After the lesson, Frances made the long walk to the temporary headquarters of the new settlement in Athelda-Aoun and stayed there for the rest of the day.
She’d always suspected setting up a new town would be complex, but the sheer scale of things to do still took her aback.
Everybody didn’t just need new houses, the garrison from Kwent that had arrived the day before needed accommodations that needed to be cleared. Everybody needed food, so a fishing operation had to be started on the lakeside, and the elevator to the fields above had to be repaired. Basic furniture had to be built, running water had to be arranged, and a rudimentary hospital had to be set up.
Space was aplenty, but most of the houses were dilapidated. The temporary headquarters that they were using was only marginally better.
Timur had told her that the blocky three-story building they were in was probably a merchant house, which goblins had used to exchange goods and make backroom deals. It was an interesting tidbit that Frances would have like to learn about more, if she wasn’t so annoyed with her current task.
“So Venne and Joa are by…damn it, we really need some street signs.” Frances muttered as she marked down a rough location on the map they’d drawn of the city. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to let everybody scatter and find their own homes.”
“Well, we are all on the northern bank, so we’re relatively close together,” said Timur. “And besides, it’s just where we’re putting our personal effects and sleeping. Those on guard duty still have to be close to the main square.”
“But we don’t really have enough people to protect everybody in an emergency. At least not at the moment.” Frances pursed her lips and took out her hand mirror and put it on the table. “Are the Kwent garrison listening to you by the way? I’m thinking about tasking asking mom if she can spare a few mages.”
Timur nodded. “Surprisingly, yes. I think it’s because of you though. Commander Gratha told me that you saved her husband’s life at Westfall Pass. She said that you wouldn’t have remembered. He was one of the soldiers that you dug out in the roadway collapse?”
“Oh! Well I’m glad they’re well,” said Frances, smiling to herself. She went down her list and spotted a name. “Why does Hattie have her own place?”
“Your student? Oh, well, I was asking her and she said she wanted her own space and that she’s nearly fifteen anyway. She’s the oldest of the orphans after all,” said Timur.
“Okay, but what does she mean by “under the bridge by mine entrance?”” Frances muttered.
Timur from where he was sitting, looked over to Frances’s list, eyes narrowed. “Oh! There was an old copper mine in Athelda-aoun. It was vital to the city so they built a canal that carried water to the mine so barges could be punted in to carry the mineral. Some bridges spanned them, some of them quite large.”
“But she’s living under it,” said Frances, frowning.
Timur opened his mouth and closed it, frowning. “Ah, right. You should check on her.”
Frances nodded and arranged her papers neatly. “I think I should also bring her something. If she doesn’t want to leave, she might need some things to help make her more comfortable.”
“Frances, don’t try too hard, okay?” Timur winced and put his pencil down. “I know you want to make up for what happened, Frances, but not all of it is your fault.”
Was she being too worried for Hattie? Frances wasn’t sure, but…
“I know, but I still need to try.” Getting up, Frances pulled on her mage robes. She’d foregone her helmet but since the city wasn’t fully garrisoned yet and much hadn’t been explored, she thought some protective gear was necessary. “By the way, Timur, have you checked out the newly built fortifications?”
“No I haven’t. Thanks for reminding me. I’ll do it after I finish this” He pulled on his jacket and leaned in. Frances kissed him quickly on the lips. “See you later.”
“See you,” said Frances, smiling. Making sure Ivy’s Sting was at her waist, she left Timur to his own paperwork.
Just a moment later, Timur got up to stretch when a shiny silver object caught his eye. Chuckling to himself, the trogre pocketed Frances’s hand mirror. He was going to see her tonight after all.
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Martin and Ginger peered through their separate spyglasses. Pulling the device from his eye, the knight growled, “We aren’t going to be able to attack them after all, aren’t we?”
Ginger shook her head, even as she continued to examine the camp. “Nope. We need to order a withdrawal, back to Leipmont.”
For the camp that Earl Darius had constructed basically blocked the road completely. To call it a camp was perhaps a misnomer, it was a fortress. Double-walls of palisades on rammed earth ditches created a barrier that spanned from the edge of a sheer slope into the adjoining woods. The defenses then circled around the entire army and a sea of tents within creating what was more like a small town than a camp.
There was a deep sigh from behind the couple. “I told you it’s too well fortified for an attack,” Jessica muttered. “After we blew up the black powder, they constructed well, this.”
“We needed to see for ourselves, though, I don’t get it. This looks more like a winter camp,” said Martin. He pointed into the dimming light. “Look, they’re building lodgings, wooden ones and drilling wells.”
Jessica frowned. “This is an odd place to set up a winter camp. I mean, they’re practically on the edge of that drop.”
“Not so strange when you think about it. They’re blocking the only road from Leipmont to Lehrbeck, cutting the shortest route from us to Earl Forowena. We could push them off, but it’s getting real cold,” said Ginger. She adjusted the scarf she wore. It’d already snowed lightly today. “So they’re not going to pursue us, that’s a relief.”
Elizabeth, who’d been quietly watching the proceedings, asked, “So… where do we go?”
“Athelda-Aoun I think. Plenty of space and that’s where Frances is. Plus, we can finally get our Alavari kids some more playmates,” said Ginger.
“Agreed. Elizabeth, can you get the Lightning Battalion moving?” Martin asked.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Martin, you have another plan don’t you?”
The knight grinned. “There’s just one last thing I want to try.” Martin turned to Jessica as Ginger arched an eyebrow. “Jessica, how good are you at levitation?”
The former bully frowned. “Why do you ask?”
Martin pointed at the edge of the drop and where the defenses ended. Ginger’s eyes widened.
“Oh no. No you don’t. I’m not getting involved in this!”
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“I hate you sometimes,” Ginger hissed.
Martin glanced back over his shoulder to see his love glowering up at him, holding onto the rope she was attached to for dear life. “Come on, if this works, it’ll be fantastic. Also be quiet.”
Ginger grumbled under her breath as she continued pull herself slowly up the mountainside, using snow-covered rocky handholds and the rope Jessica and their climbing partner Noff had attached to the top of the slope for safety.
They weren’t going to need to climb too far. The slope was quite heavily forested with scraggly trees and brush that did wonders to obscure them from sentries. It would be impossible for any attacker to launch an assault up this terrain.
Three individuals, however, could summit this, much as Ginger hated to admit it. And in the dead of night, their approach covered by foliage, nobody could tell.
The small group of infiltrators were back on level ground, right behind one of the newly constructed houses. They didn’t even need to knock out any sentries. They’d come up in the middle of the camp and were far away from the defenses. Oh there would definitely be sentries deeper into the camp, but right now they were unnoticed.
“Call me if you need a distraction,” whispered Jessica.
“We’ll be good,” said Ginger, winking.
Columbae, a blonde woman with a cheerful smile, popped up beside Jessica. “Earl Darius’s tent is red and gold. You can’t miss it.”
Noff, a short, plump-ish man with a mischievous grin, stopped back down the slope “And if you need to disappear, start a fire. It’ll cause chaos.”
“We’ll remember that. Thanks for the Crownfire by the way, Jessica. See you in a bit,” said Martin.
The three waved them off and ducked back over the slope, allowing Martin and Ginger, dressed in typical soldiers’ brigandine, to slip into the camp.
There they made a beeline for Earl Darius’s tent.
“How close do you think we can get?” Ginger asked.
“Hopefully close enough to find out anything about his strategy or plans after winter,” said Martin in a quiet voice.
The pair started into the camp, walking slowly at first, eyes watching for if anybody recognized them. They doubted it as aside from perhaps Earl Darius, they haven’t had much interaction with the people in the Traditionalist army.
Gradually they snaked their way through the maze of tents and sentries. Whether by surprise or sheer audacity, nobody stopped them.
It was only as they drew closer to Earl Darius’s tent, which was indeed of red and gold silk, did the couple see an obstacle. The earl might not have expected someone to scale the slope, but his tent had two sentries guarding the entrance. Both looked quite cold and miserable, but they were armed with musket and spear respectively.
As Martin pondered on how to get rid of the sentries, Ginger tapped on his shoulder.
“Follow my lead,” she mouthed. Giving herself a once over, she strode toward the sentries. Martin’s eyes widened, but he followed his fiancee.
“Hello! We’re your relief for the night,” said Ginger.
The spear armed sentry audibly sighed with relief and started forward, but the musket-armed one grabbed his fellow’s shoulder.
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“Hold on, we’re nowhere near shift change,” he said.
“Yon, who cares. We’re freezing our feet out here and it’s not like we change shifts on time!” hissed the other guard.
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen you two before. Which division are you from?” demanded the guard.
Ginger sighed. “Honestly, we’re with the conscripted troops from the capital. Haven’t been assigned a division yet.” She gave Martin a forlorn look. “It’s a good thing that my husband and I managed to get together.”
“A good thing?” asked the spear-armed guard. “Wouldn’t it be horrible to be in the war together?”
“Better than being separated,” said Martin.
Ginger nodded and winced. “Sentry duty…it’s the only way Max and I can spend any time together. So we came early and um, we may have not told the captain. Sorry.”
The musket-wielding guard winced. “No, don’t worry about it. Thanks and have a good night.”
Martin and Ginger waved the two guards off, smiling as they did so. The moment the pair were out of earshot, the couple stepped up as close to the pavilion’s entrance as they dared. Practically pressing their ears to the entrance, they could hear Earl Darius speaking to someone.
“So, the Alavari have caught the Stormcaller and her prince?” hissed Darius.
Martin and Ginger froze. They didn’t hear the reply. It didn’t sound like Darius was talking to someone in the tent. Rather the voice seemed to come as at a much greater distance.
“He has to be talking to someone through a mirror,” whispered Ginger.
Martin frowned. “But we just talked to Frances. They were fine, so what does he—”
“Kallistos? Hmm, I’m assuming the Alavari found them then.”
More voices and Earl Darius listened in silence.
Until he grumbled. “Are you certain of their chances? Who leads the attacking force and how many do they have?”
Whoever it was in the mirror replied and Earl Darius chuckled. “If it’s him and his forces, then the Stormcaller and her lover are as good as dead. When is the attack?”
“Tonight? Truly? Excellent. Stay low for awhile. You’ve done an amazing job.” The chair creaked as Earl Darius got up and stretched.
As he did so, Martin and Ginger had on unspoken agreement, left the tent, and started to run for the cliff’s edge. Their hands clenched around their communication devices.
Above them, the afternoon sun continued to set. White, wintery light shone bleakly across the camp.
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As she followed the canal, lugging a basket of clothing, and some other amenities a young girl might need, Frances passed a few bridges on her way to the city’s edge, but none of them showed any sign of habitation. They were all too short and low to the water.
The final one was different. As Frances followed the road, she realised the mine entrance was set high in the wall of the cavern that held Athelda-Aoun. Thus, the road turned up onto the bridge and continued to rise to the mine entrance.
This meant the bridge itself rose at an angle, carried up by several wide arches. Underneath these arches, Frances could see that a sort of apartment complex had been constructed under the bridge using the arches as cover.
Hattie’s apartment, the highest one in the complex, was easy to pick out. It was the one that had a set of clothing hanging out to dry on the windowsills to her home. To reach it, Frances had to walk up the bridge and walk across a narrow walkway. Hattie had tied some ropes to create a sort of rail, which she strung to the front door, but Frances made a note to ask a carpenter to take a look at this.
The house didn’t have a door, but Frances, not wanting to intrude, took a deep breath to call out Hattie’s name.
“Did you manage to poison the Stormcaller’s food yet?”
Frances’s words caught in her throat. She was about to rush in when:
“Not yet. She’s…she eats dinner with Timur. If I just ask to come, it’d be strange.”
Frances staggered, pressing one hand to her mouth. That was Hattie, and she…Honestly, why should she be surprised? She’d killed Hattie’s father and caused all the horrible things that had happened to the young half-troll, least of all, the death of her mother.
“I understand dear, but time is running out. If more of the Stormcaller’s friends arrive, like Ayax Blackgale, it’ll be harder to kill her.”
She whipped Ivy’s Sting out and advanced, stepping softly into the house. It was still very dusty, but an attempt had been made to tidy up. Her mind racing, Frances turned across the corner and came into the main living area.
There was a bedroll there and it wasn’t Hattie’s. It was far too large, and Frances felt her stomach turn. Stepping past the crackling fireplace, and the remnants of dinner, Frances made for the stairway.
“Tamas, you told me that General Helias won’t harm the half-Alavari, right?”
“Yeah, he has no quarrel with them. I mean, I’m half-troll myself.”
“Then why did he chase us halfway across Alavaria? Why didn’t he just tell us what you’re telling me?”
“Child, you have to trust me. We were trying to rescue you from the Stormcaller and the traitor Timur’s lies. You can’t trust what Goldilora told you about King Thorgoth. She’s the prince’s mother after all!”
Frances could see two pairs of feet now from where she stood on the stairs. Hattie’s adolescent-sized shoes, worn and rough from walking and running, and a pair of heavy leather boots. A scabbarded sword tapped the ground next to the boots.
“I…I know. It’s just. Frances is nice.”
“Frances?”
“The Stormcaller. I…she killed my father, she basically killed my mother. I hate her—”
“So kill her. Take your revenge. Take back what she stole from you. Let her get a taste of what you suffered in the city, the shame and the frustration. Kill her and you will be fixed. All that pain and humiliation, it will go away. You won’t be useless any longer.”
Frances, barely breathing, biting back her raging emotions, focused on the spells she was going to use, fixing the image clear in her head.
“I…I know. I…but…”
“But what? She’s responsible for what happened. She killed your parents! Don’t you want to avenge them? Don’t you want to avenge yourself? Why are you so afraid?”
“I’m not!”
“Then what is stopping you? What is making you question yourself? Come on, tell me, Hattie. Why aren’t you trying harder?”
Silence, Frances could have moved, but she was frozen.
“Why is Frances trying to help me?”
“What?”
“Why is she trying to help me? If she was so evil, then why…why is she trying to help me get stronger?”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I don’t know! I just know she’s not like anybody I’ve met! She doesn’t treat me like some useless w—girl. I think she does care about me.”
A slap echoed through the room. “Then you’re a fool!”
Frances leapt down the stairs.
Hattie was on the ground, facing her, clutching at her cheek with both hands. Her eyes widened as Frances took in her opponent in an instant. He was a tall half-troll, sword at his side, a mane of white hair flowing off his head. His black eyes narrowed, but before he could act, Frances had slashed her wand, screaming a note.
The half-troll was flung backward as three bands magic wrapped around his upper arms, wrists and legs, and pinned him against the wall. To Frances’s confusion, as the last magical band wrapped around his feet, the boots disappeared to be replaced with hooves.
The half-troll grabbed his sword and howled a Word of Power. Frances winced, but didn’t stop casting as her restraints shattered. With her diamond ring as a focus, she hit Tamas with a hurricane of wind that threw him against the far window. As the tauroll tried to hang onto the window frame with all his might, Frances used Ivy’s Sting to create a fireball that she threw at her opponent.
The tauroll grimaced and let go, flying out of the window. Frances, blinking, stared out and grimaced as Helias, sword in hand, cried out a spell that slowed his descent to the ground. Pulling her head back, Frances found Hattie, lying on the floor, still holding onto her cheek.
Kneeling by the girl, Frances said, “Let me see that.” She peeled shivering fingers from the half-troll’s face and sang a quick spell to numb the bruise forming on Hattie’s cheek. “Hattie, you need to follow exactly what I say.”
“He lied. He…he said he was half-human like I was.” Hattie blinked and looked at Frances, her dark blue eyes filling with tears. “He didn’t mean any of it did he? He was going to kill me after I killed you, wasn’t he? Nothing… nothing would have changed?”
Biting back the fury the broken girl in front of her invoked, Frances shook her head. “No. He didn’t.”
Hattie’s shoulders sagged. “What have I done? I…I’m so sorry, Frances I—”
“Hattie, I forgive you.” As Hattie blinked, Frances forced a smile. “But right now, you need to do exactly what I tell you to do. Do you have your wand?”
Hattie pulled out her wand. “Good. Follow me and remember your shield spells. I’ll protect you.” Frances grabbed onto Hattie’s hand and they tore up the stairs, out of the house and onto the bridge.
Helias stalked up the bridge, sword at the ready, his black eyes narrowed with fury.
“I’m beginning to understand why his majesty finds you so annoying Stormcaller.”
Frances could feel Ivy thrumming with the same white hot righteous fury that ran in her own veins. A rage that stemmed from the shaking hand that held onto her own.
“Enough talk. I’m going to make you pay for hurting Hattie.”
“Worthless half-human trash—”
Stones whipped up from the bridge, smashing into Helias’s jaw. Immediately, Frances threw up a shield that blocked Helias’s counter, a beam of red magic that erupted from his sword. The beam continued to sear against her shield of light-blue, hissing and burning at her shield, but she held it. The moment Helias’s magic relented, Frances immediately fired a bolt of lightning.
The sound boomed, echoing through the air but Helias managed to get a shield up. To Frances’s surprise, her lightning bolt smacked into his shield and was reflected, albeit a slower version of the original spell. Frances had to yank Hattie out of her way to dodge it.
Before she could take completely recover, he leaped forward, cutting down with his blade, an arching slash of magic appearing out of nowhere and scything down.
Frances let go of Hattie, pushing her out of the way and brought her ring hand up. She used the ring to create a brilliant white shield that shattered Helias’s magical blade. With Ivy’s help, Frances screamed and a massive fireball rolled toward the tauroll.
The general managed to dodge out of the way, but not entirely, the fireball exploded with a roar, throwing the general backwards and down the bridge. He managed to stagger to his feet, burned, eyes narrowed.
Frances raised her wand ready to deal the killing blow. Helias glared defiantly back, but his expression was giving way to wide-eyed worry, and now, his jaw was dropping.
Only, he wasn’t looking at Frances.
Something was approaching. Something with very heavy steps, and a very deep breath.
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Timur had just about left the headquarters building and entered Sanctuary Square, when Frances’s mirror started to vibrate. His long fingers reaching into his pocket, the trogre opened the mirror, but saw nobody’s image.
Instead frantic voices screamed out.
“Frances! Pick up!”
“Martin? It’s Timur. What’s going on?” the prince asked, his brow furrowing.
“You’re going to be under attack tonight by a large force! Raise the alarm and get everybody to arms now!” Ginger screamed.
“What how—”
“We sneaked into Earl Darius’s camp and overhead him talking to one of his Alavari spies. Now get your ass moving! Hurry!”
Timur shook his head and broke into a run. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he saw Dwynalina and Anriel going for a walk.
“Raise the alarm! We’re going to be under attack! Don’t ask how I know, just do it!”
The two women nodded and ran for their house to get their gear, snapping out orders. Timur continued to charge down the street searching for Aloudin, bellowing for everybody to gather in the square and get their weapons. They’d run through a basic drill, but it was nowhere near thorough enough. Panic was ensuing throughout as militia, soldiers from the human garrison, and the few Alavari soldiers they had ran for the gate.
A fully-clad Aloudin met him at the gate, Olgakaren and Epomonia hot on his heels. They were followed by Anriel and Dwynalina.
“How many are attacking us?”
“We couldn’t catch it, but the Lightning Battalion is force-marching to Athelda-Aoun. We’ll likely take about a week, though!” snapped Martin through the communication device.
“We can hold out for a week right?” Timur asked.
Aloudin grimaced, and opened his mouth to reply, when a tall brunette woman with a musket on her shoulder shouted from the parapet.
“Your Highness! Enemy to our front! It doesn’t look good!”
Timur raced up the stairs and his eyes widened.
It wasn’t an army. Timur could only see about four hundred or so soldiers digging trenches. What was far more concerning was the three cannons they were rolling up. Cannons that were far larger than the one mounted on their wall.
“Gratha get that cannon firing. Civilians start piling rubble behind that gate. Mages to the walls—”
Something flashed in the corner of Timur’s eye, followed by a soft boom. He recognized that sound instantly.
“Frances! Oh shit. Anriel, Dwynalina—”
“We’re on it, Your Highness!” Dwynalina snapped.
Timur sighed in relief before a thought occurred to him. Before the two women ran off, he grabbed Dwynalina’s shoulder. “Wait! Don’t go yet. We don’t know if that’s the main attack.”
Anriel frowned. “If there is fighting over there—”
“We can’t hold the walls without you. Those cannons can smash our gate down in no time!” Timur exclaimed.
“But what if they’re behind us already?” Epomonia asked.
Aloudin shook his head. “I doubt it got the entrances in the city mostly locked down or blocked. I can’t imagine a large group sneaking past the main gate.”
Timur looked back at the banners of the enemy soldiers, noting the four-fingered white hand holding the sword. “Those are Helias’s troops. They must have pursued us here. They can’t have more than that, but we got what a hundred soldiers? We can’t hold without you two here.”
“But you’ll leave Frances alone,” stammered Epomonia.
The prince knew that. His teeth was grinding together as Epomonia voiced the thought that had occurred to him the moment he’d stopped Anriel and Dwynalina.
“I have to trust her to hold on until we figure out what we’re facing. But…I think I can send her some help. Olgakaren can you go and find out what exactly Frances is fighting? Take some harpies with you,” said Timur.
“Got it. You two, follow me!” Olgakaren snapped to two nearby harpies. She leapt off the wall and soared into the air, more harpies forming up on her.
“Gratha, get the cannons firing please. Anriel, Dwynalina, Aloudin, got any suggestions?” Timur asked.
Aloudin narrowed his eyes at the enemy troops. “Well, we can—”
He was deafened by a roar from behind them. It echoed throughout the city. A bestial wail that made everybody freeze, even if most had no idea what could have possibly made such a guttural, monstrous sound
Anriel and Dwynalina, though, looked like they’d been shot. Their eyes were wide and the color had drained from both of the half-goblins faces.
“That…that’s a dragon.”