CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Fog of War

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The sound of a thunderclap resounded across the forest as the first of the party fell onto the ground while wrapped in radiant starlight.

“Fuck!” Bram gasped.

Nausea overwhelmed him, forcing the prince to his knees. He resisted the urge to vomit and even managed to get back on his feet before the rest of his companions arrived.

Bathed in starlight, Rowan and Ravi appeared at Bram’s side as easily as if they’d just jumped down from a comfortable auto-carriage ride. Clearly, these two sorcerers were used to traveling vast distances in a matter of moments. The otherworlders weren’t as graceful. Like Bram, Chris and Bridget fell to their knees, each puking the meager rations they’d eaten since returning to Aarde half an hour ago.

“I feel like tuna pulled out of the sea…” Bridget puked some more. “…by a hook latched to my gut…”

“Couldn’t have said it better—”

Chris puked some more.

“…Myself,” he sighed while wiping his mouth.

Hajime, who arrived last, landed as easily as Rowan had, but then he stumbled on something lying on the ground and tumbled across the forest floor. Hajime would’ve rolled into a thick clump of bushes had his tumble not been thwarted by a second object lying flat on the earth.

He groaned. “Nandayo…?”

It was then that he noticed someone looking back at him.

“Eh…?”

Hajime’s eyes widened at the sight of the skull whose empty eye sockets were staring back at him. His gaze traveled down its yellowing bones, to the dirty tattered robe that looked eerily like the one Ravi wore, and then to the vines that had wrapped themselves around the corpse as if to show off that mother nature had already lain claim to it.

“Ee~~eh?!”

Hajime was quick to crawl away, though, in his zest to escape the dead, his left hand fell on something that cracked at his touch. A feeling of revulsion passed through him as his fingers flattened against something squishy and wet. Slowly, he turned his head around, and that’s when he saw the second dead body. Only, unlike the first corpse that seemed to have expired a long while ago, this second corpse had yet to be claimed by the earth. Hajime’s hand was buried deep inside its chest, causing blood to gush out of it.

“Yok—”

Bram clasped a hand around Hajime’s mouth.

“Quiet,” he whispered into the otherworlder’s ear.

Bram’s gaze swept through their surroundings, his eyes pausing at every sign of recent disturbance. A burnt patch of grass, arrows driven into tree trunks, and the blood pooling underneath the recently departed. He noticed how its state of decay was much less than the other four corpses lying around the last waypoint; a rusty iron sword embedded in the ground.

“This one’s a fresh kill by the look of him…” Bram pointed a finger at the garish wound that had sliced the man’s throat. “His skin was ripped out by something rougher than a blade…”

“Mmmh,” Hajime whispered back.

Bram loosened his hold on his companion’s lips. “What?”

“C-Claws,” Hajime whispered. “His wounds…they look like our wounds made by—”

“The weargs,” Bram finished Hajime’s thought.

Having seen Scarfang’s claws up close, the prince couldn’t help but agree. Such monstrous claws could indeed rip a man’s throat as easily as if it were a slab of cheese. They would have just as easily torn through this man’s fur jacket as well.

“Chris,” Bram called the Texan over, “do you recognize him?”

Chris took one look at the man’s face and nodded. “Ain’t this the fella we got into a tussle with back in Bellen?”

It did indeed look like the gray-bearded man Bram had nearly run over with Renfri. The sight of his dead body so far away from the city caused the seventh prince’s brow to furrow.

“It must be him…” Bram agreed, adding, “But how could one of Baron von Galen’s soldiers be here, Vice Master?”

“I-I’m not sure…no one but my coven can use our waypoints,” Ravi replied in a strained voice.

Bram glanced over at Ravi kneeling by the corpse that had stopped Hajime’s tumble. The prince could see the tear sliding down the Shamvalan’s cheek. It was proof that they’d finally found members of the lost expedition.

“I’m sorry, I…I need a moment,” Ravi whispered.

“Did you know him well?” Bridget asked as she lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Her,” he answered. “Irena and I came up together. She was third-ranked in our coven.”

Rowan, who’d knelt beside Ravi, placed a finger against the long crack near the top of the skull. Tiny vines crept out of it like the roots of a gnarled tree. “No wearg did this… These wounds were made with sorcery.”

“I don’t doubt it…” Bram’s brow creased. “From Scarfang’s words, it didn’t seem like the weargs were hostile to the Stargazers…”

His gaze drifted to the garish wounds on the gray-bearded man’s body.

“But von Galen’s soldiers must have encountered the weargs here too…” he deduced.

“I reckon their meeting wasn’t as polite,” Chris weighed in.

Bram nodded. “These wounds…they’re less than an hour old…”

His gaze examined the tree line surrounding them, but he could sense nothing beyond the gloom of the forest’s dense canopy and the darkness that prevailed over the early morning sky.

“Which begs the question,” he continued, “how did von Galen’s soldiers arrive at this location before we did…?”

“And if this fella and his friends fought the weargs, how come there aren’t any leopards among the dead?” Chris followed up.

‘Boom!’

They all heard the thunderous roar that came from nearby.

“Cannon fire…?” Bram wondered aloud.

Ravi nodded. “From a spell cannon… I think I know how these others arrived here before us.”

The Shamvalan looked up just as a second thunderous roar shook the forest.

“Holy shit!” Bridget’s eyes followed Ravi’s gaze. “What crazy magical thing is making all that noise?”

“I think we’re about to find out, Bridget-san,” Hajime answered, looking over to Bram, and asking, “We’re going to where that sound’s coming from, aren’t we?”

Having just helped Hajime up, Bram replied, “We go where the adventure takes us.”

It didn’t take the party long to discover the cause of the disturbance. With another thunderous roar, they cleared the tree line just in time to see an explosion of arcane flames ignite upon the ground below.

“Looks like we’re late to the party,” Chris whispered.

The party found themselves at the top of a ridge overlooking a wide clearing that was cut right down the middle by the Rhyne River. Right below the ridge was a gathering of thirty soldiers decked in the leathers of von Galen’s household. At the head of this loose formation was the short-haired woman Bram had met back in Bellen. Beside her stood a waifish young man with sandy hair and armor that gleamed in the light of the scattered fires.

“That’s Alaric, the baron’s son,” Bram explained.

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“Is he a friend of yours?” Bridget asked.

“We went to the capital’s academy together.”

Though he didn’t bother telling his companions how Alaric had been among a group of young nobles who’d made his stay at the academy unbearable, the dark look that flashed on the prince’s face was proof enough that they weren’t on good terms.

‘Boom!’

A second round of explosions struck the far side of the clearing, causing the party’s gazes to drift up at the pale morning sky and the object floating high above them.

“Is that…” Wonder flashed on Hajime’s face. “…an airship?”

Floating in the sky beneath the clouds was a ship roughly eighty feet long, thirty feet broad, and weighing about a hundred and fifty tons by Bram’s reckoning. It was mostly wood except for the bronze plating and piping along the stern which Bram deduced housed the two large sorcerite engines needed to fly a skyship of its size. Cloth fins spread out of its port and starboard side with a white tailfin trailing at its stern.

“Twin engines and a sleek fin design for fast travel…it’s a brigantine,” Bram determined.

From what he knew of a brigantine—and Bram knew much about skyships because his older sister Camilla owned many such vessels—its sorcerite engines had a speed between sixty to eighty knots, making a brigantine fast enough to fly over the Red Forest’s vast woodland realm in fewer days than the party’s journey across the forest floor. Indeed, if it wasn’t for the waypoints, Baron von Galen’s men would have achieved their goal inside the Red Forest long before Bram’s party could arrive to thwart them.

“A brigantine would have ten spell cannons?” Ravi guessed.

“Twelve. Six to each side,” Bram corrected. “And by the looks of it, they’re all in proper order.”

As soon as these words left the prince’s lips, a new bombardment began on the opposite side of a stretch of river that was a hundred feet wide.

“You called them spell cannons,” Bridget, who, like the others, was lying flat on the ground by the edge of the ridge, spoke up, “I’m guessing that’s why the explosions aren’t normal?”

The party watched as a projectile struck the earth and caused a tornado-like explosion to wreak havoc on the ground. Two flametail leopards were caught in its wrath and were sent flying high into the air.

“A magical array is grafted onto a spell cannon which allows it to infuse special ammunition with elemental energy, Thanks to this, every shell launched by a spell cannon is enchanted with the corresponding element of its enchantment,” Ravi explained.

“A shell enchanted with the ‘wind element’ does damage like you’ve witnessed,” Bram continued the explanation, “while a shell infused with the ‘water element’ could cause a tidal wave to spread in an area so long as a source of water is nearby.”

Again, once these words escaped his lips, an arcane shell fell into the Rhyne. A moment later, a torrent of water rose like a great wall that crashed down on the flametail leopards closest to the river. The force of this wave swept away those weargs too slow to flee its wrath.

“The weargs are losing,” Hajime whispered.

Yes, it was clear from their vantage point that the weargs guarding the other side of the river were indeed losing their lives to the bombardment.

“Is that what we want?” Bridget asked.

Bram frowned. He wasn’t sure.

On their side of the clearing, Alaric von Galen and his forces were leisurely watching the one-sided carnage as if they were guests in a play at one of the capital’s grand theaters. Meanwhile, on the other side of the Rhyne, the weargs—some in their human forms—were scrambling out of the way of cannon fire.

A third arcane shell struck the ground, exploding into flames that would have blossomed into a fireball that would have scorched the land if a large wearg that seemed more beast than man hadn’t cut its magic in twine with his claws.

“That’s Scarfang,” Bram guessed.

The leopard man sliced through a fourth shell’s explosion before its magic could blossom. He’d done this to protect the ruins behind him.

“The weargs’ ‘Mother’ must be inside the ruin,” Rowan deduced.

“And where the fate of my coven resides,” Ravi agreed.

Scarfang let loose a mighty roar, and the sound of it made even the river’s pale green surface tremble. His was a roar that affected von Galen’s soldiers too. A collective shiver passed through them, with their leader falling on his ass out of sudden fear.

Bram’s eyes narrowed at this lack of discipline.

“Rowan,” he whispered, “can you hide us with your fog?”

“Of course,” she replied, “and you’ll be able to navigate it so long as I allow it.”

“I can also cast ‘Falling Plume’ to help us get off this ridge without having to climb down,” Ravi suggested.

“Good,” Bram nodded. “Cast it as soon as the fog obscures the clearing.”

With a wink at Bram, Rowan whispered, “Cuddiwch y byd mewn niwl ysbryd,” and Rowan’s ‘Ghost Fog’ began to appear in the clearing below, its tendrils stretching out from the very edge of the river to creep around unsuspecting feet and legs. Mostly. The weargs weren’t so easily tricked.

Scarfang sniffed at the air, and though he couldn’t see the wearg’s face, Bram didn’t doubt that the leopard man had caught Rowan’s scent. Proof of this came seconds later when Scarfang yelled out a warning to his tribe. At hearing the word “Blutmädchen!” bellowed across the clearing, the weargs fled into the safety of the ruins.

Meanwhile, the clueless humans on the other side of the Rhyne cheered.

Idiots, Bram thought. You would run too if you knew we were coming…

The prince glanced at his companions’ faces, his gaze lingering on the otherworlders.

From his many conversations with them, Bram knew that he couldn’t yet ask them to take the lives of other humans. Indeed, Ravi had reported earlier that Chris, Bridget, and Hajime had been hesitant to attack the weargs once they learned the truth of their dual nature.

Am I so different?

A memory flashed in his mind; the blonde youth’s face right after Bram had stabbed him with his dagger.

The prince repressed a shudder.

Inside him, reason went to war with morality. This was the perfect time to weaken von Galen’s forces before their inevitable clash…but could he slay men who had yet to draw their blades against him?

“Vice Master, bring the others to the river…”

“What about you, Your Highness?”

Dark determination flashed on Bram’s face. “I’ll follow after I’ve thinned the herd…”

The Shamvalan caught the prince’s look, and he nodded. He too must have realized the opportunity before them.

Down below, the fog had begun to cover more of the clearing. Soon, even the skyship above wouldn’t be able to see what was happening on the ground.

“Cast your spell,” Bram ordered.

The Shamvalan instructed everyone to hold hands. Then he began a chant. “Light as bird’s plume to escape one’s doom.”

As the spell was cast, Bram felt his body go light as if gravity’s hold had loosened around it.

“Jump,” Ravi whispered.

With their hands linked, the party jumped off the ledge—and they didn’t fall to their deaths. Instead, they floated down at minimal velocity and touched the ground less than a minute later without any damage incurred from the fall.

“I have to learn this spell,” Hajime concluded.

He couldn’t see them, but both Bridget and Chris were nodding.

It was a credit to Rowan’s power that Bram’s party sneaked their way across their half of the clearing with none of von Galen’s soldiers noticing their approach.

“Watch where you’re pointing your spear, dolt!” snapped a gruff-sounding voice.

“I ain’t poking you with anything, you knave!” replied a second angry voice. “I can’t see—”

There came the sound of flesh being pierced, a muffled cry, and then the thud of something heavy falling over.

“Wilhelm?” called the first man. “What’re you—”

His gruff voice was cut off as a blade was sliced across his throat. Seconds later, Bram let go of the dying man, and he crumpled to the ground like the earlier soldier.

Two… Bram glanced down at the hand that gripped his sword. He couldn’t stop it from shaking. How many more will I add to my ledger…?

He heard a soft giggle in his right ear.

Rowan…

Bram knew he could have asked the trickster to deal with von Galen’s soldiers for him. She’d already shown an inclination for mass slaughter. Only, he couldn’t. He believed that this was his task—his burden to bear—and Bram swore to his heart that he wouldn’t succumb to the madness of guilt.

ALERT! You have slain a soldier of House von Galen [Jonas Becker]!

CONGRATULATIONS! You’ve pushed yourself to new heights. An unwavering resolve increased our Willpower [+1].

Almost ten soldiers would die to Bram’s sword by the time he reunited with his party along the riverbank. Only then did von Galen’s soldiers sound the alarm. At that point, not even Rowan’s fog could hide the stench of blood in the air.

“Will someone get rid of this damnable fog already!” barked a reedy voice that was slightly different from the one Bram remembered from his academy days.

“We can’t, Ser Alaric!” replied a female voice Bram also recognized. “This fog’s not sorcery…none of our spells can dispel it!”

Again, Bram was amazed by Rowan’s talents. Surely, Sir Anthony was correct in thinking that she would be crowned the ‘Incomparable’ of this year’s ‘Conjuring Season’ when Bram presented her at the Sovereign’s court during the ‘Mid-Winter Solstice’ that would occur many moons from now. Indeed, having Rowan on his side at the all-important gathering could count as a point to his work in Lotharin’s revival, and he needed all the positive points he could get with how quickly the deadline to his fate seemed to get.

When she caught sight of the blood smearing Bram’s clothes, Bridget couldn’t help but frown. “Was that necessary?”

“It was…” The harshness of Bram’s features softened as his gaze fell on her anxious face. “Believe me, I don’t do it lightly…”

Getting across the Rhyne wasn’t difficult thanks to Ravi’s support. The Shamvalan conjured a bridge of starlight to help them cross the river. Such flashy sorcery wouldn’t be hidden long even with Rowan’s fog, but the party reached the other side of the Rhyne long before their enemies noticed.

“There’s light over there!” someone yelled.

“Well, shoot at it, you imbeciles!” Alaric von Galen roared.

Only, by the time they finished casting their spells, Bram’s party had already arrived at the mouth of the ruins.

“Blessed Pallas,” Ravi whispered.

In front of them was a cliff roughly the same height as the ridge they’d jumped down from on the other side of the clearing. Though, unlike their ridge, this cliff was no mere craggy wall. Thick green vines clung to its surface like a many-tentacled beast. They spread over the wall like dark veins forming patterns on the stone that were unintelligible to those who looked upon them.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Hajime whispered.

“I don’t think any of us do, Bud.” Chris patted him on the shoulder. “We’re still going though, right?”

The Texan glanced sideways at the prince who was inspecting the two bowed trees arched over a dark hole like a projecting doorway that was left open for those daring enough to cross its threshold.

“Yes,” Bram nodded. He then turned to Rowan and asked, “Can you sense anything?”

“Madness and corruption… You’ll be able to sense it soon — ‘tis a stench most pungent,” the trickster replied.

She was right.

Even one who lacked talent in sorcery like Bram could sense the evil energy mixed in with the chilly air drifting out of the hole.

“Are you ready?” Rowan asked.

“No,” Hajime replied.

“We’re ready,” Bridget cut him off. Then, in a less confident tone, she asked, “As the scout…should I lead the way?”

Bram shook his head. “I’ll lead the way.”

With one last look at the early morning sky that had been half-obscured by the trickster’s fog, the prince took a deep breath, and then he plunged into the darkness of the ruin.