wrong with him?” Pershanti stepped up beside Troublefinder and the boy as the watched the big Quaelyne fall on his side.
Having a feeling that Dauntless had found something funny about his thoughts, the boy said. “Not sure, it just seemed to come upon him suddenly.”
Stop… Dauntless said let out as he released another large exhale.
“Did something sting him?” Pershanti asked, clearly afraid for their guide’s health.
Sure now that Dauntless was laughing at him, the boy sighed. “I’m sure he’ll get over it. Which way are we going, Dauntless?”
A large paw appeared on the other side of the furry mound pointing southeast. Troublefinder sniffed at his dad for a moment as they passed before hopping along after the boy.
Dauntless caught up to them early on, and they traveled through the forest throughout the day. The boy had seen a lot of creatures out of the corner of his eye as they moved along. As soon as he turned his attention in the direction of the shape or movement, all he would see would be bare leaves or branches swaying gently back and forth.
Around midday, Dauntless led them to a cool spring and found several bushes full of berries for them to eat. Pershanti pointed out that one of the berries wasn’t something that either of them should eat, the Quaelyne could digest them fine, but it would give them stomach cramps at the very least. The rest of the day they spent sharing information about the area, Pershanti talking about the information he had learned from books and Dauntless giving them practical advice that he had learned growing up in the area.
There were still a few hours of sunlight left when they made it to the Quaelyne village. The difference was palpable from the rest of the forest as soon as they neared. Very few other creatures were willing to encroach on the Quaelyne’s territory. Not only was the density of living creatures different, but there were clear lanes through the underbrush, along with several areas where there were no plants at all.
Even with all of our strengths, it is sometimes nice to have a clear view of what is coming. Dauntless sent them, a bit of humor bleeding through.
They were led to a large burrow near a massive tree whose nearest branch was well over twenty feet above them. The hole was a gentle incline that opened up into a room with three tunnels that branched off from it. Dauntless led them down the right tunnel, which opened into another smaller room that had two more tunnels. From here, they went left and ended up in a large round room that had been dug out so the outer edge was higher than the inner. A slight incline brought the top level down into the small inner circle, where he guessed they would sleep.
Looks like your mother isn’t home.
Troublefinder sniffed around before lying down in the middle of the room.
“I think he’s got the best idea,” Pershanti said. “Unless you have something you would like us to do?”
No, all is well. Sit, rest.
The burrow was much warmer than the boy had expected. As he sat down near Troublefinder, his hand fell flat against the floor and he could feel a slight tremble coming from far below. He reached out with his mind and felt his consciousness spread out below him. Not far below where he sat was a thin layer of rock that was porous, and those holes were filled with hot water that was constantly moving around underneath them. The water felt different to him than the water he usually drank, but he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. How long he sat there delving into those underground crevices he wasn’t sure, but when he came back into his own senses he noticed that everyone was staring at him.
How is it that you do that? The voice that intruded on his thoughts was not that of Dauntless, but a stronger, more feminine voice.
“I’m not sure. I have only been able to do it for a little while now. Though I think I have been doing it while I sleep for a while longer than that.”
It seems to be much like our own ability to communicate, but on a much deeper scale, Dauntless sent.
“You seemed so peaceful just a moment ago,” Pershanti said. “What were you doing?”
“I was…” He stared at his hands trying to figure out how to describe what he had been doing.
He was delving his mind into the ground. It was rather impressive to watch. He was even able to tell that the water that runs beneath us is not clean. From around the corner came an impressive figure. Half again the size of Dauntless, Troublefinder's mother had a white coat that was zig-zagged with silver streaks.
The boy stood and bowed his head respectfully. “Hello, I am sorry to invade your home.”
“Likewise,” Pershanti said with a bow of his own.
Nonsense, you have saved the life of my kit, you are not intruding. I hope that you can find a name in your time with us. I am… Images flashed through his mind. Her staring down a spider three times her size, because the thing had been stealing kits from the village. Slightly larger, she charged into the side of a Twilight Wolf whose pack surrounded the annoying little male that wouldn’t stop following her. Fully grown, she faced down two female Quaelyne after challenging the council for the right to lead her own tribe. ...Relentless.
“Thank you,” the boy replied.
Tonight, you shall meet the other members of the tribe, and tomorrow we shall begin to repay you for all that you have done, and will do. Relentless’s statement had the ring of prophecy to it that sent a shiver down the boy’s spine.
First Eighthday
Siniquity
“Ah, Temendri, I was just beginning to wonder if you were ever going to come back,” Yandarian said looking up from one of the dozens of reports that were arrayed across his desk. “What do you have to report?”
“It’s the beautiful weather we’ve been having; snow up to your knees makes traveling interesting. Things were alright closer to the Blade’s Edge, but as we came closer to Siniquity we were accosted by constant blizzards.” Temendri took off his cloak and hung it on the wall. The sections of the manor that were still in disrepair had been sealed off from the rest to allow proper heating.
“Yes, this weather has made me lose a dozen slaves to frostbite over the last few Eightdays. We really need to find stronger slaves.”
Temendri didn’t bother to point out that even the strongest slaves would have an issue working outside during a blizzard. He had been working with Yandarian long enough to know that the man had little respect for the lives of those beneath him. If Yandarian wanted his manor to be rebuilt before spring, he would spend as many lives as needed to make that possible. Doing any less than that would be seen as a weakness to the majority of the council and their master. Temendri couldn’t fault his mentor for not wanting to look weak, but he thought there were ways that the old Blood Mage could go about it that wouldn’t cost him the lives of his workers.
“On our way to deliver the new batch of slaves to the mine, we met up with a party of the Dracairei we sent out, and they gave us two Blood Orcs they had captured. I added them to the workers along with a strange looking Goblin we happened upon.” Temendri walked towards the desk, making sure to stay far enough back that Yandarian couldn’t presum
e that he was trying to get a look at the papers arrayed in front of him.
“Orcs? Good, good, perhaps we will have the guards bring them here when the next shift occurs.” The next sentence was said with as much nonchalance as the first, but Temendri caught the slight twitch of Yandarian’s eye that told him that the man was interested in the answer. “And what of this strange Goblin? How was it strange?”
“Shorter than the rest, but wider. He looked like he had more on his mind than his next meal.”
“Interesting,” Yandarian said, his eye twitching even more.
Temendri was certain that he had just told his mentor something that he didn’t want to hear, but whatever it was it seemed he wasn’t going to be privy to the reason why.
“And what of the boy?” Yandarian said, placing the report he had been pretending to read on the desk in front of him and sitting back in his chair.
“The block is still firmly in place, and he seems to not know who he is. That cur Walkins said he even taunted the boy a little with no discernable reaction. The story from the guards and the two Goblins that survived is that the boy and the Goblins were slower than the rest to try to run and that ended up saving their lives. The rock fall severed the chain and allowed them to find the rations that one of the guards had left behind, keeping the trio in relatively good condition through their ordeal.”
“What is your take on that story?”
“I think it is mostly true, though the Goblins seemed to be treating the boy with a certain reverence. Perhaps he felt something and told them to stop, saving their lives, or more likely he was able to break the chain himself using a tiny portion of his latent abilities.”
“Why do you say that is more likely?” Yandarian said, steepling his hands in front of him.
“I had the guards show me the chain, and it looked as if it had been cut by something extremely sharp, or separated on a molecular level.” Temendri shuddered at the thought of the kind of power and precision that would take.
“Interesting.” Yandarian grinned. “So the boy is still able to use some of his power even through the inhibitors, and with no knowledge of Shaping?”
“So it seems,” Temendri replied, seeing no reason for the smile. He thought the boy should be put down immediately. Anything with that kind of power was too dangerous to control.
“I’m to guess that Walkins met up with the Trolls without issue?”
“Yes. The Troll-kin don’t trust him, but I made it apparent that he was in charge and that his orders were to be followed as long as they didn’t interfere directly with the mission. They are preparing their assault, which should occur on the first Eighthday of the Time of Storms.”
“Time of Storms.” Yandarian said the words as if they left a bad taste in his mouth. “I do so hate the colloquial manner in which the people of this world went about naming things. I understand their urge to simplify everything and forget about the past, but they took it to a bit of an extreme.”
Not knowing how to respond to such a statement, Temendri simply nodded in agreement.
“Oh right, you are not yet privy to that information. Perhaps soon,” Yandarian said with a wicked glint in his eye.
“Yes,” Temendri said, trying to suppress his excitement. He had heard tidbits of strange information all throughout his training, and it all led to some interesting conclusions, but he would wait until he had more information before he decided which was less outlandish than the rest. “Have you heard from our Princess snatcher?”
“Yes,” Yandarian said, letting the silence play out between them and once again reaffirming the fact that he was the one in charge in this relationship—as if Temendri hadn’t been completely aware of that fact for every minute of every day since the time he was old enough to walk. “I’m told he met up with our ship in Freeport and should meet up with our team in Verge in the next few Eightdays.”
Temendri was pleased that everything seemed to be going according to plan, but he could tell that there was something else his mentor had to say. Instead of asking, he simply sat there with a curious expression on his face, knowing the man would tell him when he got around to it.
“It seems the High Commander himself has been trailing our agent, and we have lost more than a few assets in Freeport.” Yandarian was still smiling, so there must be something else of interest he had to share. After a few moments of silence the old man said. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me why I’m not throwing things, even though several years’ worth of effort and thousands of golds have been blown away with the tide?”
“I had been wondering…” Temendri said, trying not to roll his eyes.
“It’s because not only were most of the assets lost easily replaceable in a rat’s den like Freeport, but also because the man who reported to me told me the High Commander was on a ship less than a day behind our agent.” The wicked glint returned to Yandarian’s eyes. “He’ll be a day or two behind our agent when he gets to Verge. Two of the Dracairei there will travel with the agent and the Princess, and the other six will wait to remove the exalted High Commander’s head.”
“Six?” Temendri said. “I thought we sent a dozen?” He regretted the question the moment it left his lips.
Yandarian’s eye began to twitch and his smile slipped slightly. “Yes, well, there were complications.” He threw a piece of paper in Temendri’s direction. Temendri picked it up and began to read the missive quietly.
Engaged then unknown unit outside forest edge of Verge.
One combatant dead, three captured, two evaded capture.
Four Dracairei killed in initial engagement.
Unit identified as Vigilantes.
Four members of unit whereabouts unknown.
Enemy killed in action:
Corporal Jameson; Human, Male
Enemies captured:
Sergeant Mcdowell; Dwarf, Male
Removed from combat by multiple puncture wounds.
Elandria Nightwind; Elf, Female
No longer a threat, right arm amputated during combat.
Rundig Stormhammer; Dwarf, Male
Removed from combat by dozens of puncture wounds.
Has not yet succumbed to poison, recommend study if survives.
Enemies identified but not captured:
Warren (Surname unknown); Human, Male
Trenton Grimbash; Half-Ogre, Male
Both targets fled into forest, current whereabouts unknown.
Half-Ogre hit by several bolts, likely non-combat operational.
Squad members not present at engagement:
Za’kereth and Za’erath; Grey Elven twins, Male
Former members of the Nightshade clan.
Bredwin Stoutheart; Dwarf, Male
Drake Dearborn; Human, Male
“I see,” Temendri said, raising his eyebrow. “So there are six potential allies for the High Commander in the engagement zone, five if the Half-Ogre is indeed out of the fight?”
“Unlikely,” Yandarian said. “Bredwin and Drake have not been seen with the unit for some time, and are believed killed in action, or cycled out.”
“Oh good, then they only need to worry about three or four members of an elite squad of Protectorate Knights,” Temendri said, knocking the smile completely off his mentor’s face.
Yandarian looked towards the top left drawer of his desk, where Temendri knew the old bastard kept a vial of his blood, but the old Mage seemed to calm down a moment before he reached for the drawer.
“Yes, there are potentially three combatants left in the zone of engagement. If they attempt to rescue the prisoners, they will most likely die or be captured in the process. If for some reason they wait until the High Commander arrives to assist, they will still be outnumbered and at the very least lose a few more members, and the High Commander will be delayed or killed in action. Either way, it is a win-win for us.” Yandarian tried to assume a relaxed position once again but failed miserably. “We may lose most of our current Dracairei, bu
t when the Princess arrives, it will have all been worth it.”
Temendri knew the old man was trying to convince himself that everything would work out just as much as he was trying to convince his apprentice. If they failed, they would have to report it to their master, and if for some reason they lost the Princess and twelve Dracairei at the same time, they would lose the good favor they currently enjoyed. That was not something either of them wanted to think about.
First Eighthday
Serenity Valley
The Proper Peacock
Shawnrik had never been so uncomfortable in his life. He was surrounded by a half dozen people, all of whom seemed to have their jobs focused around poking him with one sharp object or another. Olivia had made it clear on Sixthday that if he didn’t go with her to the tailor on their free day that he would be going to the Winter Dance by himself. She sat not far away with a knowing grin on her face.
The owner, a man named Isaac, stood just out of reach, guiding each of his employees in their tasks. The whole thing wouldn’t be all that bad had they not expected him to stand there in nothing but his underwear. He still couldn’t look Olivia’s direction without blushing, though she seemed to have no problem at all staring at him as he was poked, prodded, and measured by people he had never met before.
“My, you are quite the specimen,” Isaac said, eyeing Shawnrik up and down. “Tell me, have you been growing fast of late? I know boys your age tend to shoot up dramatically every now and then."
You have no idea, Shawnrik thought before replying. “Only a couple inches in the last year or so.” He hoped that his next growth spurt would have the common courtesy of waiting until after the dance, at the very least. The Dean had come and talked to him the day before and told him he didn’t think it was likely to occur until fall at the earliest, and Shawnrik hoped with everything he had that the man was right.
Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) Page 29
