Spellscribed: Resurgence
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Authors: Kristopher Cruz
Spellscribed - Resurgence
Kristopher Cruz
Contents
The fates are an indecipherable sort. Their ploys and plays cross the destinies of all men, human or otherwise. To them, time and life are but threads they weave together. They hold the strings; they know when certain threads weave, and when all strings are cut.
Of those strings, there are the ones who are considered heroes. They are beacons of light to those who live in the darkness. Where their threads travel, others weave around them to form powerful cords which alter the flow of hundreds, if not thousands of lives. These great heroes are whispered about even years before their coming, to those whose hearts and minds are closely attuned to fate…
Joven's eyes closed as his mind started to drift.
Outside, the black dragon Mastadon thrashed, dealt a wound that cut deep into the side of his head and severed one side of his jaw. Molten hot, acidic blood sprayed upon the stones in spurts, searing the white stone black where it landed. The dragon's dying roar shook the very foundations of the city, causing more of the already unstable building to rain down around Joven's body.
Light and dark began to blur together, becoming a shroud of gray that slipped into his perception. The pain of his wounds had faded to nothing more than a mild concern, and then even that was gone. He knew he was dying; no man can be impaled on a dragon's claws, flung off and smashed through multiple stone walls and live. No man in any story he'd ever heard, at least.
Though that would have made an even better story, his scattered thoughts barely formed as the last wisps of his consciousness frayed.
A warm golden light bloomed through the hole he left in the wall, spilling over him. The light spread warmth through his chest and head, clearing his mind once again.
"Joven, son of Daelen. Awaken." a gentle voice spoke softly, clearly female. Something about her voice cut through the din as the dragon's convulsions caused another nearby building to collapse.
Joven found the strength to lever his eyes open one more time. A beautiful woman seemed to be descending upon him, her feet gliding inches over the ground as she approached. She was resplendent, in armor of silver leaves and with hair like a cascade of spun gold. She knelt at his side, her aura of majesty seemingly untouched by the chaos of the black dragon's death throes. The golden light limned her figure, danced along her hair and glinted off of her armor.
"Is it time?" Joven managed to croak. He had been told stories of how valiant warriors were chosen by the gods to come fight for them in the afterlife. He would be proud to serve in such a capacity.
The woman smiled and inclined her head. Her ears were pointed, but she seemed entirely human. Was she one of the Valkyr?
"Come." She whispered, taking his hand in hers. "There is someplace you must go."
He closed his eyes again. "Okay." he whispered back. He felt her pull him to his feet, as if he were as light as a child. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing, despite the holes in his body. Outside had grown silent. The Inheritance remained where it had fallen from his nerveless fingers.
"Leave it." the woman gently instructed him. "Your descendants will have more need of it than you."
Joven stared at the weapon for a long second, but then nodded. "All right." he murmured. "What now?"
The woman only smiled.
Dust trickled down into the pool of blood where Joven had lain. Only his axe remained. Minutes later, the rest of the building collapsed, dropping a thousand pounds of stone onto the spot. It would take Bridget seven hours just to extricate the Inheritance.
The mountains that separated the civilized conglomerate of the kingdoms of Ironsoul and the chaotic barbarian territories of Balator was called the stone curtain. Legends passed on by word of mouth, the barbarian tribes speak of the mountains being raised by their enemies over eight-hundred years ago in an attempt to stop them from pursuing them. It ultimately succeeded, but only because while it couldn't purely stop their advance, it would slow them down to the point where it was easy to pick off those who made it to the other side.
The passes through the stone curtain were at times narrow, more often so near the peaks. There were valleys and crevices, sometimes sudden drops that could spell death for an unwary traveler.
Tanya considered these things as she and Bridget pulled their horses to a stop as their trail came to an end on a high outcropping of rock. They were high up on the mountain range, a cold wind constantly moving about the peaks above. Snow fell lightly around them, and their breath fogged in the light, high altitude air.
They rode atop strong Balatoran horses, bred for winter travel with thick coats and strong legs. Their armor was more padding than protection, layers meant to help the creature keep its heat when on long scouting missions in the cold and snow.
Both Bridget and Tanya were dressed in heavy winter clothing. It was not yet spring, and so they had been wrapped in furs and extra layers. Fighting in the winter gear was tiring, but not nearly as lethal as fighting without it. Even working up a mild sweat without protection from the cold winds would suck away the heat from a warrior's body and kill her almost as fast as letting the enemy finish her off. Because of that, the two had to be very careful to pick their battles while passing through the stone curtain. The only way to tell which of the Draugnoa was which was through their hair. Bridget kept hers short and under her hat, while Tanya's was longer and came down the back of her head and out of her gear in a thick braid. Both of them had their weapons stowed to keep them safe from the elements. Tanya would need at least a minute to string her bow before she could even use it. For now, she would have to make do with the throwing axes they had more readily available, should a fight suddenly occur.
It had been several months since they were last on the Ironsoul side of the curtain. After the disappearance of both Endrance and Selene, and Joven's death, they had little choice but to accept their losses and return to Balator. It was the most painful journey they had ever made. Broken not only in spirit, but in body. While Tanya had fallen from Gullin when the Fjallar had disappeared, it had been from a relatively low altitude. She had only broken a leg and cracked her head on the stones; but Bridget had nearly been crushed by Mastadon and had several broken ribs. Together, the two of them were barely able to survive the return trip home.
But it wasn't just the physical pain. Their comrade was dead, their husband gone, and their sister Draugnoa fled to gods knew where. They had only found Joven's axe, and delivered it back to Joven's familial home.
Months had passed, but in time they had managed to recover. Bridget was even able to get assistance for their return, if such a thing could be considered assistance.
They surveyed the land stretched out below them, scanning the distance for signs of life. Below, a small tendril of smoke rose up several miles ahead. Just at the foothills, a small blot seemed to be the source of the smoke. Bridget squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun.
"What do you think?" Bridget asked, her voice muffled by the winter gear that kept her face warm.
Tanya drew a spyglass from her belt and extended it. With it she was able to see the area with much improved clarity. She focused down on the spot, and as the lenses focused, her vision blurred. A sharp pain arose in her head and she blinked several times, but it didn't clear. She grimaced and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, the blurring had finally cleared up and the pain faded. She was able to scan the location in much better detail.
"Small camp. Maybe fifteen men." She observed. "Horses, not enough for the full compliment. I think five of them are archers."
Bridget took note of her observations. "Only fifteen?" She asked.
"At most thirty." Tanya replied. "It seems the Iron Kingdom's troops were moved elsewhere."
Bridget fidgeted with the reins of her horse, her wooden hand creaking in the cold even through the fur lined gloves she wore. She had learned the hard way that the wood enjoyed the cold about as much as her normal flesh did, so she started covering it up.
"Shouldn't be much of a problem." She finally spoke. "Think it's small enough we can slip past them?"
Tanya shrugged. "Balen said to get a measure of their border forces, and only to engage if we're certain we can handle it. Fifteen. Yeah. Thirty… Not an easy fight. Not with this cold."
Bridget shrugged. "Guess we'll have to report back." she replied.
The younger Draugnoa sighed. "Well, let's scout around the edges, maybe there's more encampments a few hundred yards down that just haven't set any fires yet."
Bridget grunted in an unladylike fashion. "Fine."
Tanya sighed, putting the spyglass away. "You'll get your fight soon enough."
Bridget frowned, wheeling her horse around and motioning for Tanya to follow. "Easy for you to say, you didn't get laid up for two months being unable to do anything but lay down and figure out how to breathe without being in pain. You could still shoot with a broken leg. I'm rusty."
Tanya refrained from snapping back at her. It had been a rough time for the both of them, and Bridget especially hated being out of the action since she had been similarly incapacitated when she'd lost her arm years before. "I promise you, we'll be getting into all sorts of fights soon enough." she said instead. "Let's get going."
They rode back a few dozen yards, and took a smaller path that ran alongside the mountain range instead of out. They checked the border several times along the way and only found similar encampments, all of which were within sight of the northern fortress on the horizon. Tanya and Bridget had been told the story of what had happened there by both Endrance and Joven, so they were aware that the commander of that fort was very dedicated to resisting any intruders.
"Still," Bridget mused as they rode up a winding path, heading back into the mountains. "It's rather… disappointing they only have such small groups watching the line."
"I think they're called squads." Tanya offered.
"That's… what the hells is a 'squad'." Bridget asked.
"It must mean 'easily overrun.' Apparently their skills at war aren't as developed as ours, I guess." Tanya joked in response.
"I don't know. Maybe it's like a hunting party?"
"For what, rabbits?"
They rode on in silence for nearly half an hour before one of them spoke.
"It's too bad that they're out there," Bridget said aloud, a trace of humor in her voice. "They're going to catch more than a few rabbits today."
"It's also too bad that there won't be enough time for the fortress to do more than send a messenger for help." Tanya responded as they rode into view of their camp.
Before them was the box canyon where they had fought and killed the Snow Hydra. There were actually still bones in the canyon when they came back that way. From the cresting edge of the canyon all the way north to the narrowed pass that had been cleared of the rockslide, dozens of tents took up every available space. Only enough space between tent posts for paths and a campfire every ten tents.
Over a thousand barbarians were breaking camp, their numbers packed into the mountain ravine. It wasn't the only camp in the mountains either. Nearly three dozen other camps of similar size were clustered nearby. Amidst the barbarians were dozens of wolfmen, also packing their things to move. Though lesser in number, their aid was essential in getting so many troops through the mountains swiftly and safely. It was also the wolfmen's magic that kept the smoke from their campfires from trailing up into the sky and giving away their location.
The wolfmen had met the barbarians for peace talks shortly after Endrance had returned to Ironsoul for his trial. The leader of the largest pack, Gnaeus, spent many months patiently working with their recently appointed king to figure out how to best integrate their peoples. The three years that Endrance had been in Salthimere had provided a window of opportunity for the barbarians to become acclimated to the ways of the wolfmen. It wasn't perfect, but the prospect of a unified front in the war with Ironsoul was enough to get the more militaristic individuals in line with the unification.
The individual wolfmen proved to be more like the barbarians than had been thought. Endrance might have been right when he'd said they had a common ancestry. Even Tanya had made friends with a particular wolfman, a male with a darker mask of fur around his eyes. He'd spent quite some time with her; and while Bridget gave the two of them odd glances, she hadn't commented on it.
They wove their way through the warriors preparing for the march.
They dismounted at the largest tent, stepping inside to see the General as he directed his subordinates. Balen stood an impressive seven feet tall and was easily three-hundred pounds of muscle and barbarian aggression. His brown hair was cut short in preparation of the campaign ahead. His dark eyes were sharp and narrow, and almost every inch of his exposed skin had tiny hairline scars from nearly three decades of combat.
He turned to face them, his eyes harsh and driven. The Inheritance, the greataxe of his family line, hung on his back, almost looking too small for the big man. Almost.
"Well?" Balen asked. "What does the Draugnoa have to say about our venture?"
Bridget shrugged again. "There's so few people watching the north we will be on their doorsteps before they notice."
Balen nodded. "My scouts have said something similar."
Bridget put her fists on her hips, a scowl forming on her face. "Why in the world did you send us to look ahead if you were going to send scouts anyway?" she demanded angrily. "We could have been clearing out one or two of the camps!"
A wolfman moved up to them, joining the conversation. The wolf known as Wrach was a light gray male with a pair of swords sheathed on his back. He was one of Gnaeus' most experienced warriors and was representing the wolfmen tribes aiding Balator's new plans.
"The scouts we dispatched would be able to get an idea of their numbers, but you two are the only ones who have seen their men fight and know more about their fighting ability and morale."
Bridget huffed but nodded, crossing her arms. Tanya grinned. The wolfmen had proven to be far more reasonable than the barbarians would have thought, and they had gotten extremely competent at communicating with the Balatorans. Tanya remembered Endrance saying that the wolfmen's language was mostly based on body language and scents, so maybe they just learned to read human body language and scent to easily manipulate them.
"In that case, how is it?" Balen asked.
Tanya shrugged. "They're organized, but not very disciplined. They have a little experience in battle, but they won't be able to win an evenly numbered force of ours. They just don't have the experience our troops have. Their equipment might be better quality."
Wrach regarded the markings on a map hung on the side of the tent. "And their placement is more like a net than a wall." he prodded.
"Yeah." Bridget replied. "They're probably just here to turn away travelers or the odd pack of wolfmen… wolves. Not meant to prevent invaders. We should be able to roll through them with little to no losses."
"Capturing Ironsoul will be easier than I thought." Tanya said. "We should be able to capture the imperial city and resume searching for Endrance in a few months."
"Are you both still sure he's alive?" Wrach asked. "It's been over a year."
Tanya's face darkened, and Bridget grimaced as she spoke to defend the Spengur yet again. "He's still alive!" She exclaimed. "Just… trapped under the capitol."
"So says the man you called Talos, yes?" Wrach asked. "I thought you said you had been fighting him, can he really be trusted?"
"Well-" Tanya started to speak.
"Whether or not he's really there," Balen interjected, noticing the snarl forming on Wrach's lips, "You did well to come back and convince us that the treaties we had were useless. Since we're no longer obligated to be neighborly, let us acquire some vacation property."
"A winter home would be nice." Wrach agreed, calming down. "The roads are nice, this side of the world."
"We will strike while the broken country is warring for control." Balen concluded. "Maybe this time we will be the ones to rule over the Kingdoms of Ironsoul."
"Shall we go then?" Tanya asked.
"Oh yes." Bridget replied her hands tightening on her reigns. "Let's show them how real warriors fight."
