The longhouse sat in silent horror as the survivors provided a rendition of the tragedy that befell the procession. Ula had been knocked unconscious early on in the melee and had little to offer in retelling of what had happened after. The other surviving volunteers could only report on a fog that invaded their minds and filled it with violent rage. They spoke with shame that they so easily surrendered to these impulses, regardless of their deep seated animosity towards the other tribes.
That only left Ferron’s two warriors and Maeve to have been of sound mind the entire time and their testimony made up the majority of the debriefing. The words spoken by the trio painted a dire picture of disharmony and hatred.
A stern woman that Valentin had not met took the lion’s share of the talking. She made no attempt to spare the listeners of the gory details of the encounter from the horrors of Concasque to the brutality that the volunteers had shown each other. The villagers possessed a queasy continence as the warrior described how their clansman died to each other rather than the spirit. The frustration of needless deaths created directionless rage that simmered within the longhouse and caused Valentin’s blood to warm in empathy.
“One of the druid elders seemed to regain their sense of self,” the woman briefed. “They took a torch and ran at Concasque. What we didn’t anticipate was that the sludge would burst into such intense flame and spread over most of the battlefield. There was no way to tell if there were any within the melee that were just wounded, they all burned up with the spirit. The only ones that survived were on the border of combat and even many of them had burns that ranged from mild to severe.”
Ferron nodded towards the bundle of blankets a woman was weeping over. “And Gervin?”
“He was standing directly in front of me and took the majority of the sludge that was shot in our direction,” the warrior spoke with a pang of guilt underneath her formal tone. “To be honest, I don’t know how he continues to breathe. Pieces of his armor have fused to his skin. We got his helmet off quickly and prevented his face from being severely burned. There was little we could do about the rest. Maeve put a salve on his skin but it was likely too late.”
“What I made was only meant to soothe the pain, it won’t help him recover,” Maeve admitted. “Even with a few druids quickly recovering from their madness, there was little that could be done for any of the wounded.”
“How many survivors?” Chief Glenna asked. “Are the other villages experiencing the same amount of loss we are?”
“There were no more than forty that lived. Only ten were completely unharmed,” reported the warrior. “Any bodies that weren’t destroyed by the sludge were later burned to prevent a potential revival.”
Her words delivered the finality that the villagers still tried to deny. The absence gripped the longhouse. Almost one in ten of them were now gone to never return. No glory in the retelling. Slain by their fellow man in a frenzy, drowned in sludge, or burned into nothing. The only solace that could be taken was the unjustified feeling of fairness that all suffered equally.
But what of those villages that did not participate? Those that are safe and whole, not needing to sacrifice their loved ones to the horrors of the spirit? What would they do to compensate the rest for their suffering?
There would be no retribution for this feeling of cosmic injustice. The bravest and strongest of them were already by the way of dust. Others would benefit from their pain and loss disproportionately. All they could do now is bear their teeth and rebuild what had been taken with their own hands.
“Ula,” Chief Glenna addressed the druid. “You are now our most senior druid. Do you accept the responsibility of taking up Caci’s mantle as Elder?”
“I don’t think I can fill what once was, but I will try.” Ula bowed to the council who returned it with a slight bow. “However, we only have a few initiates who are spiritually gifted. It will be difficult to carry out these duties with what I have.”
“What of Maeve?” Glenna ventured with the question. “I know Elder Caci had her reservations. However, it is clear from the testimonies of the warriors, Fennel and Dacin, that she had some sensitivity and even skill in medicinal arts.”
The male warrior, Dacin, spoke up while the female warrior, Fennel, nodded in agreement. “Her warnings were too accurate to be flukes and are the only reason the three of us could have acted against the creature.”
“What say you, Maeve? Do you wish to become a druid?” Chief Glenna proposed.
What would have previously caused some protest was met with a milquetoast response by the longhouse. Some silently grumbled over stooping so low to ask an inferior Jerv for help; servants to tradition. Most sat in subdued silence, too focused on their own mourning to consider the break from ideology. The desire to move on outweighed anything else.
“No.”
The simple rejection carried powerfully through the longhouse. Glenna made a face of disappointment. “On what basis do you reject?”
“I have no interest in serving a village that has treated me as a pest. I will be leaving with Ferron and the Armée regardless if he has value for me or not,” Maeve said definitively, her grievances finally laid to bear.
“I’ll graciously accept your help,” Ferron responded without the same fanfare he normally carried in these meetings.
He rose from his cushion and approached the nearby body in the blankets. He knelt down next to it and tenderly placed a hand on the fabric. He pulled it down slightly to reveal the unconscious face of Gervin.
“Min, what do you want me to do? It is likely a greater kindness to just put him out of-”
“No!” The woman uttered a hoarse scream. She fixed her reddened eyes on Ferron, her entire body quaking in grief. Her voice trembled, “No, he struggled this long to get back to me. I won’t give up on him. I won’t.”
“I understand, but I will not be able to help him if we stay here and the village can’t save him in this state,” Ferron informed gravely, tossing emotion aside for the cold pragmatism of a leader. “If you want me to try to save him, then he will have to survive the journey over the pass.”
“Whatever it takes,” she responded without looking at Ferron. Her focus now returned to the body before her.
“Very well.” Ferron rose to his feet and provided an announcement that terminated the rest of the meeting. “We leave first thing in the morning. Every day could be crucial. Make sure you have everything you need.”
The rest of the day provided very little. The warriors rushed the ending tasks of the departure preparations while the villagers lounged lethargically within the longhouse; their appetite for activity completely removed.
Valentin chose to avoid the oppressive air of the indoors and return to his chosen perch atop the cliffside. He hadn’t been able to enjoy the peace in some time now that his day was packed with education. The ferocity of the ocean was dampened without the suffocating blanket of gray that Faur brought. Sea birds floated and bobbed on the waves, filling the air with their piercing squawks.
After drinking in the scenery, Valentin slowed his breathing and looked inwards. The power inside now formed and moved with little protest. He moved side to side with fluidity, dragging the power with it.
He took an empowered step to the side, instantly traversing the distance. He moved against an invisible foe, using subtle moves of favor to dodge the attacks by the thinnest of margins. He strung the defensive moves with pantomimed counter attacks to form a dance that he hoped was akin to the gracefulness that Hrost possessed.
Valentin stopped his motions and sighed. His movements lacked the savagery that Hrost wished for him to harness. It was difficult to envision slaying another person with his own hands. He struck his arms forward. Would a strike like this kill someone? Would it be instant? How would he feel when he did?
No longer wishing to dwell on answers that were not revealing themselves quickly, Valentin ceased his movements. His body still coursed with energy that called out to be expended in the enticing voices of cracks and sparks. He quickly looked around him before picking up a rock and aimed it over the expansive ocean before him. He planted his left leg and catapulted the rock over the water. It tumbled through the sky and rapidly disappeared from view before landing somewhere in the frothing waves below.
He took a long look over the scenery that surrounded him. There was a beauty about the place that he would miss. From imposing pine trees that dwarfed anything that grew by his home swayed gently in the breeze to the way that Ortus sank beneath the waves every night. The peace that he felt atop his perch reminded him of the small hill that overlooked the bay. His entire world witnessed beneath him.
However, the majesty was scarred by what he had witnessed from the people that dwelled inside this verdant village. What he had gained by reaching his destination, Valentin felt that he lost more. Excitement buzzed inside him about what would come next, however, it was mixed with a dread that he could not articulate.
“Why is it that we keep meeting here?”
Valentin spun around to see Bassett approaching from the tree line. He was coated in a thicker layer of dust and grime than normal. Tiny holes dotted his tunic and scratches crisscrossed his arms. A familiar mischievous smile crossed his face when he saw Valentin’s surprised face.
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“What brings you up here, Bassett?” Valentin inquired breathlessly.
Bassett stood before Valentin and stretched his limbs before exhaling in relief. “Just finished working the stables and wanted somewhere to go that didn’t reek of wet hay. What about you? It’s been nearly fifty days since we last spoke.” Bassett offered a small pout. “Don’t tell me your elevation made it unsightly to be seen around us.”
Valentin knew that Bassett was jesting with him, but that didn’t stop a small pang of guilt from ringing inside him. “I didn’t want to bring unwelcome attention to you. Besides, Darri hadn’t forgiven me yet. Well, he did, but that effort was wasted after our spar in front of Hrost.”
“I knew that his plan to be trained failed, but I didn’t know it was you that gave him such a nasty stomach bruise.” Bassett chuckled, “You should have seen the fury that he was in while he struggled to even get up the next day.”
“Has he healed?” Valentin inquired with trepidation that he did more damage than he thought.
“I think his pride was wounded more severely than his body,” Bassett admitted with a shrug. “He was skulking about it until Maeve got back yesterday. Well until he saw her cracking a smile by that warrior, Dacin. Now he’s back to moping.”
“Is that really something to mourn? It’s better that everyone gets along,” Valentin stated clearly, not interested in further conflict.
Bassett laughed. “Yes, yes, it is better that we’re all friends. But the heart doesn’t work in such an understandable way. Besides, things are more fun that way.”
“How have you been, Bassett?” Valentin ventured awkwardly.
There was a larger question underlying Valentin’s casual inquiry. Had his request to Hubert been effective? Was Bassett finally able to distance himself from those that had wronged him like Valentin had?
Bassett answered in a casual tone. “Things have improved since Ferron returned. It’s almost night and day how everyone behaves when he’s nearby.” He flashed a quick grin, “I’ve been able to use it to my advantage on a few occasions.”
Valentin smiled in return, his request seemed to be working and he could free himself from worry over the wellbeing of the others. “I suppose the rest of you are going with Maeve over the pass.”
“Yep,” Bassett responded quickly. “I’d rather face the short abuses of the mercenaries than the constant judgment of these villagers. I’m very much looking forward to leaving this place behind forever.”
Silence took over the conversation for a short time. Bassett now joined Valentin in bringing finality to this place in his mind. Ortus hovered over the sea and blinded the two from the shifting waters. Instead, they stared straight down and watched the encroaching waters lap up the thin strip of sand below.
Reflected in the water were Valentin’s memories of his time in the forests both good and bad. His thoughts drifted to the first day the two met on the riverbank all those days ago. A teasing thought entered Valentin’s mind and he made a sly smile.
“Remember when you made a deal with me to be my personal servant?” Valentin asked with a wry grin.
“Ah! Don’t remind me,” Bassett’s face turned red before grumbling. “I couldn’t even do work for you properly because everyone kept asking for my personal help. To make things worse, we all got mad at you when you were terrible at the jobs you were given. What a failure of a pact.”
“I don’t think that way,” Valentin responded softly, still looking down at the ever fluctuating waves beneath him. “Knowing that there was someone like you around made me feel less alone when I needed it most. In my eyes, you upheld your end.”
Bassett scratched the back of his head. He sighed and returned his usual playful smile to his face. “I know it sounds silly to say now, but let’s be friends, Valentin. The only deal needed is that we help one another out.”
“I like the sound of that,” Valentin answered, turning away from Bassett so he could not see the grin on his face.
Bassett slapped the boy on the shoulder and started walking back down towards the cliffside. Valentin hastened his steps to walk beside his friend back towards the longhouse.
“I hope the depressing air doesn’t ruin my last meal here,” Bassett said with a laugh.
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The next morning’s farewell provided less energy than the bleak departure of the expedition. Few villagers bothered to gather around the entrance of the longhouse to offer well wishes to the warriors that had helped defend their village.
Only Min’s family members showed real concern towards the safe travels of the mercenaries. They gathered around the woman and the cloth-covered body at her feet. Hopes of safe travels and requests for her to stay were provided in equal measure. The woman smiled and waved them off to return her focus to the bundle beneath her.
Two warriors lifted the makeshift gurney that cradled Gervin and slowly walked it over to a cart tethered to the back of a horse. They gently lowered the body into the container and stepped away. Min placed her hand on the side of the cart and looked down on the breathing contents.
Valentin sat atop a horse that Ferron held the reins to. He stood at the front of the group and surveyed the column behind him. Hrost and Hubert approached their leader and provided him with confirmation they were ready to depart.
Ferron glanced towards Chief Glenna and the Elders that stood to watch the departure. The assembly of village leaders did not offer any words to the war band. They regarded the group with cold eyes that contained a blame that they could place anywhere else. Druid Ula offered a small wave but lowered her hand quickly so that she wouldn’t be noticed by her fellow esteemed leaders.
“Move out,” Ferron ordered and the war band began their trek towards the pass to reach the cities on the other side.
The path that wound through the forests was only wide enough to allow for single file and the warband was spread over a long distance. From the head of the march, Valentin only saw Ferron, a scout, and the endless sea of trees that climbed into the hills to the foot of the mountains that could be spotted through the treetops.
Brooks and streams carrying melted water from the vast swathes of ice that adorned the tops of the peaks babbled through the forests. Forest wildlife scurried and rustled upon the approach of the column. Bites taken out of the budding vegetation and smatterings of their droppings betraying that they had been there. A handful of calls from birds returning north during the warm months pierced the otherwise tranquil silence of the morning.
Methodical progress was made through the forest over the course of the day. The maze-like arrangement of trees and hills felt trivial when navigated by an experienced eye. The receding storms of Faur allowed more visibility within the dense tree cover of the forest.
The procession could not gather to stop to eat along the path. The soldiers would eat rations from their packs and Valentin fished some morsels from a saddlebag that bounced on the horse’s flank. All those that had to relieve themselves stepped off the side of the path and formed back into line or chased after the tail to avoid being abandoned.
Ferron would occasionally be told that the rear was falling behind and would slow the pace of the column to allow those that lagged the ability to catch up. Valentin used those opportunities to dismount from the horse and find privacy within the woods.
That night, camping was done in clusters along a river. The skies did not speak of rain and the procession slept beneath the night sky. A group of ten made up the first camp and two warriors stood watch over those that had settled for slumber. The rocky terrain of the riparian land proved difficult for the purchase of sleep. Uneven ground dug into soft flesh and gave birth to restlessness. Valentin stared at the lesser spirits of the sky and tried to find sleep while listening to the lullabies of the rushing water nearby.
The next morning introduced them to two imposing mountains framing the path forward. The forest and underbrush dwindled into small groves nestled in thawing soil. The path was replaced by a rugged trail lined with shattered rocks. The day offered no cloud cover and Ortus caused sweat to form on the brows of those that marched despite the frigid air. Gusts of wind would occasionally howl through the pass and chill the bones of all.
Sparse vegetation sprouted in the gaps in the rocky surface. Hawks and scavenger birds graced the skies overhead on the search for meals to bring to their nests. Goats grazed on the dry grasses and bounded up the steep rock faces as the column pressed on. The treacherous footing caused most to dismount and avoid overburdening their steeds.
The air felt dry in the highlands of the pass. Valentin’s lips cracked and the cuticles of his fingers began to peel. He picked at the rebellious skin and sharp pain traveled into his hands when he ripped incorrectly.
Fires illuminated the night sky in hopes of preventing the deep chill of the night from penetrating deep into the bones of the warriors. Blankets made of wool were draped over five people at a time, obscuring them from view and melted them with the accumulated body heat.
Days passed within the mountains. Small flurries of snow blustered over the column whispered memories of the snow storms that recently buried this place and encouraged all to pick up the pace. In the brush, a fox with a white face chewed into a rabbit, the steam from the entrails just barely visible to those that observed from a distance. Warriors licked their lips, fresh meat now fully in the front of their mind. Valentin’s stomach angrily growled when his mind drifted to the sight.
The paths eventually began to slope downward toward a distant verdant destination. Tentative footing and days on foot prevented a more spirited descent. One more night was spent on the chilled rocks of Pitanabre and thoughts of more comfortable rest were dreamed of between chattering teeth.
A town resided at the foot of the mountainside. A low brick aqueduct brought fresh water from Linnbeatha Lake through the walls of the settlement and into wells and reservoirs. Smoke billowed from large smelting fires even in the early hours and phantom sounds of hammers on molten metal echoed through the serenity of the morning. Wooden scaffolding climbed up from the back of the town and into caves along the mountain side. The small silhouettes of laborers could be seen scaling the platforms to begin work and lug ore back down into the voracious burning maws down below.
“That’s Mindorre,” Ferron informed Valentin, seeing that the boy was inspecting the town. “They produce iron ingots for much of the realms, and a crucial stronghold of the Martelle region. You would do well to remember it.”
Valentin nodded and looked away from the settlement. The column reached a road that followed the northern shore of the lake. Ferron slowed his pace to allow the tail to descend from the mountains and reach the road. No longer were they single file and the column grew to be more compact. The flat, even ground of the road felt temporarily foreign to Valentin after days of walking gingerly on uneven terrain.
Day broke on the column and light caused the water of the lake to glisten. Small wooden ships laden with people and cargo began to drift out onto the water. Oars broke the stillness of the water to urge the vessels forward in the windless morning. The growing illumination revealed numerous hovels of villages that rested along the shores of Linnbeatha.
Directly down the road, the outline of a walled city could be seen jutting out from a grove of trees that had been obscuring it. The road ahead began to fill with people exiting the city. Ferron halted his horse and the rest of the column stopped behind him.
“It is time to disperse,” Ferron addressed the column. I need volunteers to escort Gervin and those children to Elder Eudes in Verbosc Temple. Everyone else may leave, we will muster in a five’s day at Gettan Hill.”
Four volunteered to lead the wayward children and the bereaved woman. Valentin recognized the two warriors that went on the expedition as well as the wily gambler, Kern. The group moved up the road before taking the left fork towards the distant grove of trees. Other warriors began breaking off from the column in pairs and trios and broke off in many different directions towards the nearby towns and villages.
“Don’t think you’ll be able to slack on your training,” Hrost warned Valentin as he rode by the boy. “I’ll know if you do.”
“Hrost,” Ferron began, causing the old warrior to stop. “Find Zalavo and send him to the temple.”
Hrost nodded and departed the column. It was only a couple minutes before all that remained were Ferron and Valentin. Ferron draped a hood over his head to obscure his face from the morning travelers.
“Welcome to Verbosc,” Ferron said, introducing Valentin to the looming cityscape.