Chapter 16: Another Khorsul
“Lost our shaman early,” Alarik muttered. “Lost her early, so early.”
As always, it reminded him of times past. They had to cross the river by small landing craft back in the war against Khorsul. So many of his crusaders didn’t so much as reach the other side. There waiting for them were Khorsuli archers, lined along the riverbed with arrows soaked in oil and set aflame. He watched as the arrows made bonfires of his ships. By the time they reached the shore, the Khorsuli had retreated, disappearing into the desert. Countless had perished by the flames or drowned in the swift current. They hadn’t so much as started their campaign on enemy soil - or sand - and already he had lost so many.
“Then down went the hunter,” he said, looking over at the withered, shrinking body of Shalmanesser, his smirking face replaced by a strange, blissful ignorance of his own slow demise.
He remembered the next stage in the war. After they set up camp, Alarik realised they had hit a few of the supply boats. The men were short on food, and in a strange land devoid of resources familiar to them. Standard meals turned to rationing, then to starvation. Many looked not that different from Shal, withered away and desperately thin, except their faces were not ones of a state of drugged happiness. There was little more than pain and fear, and a terrible impotency in fighting against it.
“Next went the navigator. Can’t believe I miss the man.”
They had no choice but to strike out from the landing camps. They wandered the desert, under constant assault from the Khorsuli experienced in the landscape and style of warfare. They scored hardly a hit on the enemy.
They lost so many ships yet could hardly fill a third of the ones they had by the time they returned to their boats. Alarik returned to Vanda, taking the brunt of the blame for the misadventure in Khorsul. He pleaded his case, stressing how he had no chance to survive in the desert environment, the metalwork of the Vanderik proving only a heavy burden in the sweltering heat. He told them of the struggles to find food and water. His tales of constant assault by the Khorsuli forces did not seem as dire when told in words. One had to see it firsthand. The faces, the anguish, couldn’t be portrayed through vague notions and statistics.
The subsequent invasions, once Alarik’s military career was in shambles, learned heavily from his crusade. The shaman produced metals that were lighter, more for quick skirmishes than heavy protection. The soldiers were far more swift and adaptable. The supply chains were far larger, and great beasts of burden were employed to move with the troops to keep a steady, moving line. Ambushes were set to stifle the Khorsuli offence. By the time they reached the cities, the forces were large and well-fed and the damage they did to the enemy was irreparable. All the while, Alarik’s prospects of ever leading a crusade - a true, full-force crusade - was left dead in the deserts of Khorsul alongside the sand-polished bones of his men.
Just then, Inaya returned from the rainforest. She brought with her an assortment of small game and berries, a smaller catch than normal but acceptable due to the notably smaller number of crusaders. “Any sign of him?” Alarik called out. She shook her head no and tended to Shal, as she always did. They’d been carrying him through the rainforest from camp to camp on an improvised stretcher. Farmund took the brunt of the work, which was difficult at first, but as the man wasted away it became easier and easier. Now it felt as if they were carrying around a corpse. Inaya could hardly get water in his mouth, and he hadn’t eaten in days. His only sustenance was some of the drippings from cooked meat.
He ushered Inaya over, who came up to him quickly. “I need you to go out again. I can take care of Shal as best I can from here. I’ll see to it that he gets something in his stomach.”
“Do we really need the navigator so desperately? It seems little more than a straight shot through this rainforest. And if he was close, we’d smell his cologne from here anyway.”
Alarik took no joy in her humour. “I took on this crusade knowing that there was a sizable chance that some of us would not return. It’s the understanding any military commander makes. However, with that understanding comes the acknowledgement that I will do anything in my power to bring home as many of them as possible. Complete the mission - return with your soldiers. That’s what I intend to do. Your grievances with the man should not be grounds for abandoning him to… to… whatever in this forsaken rainforest seems to have taken him.”
She held up her hands and raised her eyebrows. “Very well. I’ll be on my way. I respect your loyalty.” She stood up and turned away. Looking over her shoulder, she added, “But I would have left him to rot. A lost navigator earns his fate.” She picked up her knife and went off in a new direction, keeping her eyes open and her nostrils sniffing for that too-familiar scent of cologne and sweat.
Without much of a warning, Edda sat next to him. She’d changed plenty since the beginning of her rainforest trek. She had lost weight, looking leaner and harder than she had when first setting out. She didn’t hide behind Farmund as she had before, either. Had it been the first day, she would practically have scheduled an audience with him through her bodyguard.
“Good afternoon, captain,” she said.
“Afternoon, Edda.” Alarik didn’t mean to be rude, but he was still staring straight forward, his hands clasped together in front of him and every muscle in his body tense.
“The navigator still hasn’t returned.”
Alarik didn’t understand if she was genuinely trying to inform him and still hasn’t learned what was good and bad intelligence in a crusade, or if she was making a point. Considering the risk of saying something rude or incorrect to a noblewoman, he opted to say nothing at all, and wait for her to continue. She would soon enough. Especially now that Farmund had joined them, standing watch just a few feet behind.
“The rainforest is a dangerous place,” she added.
Alarik nodded slowly. Again, the same issue as before. He couldn’t let it pass without a word. “Indeed it is. Lost too many already.”
“I fear poor Cendric may be among that number. Especially if we don’t find him soon.”
That was enough for Alarik. This manner of speaking was reaching a breaking point with his patience, noble or no noble. “Is there something you wish to discuss?”
She took a deep breath in and straightened her back. If she meant to look proud or strong, it looked not far off from a child putting on her father’s helmet when he’d returned home. “I wish to join in the search.”
Alarik knew he wouldn’t have to consider what to say after that - Farmund was sure to do the speaking on his behalf. And, as if on queue, he was right there waiting. “Lady Edda,” he said, his deep voice soft. “The rainforest is full of dangers. I cannot perm- I cannot suggest we travel away from the camp where we have greater visibility and a means to defend ourselves in the event of an ambush.”
She turned her shoulders to face him. “Well, Farmund, I have excellent news. You need not worry about heading into the rainforest - as you won’t be accompanying me.”
Alarik’s eyes went wide. He, too, turned slowly to face Farmund, just to see the expression of the big man as his world became suddenly far more complicated. To his credit, he took the news admirably. Only the rising and falling of his chest gave away just how deeply those words had struck him.
“Lady Edda, if I have wronged you in some way…”
“Nonsense!” she said, her bright blue eyes and smile genuine and honest. “You’ve always stayed by my side, and have protected me admirably. I feel nothing but appreciation. But I need to do this. I need to prove that I can be more than just a hanger-on.”
“There are ways to do that besides putting yourself in extreme danger! I cannot…” Farmund was clearly facing the internal struggle of wishing to get his point across as forcefully as he could without dismissing her outright. “I urge you to reconsider. Especially now, when-”
“Yes, especially now! Especially now that I can help when we’re in a time of desperate need!”
“I-... I don’t know what to say. What would I tell the king if something happened to you?” Farmund said, not in an attempt to cover his own hide, but rather to remind her of those that loved and wished the best for Edda. “I was tasked with providing you with the utmost protection during this crusade, and if I do not fulfil that promise then how am I to continue being your guard?”
Edda turned fully to him now. Alarik turned the other way. He felt uncomfortable being a part of this conversation, but nevertheless had to hear how it was unfolding. “I’ll always need you, Farmund. There will always be dangers. But I need to learn to face some of them on my own.”
Farmund knelt, putting himself eye to eye with Edda. “What do you wish to do?” he asked, clearly concerned.
“A simple hunt,” she said, nodding towards Shalmanesser’s bow. “Even just foraging! Inaya has her hands full with providing food and scouting, and I dare say she may be best suited to be our navigator as well in Cendric’s absence. I’ll take the bow, head into the rainforest, and return shortly. Very shortly, that I can promise you.”
Farmund gritted his teeth, making muscles in his jaw pop out slightly. He took a deep breath in and exhaled out his nostrils. Not for a moment did his eyes leave hers. “For my sake,” he said after a short time, “please do not be long.”
Edda smiled, that smile so full of innocence, but as Farmund saw it then, full of ignorance. The world was dangerous and unforgiving, and the more trusting you were of it the more likely you were to end on the wrong side of something. He had felt that trust, once. His farm, the Khorsuli raids, stripped him of it. “It’ll be short enough that you’ll wonder if I left,” she said. “Captain - do I have your permission to hunt?”
Alarik straightened his back and turned to her, eyebrows raised. “Permission? Your station is much higher than mine, ma’am. I don’t believe you need to ask.”
“No, perhaps I don’t. But you’re still the captain on this crusade, and I feel I should ask. If I am to do my part, I must defer to the authority here.” She took a knee as if taking an oath, an action that honestly confused Alarik, but he understood the gesture for what it was.
“Very well, if you wish.” Alarik turned his eyes towards Farmund. “But please, to get acquainted with the rainforest, please stay close.” Turning his eyes back to Edda, he gave a message. And a warning. “I hope you remember that we two have learned much in the military over the years. A key lesson is knowing your strengths… and your limitations. The former makes you respected. The latter keeps you alive.”
Edda looked thoughtfully within herself for a moment. Every leader has councils, and only a fool refuses to listen to them. Yet one must trust their instincts just as well.
Pulling back her shoulders, she sat up straight and spoke as confidently as one lacking in confidence could. “I know how you two feel about this. I’ve taken your suggestions into consideration. Truly. But I would feel I’ve wasted my purpose in being here if I did not at least try to venture out on my own. I promise you both - I will not go far. I’ll stay as careful as I can, and keep watch for anything that might harm me. If I’m in danger, I’ll scream loud enough to wake the dead.”
“And I’ll come running, sword in hand. I promise you that,” Farmund said, looking more nervous than a man about to go to war.
“I’ll always appreciate that.” With that, she stood up, brushed herself off, and picked up Shal’s bow. Both men felt they’d never seen a weapon look more awkward and uncomfortable in someone’s hands before, and it did little to assuage any doubts and fears Farmund had. Nevertheless, without a second look she walked off into the rainforest. It was almost comical when she returned just a moment later, slightly red in the face, to pick up the arrows she had left behind.