by Sean Clark
Chapter Twenty One: The Raising
Kensley marched up the stairs perched along the crag up to Edrian’s hut. He pushed aside the fur covering across the door and peered into the dim tent. Inside, the general was crouched at the side of the smoldering embers of the fire pit. He pushed around the black and white powdery cinders with a long stick, hoping to quell the heavy smoke escaping from it.
Kensley cleared his throat. “You called for me, sir?”
Edrian tossed the branch into the middle of the pit. He stood up and extracted the well-used handkerchief from its place tucked into his belt, wiping his shiny forehead with it. “Yes, yes. I apologize for calling you out so late.” He grumbled in a low voice. “It’s simply that I’ve made up my mind, and I wish to hear your thoughts.”
“Anything, sir.” Kensley nodded and stepped further inside. Respectfully, he planted his feet in place, and his arms crossed behind his back.
The general examined the stern stance and waved him down. “At ease, Mr. Kensley.”
The lieutenant took a deep breath and slumped his shoulders.
“Good, good.” Edrian continued. “Are you familiar with that pass to the south of here?”
“Yes, sir.” Kensley nodded. “We used it to return from our attack on Tulefore; Bently, Scarborough and myself.”
“I figured so. It was just several years ago it was those pompous Tuleforians passing their forces through there for the first of their attacks on this land.”
Kensley nodded slowly. “I cannot remember the event more clearly. I recall hearing of it from my home before being drafted out here.”
“An important role was played by the original forces here, stopping them from flooding into Xiandol uncontested.” Edrian paced around the room, before finding a seat in his hefty chair by the map table. “I doubt they would have done much to our battlements here, but we had to make sure the women and children here in the settlements were protected.”
Kensley eyed the general silently as he continued to reminisce. His arms twitched as he continued to hold himself from shifting to a stiffer posture.
“Do you remember when the Tuleforian battlemages arrived at the battlefield?” Edrian finally made eye contact.
A shiver ran up Kensley’s spine. “Yes.” He answered shortly. “I was fortunate enough to be on reserve when they began strewing fire among our men.”
“You were able to find a sense of reprisal upon having their blood on your hands, then.”
Kensley peered down at his dry hands, cracked from the cold air. “You can say that.” He clicked his tongue. “To be honest, though, the way they were packed in, you couldn’t swing your sword without chopping into one of the enemies. That is the first time I saw Mandabus with a weapon in his hand, too. The man was very skilled.”
“I’m glad the old captain is still fresh in your mind.” Edrian stood. With a slow stride, he passed Kensley and pushed the fur aside to look out the door into the cold darkness. “You’ll soon be able to take your vengeance on Tulefore for his death as well.”
Kensley glanced back at the general briefly before scanning the scribbled-upon map unfurled on the table. “We’re making a move, then?”
At the side of the room, a wooden chair creaked. Kensley turned to see Boughlin sitting off in one of the dark corners, a smoldering cigar sitting between his fingers. The ridges of his rough face shone in the dim light of the candle atop the table. “Tomorrow morning.” He stood, and a few gray cinders dropped from the end of the cigar and smoke drifted up towards the ceiling.
Edrian patted Kensley on the shoulder before moving back to the map. “You know best of any of us the way there, and how their settlement is guarded.”
“For that reason, I’ve asked Edrian to allow you a place at my side.” Boughlin spoke up. “You’ll be comfortable taking orders from me, I assume?”
“I’ll make due.” Kensley frowned. “Is this really the best time, though? With Mr. Chin and Bently gone?”
Edrian cleared his throat. His gaze remained fixed on the messy lines scribbled on the map. “We’ve been delayed for too long, especially by the weather. The men are getting restless.”
“No doubt.” Kensley sighed. “Scarborough, then?”
“I will have him with me.” Edrian announced, sending a short glance Kensley’s way. “As it stands, it’s the best place for him to be.”
“Bently and myself have been working with him to calm his nerves in battle, being more steadfast-”
“It is late, Mr. Kensley.” Edrian interrupted. “There is no need to worry yourself over things that have already been decided. Now rest. We must be up early.”
Chapter Twenty Two: Eye to Eye
Bently had removed the suit of armor and hid it under the woven blanket that had been provided to him in his room. He could feel the familiar sense of lethargy in his body as the magical forces ebbed from his limbs. Downstairs, he could see the woman- the one who had addressed herself as the Arcanus- pacing about the head of the long stone table at the end of the room.
The spry man named Shiloh sat at one side of the table, with the Xiandolan mage at the opposite. Chin sat back in the chair, quietly smoking his pipe while Shiloh stared daggers at him.
Both Charlstine and Shiloh eyed Bently as he descended the last few steps down towards the ground floor. “Mr. Bently of Xiandol, please have a seat.” The Arcanus offered, a hint of insistence in her voice.
Bently quickly took up one of the wooden seats beside Chin, glancing at the mage tentatively. “Tell me, when you put on that suit of armor, what do you feel?” Charlstine called out. She placed her hands on the hard stone of the table, peering across the surface at Bently.
“Power.” The soldier remarked.
“That power…” Charlstine pursed her lips. “Is the same that runs through our veins. Is that right, Mr. Chin?”
The mage hesitated, taking one last deep inhale from his pipe. “It is similar.” His lips moved with wisps of smoke.
“Lady Arcanus!” Shiloh spoke up, slapping his palms on the cold, surface of the table top. “I must tell you of these men, those who wear this armor of magical power.”
Charlstine propped herself up and began to pace once again. “You know I wish not to hear it, Mr. Shiloh.” Her voice held a tinge of distaste. “You should have known to leave behind your urges for violence once you came through the gates of this city. Both of you.”
Shiloh slumped back in the chair and avoided looking in Bently’s direction.
The woman took a sharp breath to steady herself. “As a Tuleforian, I’m sure you can recount the brief history of bloodshed we've had to endure here, suffered by these people of Arkyan.” Charlstine posed, her gaze pointed to the back of Shiloh’s neck.
“It is not something I could recall with any detail, Lady Arcanus.” Shiloh admitted.
“Mr. Bently, then.” Charlstine turned her sights across the table. “You, who was civilized enough to not draw his weapon, even while threatened by force from another.”
Chin exhaled a slow stream of purple smoke from between his lips as he peered sideways at Bently.
The knight tapped his fingers atop the table. “If I remember, the first of it was just before I picked up the sword in the name of Xiandol, myself. A little over five years.” Bently blinked slowly, the lessons returning to him. “Just slightly north of the pass here, we… the Xiandolan miners… began digging in search of the… remnant. They ran across some tunnels that had been dug by the people here. When the two eventually came into contact… the Xiandolans attacked them. Ruthlessly, they say.”
“Correct. The River Mudan here was once very rich with gold, you might also know.” Charlstine began to explain. “There is a large vein of the material in the side of the mountain to our west here. At least, there was. With each spring thaw, the waters from the melting snow would erode away bits of the mountain, depositing the heavy flakes of gold in the riverbed, all the way out to the sea. Eventually when the panni
ng of gravel at the bottom of the Mudan became more and more fruitless, those working the land turned their attention to the mountain itself.”
Bently leaned in towards the table. “Those mine tunnels were never meant to find anything but gold, then?”
“By the time the magical energy was sensed, the mine had long since been exhausted. Some still dug around, hoping to find some hidden pocket that had been missed, but it was often little more than a fool’s errand.” Charlstine took a deep breath and finally took a seat at the head of the table. Her gaze moved back and forth between the two sides of men. “You can imagine what all those people thought when others returned to the range to start digging again.”
“A new fortune to seek after.” Chin said raspily.
“The attack forced the Arkyan people to permanently withdraw.” Charlstine said calmly. “Those in Tulefore city gave no inclination of wanting to lend aid- this province no longer providing its stream of valuable minerals, nor being of great strategical importance.”
“Is that why you’ve distanced yourself from the Empire?” Shiloh perked up.
“That is true only for the original residents of Arkyan.” Charlstine waved her hand outward in the direction of the city. “The Seat of the Order chose to take up here because we shared a disdain for conflict the same as the residents. After all, we of mage blood come from all over.” She concluded, nodding at Chin. “It was simply a travesty that the laws of the lands in which we resided allowed for us to be so easily forced to be the tools of normal men. Therefore, it was the among the first acts of the Order to decree that our kind would be exempt- and furthermore disallowed- from any conflict involving either side.”
“Milady!” Shiloh stood and roughly pushed back his chair. “If that is truly what you believe, I cannot fathom how you look so easily past the soldier here in front of you now, who arrived wearing armor created by the powers you call your own!” He gestured forcefully at Bently.
“Mr. Shiloh.” The Arcanus stomped her foot loudly, the sound reverberating about the room. “I am neither condoning the action nor encouraging it at this moment. It is your superiors who wished for myself and the Order to make a decision on a matter affecting you. May I also remind you that both sides of the conflict in the Sing Mountain Range are here today, having left your forces short of men. Perhaps this moment may be an opportunity for you to find common ground.”
Chin pushed back his chair loudly and rose to his feet. He gave a quick tap on the bottom of his pipe, spilling dark embers out of the bell. “If our history lesson is over, I must suggest that we turn in for the night. You have foreseen the tribunal taking place tomorrow morning, if I am not mistaken, Lady Arcanus?”
“Thank you, Mr. Chin, that is correct.” Charlstine nodded. “I apologize for having you up this late, especially after just having arrived earlier today.”
Chin began to walk about the chamber, before picking the staircase that led up to his room. Charlstine nodded to Shiloh and Bently before disappearing down one of the dark hallways, her robes flowing out behind her.
Shiloh watched for the woman to move out of view before turning to Bently to speak. “There is another man that bears the same armor as yours, who is still about the Tuleforian front.”
Bently pulled apart his crossed arms and leaned into the table. “Mandabus.” He whispered, studying Shiloh’s earnest expression.
“That is his name, then.” Shiloh pursed his lips. “We never got any information from him.”
“You spoke to him?”
“We had him under our control, for a brief time.” Shiloh continued, his voice low. “He attacked our settlement, brazenly at that.”
“That sounds like Mandabus.” Bently smirked. “Aside from the part of getting captured. Was it your mage again?”
Shiloh pulled his seat up again and studied Bently’s face. “Our commander. Your forces aren’t the only people with access to arms with these strange magical forces.”
“Is that so? And yet you’re so against such powers supposedly.” Bently pondered, his smirk shifting into an apathetic frown. “By the sound of it, though, it seems like he slipped through your fingers.”
“It is no laughing matter!” Shiloh pounded on the table with his fists, creating a dull, hollow sound. “After taking the life of our sub-commander, he fled. That thing is no longer a man…”
“What do you mean by that?” Bently growled.
“Then you have no idea why we’ve been summoned here, then?”
“There is a judgment to decide for your mage, is it?”
“He was found to be in control of some sort of dark magic.” Shiloh paused. “Your… Mandabus revealed to us that the mage had stripped him of his humanity, leaving him a hollow being inside that shell of armor. The only thing he can fathom it seems is the taking of our mage’s life.”
Bently let out a long, rumbling sigh. “He should have returned to Xiandol with us.”
“He was heard saying that your Kingdom meant nothing to him anymore. You’re likely fortunate that the case is such.”
“Why do you say that?” Bently interrogated.
“If a man… a beast… such as him were found to be working under Xiandolan command, you and your comrades wearing that armor, using those weapons… I doubt the Arcanus would so easily look the other way. The same goes for those who forged those armaments too… The Order would certainly make some sort of ruling on it.” Shiloh stood and slowly leaned in toward the center of the table, his face growing closer to Bently’s. “The way I look at it, your attack those weeks ago on our settlement was just short enough of a war crime for the Order to overlook it.”
Bently sat quietly, unblinkingly, as Shiloh stared him down. The bodyguard, finally satisfied, pulled away and quickly stomped up to the stairs that led up to his room.
Chapter Twenty Three: Tuleforian Walls
Kensley guided the horse slowly over the soft ground of the ridge. Several feet below, the rhythmic pounding of the formation marched them forward. The mountain pass was sparse, a decent elevation above the tree line. The ground was soft with soggy earth and covered in a thin layer of freshly budding grass, as if no fighting had ever taken place upon the land there. Bits of frost and snow still lingered in the shadows of large boulders dotting the rocky slopes.
In the distance, Kensley could see the thick forests of the Tuleforian province start to catch the morning sunlight as it began to creep across the land. Boughlin prodded at the sides of his horse’s flank with his heels, causing it to slow and allow Kensley to catch up.
“I pray you aren’t too hot in that suit of armor.” Boughlin nodded at Kensley as he moved to the side. Out of the limited peripheral vision, Kensley could see the morning light reflecting over the plates of armor hanging off his body.
“The enchantments provide my body shelter from many conditions.” Kensley remarked.
“I could have never worn such a thing.” Boughlin boasted. “I want to feel the sweat and dirt on my body as I find myself in combat. I want to feel the spray of a man’s blood as I chop into their fleshy parts.”
Kensley turned his head side to side, cracking his neck with a dull pop. “You should have refused your promotions if you had wanted to be the first on the battlefield.”
Boughlin let out a short laugh before yanking on the reins of his horse as the formation slowly crept ahead. Kensley reacted to keep the pace. His horse snorted loudly at him and crept forward. “What is your plan of attack, Boughlin?” He called out, the horse struggling to find proper footing in the soft soil.
“As soon as we see an opening, we shall march upon their gates and push inside. If what Edrian has told me is true, a surprise attack such as the one you carried out will give us great success.”
“And if they are expecting us?”
“My experience with Tulefore tells me that they only have an advantage when they are on the offensive. You know the layout of their settlement, their stronghold at the base of the mountain. Y
ou can show me what you believe to be the best vector of attack.”
Kensley blinked his eyes slowly and re-imagined the timber walls of the encampment. “There are… two proper gates; one leading off likely towards Tulefore City, and one smaller one leading out into the forest. If we split the men and push at both gates…”
“These men do not split up.” Boughlin interrupted, sending a glare back at Kensley.
“The side gate, then.” Kensley cleared his throat. “It is smaller and will be less defended.”
“Will you be comfortable at the head of the formation, guiding them forward?”
Kensley looked down at the formation of soldiers, in the pristine dark armor, continuing to march in perfect lines. “I do not fear for my safety, wearing this armor. But a gate will not fall so easily, when simply put against men. They will be sure to close us off long before we reach the walls.”
“Formation, halt!” Boughlin suddenly pulled on the reins of his horse as he called out the booming order. Kensley’s horse dug its feet into the ground and shook its head in surprise.
The pass had begun to slope downward into the valley, where the land was thick with trees and brush. Over the rolling foothills, Kensley could see the clearing surrounding the tall walls of the Tuleforian settlement. The morning light had just begun to shine upon the tents and buildings within the walls. The smoke of fires to warm the men and cook breakfast had just begun to drift up into the air.
Boughlin shifted to the side and began fiddling with an object strapped to the rear saddlebag on his horse. He quickly extracted a banner wrapped around a long, wooden baton and offered it up to Kensley. “Take this, present it to the sky.”
Kensley unfurled the fabric in his hands to reveal the white Three-Clawed Badger emblem upon it. “My men know to follow the banner. Hopefully Tulefore will learn to fear it as you lead our men forward to trounce their defenses.”
Chapter Twenty Four: The Dark Armor
Sleep had overcome Bently as soon as his head touched the pillow. The bed was simple, but to the exhausted soldier, the warmth and softness was something he thought he had almost forgotten.
