by Levi Samuel
Jorin’otth inched to the edge and peered down. He didn’t know how far the drop it was, but there was a thin red line in the distance. There was no way anyone could survive the fall.
“This way!” He ran, hoping the others were smart enough to follow. Seeing a rocky outcropping in a brief flash of lightning, he charged for it. He’d underestimated the storm. If it had the ability to rupture the ground like it had, he needed to find shelter.
Reaching the rocks, he saw an opening. Stealing a glance behind him, only three dreualfar remained. And of those, only one had a pack. It seemed he wasn’t going to have the resources to break ties after all. But one full pack was better than none. Stepping into the cave entrance, he noticed the flicker of fire light off the walls in the distance. Cautiously, he made his way forward. Rounding the corner, he saw two figures sitting by the fire. And better yet, he recognized one of them.
“Gareth?”
“Who the hell are you?” Gareth asked, staring intently at the unexpected hydralfar.
Seeing the dreualfar behind him step into view, Gareth’s anger boiled. Near falling from the large rock he’d been sitting on, he reached for his pack, realizing his weapons were gone. It was no matter. He didn’t need them. Not anymore.
Seeing the bald warrior lunge, Jorin’otth ripped one of the bronze tubes from the pack, pointing it toward the attacking warrior. Popping the cap, a bolt of dark energy shot across the cavern, striking the female in the chest and launching Gareth into the far wall. Forcing the cap back into place, he checked the glow through the sight glass. That one shot nearly depleted half the energy it’d collected.
He pushed the tube back where it belonged, and approached the fire. “Bind them. We just found our leverage to win this war.”
Chapter XII
Bargaining Chips
Morning light revealed the aftereffects of the storm. Broken tree limbs were scattered across the ground. Their dark green leaves still clinging to the stems, unaware they were already dead. Overturned carts, once full of goods, laid on the roads and in the middle of communal areas. Several of the tents had been torn from their sites and flung where they’d landed, appearing as little more than odd shaped tarps on the ground. The once city-sized camp was in ruin. Thousands of dalari walked the streets, searching for their missing belongings and helping others clean up.
Reports were already coming in. Over six-hundred dalari were missing or confirmed dead in the few hours since the storm ended. The center most part of the camp had been hit pretty mildly, suffering only occasional damage from an airborne limb or crate. It was outer ring that suffered the most. Entire trees had been ripped from the ground and flung around as if they weighed little more than a feather. Numerous bolts of lightning struck, leaving a number of structures burnt to ash. The remnants looked like an explosion had gone off, destroying everything within a thirty foot area. What had been a well-maintained camp was now a field of chaos and destruction. Yet the morale remained intact.
That was more than could be said about the forest surrounding them. It had been leveled down to the smallest sapling. The only thing left was toppled trees and loose brush lying in large, scattered heaps.
Ravion stared intently at the floor. His knee was going numb from the constant pressure, but he wasn’t about to adjust. He’d made a terrible mistake, one that had cost too many lives. The least he could do was deal with a little discomfort.
“You have nothing more to explain to me. I understand what happened and I forgive you. If you wish to make it right, help your people recover from this mess. We’ve delayed relocation too long. Now that this storm has passed, we aren’t going to get a better opportunity than this. We need to move before our enemies have a chance to recover.” Kashien stared at the top of Ravion’s downturned head. He knew the torment the scout must have been putting himself through. But truth be told, the storm was hardly his responsibility. If anything, that blame rested with Kashien alone. He used the stone knowing there would be a price to pay. These deaths were on his hands. “Rise and go find Demetrix. I would have the two of you at my side when we move. Oh, and Ravion, would you please deliver these orders to Captain Trendal on your way past?” Kashien extended a rolled piece of parchment, stamped by a hybrid of what appeared to be both a fox and a wolf.
“As you command.” Ravion stood, refusing to drop his bow. Accepting the scroll, he turned and made his way from Kashien’s private quarters.
Stepping outside, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for the pain and damage these people had suffered from his decisions. He wasn’t worthy of being in their company, yet Kashien demanded he stay. It was little more than a formality. Kashien wasn’t his commander and he wasn’t bound by oath to obey him. Yet there was wisdom behind that smug demeanor. Kashien had seen things that would make the common dalari weep. And his men respected him. That meant Ravion respected him.
Reaching the command tent, he pulled the canvas flap to the side and stepped inside. Muffled noises echoed through the large, magical building. Passing through the war room, Ravion entered the study, hearing the sounds intensify. Reaching one of the three door flaps, he paused outside the one on the left. This close he was able to fully understand the sounds he was hearing. A smile came to his lips.
Clearing his throat, he spoke loud and clear. “Captain Trendal, Lord Kashien sends new orders.” He waited patiently, hearing a large amount of hushed commotion within the room.
A moment later, the flap opened and a woman stepped out.
Ravion recognized her as Kashien’s personal aide. It was odd to think she was in romantic involvement with Trendal and not Kashien, but that was none of his business.
Trendal stepped through the flap, an embarrassed expression evident on face. “I’d appreciate if you could keep this quiet. Strictly speaking, officers aren’t supposed to have relations between one another.”
“It’s none of my concern.” Ravion handed the sealed scroll to the nervous captain. “Though if you’d like some advice, relationships are easier to manage when you don’t have to hide them.”
“Thank you, Ravion.”
Ravion bowed and turned to leave. It didn’t take much to understand that was Trendal’s way of telling him to worry about his own problems. Ducking out of the command tent, he skirted the debris and obstructions blocking the road. There was so much damage in such a small area. He dreaded seeing what the surrounding land looked like. Making his way to his tent, he stepped inside finding Demetrix sitting in front of the ever-burning hearth. The young dalari was working a piece of leather. It was far from complete, but appeared to resemble his green leather in shape.
Noticing his brother, Demetrix laid the incomplete armor on the table and stood. “You spoke with Kashien?”
“I did. He forgave me, not that I deserve it.”
“I think he understood what you were going through. Now we need to find Gareth. There’s no telling what happened to him during the storm. If he got caught in it, the chances of his survival aren’t good. I scouted about two miles out this morning. Didn’t see a single tree taller than a few feet still standing.”
“We’ll just have to search for him. He’s more resilient than you’d think. And when we find him, I ask that you don’t stand in his way. I said and did some terrible things to him. If he feels he needs to finish the job, that’s his call, not yours.”
The younger dalari was at a loss for words. How could Ravion actually think he could stand by and let Gareth kill him? “I can’t make that promise.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to. What I did to him specifically, there is no one I’ve betrayed more. I have to make it right. And if that requires my life, it’s my decision to make, not yours.”
“Let just make sure it doesn’t come to that.”
“If it does, I’m asking you as my friend, brother, and equal to please stand down. Think about it and honor my wishes. Either way, we don’t have time to talk about it now. Kashien wants to move camp.
We set out in a few hours.”
The sun reached its peak height. What was once a small city composed of tents and wooden structures was now a large patch of totted dirt. Over ten thousand dalari stood in block formation, awaiting command from their general. The tents were packed in a series of loaded wagons, along with what remained of the supplies. For the most part, everyone carried their personal effects, leaving the community supplies to be transported by wagon.
At the top of the hill where the command tents had been Kashien sat atop his horse, looking out over the army. He smiled at the sights before him. No commander could have been prouder of their army than he was of his. Not only had these few gone above and beyond in their duties, but they’d managed to hold off the dreualfar forces on nearly every occasion. Sure, there had been casualties and lost ground from time to time. But for the most part, they’d proven their worth in battle. Even the few times the hydralfar had joined them on the field, it was his men leading them to victory. Stealing a quick glance at the overhead sun, he knew it was time to move. They had a long trip to their next destination and with luck, any forces they might encounter along the way would still be disoriented from the storm. “Battalion, right face!”
The army moved in unison. It was like watching a mirage. Not a single detail was left out of place.
“Forward march!” He listened to the roar of footsteps, seemingly amplified by the distance. He could feel the ground shake beneath him. In truth, he didn’t need to give the command. The individual company commanders would see to that. But it felt good setting them on their path.
Watching them reach the boundaries of the once camp, he secured the reins of his horse, keeping it from running off before he was ready. Turning to the men mounted beside him, he looked upon their faces. Kaileen, Trendal, Ravion, and Demetrix, and several other captains regarded the general, patiently awaiting his command.
“Shall we?” Kashien gestured the group to follow.
They fell in behind the wagons, moving little faster than a slow trot. They had a four-day journey ahead of them, which at this pace suggested they would travel roughly two hundred miles. That was provided they didn’t run into any unexpected problems.
The better part of a day passed with minimal issue. The one concern on everyone’s mind was the true extent of the storm’s damage. It seemed the further out they got, the more the world had suffered. They stopped for the night at what was once a small human village near the forest’s edge.
Little more than loose stone and crumbled buildings remained. There was no sign of any survivors. Settling in for the night, the scent of several camp fires lingered in the air. Tents were to remain packed, which left thousands of sleeping bags sprawled out on the ground.
Demetrix sat beside one of the small fires, working his soon to be armor and listening to one of the dalari play a lute. He wasn’t sure exactly what the song was about, having never fully learned to understand eldarspeak, but from what he could piece together, he felt it was about a mischievous god whom enjoyed playing tricks on mortals.
Despite his uncertainty in the lyrics, it was a rather enjoyable tune. Looking up from his work, he could see Ravion leaning against one of the wagons. The young scout appeared lost in his own little world, though that didn’t keep him from standing watch over everyone else. Laying the leather on his bedroll, Demetrix stood and snatched up a wineskin.
Making his way toward the wagon, he extended it, offering Ravion a drink. “You shouldn’t spend so much time in your head. False thoughts start to make sense.”
“I’m just thinking about how we’re going to find Gareth. He doesn’t know how to get back to camp in the first place. Now that we’re moving, there’s little more than divine luck that would guarantee a reunion.”
“It’s never stopped us from looking before. No matter where we are or what kind of trouble we found ourselves in, we always make it home.”
“That was in Dalmoura. We knew where we were going. Even in the catacombs, all we had to do was keep walking until we found a way out. No matter where we came up, home was always within a month’s ride. I’ve seen many parts of this realm. It’s much larger than most would have you believe. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I spent over two hundred years searching for you— searching for our people. I explored any and every rumor that came my way in hopes of finding anything. That journey eventually took me to Dalmoura, where some of my questions were answered. But many more remained. And now we’re here, among our people. My point is, if I spent that long looking for an entire race of people, how am I supposed to find a single man who doesn’t want to be found?”
“You don’t know he doesn’t want to be found. He left. That’s not unlike him, especially when he gets pissed. Once he slaughters a few dreu and clears his head, he’ll calm down. He always does. Besides, we’re surrounded by hundreds of spellcasters. I’m sure they can find him in a heartbeat. Let’s just get to the new camp and then we’ll track him down. Now have a drink and relax a little.” Demetrix offered the wineskin once again, waiting patiently for Ravion to take a swig.
Demetrix awoke to the feel of tiny legs walking upon his face. Brushing the fly off his cheek, he opened his eyes to the view of a hawk circling overhead. Pulling himself up, he realized he was only half on his bedroll, seemingly having passed out where he laid. Images of the previous night rushed to the forefront of his memory. Looking around, it seemed the majority of the army was packed and ready to begin their march once again, though he was far from the last to rise.
Stealing a glance at the fire not far from him, the white ash held the form of the night’s final logs. He had a feeling if he dug down, he could find a few remaining embers, but such search was unnecessary. Grabbing his water-skin, he took a long draw, wetting his throat. Leaning over, he poured the rest of the water on the ash, listening to it sizzle and throw bits of the burnt mineral into the air.
Ravion approached the weary scout, a mild smirk lingered on his face.
“Did you have a good night?” He handed a fresh water-skin to his brother and extended his hand to pull him up.
“The parts I can remember.” Demetrix took his brother’s hand and pulled, finding his feet. “What happened to you?”
“I went for a walk, didn’t feel much like partaking of the festivities. Nonetheless, come on. Kashien wants to meet with us.”
Demetrix took another swig of water and handed the skin back to Ravion. He quickly rolled his bed and strapped it to his pack. Grabbing the bundle, he tossed it over his shoulder and followed after the elder dalari.
They marched through the center of camp to the only standing tent among the tens of thousands of dalari. Stepping through the open doorway, they noticed Kashien standing at a large wooden table. A weathered map rested in the center. Several other dalari stood in waiting, casually talking among themselves.
Demetrix recognized a few of the dalari. He’d met most of them within the past few months. But there were a few he’d never seen before. These few were dressed for battle, unlike those he was familiar with. They appeared a bit laxer, wearing little more than common clothing and their weapons strapped to their hips.
“Ravion, Demetrix, I’m glad you could join us,” Kashien offered a respectful bow to the two outsiders. “Captain Theo here was just informing me of a large dreualfar incursion to the east. It seems Tygrell has decided to take advantage of the storm’s aftermath as well.”
The unfamiliar dalari was dressed in black plate mail, trimmed in gold. A blackened morning star hung from a leather strap at his hip and a heavy shield was slung across his back. Despite his gruff appearance, his hair was relatively short, though that didn’t hide the massive scar running from his left ear to the crown of his head.
“My scouts tell me they’re moving a force, nearly six-thousand strong straight north, and another nearly three-thousand due southwest.” The grizzled captain pointed on the map, showing them traveling from what appeared to be an elven outpost less than a we
ek away.
“Does their path appear to intersect ours?” Ravion asked, studying the map.
This land seemed difficult to understand. It had a familiar feel, but he didn’t recognize the shape. Which was odd in and of itself as he’d traveled every land known to Ur and never come across this one.
He was one of the few that had traveled to another realm, something unheard of since before the Demon Wars, as the stories went. It was only a short stretch that they could have ended up somewhere the troubles of the mainland never plagued them. That would explain why the dreualfar weren’t cursed to the underdark, and why he hadn’t found his people after so many years of searching. Yet it still didn’t add up. History was known to repeat itself, but why would one land in particular be protected for so long while the rest was left to the throes of time?
“If we continue on our current path, yes. But if we continue due north for another day before shifting east, we should miss them by about twenty miles.” Kashien assured the gathered commanders.
“What about the southern band? Surely they’re going to discovered we’ve left the old camp pretty soon.” Trendal interjected, denoting a direct path on the map.
Kaileen waved her hand, dismissing Trendal’s query. “We shouldn’t concern ourselves with that. They were never able to get a solid location on our base. By the time they arrive and discover our absence, we’ll be little more than a distant memory. They won’t be able to track us. I made sure of that.”
“What would you have us do, General Kashien?” Theo placed a small, bronze statue of a valiant knight on the map, due east of the suspected dreualfar base. “My men are held up here. We’ve enough supplies to last another month, but eventually we’re going to have to fall back.”
“Take another hundred men with you, along with all the supplies they can carry. I need you to hold position as long as possible. The more information we have of the enemy’s whereabouts, the better off we’ll be when it comes time to march.”
