Chapter 190: Fort in the Woods

Book 4, Chapter 31 - Fort in the Woods

Viper considered it strange that the Umbra, a world seemingly unattached to the material world above, would reflect the temperatures of the real world. The already cool Umbra was all the more frigid here in northern Xenaria. That meant there was a much tighter limit between how often he could freely move in and out of the shadows.

The sound of soft steps stalked Viper through the eerily quiet woodlands. The princess' scouts were surprisingly adept at moving quickly, wearing hides covered in dirt and branches to shroud themselves. If there was one advantage they shared over Viper, it was that their line of sight stretched horizontally as would be normal for Viper if he were in the material world. In the Umbra, he could only watch from a decline, and with so many trees in his path, his vision was poor compared to the swift scouts unknowingly following him.

The occasional howls of a distant wolf carried down the uneven slopes in the land. An oddity for creatures more active in the nights. Each one gave the scouts pause. Viper carried on, moving swiftly through the shadows of the dense treeline, covering much more ground than a normal human could. It was nearing noon when he encountered a clearing close to the mountain base —a clearing of tree stumps. People had been here.

The sky remained clear, the sun beating down on the open ground. Viper skirted around the clearing using the Umbra. The scouts did the same if only to remain hidden. Not long after came the corpses.

At the edge of the Äld, a beaten down fortress had been erected. Its walls were of pine logs buried into the ground, scant few watchers standing guard. Dozens of corpses rotted in the space before the makeshift fort. Corpses of men, wolves, and giant rat creatures alike. Not far from the fort there lay a narrow pass leading into the Äld. A line of men in fur cloaks bearing axes and broad blades descended down that path from what Viper could tell. An endless line, stretching unto a horizon. That was about all Viper need see. No one came down the mountains in such numbers while armed without intending to fight. Do they know we've come for them?

But then, what of the worn fort with bloodstains along its walls? What of the corpses? A battle had taken place here, one between men and Darkspawn creatures. But there were significantly more men than there were otherworldly creatures. Surely the monsters could not be that capable in combat.

Viper turned to retreat when an arrow whistled through the air and stuck a tree stump two meters next to him. In the material world above, one of Elizia's scouts had been standing not several feet from Viper's side —and they'd just been found out.

Incoherent shouts of alarm rung through the woodlands. Several men hiding among the corpses stood up and ran down the decline towards the scouts —who'd now abandoned their camouflage and turned to flee.

They would not get far. There were more Virk warriors hidden among trees and small shrubs that they'd not seen. Viper made a decision. He appeared from the Umbra and began hunting down the unsuspecting Virk giving chase to prey. More incoherent shouts echoed as the Virk warriors paused, watching their numbers get picked off at random. Chaos ensued among their party, allowing the scouts to maintain a solid lead as they fled toward the west.

Viper disappeared into the Umbra, unsure of how many eyes had seen him just then. The world of shadows had grown significantly colder with the sacrifice of his body heat. He spared a second to catch his breath before running westward to report back to Aaron.

***

“The Virk people are made of several different tribes,” Aaron said upon hearing Viper's report. He stared at the dark passage leading into the mines. Distant clinks and clanks of hammers and picks echoed down the shadows. “It could be possible that we've come upon an intertribal war, with Darkspawn creatures involved, taking advantage of the chaos.”

“That would explain the worn look of the fort,” Viper said. “What now?”

Aaron faced the decline. Rask and Ophelia were making their way up toward Lady Serene's command tent for a meeting. Her own scouts had just returned, all of them drained of breath and color after a long run. The situation Viper described suggested there was a losing side hiding within a battered fort. Potential refugees. Potential allies to recruit to my side. Powerful allies if some among the Virk still possessed the stone skin trait.

All of it meant more potential soldiers for his growing army. North Xenaria's bountiful lands made feeding them not of concern. This was a unique situation if what he thought turned out to be true. “For now I attend this meeting,” Aaron said.

Two of House Serene's soldiers situated outside of the command tent eyed Ophelia's personal guards warily as they lounged on a flat topped boulder not far from. What were their names , Aaron thought. Cassian and Slug? One had the textbook scars and unkempt beard that street grown men were too oft associated with. The other had hard eyes, but with a cleaner face.

“The Saintess will be safe with us, my lord,” Slug casually said as Aaron approached.

Aaron paused to examine the two further. Cassian had on a halfway decent maroon coat with a thin dueling blade at his side. “You two plan to fight barbarians and monsters with your bare fists and a threading needle?” he asked. Slug had been strangely reverent of Ophelia, but Cassian was more reserved. Aaron didn’t like the subtle smirk he wore.

“Of course not,” Slug sputtered. “If I could have a weapon…”

Aaron waved him off. “Go ask around. Someone below is bound to have a spear or blade to lend.” Aaron waited for the portly, but tall man to descend down the decline. “And you?” he then asked, turning to Cassian. “What is it you've come to Red Vine for? You look like the type to scam others, not the kind that gets scammed.”

Cassian grinned. The lines of age on his face stretched. “I knew I smelled something familiar when I saw you. You stink of the same piss and dung of the streets I grew up in. And they address you a lord.”

Aaron shrugged. “Bastard to a lord. Born to a whore, orphan on the streets, I'm sure you know the rest.”

Cassian snorted. “So our Saintess' little miracle at Heira was a grand scam after all, eh? Can't quite figure what you're gaining out of it though.”

“You don't need to,” Aaron said, laying a hand on Butter Knife. “What are you here for? I won't ask a third time.”

“Money. And a thrill of course. Scamming city nobles gets boring after some decades of doing it. And the city is on the verge of collapse with so many agitated refugees. Won't take long 'fore riots and fires break out.”

“That doesn't answer the implied portion of my question,” Aaron said, drawing the sword an inch from its sheath. Power coursed through his arm.

Cassian threw up his hands. “I smelled a scheme with what your Saintess pulled in Heira. I figured whoever did that would be more interesting to be around than the droll company I usually mingle with.”

“And you didn't figure that perhaps the Trillians set up the whole thing to fool the refugees?”

“Oh I figured that much,” Cassian said. “But that tripsy girl bending for their every whims? Didn't believe that for a second. So I followed her. Imagine my surprise finding a ruthless bastard being her master.”

Ruthless bastard… Aaron wondered just what rumors this man had heard of him, and what kind of conclusions he'd drawn from them. “I've heard tell of you. You're called a thief lord. I'd hear of your specific skillset when next we have a moment.” Aaron turned away and headed to Elizia's tent.

“I knew you were interesting,” Cassian called after him.

Aaron entered the tent. The princess had her arms folded, and was giving off a flat stare. “Do you make a habit of always being late when pertaining to matters of import?”

“Only if it involves irritating you,” Aaron replied.

Rask and the lieutenant Faren both raised their brows.

“What news have we?” Aaron asked, joining the small circle around a table bearing a flat overhead map of the Spinewood. A topographical map would be really useful now. If only Eksa had come with me .

“Hundreds of Virk have been seen coming down a narrow pass through the mountains,” Elizia said. She pointed to a spot on the map. “They've their own fortress around here, some three or four miles from our position it seems. Dead bodies of giant rats were also found. My scouts were discovered and got no closer.”

“Hundreds,” Rask mused, scratching at his scruff. “If they've attacked us once, I find it hard to believe they haven’t attacked again.”

“Ratmen might have kept them occupied,” Aaron said, leaving out his thoughts on their possibly being two conflicting factions of the Virk tribes present. “Or perhaps they had not come in number. Trillia's blessing shines on us this day if we've discovered them amassing the same day we've come prepared to face them.”

Ophelia shifted at those words. She seemed a child among the rest. Everyone present was several inches taller than her.

“So do we attack, or fortify our position?” Faren asked.

“Attack,” Aaron said. “Red Vine remains undefended if the ratmen decide to come at us in number. The Virk are battle worn as suggested by the numerous corpses and the state of their fort. And their newcomers have to be worn from the march through the treacherous Äld.”

“I never said their fort was worn down,” Elizia said.

“I assumed as much given the corpses found before them,” Aaron quickly replied.

The princess narrowed her eyes. “That doesn't change that they have a fort. We can't approach it haphazardly. But the scouts said it was small…”

“Then I'd agree that we attack,” said Rask. There was an air of discomfort on his weathered face. “If the fort is too small for the hundreds that've come, they'll likely work to expand and repair its walls, if it indeed is damaged. I can… lead the van, my lady.”

“I thought you'd left war behind,” Elizia said.

“I thought I did too,” Rask lamented. He raised the wolf helm he had in one hand, looking at its face. The polished metal shone with a dull glint in the shaded space of the tent. “Seems there's no end of people needing saving in this world. Someone has to fight.”

Except the Virk haven't really provoked us since attacking that one miner , Aaron thought. He'd brought everyone into this. Lives would fall for his ambitions. For the ambitions of his ancestors.

“I am reluctant,” said Elizia. “My men are expert riders, lancers and archers. We're trained for all situations, but a melee in a dense woodland with the meager information that we have…”

“Rask and I will be enough to lead the front,” Aaron said. He nodded to the Wolf commander. Viper would be there as well, they both knew. And Aaron had Butter Knife.

“I admire the idea of your being on the front, High Lord,” Faren began, “but mere inspiration does not win fights. And, well, you've nothing in the way of armor, and with all due respect, our soldiers know nothing of your skill in battle.”

“I trust Commander Rask on the front,” Elizia added. “But you?” she said, wearing a more disgusted face than Aaron thought he'd earned. Elizia looked him up and down, degrading his worn clothes with her thinned lips and raised brows.

“Wonderful,” Aaron said. “I've no knowledge on your skill in combat or command either, so I guess that makes us even.”

“Lady Serene and her archers can cover us from afar,” Rask said. “I can attest to her skill. She's as good as her mother had been. But my lord, I'd advise you not be in the front. Losing you is a risk we can ill afford.”

There was much left unsaid there. Aaron met Elizia's eyes. “What's the harm?” he said slowly. “If I die, the princess gets her wish.”

All eyes turned to Elizia. Her lieutenant was the first to speak. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

Elizia looked down at her feet. “I've since changed my stance on that matter.”

Aaron pushed further for no particular reason than his own enjoyment. No memories or wiser personalities intruded to inhibit the rashness of his words here. “Well, that's too bad,” he said in mock. “You're almost making me think you'd mourn my passing.”

“I'd sooner piss on your corpse!” Elizia snapped. And she knew she'd gone too far with the sudden blush come over her, and the shocked expressions the older men in the room and the innocent Ophelia came to wear.

Aaron went lower, for he was feeling particularly childish at that exact moment. “Do make sure I'm actually dead, then, lest you show me something I wouldn't mind having be the last thing I see.”

Elizia's blush grew deeper, as did her glare grow more furious. Next to her, Ophelia had turned completely red faced.

“My lord!” Rask shouted. He slammed a fist into the table. “I beg your pardon for raising my voice but need I play the part of a parent to you both? This is meant to be a war council!”

“I… apologize,” Elizia said.

Aaron's brows furrowed. He suddenly wondered why he'd played along as the eery control of one who'd lived centuries slowly returned to him. “I apologize as well,” he said. Elizia had brought out the Aarondel hiding behind the identities of so many others of greater experience and wisdom than he truly had. “I'll still be on the van. I won't hear complaints on that, Rask. As for her highness' skill with the bow, I don't know her mother, but I've heard rumors. I should hope they weren't exaggerated.”

“Far from it,” said Faren. “I fought alongside the Lady Sar'tara years ago. Never did an arrow of hers fail to strike the exact target she sought.”

“Then Rask and I will be in good hands.”

“Um, where am I to be?” Ophelia asked in a low voice.

“You'll be in the rearmost lines, helping any wounded brought up,” Aaron said.

“Why? I can be closer,” Ophelia insisted. “I can prevent deaths if ever someone takes a fatal wound. I can—”

“Saintess, I have no one that can protect you.”

The girl frowned. “But you have…”

Viper. Aaron gave her a flat stare.

“I have my own guards—”

“—who are not real soldiers,” Aaron said. “That lack in experience can be devastating in a fight.”

“Am I the only one missing something here,” Elizia asked. “What help is your Saintess meant to provide?”

“She has the Gift of Healing,” Rask said. “I agree with Lord Caranel. You should not be anywhere near the fighting, Ophelia.”

“I can set a dozen men to her,” Elizia said. “A Healer in battle could shift the tides.”

Aaron glared at the princess. She was really adamant on wanting to preserve as many of her soldiers' lives as possible. Enough to risk a young girl's life who had no business being counted among combatants. “All it'd take is a stray arrow—”

“I can heal myself,” Ophelia said.

Flames, girl! You're useful enough as is. I don't need you risking your life too. Those were words Aaron could not say before so many people lest he were to shame her. She's too valuable in the plot to fell Heira … Aaron sighed. “So be it, then. I want two dozen on the Saintess, Princess. No less. I would have us march while the light favors us.”

“Two dozen it is,” Elizia agreed.

***

Valencia frowned at the stranger perusing through the goods in her store, never touching a single loaf or cake or cookie, yet examining each one for over a minute at a time. Man or woman , she wondered. A dusty cloak covered what appeared boyish white clothes, yet this person had long blonde hair of girlish fashion, with a tail at the end and bangs hanging at the front.

And that face…

The person finally turned to face her, smiling brightly. Man , Valencia decided. His clothes were a tight fit, revealing an enviable figure. Enough to bring color to her face. But his face, Ashes that face. No man has any right being that beautiful…

“Wonderful little shop,” the man said. He threw a mask into the air and caught it between two fingers.

“Thank you,” Valencia managed without stutter. The Valencia of ten years ago might have melted before this man. Her face still burned, though. “Will you be purchasing anything?”

The man delicately plucked a stale cookie from the display, along with a blueberry muffin on another shelf. “How much will these be?” he asked.

“A half copper,” Valencia said. Luckily she'd sent her assistants home early today. Flames knew how Yara and Cali might act if they met this man. “I've not seen you around here. Where are you from?”

“Wherever the wind blows,” came the answer, as a purse plopped down on the counter Valencia stood before. “I'm a performer you see. Singer, jester, storyteller, Jackrin does it all!”

The baker frowned. She opened the purse and fished out the appropriate coin before tugging the lace to close it again. “Then you've come late, I'm afraid. The Triluna festival was yesternight.”

“Truly?” Jackrin said. “What a shame!”

Valencia turned away. Even frowning, this man was gorgeous. Where on Illusterra did this one come from? “Perhaps you'll find patronage at the Drunken Fairy. Master Alvar seems busy these days,” Valencia said.

“Perhaps,” said the jester. “Or perhaps I'll find patronage performing for the local lord. This is Lord Caranel's territory, yes?”

“Yes. I'm not sure he's keen on hiring performers right now though.”

“Hmm. I stopped by the manse. He wasn't there. Any idea where I might find him,” Jackrin asked, ignoring the advice.

It was Valencia's turn to frown. “Up in the Spinewood likely. You'll not be wanting to go there. They've gone up there with an army to fight off some threat come down the mountain last I heard.”

Jackrin took a bite from his muffin. “Wonderful,” he commented. Then he turned to leave.

“Sir, your purse—” Valencia began.

But the jester merely waved his hand, holding up the smiling mask, a tune upon his lips as he stepped out the door.