Battle of lindly, p.6
Battle of Lindly, page 6
When Victus hopped off his horse, Aris followed suit, and they led the horses to an old caravan camping spot. It was about a quarter mile from the main road, next to a stream.
“We will make camp here. I will get the tent started. Unsaddle the horses and take them towards the water.”
Aris nodded towards Victus in acknowledgment, but had already begun to do exactly that. He knew the routine, and wanted to make sure he was working, thinking, and living in sync with his father’s will. This was not necessarily a dangerous area, but bandits or highwaymen could strike and devastate travelers in seconds. The horses snorted in relief when he removed the saddles. Leading the two mounts over to the stream, Aris began gazing into the woods opposite him. He thought over what he would do if some unknown enemy came barreling towards him and his father, wondering if they would stand and fight or flee for a more defensible position.
“I guess it would depend on how many, who they were or what it was.” Talking low to himself, puzzling out different scenarios. Aris went and grabbed a water canteen from their supplies. The water in his canteen had become stagnant and warm. He dumped the contents on the ground and made his way back towards the horses. He wondered about a dragon before speaking out loud. “A dragon flying low above the trees. What would I do?” He laughed to himself, reaching the stream and filling the canteen. He began pouring cool water on the horses’ heads. It was all the invitation the horses needed. They both slowly moved to wade in the water. Aris answered his own question, still laughing. “I would run like a fat goblin chasing a sweet cake.”
Victus was nearly done with the tent. It could hold up to five people comfortably, and the canvas was magically enchanted, allowing it to blend into the surroundings. The concealment worked better when looking from above. Ding, Ding. Victus paused his hammering. “Dragon? Goblin? What are you doing over there?”
Startled, Aris spoke, “I was just planning. Well, I was just thinking about if we were attacked. Depending on the invaders, I imagine we would respond differently. And I thought, what would we do if a dragon attacked? And I laughed cause that’s an easy one to answer, flee or hide.”
Victus cocked his brow, “Flee? Where would we flee? We would be consumed before we got a hundred feet.” The man chuckled, continuing, “But if you ever face a dragon, aim for the eyes. Unless you have a mage or some sort of war machine to bring it down, that would be the only actual option. You better start practicing a bit more with a bow, if you intend on battling dragons.”
Aris moved back towards his father, grabbing a hammer to help with the pegs. “What about the...” His lips formed the words, but he trailed off as he just mouthed words as they both stopped to listen. Both of them heard a roar from above and searched the skies. A melodious cackling was echoing in the valley up the stream. It was high pitched, and a constant laugh or maybe a cry. Neither Aris nor Victus could figure it out at first. But they quickly realized in confusion that it sounded like an insane giant child laughing.
“Wheeee!” They searched the sky above them.
Aris caught the sight of a ball of flames in the sky, his face pale in disbelief. He reached over and grabbed his dad’s shoulder. “Da! Dra... dra... dragon!” The terror in his voice was real and sobering.
Victus turned to look at where Aris had been pointing. A giant flame wyvern was bouncing in the air. Victus scrutinized the sky imperiously. “Not a dragon, a wyvern. But I have never seen one engulfed in flames.”
Aris' hand loosened on his father’s arm. “Are you sure?” His voice was calming, though clearly still scared. The wyvern flew closer, distant and still bouncing merrily towards them. Victus thought and squinted, noting a tiny insignificant figure on its back. “See how it’s flying? It’s bouncing. The wyvern is trying to get something off of its back. That is why it is flying so haphazardly.”
Aris watched with curiosity as the high-pitched voice rang louder.
“Weehheeeee hahaha...fly beastie! Weeeeehheeeee! Hehehehehe!”
Aris looked at his father. “I think it’s getting closer.”
Victus rose, dropping his hammer to the ground. Aris immediately stood holding his hammer like an axe, unsheathing his gladius and holding it up as well.
“Sheathe your sword, son.” Victus shook his head. “He’s not an enemy.”
Aris hesitantly put his blade away. But he held the hammer just in case and they both watched the spectacle a bit longer. Suddenly, as the wyvern was nearly over the camp, it snuffed out in a blink.
The flame wyvern had vanished without a trace, leaving only the sight of a smoky matchstick rising from the spot. The diminutive creature atop was now plummeting hundreds of feet downward right to them. A high-pitched voice was screaming in terror and excitement. “Weeeehhhhheeeee! Oh... Ahhhh!!! Contingency! Contingency! Ahhhh!” The figure shouted as he persisted in shrieking and plummeting. His giggles were making Aris a little uncomfortable. Did this creature realize it was about to go splat? Aris held his watch, and at a separation of nearly twenty feet, the miniature entity was upright, gazing directly at the two, levitating, now slowly descending. Brushing off his red fire-like robes as he hovered down to them, with a final, “CONTINGENCY!”
He pounded his tiny hands together, not taking into account just how close Aris and his father were. The small man peeled off his giant goggles, and tossed them, where they thudded to the ground a few feet away. His hair was frazzled, creating a spiky texture when he ran his hands through it. Soot and ash largely obscured his face, with only the whites of his brown eyes visible. His voice was high pitched and more of a squeak now that he was not yelling or screaming and he began cordially, “Greetings Half-pally! Greetings to you, little Aris.”
Victus stepped closer to the little gnome-mage. “Good to see you, Biddy. Still playing with fire, I see.”
The gnome nodded emphatically as he spoke, “It’s the only magic worth doing.” His attention turned to Aris, “I have not had the privilege to meet you and I am honored to meet the son of Victus.”
Aris looked down at the gnome, barely passing his knees in height. “Pleased to meet you, master mage.”
Biddy giggled, “No need for that. Just call me Biddy.”
Aris knelt back down to help his father finish pegging the tent down.
“Biddy, would you mind setting up our cooking pit?” Victus asked casually but as Biddy’s soot-covered face lit up with glee, he added, “A normal fire pit. Nothing crazy.”
The face of the gnome drooped sadly, “I could really make...” His voice was soft and high-pitched, as if a child had been denied the chance to play with his toys.
“No, I think for now, a normal one will suffice. Besides Biddy, you understand, we must not draw attention to ourselves.”
Huffing into a sigh, the gnome caved, “Okay... okay.” He whispered as he moved from the pair. “Just a little flair.”
Victus heard and sternly said, “No flair!”
Biddy giggled, “Whoopsie!” It was too late. He had cast a spell which had summoned or created, Victus did not know, hundreds of little fire ants. They were quite literally ants on fire. They scurried about building a little fire pit and then began gathering little sticks and twigs. Biddy was directing them as if it was an assembly line. “No. We need more here. Carry them carefully. You don’t want to burn the forest down.”
Victus shook his head and Aris just watched, amazed and utterly confused. The ants continued to build and when the pit was complete, the twig pyramid was standing taller than the gnome. All the ants congregated at the base of the unlit pit and burst into tiny balls of flame. The flames ignited the wood. Biddy cackled, “Little flair. little fire. Who’s hungry?”
8
Darkness was soon to set over the city of Lindly. The hurried dismissal of the garrison by Nibarn, carried out by his son Brandan, went without issue, especially in light of everyone being given a year’s salary in advance. That day, a multitude of formerly serving soldiers, taking their families with them, set off for Asmadine or to a location nearby, hoping the money upfront would help them start new lives. Those without families went to taverns for drinks, gambling, and companionship. Overall, the city was overjoyed to have the high elves guarding the gates and towers. A few, including Calder and his men, refused to hand over their weapons and armor. Using the oath they all took as their reason for refusing dismissal. This stirred Brandan to believe that perhaps what the female high elf priestess had said was true regarding their allegiance. Calder and his men were all that remained after all the sorting and coin exchanging had transpired. Calder made sure all present in the parade yard could hear his voice.
“We are lifers. Sworn to this city but first sworn to our commander, Victus. We can only be disbanded through death. Or from him, in person.”
Nibarn said nothing, but waved his hand, turning from them and from his son. “Deal with this.”
Brandan watched his father and the ever-elusive priestess murmuring in hushed tones. The young noble supposed they were speaking about the new editions to the towers. He turned his focus back to Calder and the soldiers in the yard. His voice calmed into a facade, pretending to understand their plight. “You are correct in this. Can we come to terms, perhaps?”
Calder stepped from his platoon and towards Brandan. “You cannot bribe us! We have sworn an oath. We are loyal.”
Brandan raised his hands, waving, shaking his head. “No. No. No. Not a bribe. A gift. For the fulfillment of services rendered to the city.”
Calder took off his blue plumed helm, staring directly into Brandan’s eyes, speaking sternly. “Do we still breathe?”
Brandan nodded flippantly.
“Then we will still serve.” Calder placed his helm back on, still staring at the young noble through his battle-worn helmet. Brandan started to speak but was cut off by Calder, who shouted, “Legionnaires right face! March!”
Brandan did not try to stop them. He just stood stupidly, trying to puzzle everything together. Unquestionably, he thought to himself, the high elves were right. All signs point to Victus having a hidden agenda. My father has been able to discover a way to uncover and disclose all of Victus' most loyal followers. Yes. Brilliant. Turning around to his house guard, he said, “I need refreshment. Lead me to the palace. And let me know everything Calder and his men do. If they attempt to leave the city, have them all arrested.”
The centurion and his legionaries marched in a single-file line from the parade yard to the barracks, their boots echoing on the cobblestone.
Night was in full swing now as Calder spoke to them all. “We have our orders from Victus before his departure. Undoubtedly, we will be watched. Titus, you will put on my armor and lead everyone out of the city. March to Delwan and find Victus. Tell him everything. The high elves, the dismissal of our legion here. All of it.”
His stern-faced men acknowledged with nods. Everyone could already feel the tension, the quiet eeriness that sets in before combat. Titus watched as Calder started to unbuckle his armor, and he followed suit, the leather straps creaking as he released them. “Sir, where will you be?”
Calder glanced at him briefly, keeping his focus on his breastplate straps. His gruff voice was determined. “I have my orders. But my destination is Asmadine.”
The sergeant, Titus did not pry, he just continued removing his armor. He knew that Calder was convinced the only path to accomplishing Victus' original instructions was to separate.
One of the legionaries, Marcella, sang a hymn to all the others. “O’ dah roa’ we on is perilous. We are servants of Kalisdel. Her holy light makes us weariless. O’ dah roa’ we on is known and death is our companion. We walk prepared to join our ancestors in the glory of Kalisdel. Prepare us to be a living sanctuary for those in need. O’ dah roa’ we on is calling. We walk together to our fate. Holiness and righteousness holding us afloat.”
An interminable silence ensued when she concluded. But all present could feel their spirits lifted and their courage renewed. Everyone was already determined and prepared, but her voice had a way of elevating their resolve. The music reverberated in their minds, a gentle reminder of their responsibility for the greater good. They were prepared and at peace.
Calder was now wearing a normal citizens’ tunic and hat. An unassuming dagger hidden in his boot and a gladius strapped to his belt. “From this point on, everyone is to address you,” he was pointing directly at Titus, “As Calder. Lead your men out of the city.” He saluted the man who assumed his command, his identity.
Titus looked at the sturdy, proud few. “Legionaries, we are off to find Commander of the Chevaliers Victus Tiber Andreas. We march!” Spears tapped the barracks floor. Clank, Clank, Clank. In unison, the soldiers marched two by two with Titus, as Calder, leading them from the barracks to the city gates.
Jess had been riding hard, and her horse was already weary when the night fell. She kept pressing on. Still focusing on the words, “Find Skylighter.” She knew that the route she had chosen would take her twice as long to get to Asmadine; however, it provided a more camouflaged approach. When the night was half past, she slowed her horse. Resting by a nearby pond, Jess dismounted and fed the horse an apple from her satchel saddle bag. Then, allowing it to mosey on over to the water, she stripped off her heavy armor, hoping that by doing so, it would lighten the load for the horse further allowing her to make up for the time she was losing.
She gave herself a few hours’ rest, sleeping on the mount’s back. Using the muscular neck of the beast as her pillow. The horse jolted her awake. Its front legs lifted high off the ground as it neighed in anger, her back hooves kicked back, hitting and making a twisted metallic crushing sound. Jess was fully awake. Unable to see in the dark, she just told the horse to run.
“We need to go. Ride... RIDE!” she shouted.
The horse was in motion, darting through the woods. It wove in and out of trees in an attempt to flee this unknown threat. Jess could hear pursuers, but could not see them. “RIDE! Come on! We need to go!” Her head was whipping from side to side as she heard small clicks, quickly followed by the sound of thuds into the trees she was passing. She knew the sound, they were darts shot from a hand crossbow and she knew they were missing, but nearing their marks. All she could do was ride and hope to elude the enemy. More clicks and the horse groaned in protest. Jess reached back, feeling the horse’s rump and then her neck, looking for the darts. Jess knew at least one had found its target. She found a line of them underneath the horse’s mane and she plucked them out. The noxious smell told Jess all she needed to know. “Dark elves,” she whispered as she felt her stomach churning in disgust and fear. Her soft voice spoke to the horse, encouraging it to press on. “Fight the toxin. We can make it! RIDE! Come on!” She heard more clicks. This time, all of them found the beast, and it moaned in defeat. The head of the beast drooped down as the legs kept running at full speed. Its head collapsed down further and the horse tripped head over hooves and Jess went flying in the air. She had no clue where she was flying to, but desperately hoped she would not lose consciousness when she landed.
When she inevitably hit, she landed at the base of a tree back first, her shield absorbing most of the blow. Though she stayed crumpled on the ground, the shock and trauma had knocked the air from her lungs.
Her body ached in pain as she gasped for air. She heard footsteps in the distance and tried to look for her assailants. Jess inhaled in deep, labored breaths as she struggled to regain her breath and regain her footing. She noticed the pink and orange hues of the horizon and the whisper of the wind through the trees. The sky was beginning to lighten in the distance, coloring the horizon with a brilliant pink and orange. Maybe it would be enough for her to see. Maybe she could make it, she thought.
Brandan partook dinner in the parlor, savoring all sorts of delicacies. The caviar was imported from the seas under Eu’rok’s control. The toasted crackers were brought in from the high elves’ district in Asmadine. His wine of choice ‘Manoir of the Phoenix,’ this alone cost more than a human soldier would make in three years of service. It swirled around in his glass, magically enchanted to keep the spices spread evenly. Brandan took another sip, reaching for his marbled caviar spoon. The day had been busy, far busier than he would have preferred. But at least now it was over. The nocturnal hours had begun and he could drink, eat, purge, and begin again. In about an hour, a few of his hand-picked companions would arrive. Ultimately, he would choose one to share his bed for the evening. “Everything is as it should be,” he thought. A soft rapping on the door disrupted his leisure. “You are early. I am just having a snack before heading to my natatio.” Brandan’s words were tinged with a level of frustration that was hard to ignore. His open-air swimming pool, his natatio, was amongst one of the most luxurious in the world. He had spent nearly all the city’s coffers on its design and construction years ago. No one but him ever used the monstrosity until Victus made him open it to the public a few weeks a month. It was the city’s money, and they deserved to enjoy it. In an effort to recoup the monetary loss incurred by the structure, Victus held a series of water games. The plan introduced and anchored floating platforms which would be positioned on the surface of the water. The contestants would engage in a form of Bedlam Ball, based on the popular Asmadine city game. Each team would battle for the leather ball in the middle, attempting to accumulate a point by making it to the foe’s goal. It was merciless and cheating was permitted. Victus’ inaugural tournament garnered more revenue than all the other cities’ events combined for the calendar year.
