VIII

Isi leaned back into the carriage's plush seat and looked at her mate who was fast asleep on the bench across from her. The small bumps and jolts caused him to stir ever so slightly as they rumbled to their destination. Part of her wished they were still walking from place to place, they had more time together. She didn't wish it enough to the point she would have turned down the plush cushions of this carriage. Slowly she looked out of the window and wondered at the turn of events her life had taken. In the past two years, everything she had ever known was flipped on its head.

If anyone had asked her three years ago where she would be she would have told them that she would be at the coven learning her art, determining what tribe needed her the most. She never would have guessed she would have become the willing mate of a Stone-Eyes. The Scraeling, as his people called her, were not against their Stone-Eyes brethren, they simply didn't understand their civilization. Over the past two years and more so over the past month, while recovering, Isi had begun to wonder if there could ever be any sort of alliance between her people and his.

They were just so different…

The stone structures they built were magnificent, stabbing up at the sky like the people were angry at the gods. They had their own sort of beauty to them, but they were also ugly at the same time. Next to these keeps and cathedrals were what Adrian called slums, the areas where the poor lived and died separated by a thin stone wall and a complete change of lifestyle. In her society everyone was taken care of, the tribe all pitched in, and when that didn't cut it then tribes would unite together, but in his society, it was everyone for themselves, no one was going to look after you.

That was why he needed her, just like in the camps he needed someone to look after him, someone to watch his back. And after she had been betrayed she did not know who among her own people she could trust. She only knew she could trust Adrian, he had protected her in numerous situations, even at great harm to himself…

“I-” she attempted to speak the words in his language, attempted to say something to him, anything in his own tongue, but as she did so her throat constricted as an invisible hand had clamped about it cutting off her airway, causing the words to die, trapped inside her. She closed her eyes and waited for the geas to release its grip on her. Slowly she opened her eyes only to find Adrian watching her.

“You know, when you do that your eyes glow?” he more said than asked, his hand reached out and gently stroked the skin of her cheek, just under the eye. She didn't say anything, she simply leaned into his palm, cherishing the warmth of his hand. It was a cruel thing, to not be able to talk to him about certain things, to not be able to tell him of even her past or where she came from, not for a lack of trying that is. She had attempted to tell him through speech, writing, and drawing, and each and every time she did the geas on her would attempt to choke her into compliance with its will. She opened her mouth to speak but he made a soft shushing noise. “I know you can't tell me, I know you can't speak any language but your own, I understand you are under some sort of compulsion, it doesn't matter, all I need to know is if you are with me?”

Isi looked at him askance before raising her nose in indignation, slowly and extremely deliberately maintaining eye contact she lifted her arm, dangling the golden band in front of him, and tapped the head of the wolf carved into it as though it made the point for her, and honestly she supposed it did. She slid across the carriage and slipped into the seat beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. She might not be able to tell him now, but she would find a way, every spell had a weakness, every geas had a crack, and once she found that crack may the gods have mercy for she wouldn’t...

***

It had taken some time to get Isi comfortable in the saddle, she acted like she had never sat in one, and perhaps she hadn’t. In the end, she sat in front of him on the seat well, he had to scoot back to give her enough room so as to not be crushed by the horn. She dangled both legs over the horse to the right.

Once they had reached a military checkpoint and Adrian had made contact with his new troops the escort of her personage was left up to the new units, and he had been given a mount instead of the carriage, apparently due to the condition of the road to the fort.

The horse they had been given was a relatively mild gelding, his black and white hide rippling over well-defined muscles, he had snorted as Adrian had approached, but like most horses, once he took it in hand it was not an issue.

It was not as comfortable as he had imagined when he had seen lords and ladies riding like this, but it also was not terrible. It also wouldn’t allow the mount to move at more than a trot, but there was no need for speed at a time like this, there was no pressing deadline to meet.

The road under the horses' feet was dry packed dirt, used so well that almost all the stones were brushed aside off the road, leaving a monotonous path of brown. The surrounding countryside was thick with deciduous trees that arched over the path providing cover from the sun’s attacks. Grasses of many varieties swayed in the breeze, creating soft hushed whisper-like waves on the beach.

“Sorry ‘bout that Commander, I was unaware your wife would be coming with you, otherwise I would have prepared another mount.” The man who had just spoken was apparently his new second in command. He looked to be a capable soldier, his manner in the saddle spoke of a well-trained man who was comfortably competent when a horse, his eyes never lingered on one place, always moving every few seconds. His solid blue uniform with the gold stripe matched Adrian’s clean one even if his was a little on the threadbare side, threadbare but will kempt. With a triangle pinned to the lapel and stripes of service above his breast to indicate ten years in the Helheim military. Over his uniform, he wore a Lineman’s breastplate and his helm hung from the post on his saddle. The armor was dented and scarred but clean. He looked to be in his mid-thirties; he wore a finely trimmed red beard and his hair was cut short above his ears, the left of which was missing some at the top where a blade had once scored a hit. As a breeze blew it tousled his hair and Adrian was able to see the corresponding scar that ran inline with the missing section of ear across the man’s scalp. He spoke with a Western Helheim accent, making the word almost sound more like Commidar than Commander.

“It is fine Hand -” he trailed off, allowing the statement to morph into a question.

“Hand Torin sir,” he said, sitting up straighter in the saddle.

“A pleasure to meet you, Hand Torin,” Adrian nodded his head in Torin’s direction.

“The pleasure is all mine, Sir,” Torin said, flashing both Isi and Adrian a sincere smile.

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“I have a question,“ Adrian said, acutely aware of the twelve-man honor guard that was now escorting him back to the fort, “why were you the one sent out to escort me back?” He watched as his new Hand’s back stiffened, apparently taking his words for an insult. “Not that I am dissatisfied with you, I was just under the impression that military protocol states the commanding officer be present to receive his relief unless there is some sort of dire emergency that requires the direct attention of the commanding officer.” There were several moments of silence where the only sound was the clump of horse hooves on the dirt and the jangle of harnesses.

“Permission to speak freely sir,” Torin said, blowing out a breath Adrian hadn't known the man had been holding.

“Granted.”

“It is likely Commander Koplin forgot he was supposed to meet you today, I made sure to let him know of the appointment in advance but he is not-” he glanced over at Adrian, his voice trailing off.

“I told you to speak freely, I expect you to do so,” Adrian’s voice dropped an octave lower, making it more of a command than a statement.

“-Yes sir,” Torin said, drawing in his breath with a sigh. “Well. if you don't mind me saying it sir then I must say High Hand Koplin is possibly the worst man for command I have ever encountered, he is a lazy sack of shit-” he glanced at Isi and looked apologetic, “Sorry lady, I should mind my words,” But Isi simply waved it away as though it was no concern. “He treats the men under his command more like servants than soldiers, to be brutally honest he has made your job much harder than it needs to be as most of the boys are near-mutinous.” There were several seconds of silence as Adrian absorbed all of this.

“Well shit,” he finally said, shaking his head. “And the rest of it? How are the defenses, the men’s training, and-” he got a look from Torin that told him all he needed to know. “That bad huh?”

“Yessir’.”

***

The sun was beating down on his back and neck, it was looking like it was going to be relentlessly hot today. He looked at Isi who was leaning back against his chest, she hadn't spoken a word since she had attempted to speak around the curse, she got that way, when she pushed up against it, she would simply stop speaking altogether, like she was recovering from the experience of pushing against the spell that held her prisoner. The two of them were pressed together and a pool of sweat had formed, soaking both the front of his dress uniform and the back of her blouse and causing them to stick together slightly when they moved or adjusted their position in the saddle. Normally he would be wearing the armor that was currently in the saddlebags behind him and Isi. Wearing the rather heavy three-quarters plate and sharing a horse would have been a rather uncomfortable prospect one that they both wanted to avoid if possible.

The roads were starting to show more use, more use, and less repair, the smooth trodden dirt tracks slowly started turning into smaller paths dotted with puddles and ruts that had been cut into the road a long time ago and never filled with anything more than leaves, debris, and water. In fact, the further they went towards the destination the hotter and more humid it got. The purring cicadas were swapped out for the buzzing and biting flies and the swarms of mosquitoes and gnats. The land itself started to dip down and rise up in soft rolling hills, and one did not have to look too hard to find a stream, creek, or pond. In the hollows, marshy swamplands started to show their ugly faces, long stretches of land down just below the road level where stagnant water sat choked by mud, leaves, and debris. A man could walk in that and have the water be an inch deep in one spot and the next step he took, have the swamps swallow him whole.

And still, the sun beat down on them, all six hours of their trip by horse to the fort, and honestly, it was quite the sight. It was a long wall of rotten timbers two stories high and punctuated every so often by a guard tower. Almost every inch of the wall was covered over with some form of moss or other plant life that crept insidiously up to the top. Adrian groaned “Please tell me this isn't the fort.” Adrian said, feeling his heart fall at the very sight.

“Yes Sir, this is Nolheim,” Torin said, looking straight ahead and not meeting Adrian’s eyes.

“Turu itali matin,” Isi said with a half-hearted grin.

“It doesn't look so bad?” Adrian asked, glancing down at Isi who had pulled away from him and arched her back so she could look at him from over her shoulder. He dismounted from his horse and helped Isi down, grabbing her about the waist and physically lifting her off of the horse. When her feet hit the ground he walked over to the wooden wall. “Oh yeah sure, just needs a little paint, a splash of whitewash here… a bit of Daub there” he commented sarcastically. “It's a damned rotted ruin, a child throwing stones could break down these walls.” Illustrating his point Adrian kicked one of the timbers, a splinter the size of his leg fell off and Adrian stared at it for a moment, his left eye twitching slightly. “Oh yes,” he commented to himself more than anyone else. “Bit of paint, a little bit of plaster, be right as rain in no time flat...” Isi scoffed at that, letting him and everyone else know what she thought of that. Adrian walked around the side of the fort and pushed open one of the main gates, revealing a muster yard overgrown, and filled with lean-tos and a handful of dilapidated buildings. Isi’s smile grew at the sight and Adrian swore under his breath. “Lots, and lots of paint...”

Adrian did a quick circuit of the premises, nothing he saw changed his initial impression. The fort was a rotten dump if any city had been near it would have had hundreds of squatters, as it were, there was the small town of around 10,000 souls known as Bronsville about fifteen miles to the east. “Hand Torin, I have a few questions if you will indulge me,” Adrian said, still looking over the broken mess that was the fort.

“Sir?”

“I see a few spots where recent repairs were made,” Adrian indicated the replacement timbers that made up the far wall. They perhaps were the only thing that had any sort of stability to them at the moment, in fact, based on how the rest of the fort’s wall was sagging, Adrian was willing to bet those timbers were the only thing holding the walls up at the moment.

“Yes Sir, my square was assigned out here to bolster the existing garrison ranks about a month ago, and we started working on the fort right away, but we have been stonewalled.” The Hand grimaced, looking less and less pleased.

“Stonewalled?”

“There is a decided lack of resources provided to us,” he said, Adrian looked pointedly at the endless expanse of trees just out of the fort’s gate and Torin grimaced once again. “Yessir, that is indeed what I thought as well but apparently that land is owned and the Military has no rights to use it, the area designated for our use is a good twelve miles upriver and I have men on it even now cutting, and preparing trees, but there are only thirty of us, sir.”

“There are over 400 men supposed to be stationed here, why are you so shorthanded and where are the men?”

“Sir, the main body of men have camped about a mile away-”

“Let me guess, it is to the east isn't it?” Adrian snapped.

“Yessir.”

“And the reason for you being short-handed is?” Adrian was going to flay someone alive if he got the answer he was expecting.

“My requests were denied sir,” Torin responded, attempting to not smile at the mood Adrian was in, no doubt quite pleased to see his new commanding officer upset at the piss-poor state of the fort.

“I see,” Adrian’s eyes half closed, the corner of his mouth twitching up in an alarming smile. “What is the Helheim army’s punishment for dereliction of duty?” he asked.

“Twenty lashes in front of the men sir,” Torin was now smiling openly.

“I seem to recall it being thirty,” Adrian shrugged, “I could have just forgotten, still, it would not do to give the guilty a light sentencing, we should err on the side of caution don't you think Hand?” he asked. ”And I like things done in a timely order,” he looked Torin in the eyes and the man nodded to him.

“Yessir!” Torin snapped a salute and turned back to his men, “Boys you heard the Commander, we got ourselves an appointment to keep, so let's get to it!” choruses of “Sir!” and “Yessir!” greeted his words…