(4)

Saurus and the Captains watched as Alaric withdrew a fist full of Sphene from his pouch. In one hand he clutched the dark sand-like material, and in the other: a jet of intense blue flame flowed out from his palms, smothering the spider in its hot embrace. Saurus looked on hypnotised by the rippling flame that flowed as fluent as water from his son’s hand. The spider crackled and on occasion, popped, under the onslaught of fire. The stench was intolerable.

When the spider was nicely cooked, Alaric opened the hand that held the Sphene dust and only ash fell from his grasp. The Sphene dust was all used up it seemed but Alaric’s eyes still glowed brightly.

They resumed their march, Saurus and his son returning to the middle of the column. None of the men asked questions, few even looked at their Lord Commander as he rode past them. Alaric wiped at the mud that stained his sky-blue cloak in vain, eventually resorting to magic or Essence as the Magus like to refer to it—to clean his muddied robes.

“I hope you’ll still have enough Essence in reserve,” said Saurus looking at his son clean away the last splotch of mud with a flick of his wrist. Alaric smiled proudly.

“I barely feel the strain performing simple tasks like this,” he said. “I remember when I first started to learn how to channel Essence. It would take me an hour on strenuous concentration to do something so basic.”

Saurus allowed himself to smile while his horse rocked him. The soldiers ahead and behind marched with unbroken unison.

“Besides,” Alaric added. “Aren’t we expecting a stockpile of Infused Titanite when we reach the White Gull Inn?”

“That we are,” replied Saurus. “Still, until we arrive there you should hold on to as much Essence as you can. You are the only one with enough to change any unforeseen events. After seeing that…creature back there, I think it’ll be prudent to remain vigilant.”

Saurus could see his son rule the urge to roll his eyes.

“As you say, father.”

Before the sun was spent Saurus held the column up so that they could prepare to set up camp for the night. He had managed to march his army a total of twelve miles today and for what it was worth, it felt to him they had travelled thirty. The small clearing the scouts had found was not as large as the previous days, but his men would make do. Saurus had his own tent set up for him while he counselled with his Captains.

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“Tomorrow my Lord, we’ll reach the Western Shrublands.” Said Captain Windermere, his seasoned whiskers dancing with every word. “There we should have a much easier march and with a quickened pace, reach the White Gull Inn before sundown.”

The thought of sleeping under a roof made of wood and bale filled Saurus with relief.

“With further luck, the Inn should be lightly occupied all things considered.” Windermere continued with a chuckle. “I doubt anyone, but the proprietors would stay so close to Wetbrook, especially now we know the enemy has spilt out some of her forces.”

The image of that half-man, half spider creature flashed in the mind of Saurus. It must have flashed in Windermere’s mind too as he said:

“Ever saw anything like that before my Lord?”

“Never,” Saurus admitted. “No matter. We know it bleeds and can be killed. That’s all we need to know.” Saurus spat off to the side as if to rid himself the taste of the creature on his tongue.

“As you say, my Lord. I understand your hosting with Captain Hadwin tonight?”

Saurus had not forgotten about that. After what he had seen he was more interested to hear Hadwin’s thoughts on the whole ordeal. He had a certain bluntness his other Captains seldom had.

“You are correct, Captain,” Saurus said looking over at his Captain. Windermere’s cheeks went the colour of beetroot.

“Forgive me, my Lord, it’s just…well.”

“Spit it out Captain,” erupted Saurus. “or must I pry open your mouth to try and find the words myself?” he added with a smirk.

Windermere blundered a little, seemingly wanting to revoke the whole ordeal.

“There’s been talk around the men my Lord,” he continued, not looking Saurus in the eyes. “About him and a certain camp follower.”

Saurus wanted to sigh audibly but instead settled for clenching his jaw tightly. He wondered just how many of the camp knew about Hadwin’s small indulgence. It was against the law like many other trivial laws regarding proper conduct. Soldiers themselves were ordered to be celibate while they marched but very few were given half the chance. A captain must be held to a higher expectation, however.

“A callous rumour no doubt,” Saurus said, trying to keep the venom out of his words. “Rest assured, this matter will be cleared up tonight.”

“Very well my Lord.” Captain Windermere said, giving him a curt bow and departing. Saurus watched the captain go before looking up at the darkened sky. Heavy clouds pregnant with rain were drifting slowly from the north, and Saurus could taste the moisture on the wind. A heavy downpour of rainfall was the last thing he needed on the morrow.

Saurus entered his pavilion. The scents of pine and moisture washed away by incense and onion soup. His servants gave their respected bows and continued to prepare his quarters for him. A small wooden surface stood erected in the centre of the pavilion, laden with a piece of fine red fabric, trimmed with silver. Many bowls of ripe fruit looked polished under the lantern light and before long his pavilion was ready. Alaric should have been here by now to welcome the captain when he arrived which would undoubtedly be soon. Saurus cursed under his breath as many of his servants left.

The flap of his pavilion moved and Saurus turned to greet his son, but it was Hadwin that entered. His bear pelt hanging over a new assortment of rough spun leathers.

“Saurus,” Hadwin said, and Saurus could just make out some teeth among his forest of beard. “My Lord Commander.”

The two men greeted each other in a hearty embrace, Hadwin laughing as he did.