by P R Glazier
Chapter 14. Trete’Y’Thego
Thor stood before the two T’Iea soldiers. He thought of his final words with Solin earlier that morning. She had assured him that he was in good hands, told him to rely on these two, they were seasoned soldiers, both from military families. He wondered how she knew so much about them, why she considered them to be something special. But then of course she was deep in the council of those in power in Ter’Hadsnefel, he smiled as he thought that possibly she even had a say in the choice. Her parting words before he went out of the house were that he should trust them, they were good and loyal and he should not believe all he may hear to the contrary. But these were the two he was about to travel into the wildest of places with, entrusting his very life to their skills and knowledge. Even with Solin’s assurances still ringing in his ears, he felt he had to be sure of their loyalty, their true intent.
On paper both had exemplary credentials. Spotless records of military service. They had fought in many campaigns, shown great courage in battle. Yet the records stopped rather sharply, there seemed to be no later military records attributed to these two almost as if they had been discharged from the legions, yet there were no discharge papers to substantiate this. He couldn’t help but feel that he was only being allowed to see one side of these two. Most other records he had read in the past showed at least half a dozen minor blemishes on a soldier’s service record, you couldn’t be a soldier without upsetting at least a few people throughout your career. Even Thor had a couple of incidents that he was not proud of, especially during his time of basic training, it was to be expected. The odd misdemeanour got things out of your system; it was a sort of unofficial competition that you waged against your peers and against those who went before you. There was a desire almost to do something that stretched the disciplines and regimented order just that little further. It was even encouraged by some officers, unofficially of course, for they would never admit to this kind of thing. The art was to ensure that nothing could be traced back to you, always that element of doubt to keep the finger of accusation pointing in some other direction. But equally you had to be prepared to face the punishment if for some reason that same finger pointed clearly at you, for you would be a fool to think that you could get away with it forever. The military was an ancient and wise institution, it would be willing to overlook some minor acts of foolish behaviour, but it would also be willing to levee punishment and swift retribution for anything that overstepped the mark. One thing the military could not afford was to show weakness in dealing with obvious acts of stupidity or criminal behaviour amongst its own. But like wise it would also protect its own. So why then did these two seem to be completely without any blemish? It worried him, for no one was perfect, the military made sure of that.
A rustle in front of him brought him back from his thoughts. He looked at the two T’Iea that stood to attention in front of him. He glanced from one to the other a frown on his brow. It was true they both held themselves to attention in the unmistakable way that all long-term professional soldiers did, soldiers that had seen much action and probably been in the Legions for most, if not all of their lives. Thor found himself being a little intimidated by this, for he knew deep down that even though he commanded them both, they could most probably teach him far more than he could ever teach them. Their faces were expressionless, they were clean and well presented, they had the appearance of freelance soldiers for they wore an array of kit and clothing that each had chosen for their own comfort and preference. Gear that was both well used but constantly maintained in high repair. This was common in the ranks of the legions for there was no set uniform as such for the common soldier, only the officers had a uniform supplied by the military. All others wore what they saw fit for their discipline and assurance for personal safety. Thor could not fault them in this way either, like their written military records; they were almost too perfect in the flesh also. It was obvious they would not allow him to make any first impression judgements on either of them. Thor frowned once more but inwardly tried to shrug off his suspicions and negative thoughts.
The first he decided to approach stood to attention before him, the fellow stared into the middle distance in front of him. His eyes did not blink or move the slightest amount. Unusual for T’Iea kind he had red hair, , it was long, probably down to his waist, but it was tied in a single ponytail that hung down the centre of his back. He was dressed in a chain mail coat, almost knee length. On his upper body beneath the chain mail Thor could make out ornately carved leather body armour, the chain mail continued down the soldier’s arms where it ended inside the cuff of two thick leather gloves fitted with cast iron knuckles for added protection and for the gritty trials of hand-to-hand combat. Thor smiled a little as he remembered bar room brawls and a sergeant at arms he once had the pleasure of knowing who had taught him an invaluable lesson telling him that if he was going to knock a member of the public to the ground, to make sure that they did not get back up and place themselves in further danger, at least not until the following morning. Over one shoulder a green travelling cloak hung. Two long quivers of arrows were also slung across his back held there by two bandoliers forming a diagonal across his chest. The arrows the quivers contained were lengthy even by T’Iea standards, the flights and nocks Thor was pleased to see, where of the finest crafting. Thor smiled, he had asked to see one of the arrows, the ranger had pulled one and offered it in two hands, his eyes never left that point in the middle distance. Thor had inspected the offered arrow closely. The iron arrowhead was elegantly long with a viciously sharp point, it was also fluted, the flutes started about two centimetres behind the point and ran in a slow spiral. Thor winced as he imagined this arrow piercing through armour and then spinning, drilling into the flesh within. Both the arrowhead and the nocks at the opposite end of the long shaft were perfectly set and balanced, the arrow sat nicely in his hand. Thor had no doubt that this arrow would have little trouble piercing the thickest metal armour. It pleased Thor that this ranger so obviously chose his equipment with great care and attention; normally this was a reflection on the experience and to a degree the personality of the soldier himself. Thor looked at the unstrung long bow held tightly by the ranger’s side. Its lower tip rested on the toe of the T’Iea booted foot; there was a permanent mark in the leather that suggested this was a common place to have it rest. The other end was maybe fifty or sixty centimetres above the ranger’s head. So, an expert with the longbow then. Not any longbow either but a bow made in the halls of the rangers guild in Ter’Resell. This form of longbow Thor knew to be known as R’T’Baum’Theogahal, the words meant far more in the T'Iea tongue, but Thor could only think that in the common speech the nearest translation was something like ‘far from the arm throwing’. He was in no doubt that this ranger could repeatedly draw that long bow fully, time after time. Thor also noticed this bowman’s leather armour was carved in a delicate design; it depicted forests of tall trees, deer stood amongst the trunks of the trees. In dead centre of his chest a large tree stood apart, Thor knew this tree, its shape, it was a S’Apli’Baum, a mythical tree of T’Iea legend. No standard issue armour then for this bowman, his armour had been commissioned privately, probably by himself, or even given to him as a gift, either way he must have seen much favour at some time in his career. Thor also noticed that his armour was fully tailored exactly to this ranger’s figure, fashioned and shaped to fit around large biceps and bulging forearms. The ranger’s arms were long, but then this elf was tall, taller than average, the muscles in his forearms looked knotted and sinuous, testifying to long years learning and practicing his art. Thor suspected this elf’s physical appearance along with the red hair suggested him to have some human blood running in his veins, perhaps he was even a first generation half-elf, his human father or mother having red hair, but he did not ask the question. Thor was surprised that no other weapons adorned this ranger, most rangers he knew or happened across carried one, sometimes two swords about their person, short swords were
preferred for they did not hinder the movement of drawing the bow, set the ranger off balance or prove a hindrance when kneeling down with both hands occupied in firing the bow. Short swords negated the need for having to manoeuvre a long sword about ones person to give freedom of movement. This ranger had a small dagger only, of the sort used as a utility tool for cutting materials, slicing food etc. Or even whittling wood for arrow shafts. This soldier either did not expect to be engaged in close hand-to-hand combat or more likely when he did he preferred to use his fists. Thor nodded, the ranger did not move.
Thor’s attention went to the second T’Iea soldier also standing to attention in front of him. A shiver went down Thor’s spine as he looked at this fellow. Upon the head he wore a helmet of stiff, thick leather, the two side guards hinged upwards away from the ears, they stuck out from the side of the soldier’s almost head horizontally, the two leather ties that would have held them in place beneath his chin hung downwards. The helmet also exhibited a nose guard that hid much of the soldier’s actual features, the effect just served to accentuate his piercing gaze. Once Thor had managed to rip his eye contact from his blue within blue eyes he noticed this soldier wore loose fitting cloth garments on his upper torso and on his legs. His loose fitting trousers were tucked into the top of his calf length boots. These boots were strange looking, certainly not T’Iea in design, they were broad and the toe of the boot turned upwards almost curling round to face backwards towards the ankle. The soles were thick iron and had deep ridges set within. Grûndén boots then, designed to grip well in the worst conditions. His shirt which hung down to just above the knee matched the trousers for both garments were adorned with ornate stitch work. The coloured threads had faded somewhat over the years, but the patterns that the tailor had so obviously lavished in the stitching of the garments could still be clearly seen. Angular shapes of no clear picture but they reminded Thor of mountains and valleys, pine trees and rocky outcrops. His shirt was contained within a plain leather sleeveless breastplate the surface of which was highly polished and smooth. His forearms were contained in similarly fashioned leather wrist and arm guards. The leather of the helmet and of each of these three other items seemed to shimmer in the air and they seemed to move slightly behind any movement that the elf made. This slight lapse in time was a little disconcerting to the eye, but Thor knew that what he was seeing were strong arcane wards present upon each, no doubt more than one or two wards, designed to protect this soldier from weapons, but more likely to also protect against any arcane energy projected at him. No weapons were about this soldier. But he carried a rather thick set staff made from a heavy dark wood, not a weapon as such but if necessary Thor thought that this item would have no difficulty in caving in the skull of any unwary opponent that ventured too close. In the top of the staff was set a golden clasp in which was gripped a single blue stone flecked with lines of orange and yellow crystals. The crystals seemed to move, to flow in and around each other like curls of flame, sparks even and hot cinders in the grate of an artisans forge. He didn’t know why, but Thor shivered slightly, he suspected this was a physical manifestation of the slight unease he felt when standing in the presence of one trained in the arcane arts. For he knew this soldier to be a battle mage. One trained in the arcane knowledge and able to harness, focus and project the arcane energy into a deadly weapon. His like were normally loners, often feared slightly by the more conventional soldiery, even those of their own regiment. Even though the T’Iea peoples were familiar with the arcane, battle mages used the arcane energy as a very destructive power and this caused some suspicion even within T’Iea circles. There weren’t many battle mages in the legions these days, most had gone to ground, or perished, he remembered Solin’s tales of her training and how she always said she was the last of her kind, yet here in front of him perhaps stood an exponent probably of the military arm of the halls of De’Et’Niale’Ternaven, the old halls of the academics in Ter’Hadsnefel, for it was there he knew that all those skilled in the arcane sciences originated. Or maybe this mage had learnt his art after the demise of the De’Et’Niale’Ternaven, an apprentice perhaps of a lone teacher. Thor knew that many such mages fled the city in the time of the purge many perhaps still lived, alone and in hiding. He also knew that some took on apprentices, promising youths, or those that showed a natural skill. A question for the camp fire perhaps.
In his time in the military Thor had heard many stories of mages in battle, none of them nice. He had experienced some action against them as part of his basic training, he remembered with some unease that this part of the training was the most painful to remember. Yet during his training the mages he faced weren’t that skilled, yet looking at this one he just knew that he was glad that they served on the same side. Battle mages fought by unleashing powerful bursts of raw energy, difficult to control and indifferent to friend or foe alike. The few mages he had met would offer soldiers around them wards to protect them from any stray energy. Protect them from friendly fire so to speak. But he had heard of mages inadvertently killing many soldiers of the same side either through careless acts or by less than skilled actions. But something about this mage made Thor think that he would not allow himself such foolish mistakes. Like the bowman, this mage had the look of a long serving seasoned warrior about him, another long term professional for sure.
So these were the soldiers that Te’Onolan’u’De’Yiun had promised him. He was expecting the commanding officer to send him a troop of a dozen or so, but in the end these were to be his command. So he had been assigned a Trete’Y’Thego or ‘three alone’. He turned with his hands behind his back and walked to look out of the window over the quad of the military barracks he had been assigned to. Without turning he said, “so gentlemen please introduce yourselves?”
The ranger responded first, “F’Orln’Derrae, sir. Most call me Orln if that may be your preference sir.”
“Thank you Orln, I think I will. I am glad to have you with me for I am sure that your skills are exemplary.”
Thor knew that it was traditional when a Trete’Y’Thego was formed that its members dropped all formalities of rank, they would be living, sleeping, travelling and even fighting in close proximity. They needed to get to know one another quickly and very well to ensure that the efficiencies and skills that formed the central relationship between them were discovered swiftly. For out in the wilds they would be alone, without any image from their legion or the rest of the T’Iea world. They had to look out for each other, size up any situation quickly and react without wasting time in conferring if they were to survive.
Thor waited for the battle mage to speak. He winced as he heard, not through his ears but directly into his mind, “I am named Neth’Gore.” He turned and looked at the mage, he had spoken directly into his inner thoughts. Solvienne had practiced this art on him in the past, he didn’t think he would ever get used to it. But she had made him practice responding to her. Thor concentrated the thought in his mind whilst looking into the two piercing blue eyes and projected his words, “I am honoured Neth’Gore and what discipline do you possess?”
If Neth’Gore was surprised at Thor’s ability to mind speak he did not show it. Instead he kept eyes to front and raising his hand slightly he waved his clenched fist gently in front of him, then opening his fingers he revealed a small dull red flame that danced on the upturned palm of his hand. It looked like a long thin candle flame, but as Thor watched the length of the flame increased and its colour became whiter and whiter until where there was but moments before, a gentle warm flame, there now appeared a hissing almost screeching flame of white hot intensity. Thor stepped back involuntarily for he could feel the heat of the flame from where he stood across the room. He stepped further back as the flame left the hand of Neth’Gore and hung there in the air before it slowly floated towards Thor. He looked at the mage; he was still looking forward into the middle distance. The flame continued onwards. Thor was about to say something, but then the fire stopped
abruptly and disappeared in the blink of an eye, the mage dropped his hand and arm back down to his side.
Thor frowned, he had been right, no inexperienced mage this, but one of exceptional skill. He voiced his thoughts. “So a battle mage with, much skill in the art of fire and flame it seems.”
Neth’Gore gave one slight nod of his head.
Thor felt a little flustered, to hide this and his unsure thoughts about these two, he turned his back on them once more and went back to the window and looked out upon the gathering night. He took a deep breath to steady himself. So here they were then. Trete’Y’Thego, the three alone. A ranger skilled with bow, a mage skilled in the arcane and the last, himself, the swordsman. When he felt able, Thor turned and faced his men once more. “Get some rest gentlemen, we leave at first light, our journey is long and no doubt arduous. Take but little you need, for we travel swiftly. We will have need of both your skills if we are to eat well and overcome whatever ill the world may fling at us. Then when we arrive at our destination we may well have to fight. I bid you good night.”
The two soldiers turned on their heels and strode out through the door. Thor gave them enough time to leave the building, then he gathered his cloak and placing it over his arm he walked from the room and out across the quad. He breathed the cool night air and walked out of the barracks. He strode through the deserted city streets deep in thought. He wondered why these two? What had they done to be saddled with this task? He only hoped that neither bore any ill will of any kind. Thor knew that he would have his hands full if either of these two soldiers took the slightest dislike to him. Then he found himself in front of the house of Te’Onolan’u’De’Yiun for one final night of luxury in the old city of Ter’Hadsnefel. His final night before he left for the wild and untamed lands to the east, in the company of two seasoned soldiers with a recent history that someone thought best to keep secret from prying eyes.
