Twenty-fifth of Harbinger

The Third Guard Corps of the Lustrian army had a proud history. They had started as orc hunters in centuries past, holding the line against Ikari raiders after the Palian Empire dissolved. Once the northern borders had stabilised, they had continued to maintain one of the highest rates of combat readiness in the nation, regularly used to put down rebellions and stop goblin raids that made it across the Dominion. In recent decades, however, Lustria had been at peace. Their material wealth had ensured the friendship of the surrounding nations who relied on a steady supply of precious metals from their mines, and the Dominion had largely secured the north-eastern border. The Third Guard Corps enjoyed its past glory and ensured that it lived up to its legend, but it was a peacetime army. As Lieutenant Jacque Mieur led his company out of their barracks onto the parade ground, he couldn’t help but curse the bureaucracy that demanded that they leave their regimental home near Torleight for the comparative hardship of the border with Tios. Years of cooperation between the nations had not made for easy living conditions. The log-constructed barracks were filthy, crowded, and smelt like a hog farm. There were six of the buildings across the compound, and none of them were any better than Jacque’s. The sanitation wasn’t much better. If you weren’t lucky enough to not have to find a place in the bushes, you had to jostle for a spot on one of the trenches and join the other men lined up like cattle. There was no extra dignity for the officers; Jacque simply chose a bunk alongside his men. The corps commander had his own richly appointed cabin. The rest had to live in the glorified slum. Each morning would be parades and forced marches, and despite his assurances to Shontelle, Jacque doubted that they would see much of their counterparts from Tios. They should have been more alert, he knew. The recent troubles in Svaleta should have led to them being at a war footing, or at least expecting some sort of combat, but the Lustrian leadership was convinced that they had nothing to do with what the mage had unleashed in Narandir. After speaking with Shontelle, Jacque knew better, though his superiors wouldn’t listen to his warnings. The strange tremors that they’d been feeling did nothing to ease his concerns.

He hid his frustration as he assembled his company, eighty-seven men, all clothed in red and white tunics over their leather jerkins. He had lost thirty, the equivalent of an entire section. Some had stayed behind in Torleight due to family crises, but most of them had fallen out during the march to the border due to illness. Even now he could see the pale faces of those who would soon succumb to dysentery. There was nothing glorious about this life, he knew. Even with the pride of seeing his men arrayed before him didn’t hide the pains and frustrations of the day to day. Dawn was only now starting to break as Jacque walked their lines, adjusting uniforms as he went. He was halfway through his inspection when there was a trumpet blast and a voice called out,

“Company, at arms. General Valliers attending.”

Jacque stifled a curse and hurried to the front of the parade ground, standing rigid as the general approached. He hid his disgust at the political appointee who was too unfit to make a mile run. As proud as the Third Corps was, Valliers was the weak link held them back. Even now he was wiping some sauce off his lip as he stood beside Jacque and looked over his company. The lieutenant couldn’t help but remember what one of his section leaders had said just the day before: Valliers wouldn’t even find the parade ground if his aide didn’t leave sweets along the trail. I should have reported him for that, Jacque thought. He’d be lying, though, if he said that he hadn’t thought the same.

“The company is present and counted, General,” Jacque announced, eyes locked on the distant hills. “We are ready for our patrol.”

Valliers grunted, belched, then shuffled his feet. “Very well. I have an assignment for you.”

“Sir?”

“Our scouts saw something in the woods north of here, just beyond the river. I want you to select a section and investigate. Leave your second to oversee the patrol.”

“What did the scout see, General?” Jacque asked. “Are we expecting danger?”

“The Third Corps always expects danger,” Valliers responded, perhaps too proudly for one whose concept of conquest was his morning jam pastry. He seemed to notice the look in Jacquie’s eye and cleared his throat before adding, “There was some sort of light in the sky, and strange movements. He seemed confused. You need to get real answers.”

That was about as vague as it got, but Jacque nodded crisply. “It will be done, General.”

He waited until Valliers was gone, then gave his orders. Corporal Simeon, his most daring section leader, would take his twenty men to investigate. Jacque would go with him, more to escape his boredom than out of any sense of necessity. Simeon recognised his motivation but said nothing. At least he’d have someone to blame if something went wrong.

It didn’t take long for Simeon’s section to assemble and begin their march. The wood was only an hour north, and the river – more of a stream here – an extra half hour further. They carried nothing but their swords, shields, and water. They weren’t prepared for a battle, Jacque knew, but they were tough men who could hold their own. He marched beside Simeon as they left the camp boundaries, and glanced east towards the border.

“Looks like they heard as well, Corporal,” Jacque said, nodding towards a group of soldiers heading north. Let’s pick up the pace. I don’t want those drunkards beating us there.”

“Yes, sir,” Simeon said with a grin. “Section, speed it up. Let’s get there before the other side.”

They broke into a quick march, and to Jacque’s surprise so did the Tiosian group. Well, a bit of friendly competition had never hurt anyone. And if it was the worst case scenario, and they faced danger, it would be good to have some friends nearby. He kept pace with Simeon throughout the march, slowing only once they reached the wood. He drew his sword as he entered the trees, and the section followed suit. It was still beneath the canopy, with just the rustling of leaves in the trees to keep them company. They soon lost sight of the Tiosian side of the border and their counterparts over there. The Lustrian group advanced steadily but slowly, scanning the trees and bushes for threats.

“It’s all quiet,” Jacque muttered to Simeon, who was looking nervous.

“You’re a city man, aren’t you, Lieutenant?” the corporal asked. When Jacque admitted as such, he smiled grimly. “I thought so. Woods aren’t this quiet, sir. This isn’t right.”

That made sense, Jacque realised, and he ordered a halt. He turned in a slow circle, but still didn’t see anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Simeon was kneeling beside a bush and running a hand through the dirt.

“Something was dragged through here,” he called out. “Someone was hungry.”

There were no wolves in these parts, Jacque knew. So what was out hunting?

He froze when he heard it, a quiet hissing in the nearby shrubs. He was about to call out when Simeon appeared beside him and put a finger to his lips. Jacque nodded, flexing his fingers and bringing his shield closer in. The hiss came again, but now it was answered by more in the trees around them.

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“I don’t recognise that sound, sir,” warned Simeon, an avid hunter. That set Jacque’s hair on end. He’d heard rumours about Solstia but hadn’t believed them until he’d met Shontelle. Apparently, nothing was impossible anymore. There were more hisses than he could track now, and he instinctively stepped backwards to join the ring that the soldiers had formed. A bush ahead of him began to shake, and his eyes locked onto the movement as he prepared for an attack.

It came from above. Its prey distracted, the first attacker dropped out of its tree and aimed for Jacque’s neck. Simeon was faster, knocking it to the ground and slashing his sword through its throat. Jacque got only a glimpse of brown fur and a long tail before more dropped down for the attack. They were size of toddlers, but vicious, leaping from soldier to soldier as they watched for an opportunity to strike. One hapless soldier was hit by three and went down in a blur of brown fur and crimson spray. Jacque leapt into action, knocking a creature to the ground and stabbing it through the chest. There was no chance to celebrate. There was another blur of movement, and although he got his shield up in time, the impact was enough to smack him to the ground. He cursed as the creature crawled over his shield and looked down at him, giving him his first decent look. Its back and tail were covered in light brown fur, and its four legs ended in paws with small but sharp claws. It bared its fangs before leaping towards him, but he swung his shield again and smashed it into the grass. It tried to rise, but Simeon was there, decapitating it with a single powerful swing.

“We can’t stay here, Lieutenant!” Simeon yelled. As if to punctuate his statement, another Lustrian was brought down, his throat ripped apart by a pair of the beasts.

“Pull back!” Jacque called out, and hauled himself to his feet. “Pull back!”

The survivors gathered around Jacque and Simeon, and they made a fighting retreat, losing only one more as they held a tight formation against the relentless attack. The only break came when they finally broke out of the tree line, the creatures not venturing beyond the branches. As they stopped and assessed their injuries, Jacque looked to Simeon.

“Got any fire starters?” the officer asked. Simeon grinned.

“I was always known for it,” he replied, and retrieved three of the cubes from his belt. He and Jacque rubbed them together, then lobbed them into the wood. It hadn’t rained in a week, and the trees quickly ignited, the flames spreading faster than the lieutenant had expected. A few of the creatures tried to escape, but the soldiers quickly cut them down.

“What the hell were they, sir?” Simeon asked, watching the trees burn. Jacque shrugged.

“Nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he replied. “But they’re killable. That’s what matters.”

“If it can be killed, we’ll kill it,” Simeon agreed. “Every damned one.”

Jacque nodded, but he thought of Shontelle. I wish I could see your face one more time. If anyone could make sense of this, it would be her.

***

Belkai could feel the elves’ gaze on her as she approached the ruins. It was a surprisingly comforting feeling, knowing that she wasn’t alone as she faced her burden again. She was met at the edge of the clearing by Syndra and the female Watcher, Eliana. Both of them looked ready for a fight, and Belkai couldn’t help but smile. She felt sorry for any dwarf who thought that he could take them on in a fight. Syndra alone had a good, long history of killing trolls, and the Watchers were good fighters. Belkai had learned the latter the hard way. She still dreamed of Weylon and his team, and it wasn’t overly rare for her to wake during the night and drink those memories away. Right now, though, she forced her mind onto the present as she greeted them both with a smile.

“Everything’s been quiet, Milady,” Eliana said, ignoring Syndra’s smirk at her formality. “Though, I have to admit, this Forest still makes me a little nervous.”

Belkai glanced up as a pair of Blackwings jumped through the branches. She gave Eliana a warm smile. “Just remember, every creature here is under my control. You’re safer here than you would be walking the road to Lustria.”

“I appreciate that.” She still tracked the Blackwings though, much to Belkai’s amusement.

“Has anyone else entered the Forest?” Syndra asked.

“Only a company of mages from the Correlate,” Belkai answered. “They come to support their flesh and blood.”

Syndra nodded. “In these days, we must stand by our own.”

Belkai nodded, then made her way to the tunnel. She found the second Watcher, Vaskil, at the doorway to the hall, leaning against the wall as he watched the tunnel.

“Anything unusual happening?” Belkai asked.

“Not in this realm, at least,” Vaskil told her. “But this object in there, it’s strange to say the least. I’m sensing something, but I’m not sure what it is. It’s not Arcane, but it’s similar.”

“The Watchers haven’t encountered anything like this?” Belkai frowned. Vaskil shook his head and glanced at the obelisk.

“We’ve heard rumours of artefacts that harness Arcane energies, but nothing quite like this. This is something else entirely.”

“We know that it’s a portal,” Belkai pointed out. “Is there any clue where it may lead?”

“I haven’t heard of any realm that gives the powers that you possess,” Vaskil said. “But wherever that portal leads, it’s going to come to a fight no matter what you do. Something this powerful cannot be unveiled without consequences.”

“This has not escaped me,” Belkai noted drily. “Go back up, enjoy the sun.”

He hesitated only a moment, then bowed and headed into the torch-lit tunnel. Belkai waited until she sensed him join Syndra and Eliana, then sat before the altar and cleared her mind of all thoughts. There was a sort of buzz in the air as she closed her eyes and let her senses embrace the obelisk and its altar. She could feel the presence drifting away and made no effort to draw it back. She focused on the obelisk itself, trying to understand what it was. It radiated pure energy of a sort that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since she’d been taken to Ashelath’s dominion, in fact. It’s not Arcane, but it’s similar, Vaskil had said. Belkai understood what he meant. It felt different from Ashelath’s realm, almost as if it were older – if that were possible. She hadn’t been able to sense it from outside the ruin, but now she felt the same power that ran through all of Narandir.

“What are you?” she whispered, more to herself than in any attempt to communicate with the presence. Nonetheless, she felt it draw closer. What are you, it seemed to whisper back, and Belkai dismissed it as an echo in her own mind. “I know you want to get out. I believe that I hold that power. But I need to know that my people are safe.”

This time the answer was clearly not from her own mind. What are you? It wasn’t a voice like Ashelath’s. Instead it was an impression in her head, but one clearly planted by another.

“I am the Lord of Narandir. This…portal…is within my Forest.” She felt the presence nearby, as if only a thin veneer kept it from her world. It was pushing, seeking a release, and she held back, not wanting to reveal her power. “There is magic here that is coming from your realm.”

I have felt it for longer than you can imagine. What claim do you have over me?

“I make no claim,” Belkai said with a frown. “I do not know who you are.”

That did not stop the Other. When he first opened the portal, he sought to conquer and control.

“His name was Zumani,” Belkai told it. “That was thousands of years ago. His knowledge is forgotten.”

Are you worthy of what lies beyond?

“You pose riddles that have no answer,” Belkai said, allowing some of her frustration to show. “You demand knowledge but give none. The only answer is to unleash you, yet I do not know what it is that I face.”

You are not worthy.

Pain flooded her head as the presence seethed. It didn’t know whom it faced. Belkai gathered the pain and thrust it back through the portal, forcing the presence to reel backwards away from the divide. She concentrated and sent a second pulse that knocked it further back.

“I am the Lord of Narandir, birthed of Elkur,” Belkai growled. “I am the guardian of this realm and you have no right to condemn me. We are done here.”

There was no answer. The presence did not draw closer. Belkai cut off her mind from that realm and smiled. So you can be hurt. That was important to know. Elkur’s purpose was becoming clear. Only a Child of the Wind could face this presence, whatever it was. The future of this world depended on Narandir, and the future of Narandir was in Belkai’s hands.

“You do not believe that I am worthy?” Belkai murmured. “I will be the judge of that.”

The Lord of Narandir stood, looked around the golden room, and walked away without a glance backwards.