Book 6: Chapter 3: Making the Rounds
Borrius counseled Victor to halt the army a mile from the bottom of the pass in a particularly narrow portion where sheer rock walls climbed for thousands of feet on either side of the rough, rock-strewn roadway. They knew what was behind them, and with the massive cliffs, they didn’t have to worry about their flanks, leaving the southern road sloping down into the weirdly misty valley as the only avenue by which unknown enemies might attack. As the summer sun struggled to make itself known through the thick cloud cover, Victor watched the efforts of the army to fortify their position.
“It doesn’t look like they’ve come this far,” Rellia said from beside him, sitting on the edge of a large boulder. She, along with the other commanders of the army, had ridden a short way down the road, perhaps half a mile from where it abruptly ended in the rolling hills of thick scrub and grass.
“They?” Borrius asked, still atop his barded mount.
“The forces of this Prince of Heart Rot, whatever that is. What an absurd name; why would you call your lands something so . . .”
“Gross?” Valla suggested.
“It makes me think of death magic.” Lam’s boots scraped on the rough stone as she moved to sit by Rellia.
“Yeah.” Victor nodded. “The whole System message was like something out of a cheesy video game.” He waved his hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah. I know you don’t know what that is. I mean, it’s like a bad fairy tale. Does that make sense?”
“Sure.” Valla pointed down the slope toward the dimly lit expanse of land leading into the valley below the pass. Victor tracked where she pointed, watching as the landscape grew more and more dark, more and more covered by miasmic mists, until his eyes met the distant horizon where dark clouds roiled, utterly obscuring the land. “That’s no fairy tale, though.”
“This is good.” Borrius turned his mount, looking upslope to where the army engineers toiled, then shifting to scan the valley. “We’ve got the high ground. We can see any enemy approaching. We should build something a bit more permanent here. A keep that bridges the entire pass. It’s a solid foothold from which to march forth.”
“If we had true fortifications here, it would alleviate us having to watch over our shoulders for the Empire. We could make the pass very costly for them to come through.” Rellia idly massaged the palm of her left hand between her fingers and thumb as she spoke, her eyes distant, perhaps imagining the fortification Borrius proposed.
“There’s certainly plenty of stone in these cliffs . . .”
“Are you guys forgetting something?” Victor interrupted.
“I’m with Victor. That System message didn’t say anything about the influx of ‘invaders’ slowing. The longer we dilly dally up here building a keep, the more enemies we may have to contend with. If we were higher in the pass, and if it was still night, we’d have that green star hanging in the sky to remind us.” As she’d suggested, Lam’s words echoed Victor’s thinking; as the army had descended from the heights, the clouds had begun to block their view of the green orb or portal or whatever it was. Even so, in the dark, everything had been cast in an eerie greenish glow, especially the clouds and mist in the distance. Only as the sun climbed toward noon did it begin to fade.
“We can manage both.” Borrius chuckled, shaking his head. “The non-combat personnel will remain here, along with most of the Shadeni tribe. I’ll leave most of the engineers and Earth Casters to work on the fortification. I propose we peel off the extra troops from the various cohorts, forming an eleventh cohort to serve as a rear guard.”
“What happened to ‘swelling’ the cohorts to accommodate losses?” Valla knelt, picked up a smooth rock, and chucked it down the stone roadway. It flew a good distance, then clicked and clattered over the ground.
“We’ll have these reserves, holding our base and ready to fill in when called for duty. We still may have more volunteers heading our way through the pass. In any event, we’ll need a garrison here to receive and train them.”
“All right, Borrius.” Victor nodded to the old commander. “You’ve made a good argument, and I think it makes sense. It’s clear Rellia agrees with you, so I think we can go ahead and make the order. Meanwhile, I think I’d like to ride out with the Ninth and see if I can get eyes on this enemy we’re dealing with. It’d be good to size them up, don’t you think?”
“The Ninth?” Lam turned to Victor. “Because they’re the highest level?”
“Highest average level, and more than half of them have fought a hopeless battle already on this campaign. You know what I mean? They thought they were going to die before the Naghelli joined the fight.”
“Speaking of the Naghelli . . .” Valla pointed to the cluster of dark, round tents further up the pass where the winged fighters had set up camp. They kept to themselves each night, but Victor was glad to have them in the rear—nothing would be sneaking past Kethelket and his people.
“It would be good if they’d do some scouting . . .”
“I worry about that,” Rellia spoke before Victor could finish his thought. “Did they not serve a Death Caster?”
“Not happily. We’ve been over this, Rellia.” Victor hopped down from the boulder to look at her more easily.
“Still, what if this Prince Hector tries to recruit them? What if they like his offer?”
“So, we’re back to not trusting them?” Valla sighed, shaking her head at her mother.
Rellia held up her hands, signaling capitulation. “I’m only trying to suggest we use caution where they are concerned. Let us not leave ourselves open to an easy betrayal.” She saw Victor’s scowl and pressed on, “I know we owe them much! I know they’ve been good, easy companions on this journey. I don’t propose we sideline them; let’s give them more opportunities to prove themselves, but, at the same time, let’s be prepared for what will happen should they act out our worst fears.”
“Sure.” Victor stepped away from the others, feeling the need to walk, clear his head, and speak to some different people for a change. He wanted to see Thayla and Deyni. “By all means, be cautious with them. Anyway, I’m going to go check in on the Shadeni and maybe do some axe work. I’m so close to the edge of epic I can taste it.” He turned, stalking up the slope toward the encampment, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with any of the other commanders; he didn’t want to give them a chance to suck him back into another debate.
He felt a little guilty for not inviting Valla along, but he rationalized his abrupt departure by figuring she’d come after him if she wanted to. He’d spent a lot of time with her over the last few weeks, the last couple of days in particular. Hadn’t he had her wrapped in his arms through the dark, frigid night? “And not a word from her when we parted.” Was he being unfair? Maybe, but so was she, in his mind. More brooding was forestalled as soldiers called out greetings, snapping smart salutes, pride in their leader evident on their faces. Victor forced a cheerful expression and answered back with encouragement.
“Nice looking wall!” he said, inanely, to a pair of soldiers working to stack blocks from the innards of one of the massive supply wagons. They saluted, though, pleased with the praise. Earth Caster engineers would come along behind them and bond the stones more securely than concrete ever could. Despite his intention to make his way to the Shadeni section of the encampment, further up the stony pass, he caught sight of Sarl addressing his cohort near the western canyon wall and walked that way.
“. . . and that’s why we have much to prove, much to live up to! Each of you who joined this cohort after the battle on the plains has a debt to pay those soldiers who died, giving you a place in this fine fighting force. Further . . . Attention! Legate Primus!” Sarl turned and snapped an impeccable salute when he saw Victor step up next to him.
Victor had been practicing the traditional salute the army employed. It wasn’t very hard once you got the order of things—Step one: Stand up straight, make a fist, and hold it out before you. Step two: Lift your right foot. Step three: Stomp your foot next to your left and slam your fist into your chest above your heart. That was it; you just had to hold that position until the commanding officer released you or, if you were the commanding officer, for a second or two. He responded to Sarl’s salute with one of his own, then said, “At ease, everyone. I need to speak to Captain Sarl.”
“Dismissed!” Sarl watched his cohort disburse for a moment, then turned to Victor. “How are things, sir?”
“Victor. Call me Victor when we’re alone, please, Sarl.” When Sarl nodded, a small smile altering his usual dour expression, he continued, “Things look good. We’re going to build a base of operations here.”
“A sensible plan.”
Victor looked at Sarl closely, studying his shrewd eyes. The one-time Ghelli nobleman was a clever man with a strong will. He looked shabby next to a Ghelli like Lam, but he was a skilled fencer, and he’d been through hell in his life. Victor valued his opinion. “Any thoughts on the conquest quest the System handed out?”
“I think we’re in for a difficult time. The System thrives on conflict, in my experience, and I believe it’s clever enough to know how to challenge even you.”
“Yeah. I know there are plenty of people in the System’s worlds who can whip my ass. I just hope it remembers we’re on Fanwath and doesn’t throw something at us that’ll slaughter all these good people.” Victor gestured around the bustling camp. “Anyway, we’ll find out soon. I’m heading down there tomorrow, and I want the Ninth to come with.”
Sarl’s eyebrows arched up, and a savage grin spread on his face. Victor couldn’t help noticing how his dragonfly-like wings stiffened, vibrating ever-so-slightly. “That’s fantastic, Victor! You won’t regret it!”
“Good. Have your men lined up and ready to go at dawn.” By way of response, Sarl performed another sharp salute, and Victor nodded. “I’ve more people to speak to. See you later.” As he walked away, he heard Sarl shouting orders to his lieutenants and sergeants. Something stirred in his chest as he thought about Sarl, thinking that at least one person who’d been there at the very beginning, back when he’d been a skinny kid fighting in the Wagon Wheel, was still with him. An image flashed through his mind of a face he hadn’t pictured in a long while—Yrella. “God, I wish she was still alive.”
Victor rapidly blinked his eyes, banishing the thought as he lengthened his stride toward the Shadeni wagons. He didn’t have to struggle to find the people he sought; Chandri, Challa, and Deyni were standing outside, near the wagon he’d left behind with Thayla. To Victor's surprise and horror, Chandri was watching as Challa and Deyni performed spear drills. Deyni was still a foot shorter than Challa, but she was fierce and quick, her movements nearly as sharp as the vicious teenager’s. More startling than anything, she’d painted her face like her stepsisters.
Sharp angles of white and black paint did the job of making her look tougher than usual, but the accent of red around her lips and eyes made it all the worse. Could little Deyni be learning how to kill people already? No, Victor stopped that line of thought; she was learning to defend herself, and a damn good idea it was, too. “Hey,” he called, stepping up to the trio.
“Victor!” Deyni cried, dropping her practice spear and running to wrap her arms around his waist. Victor peeled her off, then hoisted her up, hugging her into his chest and kissing the top of her head.
“You little huntress! You’re learning to stab pigs?”
“Not pigs! Imperials!” she growled, baring her teeth.
“Oh, man.” Victor supposed there was no helping it; the Empire had made their bed, and now they had to sleep in it. Deyni had lost friends to their assault, people she’d grown to think of as family. It would take time for them to stop thinking about the Empire or characterizing them as villains. “We’ve punished those responsible. Don’t carry too much hate in your heart; it gives power to things like fear, and you don’t want fear to grow in your Core.”
“You have fear in your Core!”
“I do, and I struggle with it all the time. I much prefer my inspiration and glory. Let’s try to find something like that in your spirit, all right?”
“Will you still love me if I have something else?”
“Of course, silly.” Victor had been holding her against his side, on his hip, and he squeezed her close again. “Love’s the best, I think. I bet you have love in your spirit.”
“How do you know? Do you have love, too?”
“Maybe. I just haven’t found it yet. When I first came here, all I had was rage, you know.”
“I know. Old Mother taught me about it before she walked away with the spirits.”
Victor continued to squeeze her as he watched the two sisters standing nearby, Chandri smiling knowingly at him and Challa leaning on her spear, looking bored. “Can I count on you three to help build our base here? We’ll need clever ideas to make a place that feels like home to people used to living on the plains.”
“We’re settling here?” Challa asked, disgust in her voice. “I thought we’d settle the plains and forests!”
“No, hermanita, we’re just making a base here, but it might be some time before we think it’s safe for people who aren’t in the army to go further down into the Marches.”
“You can count on me, Victor.” Deyni reached one of her tiny hands toward his face, gently rubbing her fingertips along the rough stubble on his jawline. “Pokey,” she giggled.
“All right, all right.” Victor set her down and asked, “Where’s your mama?”
“I want to join the legion!” Challa said, finally formulating a response.
“Uh.” Victor frowned and looked at her. The truth was, she was probably the same age as many of the soldiers who’d joined back near Persi Gables. “You need to talk to Tellen about that. Even if you do, though, you’ll start working here, near the base.”
“Uh, uh, Challa,” Chandri stepped in. “You’ll be a huntress like me, and you’ll help that way—with scouting and gathering food. You’re not ready yet, though.”
“I’m better at stealth than you are!”
“There’s more to it than being sneaky, little shadow-Core! You need to have the will and discipline to make smart decisions.”
“I can . . .”
“Hey, ladies,” Victor interrupted. “I don’t want to get in the middle of this. Can you point me toward Thayla?”
“She’s in the wagon . . .” Deyni pointed to the nearby conveyance.
“Of course you don’t.” Chandri folded her arms, scowling, then turned on her heel and started to walk away.
Victor looked at Challa, met her stormy eyes, and asked, “What’s up with her?”
“I don’t know. She’s moody. Come on, Deyni! Let’s get Wista and hunt some cliff bats.”
“How’s your adristii?” Victor smiled and squatted down to better look at Deyni’s face. The adristii was her falcon-like pet, a raptor she’d used to hunt small game all the way from Persi Gables.
“She’s good, Victor! I’m getting better and better at calling her and telling her what I want her to do.”
“That’s because animals can sense your good heart.” Victor smiled again, reached out, and gave her little arm a squeeze.
“Will you come say hi to Wista?”
“Not right now, but yes, I will.”
Deyni turned and ran to Challa, holding out her hand, and as they ran off, she called, “Just tell me when!”
Victor watched the two girls run around the side of the wagon, amazed at how quickly he’d been dismissed. Then he turned toward where Chandri had gone, seeing no trace of her; she’d slipped away between wagons, lost in the crowd of other Shadeni performing camp tasks. “Maybe Thayla knows what her deal is.” With that in mind, he walked around to the other side of the wagon and knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the latch clicked, and Thayla pushed it open.
“Victor! I’m glad to see you; Tellen and I were just talking, wondering how long we’d camp here.”
“Yeah, I . . .”
“Come in! We’re having soup, and I know you like this recipe.” She backed away from the door, and Victor followed, ducking low to get through the opening but standing up straight as he stepped into the vaulted interior. The place was much smaller than he remembered it but a great deal “homier,” too. Woven tapestries hung on the walls, and more furniture filled the space, including several smaller beds along the wall with the two original, larger beds. Wooden, folding screens separated the bed in the far corner of the room, and Victor figured that was where Tellen and Thayla slept. He got a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach thinking about that.
When he’d purchased the wagon, he’d never imagined Thayla having a family here, including a husband. He knew the feeling was stupid, the thought was selfish, but he couldn’t help the emotion. Still, he swallowed it and brought forth a smile, turning to the long picnic-style table and saying, “Hey, Tellen. Man, that soup smells good! I’ve missed the meals I had with your people last winter.”
“Come on, then. Sit down. Tell us what’s happening with the army and what we’ll do about those invaders and that strange green light in the sky.” Tellen slapped the bench next to him, and Victor walked that way, watching Thayla as she got a bowl off the shelf and began to ladle out some of the steaming soup from her big, well-used copper pot. Another powerful wave of emotion hit him, this time nostalgia. He remembered meals shared with her on the road, in various inns, and in this very wagon. Wouldn’t it have been nice just to stay with her? Why was he so intent on fighting, exploring, and adventuring?
“That’s just my hunger talking,” he muttered, laughing at himself. He winked at Tellen’s puzzled expression and sat beside the much smaller man. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks, Thayla. I hope there’s plenty!”
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