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Glancing quietly at Borodin, Elsir nods softly to himself. I had wondered when we would have this conversation. Opening his mouth to continue, Elsir hears Akiros bellow from the central room. Sighing, Elsir frowns and looking apologetic gestures towards the door. There are matters we need to discuss. Issues at hand I have wanted to speak to you about for some time, but I have been waiting for the time to be right. Bah! Grabbing up the two scrolls of tattooed ink upon human skin, Elsir grimaces in distastes before placing them in his bag and hurrying out of the room back towards the sound of Akiros.
Stepping out onto the landing with quick but controlled steps, the elven wizard nods once before tucking his arm behind him and walking down the circular landing to the center of the room. Borodin and I searched Ghorraneaux's chambers. The room had some material wealth, but nothing important at this time. However, she did have a single scroll of sending and scrying remaining. There were quite a few more scrolls that had been exhausted of magic. I suspect she has been watching us from the start and communicating with Hargulka. Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Elsir cocked his head in thought. I have never met Hargulka and only heard his description in passing from Banker Jarrow. This will increase the complexity of the spell. Casting his eyes over the founders and refugees, Elsir raises his voice. Are there any here who have personally seen the troll who calls himself a king? I know the founders all have, but what I require is an accurate description of him. A drawing would be helpful. Sighing regrettably Elsir frowns. Of course some sort of belonging would be more useful, and better yet a bit of hair, but a picture would hopefully suffice. Glancing back up towards the Founders, Elsir withdraws the vile skin-stretched parchment. My intent is to try to scry Hargulka first. He would be with the army. Then I will use the scroll of sending to relay a message to someone in sanctuary. I think that General Myrdal would be most appropriate. The success or failure of the first spell will determine the content of the second. The message will have to be short. No more than twenty five words. Do you all agree with my intentions?
"Forget the troll. He being in his home tells us nothing.. Scry the minotaur. We at least know he might be. I can get you a few of his affects if it helps."
Verik stands there with his mouth agape and a gauntleted finger in the air, about ready to respond to Borodin's mocking "accounting" remark before Elsir steers the conversation away to the issues at hand. Glaring at Borodin but not wishing to seem petty, he reluctantly lowers his hand and takes a calming breath.
"Manners and propriety in all things, of course. Madame Bellavieu...may I introduce Master Elsir Tel'ran." Verik points to Elsir in a conciliatory gesture, though his next introduction is very nearly a dismissive wave of his hand. "Borodin Loginov is the other." Verik clears his throat uncomfortably as he continues. "Warden Zander Whitestag. Nikolai Rogarvia." With a stiff bow made all the more rigid in his full plate, Verik says with a louder voice. "Everyone, this is Aleza Bellavieu, formerly of Galt."
Realizing something Elsir had just asked, Verik glances over to Jemini briefly before looking back over to him. "Madame Bellavieu may be one who can describe the Troll King as you need Elsir. She also mentioned that her people were forced to...build things for them. Weapons? Siege rams? A single minotaur cannot hope to sack Sanctuary. An army led by Hargulka is a different matter entirely."
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Nodding at the cold logic the Staglord displays, Elsir finds himself nodding. Yes.. that would.. He trails off glancing at Nikolai, his intelligent eyes re-evaluating the man whom at first glance appears to be simple and brutish. Feeling a shiver roll down his spine, Elsir breathes softly to himself, letting none of the anxiety that he felt show upon his face. Yes, that would suffice. Some bits of fur would be enough to focus the spell upon the minotaur with a nearly perfect probability of success.
Nikolai bellows. It's hard for the room not to turn and look at him.
"Introductions? Manners? We are at war. Will you introduce yourself to everyone at the battle before you fight?"
He steps closer to Elsir and casts down some torn bits of cloth. "Sleeping furs and small clothes. You'll want to wash yourself after."
He watches everyone for another second.
"Why are we still here? If we catch them, we can harry them. Slow them down. Pull some scouts away."
The big man storms out of the room to retrieve his horse.
"Manners and propriety indeed." Borodin says wryly. Borodin grins at his former employer while Verik continues his contemptuous glare.
Borodin steps forward, takes Aleza's hand gently and says, "My dear, you would make a very beautiful pirate indeed. But you would need a ship first." He steps back, not wanting to seem too forward before continuing. "What did your people make for these monsters?"
"Do not pay the large one any mind. He was wronged as a child and has never gotten over it."
Zander quickly responds to the question posed at him. "Warden Chasavich is my fastest rider, but it is the terrain that poses problems - not the distance. Alone and unhindered?Thirty-six, maybe forty hours if he wants the horse to live. Riding quickly, you all can be at the city walls in less than three days. But those tracks are a day old at least. Judging by the distance between the tracks, he was in a hurry himself."
Aleza nods at Verik's suggestion. "I can describe both the troll king and the minotaur. I spent enough time around both during my captivity. The smell is particularly potent as far as memories go." Her words seem to spark a thought for her. She points at Elsir from her vantage point on the floor. "I have no talent at drawing, but I have a near flawless memory. Do you have a spellbook with you? Every elven mage I have ever dealt with has a form of telepathy written in their spellbook. For a people who claim to so cherish freedom, they certainly are willing to invade the thoughts of others. In this case - and only this case - I will willingly grant you access to my memories if it will aid in the defeat and death of my captors."
"As for what we made - crude spears for his minions. Hundreds and hundreds of them. A number of battering rams from trees a hundred feet tall. Long, heavy javelins larger than ballista's bolts. Ladders. They were preparing for war. We are fortunate they have little knowledge of mining or smelting. They stole armor and steel weapons, but they had already eaten our blacksmith and couldn't manufacture more." She holds up a hand for Verik to pull her up to allow Elsir access. He pulls her up awkwardly, causing her to lose her balance and have to hang onto him for balance. She laughs a little, finding some mirth in the situation. "I was never a good dancer. My father always said I had two left feet. I would settle for just one now!"
"I see...ahhh..." stammers Verik awkwardly as he holds onto her just above the waist with his left arm, his now-unshielded right hand steadying her shoulder with a slight flush showing on his face. He had been taken aback by her description of the preparations for wartime siege and misjudged her rise from the floor. Aleza's casual mention of familiarity with elven magi along with her apt sense of humor further caught him off-guard. "...ahhh apologies for that." He pats her shoulder awkwardly twice and clears his throat. "Yes, well, Elsir where did you say you wanted to go to conduct this plan of yours?"
As he helps her move to where Elsir directs them to go, Verik's mind mulls over her joke when a thought comes to mind. "Perhaps the dance will take some time it is true, but you mentioned the raising of horses earlier, did you not? I would venture to guess you will find your 'footing' on horseback quite aptly still...well when you are recovered more of course."
Akiros shakes his head as he watches Nikolai leave, but says nothing to stop the former stag Lord from storming off. He also notes Elsir's evaluation of the big warrior. Nikolai had always been more intelligent, and cagey, than most people ever assumed him to be. Many of those people often paid the ultimate price for their misjudgement. However, the man was also incredibly impulsive and hot headed, no two ways about it. To Akiros' mind, it was the thing that would most likely get his old comrade killed someday.
Turning his mind to the most urgent matters however, Akiros first replies to Zander "Chasavich you say? Good. Send word for him to prepare to leave immediately. Have him take two horses though, and tell him we need him there in a day, or as fast as he possibly can. A dead horse is a small price to pay to save a city. Send your second fastest rider as well."
He then turns to the mage "Elsir, how long will these magics of yours take? If they'll be quick, we'll have the riders wait to see what you discover. If this will be a long process, we'll have them leave right now."
He then quickly looks to each of the founders as he finishes "Both Nikolai and Verik make good points, and, as we only have one chance, we need to make sure it is the right one." He pauses for a moment, thinking, before continuing "We have only the words of the hag as to where the minotaur may be, and she was a creature who lied with every breath. So, while the beast may indeed be on the way to Sanctuary, it could also be anywhere. We can be virtually certain though that Hargulka will be with the army. So between the two of them, I say we scry on him. It also occurs to me though that, if we wish to know for sure if Sanctuary is under attack, we can scry on Berrin. Either way, our sending will be a warning of the possibility of imminent attack, but knowing what is happening in Sanctuary right now will let us know how much haste we ourselves need to make."
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His mind drawn to Nikolai tossing to bit of fur at his feet, Elsir blinks slowly. He could have handed the fur to me. The elf thinks to himself, before smiling softly. A display of dominance, of course Elsir murmurs to himself, glancing down at the fur and rags. Flicking his hand in a series of motions, the fur levitates up into the air by Elsir's unseen mage's hand. Such a useful spell. Like so many in Elsir's arsenal it was not about how [/i]much[/i] force was applied, but where it was applied that made all of the difference. Keeping the fur held in the air, with his right hand, the left flicked out and whirled in a complex gesture, causing the dirt, grime and filth to fall from the rag and the bit of fur. Nodding again to himself, Elsir opened his bag and directed the hand to deposit the fur into it.
Turning his attention back to the remaining founders, as well as rescued refugee Aleza, Elsir, places his hands together and taps his index fingers together three times while considering the woman's words. Akiros, your's is the simplest question and will be answered first. The sending is the more complex of the two spells, but the scrying will take longer to cast. Based on my calculations I believe it will take me at least and hour to draw together the power for the scrying. It's a very.. delicate spell. Turning to Verik and Aleza, Elsir inclines his head softly in mute thanks. I do have a spell at my disposal that will allow me to detect your thoughts. If you concentrate purely on the image of Hargulka, that should suffice.. and.. thank you. I cannot begin to fathom what you and your people have been through, to open your mind after such a event is very brave of you. Turning to Verik, Elsir nods before pointing with his cane towards the hag's chambers. There is already a scrying circle that was established. It should improve the efficiency of the spell, though I am hesitant to use it.. I believe blood magic was used in it's creation.. it's.. Trailing off, Elsir thinks back to his time in the ruins below the Expanse. The stone vaulted rooms that were sized for giants with their horrid frescos of human sacrifices and divination through bloodletting. It's, quite horrible, though not out of line with what we would have expected from Ghorraneaux. Turning back to Aleza and the Founders, Elsir points towards Ghorraneaux's chambers. The circle is already in place. Banker if you would help Ms. Bellavieu, we will begin. Any who wish to observe the scrying may do so, but it is a lengthy spell to cast and will take my total concentration.
"Of course." Verik looks up at the long stairwell around the chamber up to the top landing of Ghorraneaux's chambers, a note of concern upon his face which passes quickly enough. "Let us make our way then carefully."
Pointedly he then looks to Jemini and not the others, speaking to her in a direct tone that suggests he wants to be seriously heard and considered by her. "If Elsir needs an hour or more and you agree in this course of action, you're going to then have to deal with your Grand Enforcer shouting and riding off to hunt that bull, waging 'war' or whatever he thinks he's going to do in his head before sundown. I will defer to you to a point, including the need to ride ahead of Zander's chosen that can escort the freed prisoners back safely if need be, but my intention is to return to Sanctuary and defend the city, not chase after quarry with cold tracks."
As it seems the decision is made to scry on Hargulka over the minotaur, Akiros nods in agreement. He then addresses the party's nominal leader "I am with Verik on this one Jemini. I will aid you in speaking with Nikolai if you wish, yet regardless the outcome of that conversation, the only place I heading right now is Sanctuary, as quickly as possible."
Next he turns to Elsir "I believe an hour is an acceptable time to wait to learn what we will from your magics. I expect to hear of your findings as soon as you have them, and I ask that you call me in before your sending to Berrin. In the meantime I shall shall aid Zander in reading the riders and arranging as safe passage as we can manage for the Galtans."
Finally, he turns to Aleza, his brusque manner softening noticeably "Ma'am, your bravery is commendable, and it, and your sacrifice in aid of Sanctuary shall not be forgotten. You have my deepest thanks and my word that I shall do all in my power to ensure that you and your people have all you need to rebuild your lives and make Sanctuary your home." and with that, he gathers the Warden and heads outside.
Nikolai already has several horses by the reigns. He is nodding to the wardens and feeding his own horse a few carrots while he buffets the steed's flank and throws off any camping equipment. It's obvious he means to ride fast and hard.
"As soon as the spells are cast, we can take the rough terrain back round. It will be hard on the horses but it's the best chance we have to gain on them. Even if we can't catch the minotaur, we can close the distance to sanctuary faster than Hargulka's forces expect."
Akiros exits the temple and marches straight up to the big warrior. He quickly explains the time line of the spells as Elsir had indicated. Then, taking the time to look his former liege lord in the eyes, he lays it out straight. "I have no doubt that Kydal can keep up with the fastest horses here, and then some. Borodin and Zander are excellent riders as well. However my large friend, we both know that your horsemanship is mediocre at best. Then there's your size. Those of us who will be riding ahead will be riding hard, riding light, and riding fast. So, while there is no other sword arm I'd rather have at my side or at my back, we both know that there's no way you'd be able to keep up on a long, fast ride. At least not without killing your mount and perhaps yourself as well. Therefore I suggest we ride in at least three groups. Zander, Borodin, myself and Zander's two fastest riders will be the lead group. You, and the other middling riders, Jemini, Verik and Elsir, can follow behind as quickly as you're able. Then Zander's wardens can bring back the Galtan survivors as at best a pace as they can manage."
He waits a beat, continuing to gaze directly into the taller man's eyes, before finishing "How sit you with that idea my friend."
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Sitting placidly with the scroll of scrying infront of him. Elsir breathes in and out slowly. To his left and right were Banker Jarrow and Ms. Bellavieu. Silence pervaded the room. The blood inscribed ring lay before Elsir. Quietly, so as not to disturb his concentration, Elsir pursed his lips at the circle. It was a vile thing, likely created from the blood of the captured people that the founders had rescued. What little that Elsir had read on blood magic had turned his stomach. While the sage could not deny that there was power in the blood, it was no different that the power trapped in time or precious and rare components. No, what bothered Elsir was the ease at with the power of blood could be accessed. The Cyclops of Grazh’tolar had used it. The Sin Magi of the Thessalonian Empire had as well. In fact Elsir could think of other examples of nations who had the height of their power had tapped into blood magic, thinking themselves immune to the pitfalls and dangers associated with such magic. The Jistka Imperium had, as had others. Any scholar could have drawn similar examples. And yet, each time the lessons of the past were ignored.
Sighing to himself, Elsir, still seated withdrew another scroll, this created by his own hand. Concentrating, Elsir focused on the Arcadian Gold Coast Pearl that was set in a gossamer mount of mithril upon his right index finger. Tapping into the stored energy inside of the pearl, the warmth that was usually present, fled and filled him for a moment with a burst of creative energy. Touching that energy, Elsir directed it along mental pathways. He focused on the spell he had cast earlier in the day that created the illusionary image of a trap. Like the blossoming of a flower the spell was restored to him.
Ms. Bellavieu, Elsir stated matter of factly, gazing at the woman. The scroll I hold in front of me will allow me to detect your surface thoughts. In order to maximise the probability of creating a scrying focus on Hargulka, I will try to leverage the effects of the spell. Therefore I will be casting two preparatory spells, both simple in nature but their combined effect should have a multiplicative result when used in conjunction with the scrying. Lightly picking up the first scroll, Elsir runs a finger along the penned edge. When my first spell takes effect, I want you to think of everything you remember about Hargulka. What he looked like, smelled like. Impressions you receive about him. It does not matter how complicated the thought. Simply do your best to concentrate on Hargulka and I will be able to know whatever it is you think. Inclining his head, Elsir glanced at the wounded woman, guarded over by Verik. With your permission, I will begin? Wordlessly nodding Aleza Bellavieu closed her eyes and scrunched up her face thinking about Hargulka, the troll who would be king.
::His height and strength were incredible, that was the first think that Aleza remembered. The troll king dwarfed the other members of his retinue by at least a head. Quaking in fear, but unwilling to die a coward, Aleza stared up at the troll. He stood ten feet tall at least and possessed massively muscular arms, each one was as long and as thick as a tree trunk and they ended in huge, sharp claws. The troll's mouth was filled with sharp tusks that appear fully capable of rending a human into pieces. The troll king carried himself with an air of danger, but his eyes are the thing most remarkable about him. He sized up the captured galtan woman from afar with canny eyes that burn with intellect and ambition. ::
Breaking the spell, Elsir breathed heavily. That.. that will suffice. The wizard stated, glancing at the woman. Elsir had asked her to focus on her memories of Hargulka and she had done so, but he could still feel her fear bleeding over into her thoughts. Being focused on remembering the memory as if it was his own, Elsir felt that fear and let it become part of him. We defeated the hag, but the minotaur, and two headed-troll that serve as Hargulka's lieutenants remain. The hag herself was a dangerous foe but nothing compared to the combined might of this monstrous army. This will be more dangerous than anything else the Founders or New Haven have faced before.
Moving onto the second step.. Elsir murmured, focusing on the memory of Hargulka while calling upon the same spell that allowed him to summon the illusionary cage of metal, less than an hour before. Focusing on the memory that Aleza Bellavieu had shared with Elsir, a troll sprang to appearance in the room. Tall, nearly ten feet with massive arms, long and strong with wickedly sharp claws at the end. Splotchy green scales covered the beasts back and arms and a crown of black iron was worn upon its thick, warty brow. The eyes however were the part of the illusion that Elsir appreciated the most. A steel cage was a simple illusion. Making something appear to be alive, that.. that was far more complicated. Nodding again to himself. Elsir stood up. He kept the image fixed in place. It was a perfect replica of Hargulka, plucked from the memory of Aleza Bellavieu. In truth any of the Founders who had been present at the centaur moot could have done this, but Elsir suspected that if the woman felt that she had played a critical role in assisting the founders, it might give her some peace.
Walking around the fixed image of Hargulka, Elsir nodded to himself. He studied the image, looked at it from all angles. He had shared memories of being in the creatures presence and now he had seen it up close. Outside of a personal belonging, Elsir had done all that he could to skew the likelihood of success in his favor. Turning his back to the illusionary form of Hargulka, Elsir waved in it's direction causing the image to disappear as quickly as it formed. If only dealing with the true Hargulka were so easy. Elsir thought before turning back to Verik and Aleza. Let us begin the final spell in our efforts to scry upon Hargulka. Elsir said picking up the scroll and focusing on it.
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Several seconds pass while Nikolai looks on to the riders, and then to his own horse. He locks eyes with his old first mate.
"I will ride in the middle, but we should use the rough terrain to make time. If you have the chance to harry scouts or distract even a few forces, you should take it. If you need to divert some forces back to us, we will be ready. Don't spare us on any account if it gives the city time or fewer to fight."
Nikolai leads his horse to make ready, but knows every minute he sits on its back is another minute the horse cannot run. He prepares to do the thing he hates most.
"I will wait. But when this is over, if we both live, we find me a better horse, and make sure that horse has a better rider."
The hints of a smile cracking his normally iron faced composure and dancing in his eyes, the former ronin replies "Aye, that we will my friend. Although we may be better off having you learn to ride on of your worgs."
He then whistles for Kydal and begins preparing the magnificent war horse for the fast journey ahead. Sensing his rider's mood, Kydal begins to dance, eager for the race.
An hour passes in silence as Elsir weaves together the magic from the vile scroll, pressing his consciousness through the veil of clairvoyance. Pressing into Aleza's mind had been difficult, for her strong will pushed back against his probes even though she granted him permission to scan her thoughts. Elsir was impressed at her formidable intellect as he drew the image of Hargulka from her and crafted it into an illusion. The scrying spell takes time to develop as they all sit in silence.
Meanwhile, the others outside argue about how to best defend Sanctuary from the oncoming army of trolls and monsters. They all agree that Zander and the Wardens should lead back the hostages to Sanctuary - if there is still a Sanctuary to return to - moving behind the Founders. The slow-moving hostages, with their injuries and amputations, will drastically slow them down. Nikolai wants to harry the forces, but an examination of the geography shows that to be impossible if the trolls attack from the east side of Candlemere and try to sack the city from the south. Eventually, they settle on riding together in case Hargulka sends scouts around the city to head them off; Akiros riding alone may not be able to fight off a scout in the same way that the entire group would be able to. It makes both Akiros and Nikolai anxious to wait, but it is the sensible thing to do if Elsir can get warning to Berrin. As the general of Newhaven's armies, he is most capable of mustering the city's armies to head off the trolls.
After an hour of silence, Elsir feels his consciousness escape the area in a mental rush. It is wholly different than his previous divinations, in which he remained entirely aware of his surroundings. In the scrying, his entire consciousness leaves his physical body behind to peer upon the target. He remains aware that he has a body, but cannot move it without pulling himself out of the spell. The image of Hargulka comes into focus as clearly as if he were standing next to the troll king.
The ruler of the trolls is angry. He stands tall on grassy plains with a crudely-drawn map carved onto leather unrolled on the ground before him, with several other advisors speaking to him. They are arguing in Giant, which Elsir speaks fluently. "It's a short window that we have. We should be at the city's gates now, feasting on their citizens. Tahngruun and the idiot horses can catch up." He points to the map with a long claw, tapping what must be Sanctuary on the north bank of the lake. He traces along from their current position - along the southeast bank of Lake Candlemere.
The two-headed troll advisor speaks from his left mouth. "The centaurs are probably fighting the other centaurs. But we need them to cover the flank if Varn's men are able to make it. If we are forced to besiege the city, you will be thankful to have them to slow Sanctuary's allies." He then speaks from his right mouth, which has a distinctly gruffer voice. "The water will keep our flank safe on the west, so we should place our strongest forces - our trolls, of course - on the eastern flank."
A floating ball of light - a will-o'-wisp, clearly - pulses and emits a sound that could be interpreted as speech. "We have flown around the target many times. They have no flying defenders, and minimal bowmen. The wyverns ought to have free reign. The worgs, on the other hand, will not participate. We attempted to bring them into the attack, only to have them rebuff our demands. It seems that they have a new pack leader. We doubt that they will cause problems, but we must leave defenders in case they attack behind our lines."
"Good, good..."[/b] Hargulka seems lost in thought. "I will give them another day. We can be there in a day's walk. We must move then, as we only have a matter of days until the humans' champions return from Ghorraneaux's fortress. We must sack the city and destroy its armies before they return." The advisors nod (except for the will-o'-wisp, which simply pulses and disappears) and exit beyond Elsir's vision.
Elsir maintains the vision for several minutes as Hargulka walks around the troll camp. He can only see several feet in each direction, as the spell is focused on Hargulka, but he sees a few dozen trolls come within close distance to the king. There are other creatures there - trollhounds, kobolds, lizardfolk, frogmen, and a few more exotic monstrous humanoids - and they all seem anxious and bloodthirsty. Hargulka stops at one point to watch a fight between two smaller trolls, not stopping as they rip each other to shreds and heal the injuries immediately. Finally, he stops alone at the edge of the water. He closes his eyes and holds his hands out. "Nyrissa, my queen... I will sack the humans, just as you ask. All I ask of you is--"
Suddenly, the duration of the spell expires. Elsir is jerked back into his own body's senses without hearing the remainder of the troll king's paean to Nyrissa. He lets loose a breath he doesn't know that he had been holding, and looks around at the expectant faces around him.
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Dropping a hand to the floor, Elsir breathed in and out heavily. He looked around the room at the expectant faces, waiting, wondering what he had seen. The hag's words were correct. Elsir began, his voice quiet but powerful. Closing his eyes again, the elf mentally catalogs the conversation, captured at the most opportune time. Hargulka and his army currently hold position along the southeast bank of Lake Candlemere, They are a day's walk away from the city. Tahngrunn has not yet reached him, and whatever allies he was able to raise among the centaur's have not appeared either, Hargulka believes there is infighting between the differing clans. Glancing up at Queen Jemini, Elsir nods knowingly, before taking a small sip of water to clear his throat. I was able to listen to their plan of battle so I know what to expect. The elf states by way of explanation. They needed the centaurs to cover their flank if Varn's army should appear and because of that, Hargulka has delayed his plans to attack by one day, hoping that some will arrive. When they do, the trolls will be on the eastern flank. Wyvern's will attack from the sky. However their reserve of worgs have abandoned them, citing... a new pack leader. This will in turn require a force of defenders to be left in reserve should they be attacked.
Frowning slightly, Elsir thinks back to the last words that he had heard from Hargulka. :: "Nyrissa, my queen... I will sack the humans, just as you ask. All I ask of you is--" :: As Elsir mind catched on the last exchange, his eyes go wide, thinking back to a time that may have existed both in Elsir's future.. and in his past..
::"I can." The quiet reply comes so swiftly it was almost as if The Cog had been waiting for the question, or one much like it. "There are three things: the first is the death of Berrin while fighting Nyrissa in 4725. The second, and possibly most obvious, is when our erstwhile Stag Lord, Nikolai, went against all he was supposed to have become and threw his lot in with Choral the Conqueror. The third, and perhaps most immediately relevant to you, master Elsir...is your death in 4713 while fighting the lich, Vordekai."::
Nyrissa.. Elsir hisses eyes narrowing. This was not the first time that the wizard had heard the name. Glancing at the others, Elsir grimaced. Has anyone else here heard the name Nyrissa? Just before the scrying ended, I overheard Hargulka speaking to one by that name.. and this is not the first instance I have encountered a reference to this person. Hargulka implied that he was attacking us on order of Nyrissa.. and that Hargulka would take orders from another troubles me deeply. Sighing, Elsir ran a hand through his hair. Regardless, we have the means to warn Sanctuary of the impending attack. The warning will need to be short and concise. Twenty five words or less to be exact. Whom shall I send the message to and what does everyone recommend as to the contents? Remember! Elsir states holding up a finger. Brevity and clarity are paramount.
"Tuskwater," says Verik absently, his mind lost in thought as he starts to pace a small section of the floor outside of the circle. "If they are but a day's march away then they must be near our own lake of the Tuskwater, probably just south of the Gudrin River and the old ferry crossing. Blast! This is all coming together too quickly!" He throws up his hands in consternation. "Wyverns as well as trolls? And siege rams and who knows what else! If they came between the lakes then it just shows what that puffed-up pseudo-wizened Gozran shaman was truly about...probably thinks in his muck-loving misguided foolish notions that the attack on our city is some sort of "balance" being served...serves him right if they had him and his pets for a march-time snack!" He snorts in derision at the memory of the Gozran and his supposed betrayal. "Well, at least the Nomen Clans that sided with us are honoring their part it seems." He snaps his fingers in realization. "Worgs! Pack leader! Ha! That Red Eyes won't attend to them...I suppose that shows that Nikolai succeeded in his claim at their "moot" or whatever they call it."
Verik's mind seemed to have trouble catching up to the rapid pace of Elsir's news mixed with inquiry, and only then did he start to digest the question that the Pathfinder wizard put to the rest of them. He looks at Elsir in puzzlement for a moment, with the hint of something being remembered creeping across his face.
"Nyrissa." The mere mention of the name gave Verik an unhealthy chill and he thought he could place an image with that name somehow, but when he tried to force it the uncanny connection just slipped away from his mind like a fish out of the net. One memory did come back to him though, for it was one of those days he would never forget, conversations and images that he could recall with near-perfect clarity. "Yes Elsir, I have heard the name before, but only once. You should speak to Nikolai about it if he hasn't charged off into the wilds by now, for he himself spoke of this Queen Nyrissa in the same breath as Choral, citing her machinations in some contest with the latter as it related to the fall of House Rogarvia. What else he knows about her though, he never related..." Verik turns then to Jemini questioningly, a slight air of tension in the tone of his words. "...unless you have heard more of the story?"
"I can't rightfully say I know more than you. Nikolai has made passing reference to the fey queen, Nyrissa, before; but I don't think he's ever had more contact with her than conversations in his dreams. A voice in the back of his head." She shudders for a moment, as a suppressed memory pries itself to the forefront of her mind. "No... please not. Not that." With a worried expression she turns her full attention to Verik, but speaks to all: "Most of you weren't there, just Verik and Zander, and I. Berrin, Tandlara and Taisper as well but they can't help us right now. Verik, Verik do you remember? Some two years ago, on the ice-capped peaks? The procession."
The decision, after much discussion, having been finally made, thar none of the founders would ride ahead, that they were safer riding as group, Akiros waits, barely more patient than Nikolai. The battle Oracle busies himself with a hundred and one small, and helpful, but mainly unnecessary tasks to pass the time. Finally, after whats seem much longer than an hour, he blasts "Damn these magic users and their arcane magics! Does he not know that we have loved ones to protect! If he hasn't found his answers yet, perhaps a swift kick to backside will give him the pathfinder the extra push he needs!"
Knowing Nikolai is as eager to be off as is he, Akiros storms back into the ruins, the big warrior at his side. Quickly they make their way up the stairwell to the previous chambers of Ghorraneaux. It seems the others, intent as they are upon Elsir's scrying and message, do not hear their approach. Just reaching the shadowed doorway as the mage relates the contents of his scrying, Akrios halts as if striking a wall. The word that Hargulka's army rests but a day outside the city walls fill Newhaven's Marshal with dread. Thoughts of, and fear for his beloved Elsbeth, along with all of Sanctuary's citizens, turn his blood ice cold. At the same time the urge to leap onto Kydal and ride, now, without stopping until they reached Sanctuary's gates almost makes Akiros turn around and run back down the stairs.
A moment later, beside him, he feels Nikolai stiffen as well. For the former Stag Lord though, it seemed to be the mention of one "Queen Nyrissa" that brought such reaction.
Akiros grits his teeth, about to move forward to question the mage on all he saw, yet it is Nikolai who breaks his momentary paralysis first and steps forward out of the shadows into the scrying room...
"This Nryssa sounds like bad news if the founders are worried. At least from what Elsir says, Hargulka is amassing his army in her name. Which means she is somewhere else. Perhaps this is a good thing."
"Regarding the message, how about...'Troll army advancing from Lake Candlemere, one day's march away. Founders returning within two days. Prepare for battle and call for reinforcements.'"
"I...I do remember." The shiver moving down his spine has a memory now, the chill of seeing her colder than any winter storm. He returns Jemini's gaze steadily and nods, though his is tinged with fear as well as worry. "Like something out of a tale from Irrisen or old Sarkoris to frighten children into behaving, only she was real. And the other three, her...war-captains? Monstrous nobles? A giant even to other giants, a true dragon and a hooved-and-horned fey prince." He shudders. "I'd try to make a jest about those three in a tavern or some such, but speaking it deadens my mouth like ash."
He haltingly pauses, but takes a deep breath and tries to recover himself. "Yes Jemini, that was a day I shall never forget. That crisp cold day after that terrible snowstorm the night before." He barks a laugh suddenly then with his eyes bright, something the Banker is not normally prone to do. "Remember the snowball fight? Ahh! I think we all needed the respite - even Taisper had stopped his brooding and was truly joyous for that brief time. That was all but a fortnight from Taxfest...and as it turns out the Battle of Stagfall."
Verik briskly walks forward then to where he had prepared some parchment and ink for after the ritual, rubbing his hands briskly together as if to ward off the imagined cold. He seems to put Borodin's words together then. "I don't know why one like that would need the likes of trolls and lizards to wage a war. Maybe as you say she is elsewhere, or maybe she can only go where the snows and mountains are. Honestly I had not put that name and that memory together - we still do not know if this Nyrissa is one and the same."
He begins to write out the words that Borodin has just offered for the sending on the parchment, then in more typical Verik style starts to edit the phrases and crosses words out with a flourish of his quill.
"She is, priest. She is the Winter Queen. Her games regard Choral as but a pawn. We were fools to suggest to Hargulka that a force beyond the Conqueror threatened these lands. He has been her thrall from the beginning."
Nikolai pulls the great sword out and holds it in the center of the room. It flares bright orange, and the flames leap out hungrily.
"Cross swords with me, Borodin, Elsir, friends. Whatever your disagreements and fear, we will teach the fey queen she chose her champions poorly."
"It seems that my purpose here is confirmed."
The man out-of-time looks at Elsir with a slight smile and a look implying they will talk later of the things on the elf's mind.
He draws his Aldori blade and takes a few steps toward Nikolai and holds his blade against Dragonsbreath. He watches the flow of the flames around his blade, twisting and turning like a dance.
His mind drifts back to his past. All those nights losing himself in meditation, all the while staring at the fire. He thinks about The Cog and the hard lessons learned living under his rule. He remembers one of the last conversations he had with his master "...all will be clear in time Borodin. You must go with these Pathfinders. A better life and a greater challenge awaits. You must protect my friends where you are going. Including Nikolai Rogarvia. You will cross swords with him one day, but not in the manner that you think."
The ring of steel on steel as Akiros adds his sword brings Borodin back to the present. He sees Nikolai's visage through the fire of the blades and understands fully his former master's words.
"Death to the Winter Queen."
Understanding the importance of the ritual to Nikolai and the others, Akiros crosses his blade over Nikolai's and Borodin's. He waits a few more moments for others to join, but the impatience is clear on his face. Finally, he growls "Yes, yes, death to the Winter Queen, but first, death to those that threaten our home! Let us send our message and be on our way! We are already too late as it is!"
Sheathing his sword, he moves to leave the room. At the doorway, he turns saying "Berrin is an excellent general, he knows what to do. So give him as much information as we can for him to make the best decisions. Something like 'Troll army day away, southeast Candlemere. Founders return two days. Centaurs infighting, army flank unprotected. Trolls east flank. Wyverns have sky. Worgs not with them'. But whatever you send, do so quickly! We must away! I go now to prepare the rest of the mounts. I expect you all to be ready shortly!"
And with that, he is gone.
Jemini joins her sword into the pledge. "These lands are sorely being tested by the fates. But they will not find our will falter or our blades resting!"
Afterward she adds to Akiros' words: "A bit cryptic in that form; but I agree that Berrin will make a great commander of the defense. Perhaps something to the line of Wake up! Troll and wyvern army southeast of Candlemere, one day away. We return in 2. Prepare for siege, send messages to Varnhold and Brevoy. Love, Jemini and Friends, cross the t's and dot the i's."
He watches as the other three warriors each join their swords to Nikolai's blade, even as the last scion of Rogarvia's words turn over in his mind. Hard and to the point they are, but spoken in a way that he had not quite heard before. At least, not since the very first day of Nikolai's return from the afterlife and those first pronouncements to the Founders of his new destiny.
The others had made their decision clear. He had to as well. He leaves aside the quill and parchment and stands to face Nikolai, his jaw set.
"I never thought you would be the one to ask for demonstration of oath from the rest of us, Nikolai Rogarvia." He nods mostly to himself. "Nor did I ever think I would ever be one to agree to it and see it fulfilled. Yet, here we are."
A heartbeat's pause more, and then Verik draws the ancient elven longsword he claimed from the armory at his belt, and steps forward to put that against the other four blades. For a moment it seems to Verik that the dancing flame on Nikolai's blade takes on a different hue, though surely it must have been a trick of the eye. "So my Oath is sealed with the Lawgiver. Down with the Winter Queen and all who serve her."
Elsir sits in a meditation position as he performs the ritual to cast the spell. Vile as the scroll is, its magic is necessary to provide warning to Sanctuary. The magic takes ten minutes to summon. At the climax of the spell, Elsir can feel a pop of pressure as he connects with Berrin - despite a few hundred miles of distance between them. Elsir closes his eyes and thinks a very precise series of words: 'Hag defeated, Hargulka’s army attacks Sanctuary tomorrow from south. Wyverns from sky, trolls east flank. Founders reaching Sanctuary, two days. Warn Varn, reply with intentions.'
Elsir listens for Berrin's return, hearing nothing for several long moments. After thirty seconds, he hears a mental response. 'S&#~! You scared me! I hear you. How do I respond? Thinking hard? You picked the wrong guy for that. I will get the defenses--" Berrin's reply is cut off by the limitations of the spell, but at least they have confirmation that Berrin heard their warning.
Elsir stands and brushes himself off. "Sanctuary has been warned. Let us ride."
Leaving Zander behind with the rest of the Wardens to supervise the slow process of bringing the hostages to Sanctuary, the group sets out as fast as they can in the direction of Sanctuary. Despite the vicious combats of the day, they travel without rest. The previously-frozen marshy ground makes the first several hours difficult, and the sun is already dipping by the time they are ready to ride. The sunset has come and gone when they arrive at the denser part of the forest that they rode through earlier. Tired and aware that they will kill their horses if they ride non-stop, they stop and make camp for long enough to eat and rest. They get a few hours of sleep, switching off who is on watch. Verik and Jemini ensure that they all receive sufficient magical healing to cure the wounds from fighting the inhabitants of the fortress.
They ride out as soon as the sun begins to rise, eating just enough to keep their energy and spirits up. They know that Hargulka will likely attack today or tomorrow, but the profoundly dense forest keeps them from riding too fast. They have to ride in single file for most of the day, pressing the horses on for hours and hours. Jemini's blessing keeps the horses' fatigue at bay. Verik and Elsir's spells supplement this, allowing them to ride from sunrise to sunset. The risk of tripping is too high to ride at night in the forest, forcing them to stop when it gets dark.
The group rides through the trees, which grow blessedly less dense every mile they ride east. They ford the Skunk River at mid-day, and arrive at the edge of the forest hours after that. Nothing but plains lays out before them, with half a day's ride to Sanctuary. They break into a fast gait, pushing the horses as hard as they can go without going into a full sprint. Akiros seems especially eager to press onwards, having to slow down only because Kydal would suffer exhaustion if not for Jemini's touch. As they arrive on the packed roadway that leads to the farms west of Sanctuary, they continue the punishing pace. Darkness falls as they push the horses with the farms whipping by them.
The group rushes onwards to the edge of the city, which seems fairly subdued. The city seems half-deserted, but no panic has gripped the city. Berrin may have rallied a good portion of the citizenry to act as milita. They push on to Castle Sanctuary, where only a single guard stands at duty. He salutes them and opens the gate, directing them to the Founder's Hall. The interior of the castle is buzzing with activity, but they can tell that only a skeleton crew mans the castle. The six - three of them part of the titular Founders - dismount and burst into the meeting hall.
The Founder's Hall has been converted into a makeshift war room. A map of the surrounding area, meticulously drawn some months before by Zander, lays on the table at the head of the room. Kesten Garess is taking a report from a rider, moving around several carved figures on the map. He beckons them with a hand. "Good, you're all here! Berrin and Aylene rode out last night with every sword arm he could find." A few familiar faces dot the room - including Nikolai's friend Klaigen Gladcoin, who shrugs his prosthetic right arm at Kesten's comment - as most everyone in Sanctuary prepares to either rally a second level of defense or to evacuate the city if necessary. "Berrin didn't care for the prospect of having to defend the citizens while fighting Hargulka. He planned to catch them crossing the Gudrin River on the newly-built bridge that spans the ford." He points to the map at the hydra-infested ford that they crossed at some years back.
Hal appears seemingly out of nowhere. "Berrin said that he would hit them as hard as he could, then hold the bridge long enough for you to arrive. We sent word to Varnhold, but I suspect that they won't arrive until two or three days from now. Almost everyone went to fight, but we held back enough to organize an evacuation should we lose the battle. I should have realized something was amiss when we didn't hear from the southern scouts for the last few days, but none of them were more than a few days behind schedule. Still, they must have been captured or killed by the trolls. Berrin said that they have wyverns, which would be difficult to evade on the open plains to the south."
Elspeth arrives in the Hall, rushing to Akiros's arms. The pregnant noblewoman - former noblewoman - simply holds tightly to him without words. She is showing even more than before, now at nearly six months pregnant with his child.
Old Eben and Madam Ryton lead the Initiates and several other teenagers as they stack boxes and barrels of supplies. Eben spots Verik and walks up to give a report. "General Myrdal needed as many clerics as we could muster. Even Pathfinder Gunderson volunteered, though I suspect that was to keep Miss Amitel safe. I drew the short straw of staying back to help the Initiates, but that's likely for the best. There are clerics of stronger arm and faith than me to do their part." He looks at their fatigued demeanors, even if they aren't feeling the effects of the ride thanks to magic. "You'll need to get some rest and pray to Abadar before you head south."
The big man nods at Gladcoin abruptly before turning to Akiros and the others.
"We rode for two full days. Why are they not here? If Berrin needs our help, we should go. If Hargulka delays, a half day of rest and some more scouting would help a great deal. What do you think?"
He turns to his friend, unsure why he's returned from Brevoy at this moment. "Gladcoin. Can you fight with that other hand or did it grow soft molding itself to the crystal glasses of the nobility?"
Borodin approaches Kesten Garess while inspecting the map. "Kesten, do we have any idea of the actual numbers in the forces we are facing and if they are truly concentrated in one area?"
Verik gives a weary smile as he nods at Eben's report. "Stronger arm perhaps but not of faith, and I estimate your wily years of travel upon the rivers more than make up for a muscled arm. But I am glad you are here."
He stifles a yawn and gives a brief nod and wave to Madam Ryton before turning back to Eben, asking a series of questions. "Anya and Willas protecting her of course...I'll have to let Elsir know about that if he doesn't already...and Thomas and the Twins. Dannil?" Eben nods gravely, a brief look of worry in his eyes, as Dannil of Galt is truly special to him and the reason he came to Newhaven. "The newer Junior Clerks?" Again a nod of assent. "Bertram? The other oathsworn guards? The Vaultmen?" Eben nodded several times more, explaining that most had gone to protect the Clerks with the army; only the oathsworn "Archer" Mersen had stayed behind with their architect Galen Lavill to look after the Initiates with Clerk Eben and Madam Ryton if an evacuation to the north had to occur. Two oathsworn guards had been assigned to guard the now-closed-and-locked Bank and its main temple should any ill-timed thievery be contemplated in the emergency, but otherwise the rest of the able-bodied Vaultmen had gone south, minus those that had been contracted at the last minute by wealthier merchants and families of the city to protect life and property fleeing northwards to Olegsgrav.
"My cousin? Where is Taisper?" Eben shook his head slightly, as he did not know fully where Master Stozs or his family was; Thomas as Junior Banker had only received brief word when the mobilization occurred that Taisper was providing for the safety of his wife and adopted son directly, and to tell Verik he was "fine" should he return and inquire about him.
Hearing snatches of conversation around him in the Founder's Hall, Verik yawns a second time and tries to shake it off, thanking Eben for the news. "We shall see when Jem...when the Lady Marshal wishes for us to depart southwards. Until that time, my only other order is to move the Lawgiver's Shield with the healing symbol upon it to this Hall by morning. If it comes to a defeat and some of the injured and wounded reach the city, you have my blessing to use it for as many as you can and then head north to the holdings of House Lebeda with as many as you can save."
Kesten beckons them to the map, where the arrayed forces are represented by small figures. "Hydra Bridge - Berrin's name for it, not mine - is a little more than twenty miles south-southeast from here. He has a relay system with the scouts set up, where they ride about five miles to pass along a message to the next rider. We've been receiving an update almost every hour since the battle started. He's estimated that Hargulka has about thirty to forty troll warriors, which are his primary problem. They don't have enough fire to do much more than keep them at bay. Numerically, the foot soldiers - mostly lizardfolk and kobolds, with a few other types of monsters in the mix - are the bigger problem. They're estimated to be as many as a thousand. They even have a few ogres and giants in their numbers, and you were right about the wyverns. Berrin pulled anyone willing to take up arms, especially if they had crossbows." He taps on the map at the bridge.
Hal pitches in with the content of the messages, befitting his status as their spymaster. "His messages indicate that he caught the trolls just before they made it to the bridge and drove them back. They've been fighting for control over it since late this afternoon. They've taken casualties, but he's in a defensive stance waiting on you and Baron Varn to even the odds. He says that he's confident he can hold the trolls for the time being, but that they'd lose in a fair fight. He says to make sure you all - especially those who use magic - get enough rest to do any good. He got word to our centaur allies, who are harrying the trolls and their centaur allies south of the Gudrin." He gives Nikolai a disapproving look. "The worgs have appeared as well. Berrin hasn't seen them in action, but he said that the one with the red eyes appeared to notify him that they were there."
As Kesten gives out the tactical situation, the others speak quietly to their friends and allies. Verik and Old Eben speak for a few moments about who went south with Berrin and what to do if they lose the battle to the trolls. As Eben exits to take care of his command, the kobold Jabber appears in the hall. "Master Jarroo! Jabber been helping! Jabber angry at other kobold not join Lady Jee-mee-nee." He gnashes his sharp teeth together in exaggerated woe. "Sootscales not bad kobolds, just dumb and scared. Not bad like will-ohhh-wisps! You watch for floaty skulls. Jabber saw one zap a Sootscale once. Zzzzzzzz! You be careful."
On the other side of the hall, Klaigen shrugs. "I do have a business to run and family to see, you know. Things have been going well in New Stetven for the plan. Some of the people have been calling you the Dragon Lord. The stories are spreading through the city, but I've got to give them some time to soak in. Hence, coming home for a month. I didn't expect to find the city under attack. I'm pretty terrible with my sword hand, so I'm doing what I can do here."
The big man grins broadly and slaps Gladcoin on the back with an outstretched hand. "You're a good man, Klaigen. If you need anything from me, you need only ask. We'll talk when Hargulka's head is mounted on his own border." he lowers his voice and takes a sullen tone. "Evil attacks today, but in the end, when enough men and monsters die, Newhaven's borders will advance, and I will need strong men to keep the Queen's people safe. Depending on how things go, recruiting able bodied men, boys who would squire, orphans, anyone that can serve or needs gain will be a vital task."
Looking around at the errands and provisions stillbeing worked for the battle, Nikolai says louder, "Are there any longbows here? I need a better bow for those wyverns. A few good shots and we may ward them off early.
Then we can kill the trolls."
Borodin listens to all the details carefully before speaking. "Has anyone actually seen Hargulka on the field? I'm no general, but from what I understand of his strength and intellect, I could see him raising his army to draw everyone to the bridge. Then when we're all busy there, sneaking around with a small contingent of elite forces to wipe out Sanctuary. If we have no base to fall back to, we could be picked apart from all sides."
"I know Jabber, I know what you say." Verik earnestly tries to reassure the reformed Sootscale. "I will ask Berrin for quarter to be granted to them...that is to say I will ask for peace if Sootscales no longer fight, so if Sootscales give up fighting we can see them freed. As you are, Jabber. We may be able to give more names and show them our ways, yes? I may call for you after the battle to help make them understand. Yes? And don't you worry, I will talk to Elsir and sort out how to deal with...with floaty skull talk-balloons. I will stop the zap from its hurt." True enough I will, for I have had enough of that to last me!
Jabber smiles a massive, toothy grin. "Jabber spreads freedom to Sootscales. Jabber become Chief Sootscales!" He does a bizarre little dance, raising an imaginary spear or scepter to himself. "If Bear-inn can be nobleman, anybody can too! Even Jabber!"
Hal doesn't seem perturbed by Borodin's question. "The future must be an untrusting place. Berrin mentioned spotting him during the initial skirmish. We've got our riders set up in such a manner that Hargulka would have to go through them, and unless his wyverns can pick off all of the simultaneously, I think we'd have ample warning." He turns to Nikolai to answer his question. "Berrin left his other longbow in his quarters. You might not care for it, though." He doesn't say how he knows the contents of Berrin's private quarters.
The cryptic ending to the spy's words gets Nikolai's attention. He stands and moves immediately to Berrin's quarters, quickening his pace as he goes.
Nikolai bursts through the door to Berrin's quarters on the second floor of the castle. Normally, a posted guard might object - but in this case, only the guards at the main stairs stands guard. He looks around through the rooms that Berrin shares with Aylene for the bow that Hal mentioned. His eyes run over the rather overstuffed bed that Berrin had insisted upon, with its huge carved frame that took four men to lug upstairs the day before the wedding. It seems fitting that every other item of value in the room belongs to Aylene, while the extravagant bed is what Berrin would spend his gold on.
A simple desk sits to the side of the second room. Nikolai sees that it has a pair of displays above. The first is empty, with two heavy hooks to hold the sword that Berrin took from the Stag Lord's body - the same huge sword that Nikolai used to run Jemini through and snuff out her life. Berrin presumably took it to help fight off Hargulka and his army. The second display, below the sword, is just as familiar. The oaken longbow of the Stag Lord. Its massive size and incredible stiffness made it practically impossible for anyone but him to string or shoot an arrow from. Berrin had kept it as a trophy - impossible as it was for anyone else to use - but Nikolai had never asked about it. He knew that his possessions had been divvied up upon his death - the greatsword to Berrin, the helm to Zander, eventually the amulet to Jemini - but he had never once asked for any of it back.
Brief scenes play in Nikolai's mind. Firing the bow into fleeing soldiers. Lifting grown men from their horses when he took aim at cavalry. He'd once killed an adult bear with one shot from the bow—a dare he'd have paid dearly for if that bear had completed its charge.
As an instrument of war, it was magnificent. As an instrument of mindless violence, it had threatened an entire region. No doubt the good folk of Varn would worry, seeing the oaken shaft in his hands again, but this time would be different.
This time the aggressors would pay in blood until they left in fear for their lives. And this bow could help.
"I'm sorry, Berrin. I'll give it back if you require it." Nikolai practices his apology for when Berrin recognizes his property.
Arrows. the Stag thinks to himself as he lifts the bow from its display. I'll need more arrows.
"Very true Jabber, true enough. But it will be hard work for you to show them the way, and harder still for them to learn a new way to live." Could it work? It would be something truly of testament to the Master if I could help shape it, make it work, to prove that.... "I shall help guide you if it comes to it, but for now we dare not count unhatched chickens when we should prepare for battle. Finish your tasks Jabber, and I shall see you before we go." He watches as the excited Jabber bows and trots off with thoughts of what could be for the Sootscales. Should they actually make it through this battle and his peoples were largely freed and intact, it would be a fascinating prospect to try and bring them into the light of civilization. For now though he would have to shelve that away in his mind for another time and place.
Moving to the main table where Borodin, Kesten, Hal and his colleagues were gathered, he mentally noted that Nikolai had run off - once again - to the Gods only knew where to find a longbow that pleased him. Verik shook his head as he looked to where his packs were set by the doors to the hall. Three days ride back with those marvelous elvish bows and he suddenly realizes he needs a bow for wyvern hunting...utterly confounding!
Reaching the table and looking at the map and various missives laid about between Kesten and Hal, the Banker stifles yet another yawn and nods to all of them. "Gentlemen. Jabber warned me to beware of the floaty-skull...ahh...I mean the will-o-wisp...and indeed Elsir related the presence of one in advice to the Troll King. I can at least provide some warding against the attack of this thing by morning, but I know no way to dispose of it. As for flying stinging wyverns, foul trolls and the errant minotaur that has undoubtedly joined the Troll King's army, well, I suppose it just comes down to blade and muscle to see the work done. Perhaps a bit of fire or acid as well I suspect."
The Founders rest as well as they can, knowing that Berrin and Aylene Myrdal are holding the line at Hydra Bridge until they can come. As difficult as it is for them to set aside the urge to ride down and immediately give some relief to the entrenched defenders, they have to get as much rest as they can -- the welfare of the nation, of thousands of citizens, rests upon their shoulders. None of them sleep easily or well, but they get the rest that they need. They all awaken long before the dawn and assemble at the Founder's Hall for a last report with Kesten before they leave.
Kesten wipes the exhaustion from his face and rubs the stubble that has grown. With flickering torchlight providing light, he directs them to the map. "The trolls hit Hydra Bridge hard overnight, probably because of their superior eyesight. A few lizardfolk snuck across and were able to get past our lines - combined with a frontal assault with hobgoblins and trolls on the bridge itself - threw the battle into disarray. The cavalry cut down the lizardfolk, but not before they claimed some casualties and drove the army past the bridge. Berrin's still got them bottlenecked, but not as much as he did before when they held the bridge better. That was a few hours ago. Apparently he's been trying to destroy the bridge, but the wyverns are putting out the fires by throwing barrels of water on them from above. Either way, the battle lines have stabilized for the time being. I sent out a rider about fifteen minutes ahead of you to let them know that you're coming, and I've arranged for your horses to be saddled, fed, and ready outside."
Kesten ushers them to the courtyard, where their horses await with a handful of guards and squires getting them ready. "You should be able to get there in three hours or so. Be careful. I will lead the evacuation if it comes to that, but I believe in you all." He stands back and salutes his fellow Founders and their allies. The six of them climb onto their horses and ride off swiftly into the darkness of the early morning.
They ride as hard as they can without bringing their mounts down. The sun rises over the lake to the east of the riders, coming up as they gallop across Newhaven's countryside. The castle quickly disappears behind them as they follow the roadway towards the bridge. The hours pass quickly and slowly, as they worry that they will be too late and try to press onwards as fast as they can go. Every so often they pass the scouts that Kesten referred to as they ride back into position. The scouts salute them as they pass, giving due respect to their leaders and commanders.
Finally, after three hours of hard riding, they arrive at the site of the battle. Still half a mile or so out from the north, they can hear the sounds of battle and see it laid out far in front of them. As they grow closer, the details grow sharper. Hundreds of the monstrous enemies - goblins, lizardfolk, kobolds, hobgoblins, even some ogres - have crossed over the bridge where they have collided with the hasty fortifications of Newhaven's footmen. The cavalry stands back in wait, as several hundred of the monstrous warriors seem to be trying to charge through the water onto the north bank on the east side of the bridge. Aylene's fiery hair stands out from a distance. Even from here, it's clear that Berrin has the troops fighting extremely defensively in a bid for more time. A good distance to the west, centaurs skirmish with one another, allies on opposite sides of this war. The wyverns fly above the scene, occasionally darting down to test the reflexes of the crossbowmen mixed into the militia.
They ride up to the camp set up north of the battlefield. The priests heal the wounded as fast as they can, having raided the wands and potions for all the resources that they could find. Many dozens - maybe as many as a hundred - lay in hastily-laid rows of the dead. Some are covered, but most lay with their eyes to the sky. Some of the bodies have horrid wounds, with claw gouges and bloody bitten holes in their bodies from the savage foe. Berrin stands in the camp, barking orders and wiping blood from his brow as he speaks to Thomas Quiss, the ranking Senior Clerk of Abadar in the field until Verik's arrival. The general spots them riding in and waves them all over to make a plan of attack.
A quick grin of relief crosses the generals mud-streaked face at the sight of his friends arrival, 'Well win this yet!' Dirty and disheveled, his armor bloody and sporting a few new dents his grin fades quickly as he impatiently waves them over to a makeshift table holding a map of the Hydra Bridge area with colored stones to represent the battling factions. Interrupted by a messenger, Berrin's relief is washed away to grim determination as his focus shifts back to the task at hand, taking a small scroll, reading it quickly and handing it off to an adjunct he leans over the table with both hands on its edge, his armored weight posing a serious threat of collapsing it, reaching for a stone and adjusting it's position as the group walks up.
"Good to see you all." he says, glancing over the gathered group, his eyes rest for a moment on Nikolai, seeing that monster of a bow back in his possession giving him pause. Meeting his eye Berrin gives gives something half-way between a nod and a shrug before turning back to the task at hand. 'Keep it, never could draw the thing anyway.'
"You saw the situation when you rode up I presume." He states, more than asks. "Monsters swarmed us in the night and drove us back, all reserves are engaged, I need fire or acid on the east flank to battle the trolls, both centaurs and cavalry need mounted aid, the centaurs are waiting to meet their own on the west flank and the cavalry is ready to meet monsters on the right. We need something to take down those wyverns as well as magics to help control the battlefield." he rattles off, hardly pausing for a breath.
Jemini's smile on their greeting quickly makes way to a stern face at the severity of the battle and the toll it has already taken. Berrin, for his part, had done wonders with the resources available - whether this reinforcement would be enough to sway the battle in their favor... Iomedae walks before us, we will stand and walk with her! "You've done great work here Berrin; have you seen any commanders on their side? Hargulka? Or somebody else? We may need to worry about more enemy forces than just the ones before us. But if we can get to Hargulka here, then we can end this here as well. I doubt there will quickly be a replacement of the calibre of that monster; he's quite exceptional. Without him the army is rendered half-as-strong. Failing that... if we can sabotage the bridge beyond immediate repair then their force becomes staggered across two fronts and we can focus down one after the other."
"Well, he's out there." Berrin answers with a shrug, gesturing lamely toward the fighting. "Don't know 'is location, but we met. Nearly took off my head, I repaid in kind and then he was lost in the crowd, but with him being a troll, I doubt a smack on the head did him much harm."
"We've been trying to take down the bridge but keep being driven off, the damn things built too good to fall quickly, 'less you're thinking og taking it down my magic? That might work."
"Unfortunately Berrin, I do not believe a defiant speech from Jemini will rout the enemy from the field as in Dragonshead," says Verik wryly as he comes up to Berrin with his helm in his hand. On his way he pauses only momentarily to regard the bodies and blank stares of the dead, almost seeming to snap himself out of dwelling on who had fallen and putting his mind to the tasks at hand. "I don't have the flexible mind for tactics on the field, but it seems to me this battle can only be won by depriving these monsters of the leadership that drives them...or enough of it anyway."
"Perhaps drawing the attention of the wyverns will be a good place to start."
The relief that Akiros had felt upon seeing his beloved wife, who also carried his child to be, had hit like an almost overwhelming tidal wave. For while he he truly did have faith that she had been safe, having it confirmed, and having her in his arms, had been like nothing else he had ever felt before.
The enraptured duo had spent many quiet moments, mostly in silence, in a sharing and connection beyond words. For once, Akiros' strict sense of duty had let him be, and given him this moment. Like all moments however, this one to did come to and end, as duty finally made it's voice, and need, known again.
While the others had conversed amongst themselves, Akiros had concentrated himself on doing his all to make sure that the city defences, and it's evacuation plan, were as tight as they could be. He also had assigned a small, but elite squad of guardsmen to protect and,should all be lost, see to the safe evacuation of his pregnant wife.
When it was finally time for the Founders to retire for the evening, Elspeth and Akiros and spent a quiet, yet deeply loving and tender night. The Marshal of Newhaven had not wanted to close his eyes, needing to drink in every second of his soulmate. Elspeth, however, was just was strong as her mate, in her own way, and knowing his need for rest, had insisted he sleep. Through a blend of loving touch and soothing song she had finally guided him into a deep and restful sleep.
The next morning, their farewell was quiet and intense one. No words were needed, they both knew, just as they both knew they would see one another again.
Taking the lead on Kydal at the head of the column, the former Ronin's thoughts turn to nothing but the battle ahead. Upon reaching the battleground, Akiros takes a moment to survey all before him. He shares a quick glance with Nikolai, as this was not the first battlefield the two had ridden upon together, yet it was by far the biggest.
Reaching the camp headquarters, Akiros is truly gladdened to see Berrin. True, the former soldier now turned general was his opposite in almost every way. Akiros knew he was considered by most to be a serious, no nonsense man of duty, honour and discipline, whereas Berrin was a rogue, a rascal and one to him discipline might have seemed a foreign concept. Yet despite their differences, Akiros felt a genuine friendship and camaraderie for the man, and he seemed to be filling his role as general perfectly.
Wishing to tell him so, Akiros steps up and claps the big warrior on the shoulder "They picked the right man for the job, Berrrin. I don't know any man that could have done a better job keeping our city, and our people, safe so far. For that, you have my undying gratitude." and with the extended and deep look, the Marshal gives the General little doubt as to what people in particular he was referring to.
Stepping back and taking in the plans Akiros cracks a rare, if still grim smile "Now, let's win ourselves a war!"
Studying the map and battle plans as the others speak, after a few minutes Akiros joins in "I agree that taking out Hargulka must be one of our main focuses." He then turns to Nikolai "With you flaming blade, you are the clear choice to do so, yet.." he then turns to the Banker "Verik, what was it you had said about Hargulka's resistance to fire? If we want to kill him, we'll have to counter that somehow."