“Well, that clinches it.” I muttered, looking through my scrying spell, watching the centaur camp.
During the night, I had discussed what steps we should take next with the others and, while Adra advised caution, they were all on board to attack the centaurs a second time, hoping that they hadn’t a second anti-magic crystal weapon. To achieve that, we had only rested as long as necessary, breaking camp while it was still dark and starting to move back towards their camp.
Once I thought we were in range to scry on the camp, I had done so but what I saw banished any ideas I had about attacking the camp a second time. It was teeming with centaurs, easily twice the number of the day before and most likely more than the camp actually could host, making me wonder how much they had emptied the camps further back. Not that it actually mattered, there would be no attack on that camp, not without some sort of miracle.
I continued to watch for a bit, letting my focus hop from one shadow to the other while Lenore left her Hallow, flying towards the camp, to gather more information. As I did, I noticed that another group of centaurs was moving towards the camp, bringing even more reinforcements. It was hard to see, but from what I was able to see, they looked different from the centaurs I had seen before. One part of their group looked very much like a team of guards, well equipped and slightly larger than the rest of the centaurs. They also had a pack of either very large dogs or wolves with them, easily the size of Ylva and with midnight black fur, making me wonder if there might be a connection between the black-furred wolves we had clashed with before and the centaurs. But merely on the colour of some canine’s fur, I wasn’t willing to make guesses.
The other part of the group was different, their equipment light but very ornate. While I was reasonably sure that it was functionable, it looked more ceremonial as strictly practical. They were also lacking visible weapons, making me start to form a theory what they were but, again, I wasn’t willing to guess, so I kept watching.
What they were quickly became obvious, only minutes after their arrival, some of them went around the camp, mostly into the area I had defiled with my blood-magic, and started to do something.
What exactly it was, I wasn’t sure but I could guess the general circumstances. They walked around, each of them carrying a strange contraption, reminding me of the incense-burners sometimes used in religious ceremonies, only that they were open and a flame was burning merrily in a bowl, suspended from chains on a long rod. But the true hint what they were doing came when, as they walked, a strange, almost white, flame sprung from the burner, landing on the ground and turning the area into a flaming inferno - without harming them in the slightest. Unless I was completely wrong, they were consecrating the area I had defiled, cleansing it of the lingering effects of my blood-magic.
So, no more Nethersprites to keep them busy.
I wanted to keep watching, but while that group of ponies played with fire, the another part of their group did something else. I only noticed it at the edge of my vision, the pyro-ponies had taken my attention, but as the fire started to seriously burn, I noticed that my vision of the camp had turned hazy and indistinct, making me realise that they were re-establishing their wards. As I was watching, my vision turned less and less acute, as if they were putting layer and layer of slightly smudged glass in front of me. It seemed a different way of warding compared to before, but from the distance, I was completely unable to get a good look at their actions, merely observing the results.
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“We should leave.” Lenore told me as she was gliding towards us.
“I agree. Would you tell me your reasoning?” I asked, curious why she sounded so urgent.
“You noticed the newcomers? Their guards looked like they were just reprovisioning before moving back out. I have no desire to fight a group of ten, maybe even twenty, centaurs that have crossed the first divide, not to mention the dogs they have with them.” Lenore explained as she landed on my shoulder, to head into her Hallow.
“True, that would be painful.” I agreed, dismissing my scrying spell as I stood.
“Let’s go. There’s nothing we can accomplish here.” I told the others, starting to walk away.
“What do you mean?” Adra asked. She was frowning but following behind.
“The centaurs, I anticipated them getting reinforcements and soon, that’s why I wanted to strike before that happened. But they surprised me, at a guess, I’d say that the other two camps we have observed have sent somewhere between a third and half of their manpower to this camp. And as Lenore and I were watching, they got even more reinforcements and we agree that those are most likely here to deal with us, or at least make sure that we don’t bring any more misfortune to their efforts.” I explained, reaching out with my Ice Magic to hide our tracks. I was rather surprised when Lenore, still sitting on my shoulder, started to use her wind-magic to scatter our scent.
“Their first actions in camp was to re-establish the ward and clean up the miasma I had left on their doorstep to attract Nethersprites to their camp. The rest of their group, according to Lenore, looked like they were just resting up for a bit, before going out again. Would you want to fight a group of Centaurs who crossed the first divide, complete with hunting dogs? I certainly would rather avoid that.” I continued. Adra’s response was a single, soft curse and muttered chanting, as she was casting the spell that helped us to avoid leaving a trace of our passing.
“So, what are we doing now?” Rai asked, sounding apprehensive.
“We get as far away from here as we can, without bothering the silly ponies until we are a lot further west. Sure, we could attack the camps we already know about but that would give the hunting party more information, which I’d rather avoid. We just don’t have to power to bring down an army.” I admitted, feeling a little sad about that fact. Part of me wanted to have the power to smite armies as I pleased. But to do that, I’d need a lot more power.
“I can agree to that.” Adra nodded.
“I do as well. We are quite strong, but there are only six of us. While I would love to present their carcasses to our friends in the den, we just don’t have the power.” Sigmir agreed, sounding rather down about it. I would have to come up with a good way to cheer her up when we stopped for the night. Maybe it would help me get rid of the strange taste walking away left in my mouth.
“Can they track us, like those Travellers did when they were hunting Sigmir?” Adra asked, reminding me of the last time a group had been gunning for us.
“No, I don’t think so. I asked the Grandmother about it and she told me that it had something to do with authority over someone, that the leader of Sigmir’s tribe could make such a focus because he had access to her bloodline, through her father, and because she had been part of the tribe he ruled over. The explanation was more complicated but I don’t completely remember but those were important parts of it. So, I doubt that the centaurs have a way to accurately track us.” I explained, trying to remember the exact words of the Grandmother, but failing. Still, it wasn’t a fun idea, I doubted that we would be able to outrun the centaurs and, judging by the short time they had needed to get reinforcements, they had some sort of swift communication, either using messenger-birds or magic. And we were heading into their territory.
We continued walking in silence and I started to wonder just why I was feeling the way I felt, rather unsettled and a little edgy. Part of the feeling was the renewed knowledge that there would be people hunting for us, even if I wasn’t sure if they had more than a slight idea where we were, but it wasn’t all. I think part of the dissatisfaction I was feeling came from abandoning the task we had set for ourselves, we had planned to kill the centaurs to make them pay for driving our friends to bind themselves to a dungeon and we had failed.
That feeling of failure, it stung. And I didn’t like it one bit.