They left the city of Cephragon by sunset, traveling in armored carriages tugged by horses. For the first time in his life, Heror could see the orange glint of the parent star in the west. But it was corrupted -- blocked by layers of tall, woodland trees, and obstructed further by the metal sill of the chariot’s window. Before long, the Sun set. And Heror fell under a familiar shadow.
They were on their way to Alaris Khi Thung -- the Ardysan fortress closest to the wall breach. At least, that’s what Heror had been told. That was all he’d been told. After the inspection, the conscripted fighters and mages were sorted to their respective assignments, and boxed into separate carriages like fish in barrels. Bunched shoulder to shoulder with men he’d never met, Heror sat in silence as the chariot made its way forward at a steady pace, lonely hooves clopping beyond the walls as the wheels churned below.
Heror didn’t know where Ucankacei and Thaeolai were. He hadn’t seen them since the inspection. He knew Ucankacei was on a chariot, but he had no way of knowing if Thaeolai had passed. He’d seen her perform keawal before, but he didn’t know what the elvish standards were. If she passed, she was on a chariot to war. If she didn’t, she was back in Cephragon, alone. As he pondered her fate, he didn’t know which was worse.
At least she’s pure-blooded, Heror thought to himself. That must’ve helped her chances.
The chariots carried on along the lush forest roads through the night, traveling north from the Jeweled City. Hours must have passed; Heror fell asleep at some point, and awoke only to the subtle jolt of the chariot’s motion ceasing. Several other conscripted soldiers had also fallen asleep, but stirred at the same feeling. A young, dark-skinned else toward the back glanced outside his window and turned to the rest of the group.
“Why are we stopping?”
Silence fell over the group again. Outside, isolated shouts could be heard from guards up toward the front of the chariot caravan. Heror craned his neck to peer out the window.
“Have we arrived?” the else asked, his eyes wide.
“No,” an older man grumbled; he had the gray skin and dimly-glowing silver eyes of an ashen elf, a brunuul – another kind the Opelites condemned. “Couple hours more. Should be there just before dawn.”
“Why did we stop?” Heror repeated, leaning to try and get a better view out the window.
“Probably just a scout passing by,” the ashen elf told him. “Passing along information.”
Sure enough, the chariot began moving again after a few minutes, and Heror watched a lone redcloak pass by on horseback, heading south with a torch in hand. It wasn’t long before a light rain began falling down, gently drumming on the carriage roof. Every so often, a droplet or two slipped into the chariot through the window.
After a long silence, the else spoke again.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” he said with misplaced excitement. “What are your names?”
No one indulged the young else at first. But after he glanced from person to person with nervous, pleading eyes, one ragged Opelite offered an answer.
“Liantholei.”
“Braylyn,” the ashen elf murmured, a white fuzz hugging his gaunt, gray face.
The else looked around, seeking more answers, then stopped at Heror. Heror had spoken earlier, having made himself familiar.
“What about you?”
Heror didn’t feel like speaking again, but after meeting the else’s eyes for a moment, he conceded.
“Heror,” he answered, with a small nod.
The else nodded, then turned to the rest of the group. When no more soldiers answered, he started to speak.
“My name is Khoulane,” he chimed. “I’m from Tu-Taili, over in the southern desert, in Mathingar. I came here when I was young. Where are you all from?”
Again, silence fell over the group. Then, after a moment, the ashen elf Braylyn laughed quietly to himself and eyed the lad.
“Does it matter?”
Khoulane didn’t speak after that. The carriage moved on through light rainfall. Soft, steady winds cooled as they moved north. It was a quiet, peaceful night. But in the air, there was a tense, lingering anticipation, made louder by the drumming whispers of the rains. As they went on, Heror heard soft rumbles of thunder far in the distance. The torches hitched to the frames of the carriages gave off the odor of heat and smoke, but as the road grew longer behind them, the smell seemed to grow heavier – as if there was another source beyond.
After a while, Heror dozed off again, but it wasn’t long before the carriage’s movement woke him a second time. The smell of smoke was pungent now, and as he sat up in his seat, he heard voices hailing in the carriage from beyond the walls. He leaned to peer out the window, and he watched as the carriage passed through a checkpoint of some sort. The road was lined by patrolling redcloaks, and as the carriage turned, he caught his first glimpse of the Khi Thung.
The Khi Thung was a massive structure situated on a short, wide knoll, stacked with several walls beyond the inner portion. The outer wall was made of compacted stone, with staggered watch towers running along the walkway at the top of the alcove. Inside the outer wall, Heror could see a more ornate structure with a sloped roof and walls mixed with wood and stone, lanterns hanging from layered balconies that stretched to an angular peak.
In front of the fortress, a vast and open yard lay, dotted with smaller reinforced structures designed for quick, sturdy defense, lit only by torches. Through this field of orange and black, a lone, wide dirt path stretched, until it came to a vertical metal gate activated by a chain-and-pulley system.
As Heror surveyed the fortress, the carriage made a sharp turn to the left, stopping at the checkpoint before the path. There were voices outside, as fortress troops identified the caravan as friendly. Soon, the carriages again began to move, making their way onto the dirt path leading to the main gate. As they went, guards watched in silence from their defensive posts, gilded helmets gleaming in the broken firelight.
The carriage rumbled along on the unkempt dirt road, and soon, at the command of the horse riders, it came to a stop just ahead of the gate. There was another shout, followed by more distant chatter. Not long after that, a metallic sound filled the night air. The gate lifted slowly as two redcloaks cranked chains on opposite sides of the entryway. Once the gate reached the height of the archway, it locked into place, and more voices called for the carriages to move forward. Heror then felt the carriage lurch forward as it moved within the cover of the fortress. As quickly as it started, it stopped again. Seconds later, an older redcloak slid open the sheet metal door in the back.
“Alright,” the redcloak said gruffly. “Time for yu’all to come out.”
One by one, the conscripted soldiers slowly filed out of the armored carriage. The elvish man called Liantholei went first, followed by the brunuul Braylyn. Others followed, stepping gingerly onto the dirt as they scaled the slight drop from the carriage to the ground. When it came time for Khoulane to exit the carriage, the boy simply sat there – eyes wide – forcing the guard to give a stern reminder.
“Boy!” the guard glowered. “Out with you!”
Now Khoulane rushed out, and after two more exits, it was Heror’s turn. The young man stood, leaning to avoid hitting his head on the carriage ceiling. He dropped down from the carriage, landing softly on his feet in the dirt. Three more conscripts joined the group, and after that, the carriage was empty. The guard wasted no time giving them their next orders.
“Paiyuel!” he shouted above the noise, as other groups organized around them. “Everyone line up in rows! We need to take accounts!”
After a moment, the conscripted soldiers organized into a formation, and the guard pulled out a sheet of parchment, his eyes tracing the contents.
“Anthrukei!”
A middle-aged elf toward the front of the group raised his hand. The guard glared at him.
“Say ‘present’ when your name is called!” he yelled.
“Present,” Anthrukei said quickly.
“Braylyn!”
“Present.”
“Correlicai!”
“Present!”
“Hamilcar!”
“Present, maesas.”
“Heror!”
Almost by instinct, Heror initially refused to comply. But when the guard’s prodding eyes rose from the parchment, his brow lifted, Heror snapped out of his rebellious phase.
“Present,” he murmured.
The guard made his way down the list, and soon enough, it was confirmed that every conscript assigned to Nihlukei’s guard was present at the fortress. At the sound of the last name, the carriages were turned away, and soon they were gone. The gate closed behind the last carriage, enclosing the conscripts within the walls of the fortress.
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Once the gate closed, a voice rang out from behind the soldiers. The clustered groups turned around to see a bluecloak standing in the center of the dirt road within the gate. Joined by redcloaks on either side, the bluecloak held a helmet against his waist. He was an older Ardysan, with long white hair and an angular face that jutted out at the chin.
“Malvae! And welcome,” he exclaimed to the soldiers. “You are now siephalls of the khilung – soldiers of the Ardysan ground force. My name is Sulemei. I am the siekangh here – the chief commanding officer of Alaris Khi Thung. By now, each of you have been assigned to separate siekarums – unit commanders. Please follow me and stay with your groups, and I will give you an overview of the layout of the Khi Thung. Shortly after, you will be directed to your separate units, where you will then be briefed further by your siekarums. This way.”
As they began walking, Heror scanned the crowd for Ucankacei. He lifted his head to search, squinting in the low light. However, he soon found that it would be difficult. He was near the rear again. In the dim torchlight, most of the soldiers were mere silhouettes, sifting back and forth as the groups began to move.
They carried on along the dirt path, making their way toward the central building. The path was lined by tall stone walls that extended from the main gate. Above, night nimbus clouds sent down gentle rains. The path soon opened up into a courtyard, and the dirt gave way to polished stone tiles. At each corner of the courtyard was a guard tower, and toward the center, a wide stone staircase led to the massive central building. The yard was dotted by redcloaks on patrol.
As the conscripted soldiers made their way up the steps, Heror got a closer look at the central building. It was built on a stone foundation, but hidden beyond the bulwark, the central building was largely made of wood and brick. At the top of the staircase was an open concourse of stone, shielded from the rains by a balcony that was held up by tall wooden pillars. At the back of the concourse, a large wooden dual-sided door sat, with large rectangular wooden plaques on either side, filled from top to bottom with red elvish glyphs. From the scaffolding above, lanterns hung, bathing the area in amber light.
The siekangh stopped at the doors, and the soldiers halted behind him. He motioned for two guards standing by to let them into the structure. The redcloaks rushed to the door, each grabbing a handle. With some effort, they pulled open the wooden doors, and the siekangh started inside, followed by the conscripts.
Once the conscripts were inside, the doors closed behind them. The siekangh made his way through the entryway and into another open room. This room was lined with wooden tables and chairs, and capped by a large ceiling that angled as it neared the top. Along the edges of the room, torched pillars held up the second level of the building, and up above, railings lined the second floor as it encircled the great hall. From the scaffolding underneath the second floor, iron circlet chandeliers hung, further illuminating the area.
“This is the assembly hall,” Sulemei explained, his voice echoing in the empty room. “Mornings and afternoons, you will eat your meals here. Up above, you’ll see that there is a second level and a third level. Most of your time here will be spent on the ground floor, however. The second level is mainly for overflow housing, keawalatuu practitioners, and administrative personnel. The third level is for interior defense and efficient access to the bulwark.”
The siekangh abruptly diverted toward a hallway that branched off from the assembly hall. The soldiers followed him, clustering together as they funneled into the smaller passageway. Heror again peered above the group, trying to spot Ucankacei. And again, he was unable to find his friend in the crowd. His eyes fell back down to the wooden floor.
“This hallway runs around the entirety of the khilung house,” Sulemei continued. “Barracks run along the north and south hallways, while the east and west hallways are reserved for storage, smithing, equipment repairs, and medical wings. Along the south hallway, there is a door that leads out to a training courtyard. You’ll spend lots of your time there, honing your skills. Since we are currently making our way down the north hallway, I will direct you to your assigned barracks once we arrive. Up here on the left is our first barrack unit.”
Sulemei stopped at a single wooden door and pushed it open, and the conscripts peered inside. The room was filled with dozens of single straw beds arranged in rows, and along the walls, tables and chairs were assorted for use. Torch sconces lined the room, and although most of the beds were empty, several soldiers lay sleeping, with their metal armor parts discarded beside their beds.
“Many of the siephalls and siekarums assigned to these units are still returning from work at the border wall,” Sulemei explained. “There should be more than enough beds for everyone, so simply pick one. I believe this barrack is set aside for… Volocei’s squadron. Anyone assigned to Volocei’s guard?”
After a brief moment of silence, two conscripts stepped forward and entered the room, their eyes tired and dull. One turned around as if to ask a question, but by then, Sulemei was already moving on down the hallway.
The siekangh led the remaining conscripts further down the passage, until they came to another barrack on the left side. This one was completely empty. Sulemei leaned inside and read a sheet of parchment nailed to the wall.
“This one is… Shinuei’s quarter, I believe,” Sulemei stated. “His unit is still at the wall. I’d imagine he’ll be back within a day or so.”
At that moment, the tall elf called Amantulei stepped forward and entered the room. Sulemei nodded to the conscript.
“Tomorrow morning, head to the assembly hall for food and get fitted for armor on the east side of the house,” Sulemei advised the elf before turning away. “Moving on now.”
They pressed on, and it soon occurred to Heror that the fortress house was much larger than it had appeared on the outside. They passed two more barracks, but those barracks were full, and not expecting conscripts from Cephragon. After a few minutes, they finally came to the end of the northern hallway. Tucked in just beside the corner of the two passages was a smaller barrack. Sulemei pushed open the door and turned to the group.
“Nihlukei’s guard,” he said, his voice suddenly darker. “He’s expecting quite a few of you.”
There was a slight delay while the other conscripts cleared the way for the members of Nihlukei’s guard to step forward. Once a path was cleared, those assigned to Nihlukei’s guard slowly filtered into the barrack. Heror eyed the others as he followed the line, and he finally found Ucankacei, standing close to the door, in the front row. The two exchanged a wordless glance, and as Heror walked by, Ucankacei gave him a comforting pat on the back. Once Heror was in, Sulemei closed the door behind him, leaving the conscripts alone.
Heror’s eyes now turned to the room ahead, and when they did, he was met with a grisly sight. Like the other barracks, there were dozens of single beds, many of them splotched with shades of red and crimson. Less than ten beds were filled by resting soldiers, many of whom had reddened bandages wrapped around wounds. One siephall lay whimpering in the corner while another applied a bandage to a deep ankle wound. In the opposite corner, a silent greencloak knelt next to an unconscious soldier, his hand on the siephall’s shoulder.
At the sound of the door closing, the greencloak rose silently and turned his gaze, and Heror saw his face. He was a younger-older man, or an older-younger man, with parted brown hair that waved as it fell over his elvish ears, and a dimple at the base of his chin. His olive face was gaunt at the jaw, but full at his cheeks, and his emerald eyes fell over the group, emotions obscured behind exhaustion. He was the only one in the room still wearing his battle armor – its rich green cloth and gilded metal matted with dull reds and dirty browns.
Before any of the conscripts had the chance to speak, the greencloak began.
“You’re the conscripts?” he asked – his voice sturdy, fast, but clear.
After a moment of silence, Braylyn nodded, standing near the front of the group. The greencloak turned and walked to the back of the room, picking up a wrinkled sheet of parchment that sat on a wooden table. He unfurled the document and read down the list. As his eyes scanned the parchment, the conscripts remained silent.
“I assume they took accounts at the gate,” the greencloak surmised. “Was there anyone missing?”
Again, the group remained silent. The greencloak waited for an answer. After a few moments, his eyes rose from the paper, falling on the ashen elf Braylyn.
“You may speak,” Nihlukei told him.
“No,” Braylyn replied after clearing his throat. “No one unaccounted for.”
“Good.”
The greencloak set the parchment back down on the table. He then turned back toward the group and nodded to them, tucking his hands behind his back.
“My name is siekarum Nihlukei,” he announced. “I am the commanding officer for this unit.”
“Are you expecting more to return from the wall?” Khoulane asked hesitantly, looking around at all the empty beds.
“No,” Nihlukei replied, his eyes sinking to the stone floor. “No, this is my unit.”
There was another uneasy silence among the conscripts. Nihlukei himself was taken away by his own thoughts, but after a few seconds, he cleared his throat and gave his attention back to the group.
“The siekangh has given me the task of briefing you on our current situation. I will try my best. The khilung is actively engaging in defense of the border wall breach. The Midans managed to break down a small section of the wall east of Tularis, approximately 30 to 35 miles north of here. Their ensuing attacks have been funneled through that breach, and have thus been withstood, for the time being… though not without loss. The Midans exhausted many of their siege resources in their initial invasion, so most of the recent attacks on the wall have been engineered by ground forces. Even so, we must prevent the Midans from gaining a foothold in Ardys at all costs. Furthermore, our main strategic objective is to regain control of the breach before the Midans resupply their siege arsenal. At that point, we may be able to launch an offensive and cripple the Midans’ attack capabilities.”
The siekarum glanced around the group.
“Before I continue, are there any questions?”
No one spoke. Nihlukei continued.
“My guard is one of the front line units. At the moment, there are four functional front line units in total, and together, all are tasked with serving as the initial bastion against enemy forces, protecting the main body of the khilung. As siephalls under my command, you will likely be heavily engaged in combat. As your siekarum, it is my duty to prepare you for this combat. I will do everything in my power to ensure that you have the skills required to win in battle. Your work will begin tomorrow. After breakfast, I will lead you to the armory, where you’ll be outfitted and given weapons. Then we will begin training. I will do my best to prepare you with the limited time that we have, but given the nature of our situation, we may be called to the wall at a moment’s notice. We also may have extended stays at the wall. I want you to be ready for anything.”
The siekarum took a deep breath, then kept going.
“For now, pick a bed and get some rest,” he told the group. “I’m sure you’re tired from the journey north. Tomorrow, we’ll regroup and do introductions. And if anyone has any questions along the way, you are always permitted to ask.”
With that, Nihlukei turned away and retired to a bed at the far end of the room, slipping off his metal armor and dropping it beside him. He fell onto the bed and went limp with exhaustion, and the conscripts followed suit, silently settling at beds of their choosing. Heror chose one closer to the door, and it was only when his legs fell out from under him that he realized how tired he was. He set his head on the flat straw pillow, and within minutes, he was asleep, eyes shut as he rested for the day ahead.