6.7

Jewel was not sure if the meeting last night had become more or less tense with the addition of Tsulogothulan. But it had certainly settled into something before Countess Bathory had dismissed them so that they could be well rested for the morning.

Which became apparent today as they were treated to an equally as decadent meal to breakfast as they had for their welcoming feast (there were eggs, sweet cakes, porridge, slabs of pork belly and even preserves of fruit!).

After the meal, Jewel and Father were set to muster in the sizable courtyard grounds outside of the Fortress’ Keep.

Joining them was every single attendee from Supper (although some had not joined them at breakfast).

The Countess stood where she had to welcome them at the door.

However filling the space that had once been clear was the most peculiar sight Jewel had ever seen.

Arrayed before them was a densely packed set of training posts. Setup somewhat as they would when Father needed to hone his skills in the bow from the air.

But there was a difference for the sheer number of them.

In solid rows one after the other in effigies, four figures to a shoulder, with a punctuation of taller ones with considerable height and a shape that made Jewel think they were meant to be horses.

The figures however were not just simple wooden stakes. For one they had something like a rounded head and torso on display made of extremely coarse fabric.

This fabric had been tied ( with rope! ) around the training posts and stuffed tight with what Jewel’s nose told her was molded straw and mud.

And unlike Father’s or Alexander’s training posts, these were dressed up in something like armor!

Not anything decent even to Jewel’s eye, most of it either rough or rotten leather, either old kit from a midden or castoffs probably from apprentice work. Joined by metal scraps and rusted ruins of chain and plate.

But every single one of them was still outfitted!

At what must have been a considerable expense even if it was just using garbage and refuse.

All to create what stood before her.

It was a facsimile of marching footmen or maybe levies? Four Hundred strong at a guess?

With one in ten being set up as a horse in a formation Jewel now suspected was meant to be captains.

A marching line of trash.

And Jewel was to use it to demonstrate what use she had for the Countess and her War with the rest of The Realm.

The one point that had been made abundantly clear was that this had always been Jewel and her Father’s war. It was only a question of if the Countess would be with them or not for it.

So Jewel needed to demonstrate for the council of war to their own eyes what she could offer.

For the War Council to plan the campaign.

Everyone settled and then father looked at her, stood with the other figures in fine dress, He was by contrast wearing his riding armor.

The mass of his bow in one hand, strung and ready to draw.

Finally The Countess raised a hand and spoke with the voice of command, that practiced trick Mother, Father and even Alexander was starting to learn. Jewel found it harder to speak softly herself.

It was easy to bellow when your throat was taller than most men.

“Do not doubt that I am fully aware of the gravity of the situation, that our war, though just, will not be an easy one. And that help may not come from our neighbors or allies. Let it be said, however, that I do not take up arms foolishly. I have long since entrusted the raising and mastery of war to Jewel and her Father. Kept the full breadth of her might and power hidden for any but her family and my own eyes and closest council.”

A few of the figures shifted with displeasure at the implication they had not been privy to this inner secret that apparently was Jewel’s daily training.

“But now is gone the time of secrets and here I will demonstrate why the might of a Wyrm aligned with us on the battlefield is a force beyond any other reckoning. More than a match for all the power that can be rallied by the king. If we just use it wisely.”

Jewel nodded to her and flexed her wings in anticipation. This had been discussed last night in fragments.

The expectations, the show to be performed.

“But first an honest measure of the best the realm can offer in comparison. Lord Rochford! Let loose on a captain.”

It was almost over before Jewel could track her gaze to Father.

The bow which far outstripped any other of his peerage in height flexed with the ominous creak of strange leather and beast horn.

It was drawn in a breath and then the arrow long as Father’s arm was let loose and tore through one of the ‘mounted’ targets. Splitting the wooden stake in half and shattering the trash that had been placed over it in armor.

Mud and moldy straw exploded outward as wood tumbled amongst the ‘army’, the heavy crack of the missile embedding itself in the mortar of the far wall almost simultaneously with the release of the string.

It was a stupid demonstration, Father favored shooting at ranges far greater than this courtyard could contain. And his bow was true further then even he could place a reliable hit.

At the ranges given his arrows were certain death.

No one was shocked, they all knew the might of Gryphon Rider Arrows. There were just nods of confirmations, not even congratulations, the only comment would be if Father had somehow failed to destroy his target entirely.

The Countess however called out again.

“Jaksa the Red, place a warding upon the army — your very best if you would.”

And forward stepped the wizard, he looked over the assemblage of the ‘army’ and then raised his right hand high and then lowered his left. His fingers brushing over with the feeling of the now familiar manner whisper in the air touching it. But more so from his fingertips lines of red glistened as it flowed from under his nails.

It arc out into the air and it was deeply curious.

He spoke without voice to the blood that spun out of him like thread.

His lips moved and parted and from his mouth more flowed.

Filling the space before him in a red mist that drug up rivulets and arcs of what Jewel was coming to consider the inner fire of the air itself.

He threw out his hands as casting a stone and as he did Jewel paid close attention to how he spoke in the silent flame.

He spoke of sheets of rope tied and crossing over each other together in weaves which caught the passing of fish in the water!

He spoke to the blood and from it to the air and told it of the catching of things that traversed it.

The sheet of his work grew thin and eventually the blood became invisible.

But the thick iron tang of it settled into Jewel’s nostrils even though she could spot no sign of it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

And its presence was there in the wind, spreading out until it hovered over every single figure in the ‘army’.

In a wide swell of power, over every piece of wood.

Finally with a last set of suggestions that Jewel assumed finalized the task Jaksa the Red had been ordered to perform he lowered his hands and stepped back gingerly beside the Countess.

His skin looked paler then it had started.

Countess Bathory looked him over and he nodded firmly.

“Very good, Lord Rochford, let fly on any target you wish, empty your quiver.”

And Father did.

Arrows Jewel knew should skewer through every target as surely as the first sailed into the midst of the army, but the billowing clouds of Jaksa the Red took in their might and dampened them.

Sometimes a cloud would burst and fall asunder, other times it would hold fast. But in every case as long as a figure was protected by the Red Wizard’s working the Gryphon Arrows were slowed and shoved aside like the flailing of a child.

Still, some of the targets did eventually succumb.

But even when Father was able to break the protection of one it took two strikes at least and one time five.

There was a grim continence from the other lords and the two knights at the display.

One of them who was fully armored with his own bow raised his hand and the Countess nodded amiably without even needing him to voice the request.

“Please all of you, let fly with your arrows if you wish, take up your weapons, feel the mettle of my Wizard. Try and take a single target and know this.”

She placed a hand on Jaksa the Red’s shoulder.

“His peers can be mightier and by last word from capital numbered in a dozen across all the Realm. We will not warrant all of them, but even three could turn a tide. We have guaranteed in our service only two Wizards.”

The Knights each shot three arrows before they could manage to get a solid hit through Jaksa the Red’s defenses.

And even when a blow was landed like Father’s, they did not follow through past their mark, the surrounding ‘soldiers’ buffeted and damped the blow even further.

No one else took up the challenge to seek a different weapon.

Jewel considered the Wards with concern.

She had been thinking it would be a simple demonstration but if there was going to be Magic involved?!

There were a lot of stories that said the only way the Tyrant Wyrm from the war and those before it were defeated involved both the might of arms and the act of Wizards or sorcerer lords by other names.

Seeing this she worried that it was far more the work of the Wizards than the soldiers and heroic acts of weapons.

Sure, Tsulogothulan assured her last night this would definitely work. But Jewel did not trust that Jaksa the Red did not have it out for her. After all he could have faked how her wyrm flame popped the smaller version of this working like a soap bubble.

The man was very unpleasant even when he was not silently telling her heart to stop.

Finally Father ran out of arrows and the Knights seemed satisfied. The other people present seemed impressed by the defenses.

A few muttering about positioning their Arcane support during the campaign next summer to cover for gryphon harassment.

The Countess Bathory turned to Jaksa the Red and squeezed his shoulder then looked to Jewel. Her voice was just as much a command as it had been the entire morning.

“Lady Jewel, your demonstration.”

It was time then. There was no more delay. She looked to Father and he nodded and performed the order in their shared flight cant.

One of the knights looked perplexed at familiar gestures in an unfamiliar order.

But Jewel understood and she filled herself with Wyrmfire.

Wings splaying out and already lifting her up even as she flapped to help carry herself up into the air.

She rose directly up at first, then swept out into a spiraling glide.

She could see the Knights watching her acrobatics with intense gaze, the way she could turn sharper and harder than any Gryphon.

The speed at which she ascended and then as agreed Jewel gave a single barking chirp.

It was high pitched to pierce the distance and loud enough to carry to those on the ground as she hung high in the sky. At a level far above father’s own preferred firing height.

If Jewel had the arm length to manage a bow she was certain that she could strike true from here.

But her limbs were awkward, her body an impediment and all around arrows were fiddly in her claws.

Maybe someday.

But that did not matter.

Jewel had Wyrmfire.

As Father had commanded, so would she obey.

She built her flame’s tingling presence into her throat. Welling up and through to take shape all along her flesh. Before pooling and concentrating it at the back of her throat.

Slowly loosening her control and shaping the radiant power of it around in her mouth with her tongue. Spiraling and concentrating it into one of the forms she had trained with Father in doing.

It took a moment of uninterrupted concentration and fiddling attention to get right, but in the sky there was time.

Then when the coiled together shape felt right on the tip of her tongue Jewel spat it down at one of the ‘captain’ targets.

It speared through the sky, screaming as the air burned in its passing.

The distance was tricky. She had to gauge it carefully as every moment past her lips the Wyrmfire shed itself, devouring everything it touched, whether that was air, metal or stone.

But still it reached her target down below with plenty to spare.

There was a flash of light and flame as the target burst under the impact. The wood, straw, leather and metal that had touched her Wyrmfire ignited all the same.

The entire figure peeled apart and burned where its fragments had not been thrown afield by the sudden ignition.

But those around it were just as untouched as they had been from Father’s Arrows.

Jewel flinched inside at that, sure she had pierced the protection made by the wizard but that had been hardly that much better than one of Father’s arrows.

Jewel mustered her courage though, she had another command to perform, the Wyrmdoom.

Shorter than she usually did on account of the ‘army’ of targets not being long enough to cross several acres.

But Jewel was confident in her agility and control. She spun wing over wing for show and gave two short barking chirps to warn the onlookers of her imminent attack.

She gathered as much as she could spare from the rest of her body to build in her throat.

The weight of her body returned to her as the lift of her flame left it.

Jewel dived, letting gravity carry her like an arrow building speed, spearing through the howling wind and then flaring her wings and her flame.

Lightening her coils as her wings flared and her dive turned into a sweep and then in a moment it was time.

Her jaws opened wide and she unleashed her flame in a single sharp burst before cutting it off and sailing back into the sky.

Jewel spent as long as she could not looking at the results of her pass.

But finally she needed to come back around and start settling for a landing and she could not really do that and not see what the results of her pass had been.

The sight surprised her.

Jewel had never done a pass on flagstones before.

So she had been unsure how it would be affected and tried to be as restrained as she could.

She had worried it would not be enough.

Relief filled her as she came in for her landing.

There simply was nothing left of the ‘army’.

Just piles of fine gray dust. That was more or less expected, wood and metal and leather all burned apart under Wyrm Flame if she concentrated it enough.

But what surprised her was the very clear dip in the once level flagstones that now dug in a wide depression along the line of her path.

Filled with the same pale gray powder as her flame reduced everything else she had tried to burn.

Her landing spun up eddies and whorls of air that carried the dust out of the newly carved dip in the Countess’ courtyard.

Revealing that the depth it sank to was at least ankle deep for Father.

Jewel held her composure as firmly as she could but she knew there was a tremble to her lip and a hint of tears to her eyes.

The poor stones! Some of those had been stepped on by an elf!

She had been careless and burnt them away instead of managing her Wyrm Flame like she trained too.

And that certainly was going to be expensive to replace! A solid section of the Courtyard had been dug out! Surely the Countess was going to be furious at Jewel’s lack of control!

Jewel turned to her Father’s Liege and dipped her head.

Only after showing the proper respect did she dare to glance up and check how upset the terrifying Elizebeth Bathory was.

The glitter in the woman’s eyes shined with a terrible intensity.

But the absolutely brilliant toothed grin was somehow even more terrifying than anger or disappointment.

“That, my vassals and knights, is why the armies of Viznove will be victorious!”