Book 2: Chapter Sixteen

Shavala woke up the other women, then rolled her bedding back into a tight bundle. She’d volunteered to sleep on the floor the previous night after having gotten a look at the sorry state of the room’s straw tick mattress. Sarette and Treya had joined her, leaving the bed, such as it was, for Katrin and Ellerie.

The tiny inn they’d found in the village of Elmsford only had two rooms for guests, but it was worth it to stay indoors and get out of the biting cold. In the nine days they’d been heading south along the foothills, it was only the third time they’d found a village to stay in.

While the others were getting ready for the day, Shavala wandered down the hall to the inn’s common room, finding Corec folding a blanket near the fireplace. She cocked her head curiously.

“Boktar and Gregor voted for me to share the bed with Bobo,” he explained. “He doesn’t just snore; he steals the covers. I gave up in the middle of the night and came out here, and slept in a chair by the fire.”

Shavala laughed. “Not as fun as sharing the bed with Katrin?”

Corec looked embarrassed. “Uhh, no, not really.”

The others started coming into the room then, and Corec went to find the cook and wake him up to get started on the morning meal.

An hour later, they were eating a breakfast of sausage, biscuits, and gravy. It was simple, but warm and filling, and a good way to start a cold day.

As they ate, Sarette said, “Should we try and resupply here, or wait until Jol’s Brook?”

“Jol’s Brook is too small,” Gregor replied. “There’s a good store here, so as soon as the sun is up, I’ll head over there.”

“I’ll help you,” Boktar said.

“How far away is Jol’s Brook?” Corec asked.

“Only about fifteen miles,” the scout said. “We’ll reach it today.”

“We’ve been making a bit over twenty miles the last few days,” Sarette said. “Should we stay there tonight or just pass through?”

“That’s the last stop before we head back into the mountains, right?” Ellerie asked.

“Yes,” Gregor said, “and the route we’ll be taking doesn’t come near any of our own settlements. Jol’s Brook is the last inn we’ll see.”

Ellerie glanced at Corec, who gave her a quick nod.

“Let’s stay there, then,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind one more hot bath.”

“There are some hot springs in the ruins, but it’ll take us at least a week to get there,” Gregor said.

“What are hot springs?” Katrin asked.

“Springs with hot water,” Corec said. “You can bathe in some of them, if they’re not too hot. There are supposed to be some in the Black Crow Mountains, but I’ve never actually seen one before.”

Sarette said, “The people who lived in the city routed the springs into fountains and bathing facilities. Most of the stonework is broken now, but there are still a few spots where the water pools up.”

Gregor nodded, then asked, “What’s the weather going to be like today?”

Sarette looked up at the ceiling. “There’ll be some clouds, but we won’t get any snow. There’s a big storm coming, though. We might get snowed in for a day or two on our way to the ruins.”

Shavala blinked in surprise. “How do you know?” she asked. Her elder senses told her the weather was clear at the moment, but she couldn’t see any farther than that.

“It’s something stormrunners can do. I was always good at that part, just not the rest.”

Sarette was wearing her chainmail, and she hadn’t spoken any words to cast a spell, which meant she couldn’t be a wizard.

“Is it elder magic, like a druid?” Shavala asked.

“I don’t know what a druid is, but it’s elder magic.”

“I knew there were other elder mages, but you’re the first I’ve ever met. Could you show me how you see the weather?”

Sarette smiled at her. “I’d like that.”

#

Sarette shook her head as she walked. “No, I don’t feel anything like that. I can’t sense you or anyone else, just the weather.”

Shavala frowned. “I can sense people and animals and plants—even rocks, though they don’t feel like much—but I can only see the weather directly overhead. How far do you have to reach to know there’s a storm coming?”

After the noon meal, the elven woman had joined Sarette at the front of the column and the two had tried to compare their experiences with elder magic. There were some similarities, such as how the wind or a raincloud felt, but most of the things Shavala talked about didn’t sound familiar.

“It’s not really a matter of distance,” Sarette said. “I don’t know what the weather’s doing to the east or the west unless I can see it, but I do know what it’ll be like here the day after tomorrow, which is heavy snow.”

“It must be different than my elder senses,” Shavala said. “I can only see what’s happening right at the moment, even with the weather. I was able to make it rain once, though. Rain harder than it already was, at least.”

Sarette sighed. “I could never manage that. I can redirect a breeze, and charge my staff-spear, but that’s it.”

“Charge your spear?”

“I can make it hold a bit of lightning, but only for a short time. If I could call real lightning, it would work better.”

Shavala looked at her curiously. “Why would you want to hold lightning in your spear?”

“If I were to hit someone with it, it would discharge, as if they’re getting struck by lightning. Stormrunners do it when they fight snow beasts, since stabbing them isn’t always enough. It works on metal armor, too.” Or, at least, that’s what Sarette had been told. She’d practiced it, but only against empty suits of chainmail, and there hadn’t been any obvious effect other than the flash of light.

“What are snow beasts like?” the elven woman asked. “I have a book that talks about them, but I’ve never seen one before.”

“I saw some last year while my uncle was helping the High Guard fight off a group that invaded one of our ranching valleys. They’re big, maybe ten or twelve feet tall, and covered with gray fur.” Sarette shivered, remembering the howls the creatures had made while they were hunting. She hadn’t been close enough to see them well, but she still remembered the sound. It was enough to make her grateful she’d only been allowed to watch.

“Perhaps we’ll see them before we return south.”

“There haven’t been any attacks yet this year, luckily.” Sarette checked the position of the sun in the sky, then came to a stop. “Let’s take a break. We must have come close to fifteen miles by now.”

Shavala nodded, and waved to the others behind them. There were groans of relief as everyone let go of their sleds.

They’d all gotten used to pulling the loads, but Sarette would be grateful when the trip was over. If it hadn’t been for the one snowstorm in Tarvist Pass, they could have brought the horses and wagons with them. That would change soon, when they reentered the mountains, but if they’d just waited a few days for the pass to clear, they’d have saved themselves eleven days of hard labor.

Still, even with her gift, there hadn’t been any guarantee the weather would hold as long as it had, and it would have been a bad idea to risk letting the horses get stranded this far from home. Plus, with the icy conditions, the wagons wouldn’t have been any faster than the sleds, so the outsiders probably wouldn’t have wanted to lose several days of travel time waiting for the pass to clear.

Sarette shook her head, irritated at herself. She had to stop thinking of the others as outsiders if she wanted to convince Corec to bond her.

Digging into her pockets, she found the small travel notebook she’d been using to record their journey. There was no way to use pen and ink in freezing weather, but she’d brought a square graphite stick for writing. The stick was wrapped tightly in spirals of string to keep it from smudging her hand, and she unwrapped two more spirals to free up more of the tip to write with. She marked the time of day based on the sun’s position, then checked the angles to several prominent peaks. Gregor would be able to use that information to calculate how far they’d come. If they reached Jol’s Brook on time, the measurements wouldn’t be necessary, but if not, the notebook would help them find their way.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

A small glinting light on the southwest slope of the nearest mountain caught her attention. She retrieved her spyglass from her sled, then peered through the lens. At this distance, the structure was too small to be visible even with the glass, but Sarette had seen enough watchtowers to recognize the signs. The flashing light wasn’t signal code—the attendants had simply left the main mirror pointing west, where it was now catching the mid-afternoon sun. Satisfied that she wasn’t missing an important message, she returned the spyglass to its leather case, then marked the tower’s position in her notes.

She checked the measurements against her compass and map, then turned to face the group. “I think we’ve stayed on the right heading since our last stop. If so, then it’s only another mile to Jol’s Brook. I’m not sure why Gregor isn’t back yet, but I think we should continue on. If we make it a mile and haven’t found the village yet, we can stop and wait for him, in case we got turned around.”

The extra precautions probably weren’t necessary. They were still near enough to the mountains to use them as guides, rather than out on the featureless prairie, but the road wasn’t visible through the snow, and it was Sarette’s responsibility to get the group to their destination safely. If the storm came in earlier than she was expecting, her notes might be the only way to find their next stop in the middle of a blizzard. She’d worried that she was overdoing things, but Gregor hadn’t shown any surprise the first time she handed him the notebook, and he’d continued to ask for it each night since. She trusted that the experienced scout would warn her if she did anything wrong.

“Continuing sounds fine to me, if it works for everyone else,” Corec said. The others seemed to agree.

“All right,” Sarette said. “Let’s head out.” She grabbed her sled’s lead ropes and got started.

They hadn’t gone far before Gregor’s familiar figure appeared ahead of them in the distance. They continued on until they reached him.

“Trouble,” he said in the stormborn language, then repeated the word in trade tongue as everyone gathered around him. “Most of the buildings in Jol’s Brook have burned down. I saw bodies laying in the streets.”

The others exchanged glances.

“Do they need help?” Ellerie asked.

“I didn’t get close. Everyone I saw walking around town was wearing armor and carrying a weapon. They looked like soldiers, not locals. If there’s anyone left from the village, I didn’t see them.”

“Soldiers?” Corec asked. “From where?”

“There are always little wars going on between the towns on the plains.”

“But why attack Jol’s Brook?” Sarette asked.

“I don’t know,” Gregor said. “The village is tiny; there’s not much there. Maybe someone found a coal mine nearby?”

“We’re going to help, right?” Treya asked.

Sarette almost missed the slight nod Ellerie gave Corec when he glanced her way.

“We’ll try,” Corec said, “but we don’t know if the soldiers attacked the town or if they’re defending it. Or if it was already like that when they got there. We may have to fight them.”

Sarette swallowed, gripping her staff-spear tightly.

“And if they attacked the town, there might not be anyone left for us to help,” Boktar added.

Treya looked away.

Gregor said, “It’s less than a mile from here, just over the next two hills. The fires have burnt out, so there’s not much smoke; otherwise, you could probably see it from here.”

“Can we scout it out better before we get there?” Sarette asked.

“We can’t get close without being seen, but there’s a spot on the next rise that’ll give us a good view with the spyglasses.”

“Let’s go, then,” Corec said.

While the others got ready to continue on, Gregor unpacked his crossbow and quiver from Sarette’s sled, then asked, “Do you want me to pull it for a while?”

Sarette considered that. Her arms and legs felt tired and dull from the exertion. She wanted to stretch out more before they reached the village.

“Yes, thank you,” she said.

The scout exchanged his skis for his snowshoes, then they got under way.

As they walked south, he switched back to the stormborn language. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the outsiders, but I know you’re new to the High Guard,” he said quietly. “Have you ever been in a fight before?”

“Not a real one,” she replied.

He grunted. “The academy’s too light on practical experience for the cadets. A year isn’t long enough.”

“I was never a cadet. They said my stormrunner training was enough.”

“You never even went through the training the cadets get?” He motioned to her staff-spear. “Do you know how to use that thing?”

She realized what he was getting at, and hid a smile—it wasn’t the thought of using the weapon that was making her nervous. “Four years of stormrunner training.”

Gregor stopped and stared at her, before shaking his head and moving forward again. “Four years?”

“You’ve never seen a stormrunner fight before?”

“I’ve hardly ever seen a stormrunner at all. I know they used to be warriors, but they’re all old. I didn’t know what the training was like.”

“There’s a younger one now. Sort of.”

“But not you?”

“No, but we learn how to fight on the ground, too. I know what to do, I just don’t know if I can do it when it’s real.” It was almost a relief to tell him that, just so that someone in the group knew.

“Time will tell,” Gregor said. “My first time, I dropped my bow, then stepped on it and broke it when I tried to pick it up.”

“What happened?”

“Captain put me on latrine duty for a month. I made sure it didn’t happen the next time.”

Sarette laughed. The exchanged had calmed her nerves. Somewhat.

Soon, they reached the hilltop that overlooked Jol’s Brook. Sarette crouched low and took out her spyglass again, peering toward the remains of the village. Beside her, Gregor did the same, while the rest of the group remained below the rise so they wouldn’t be spotted.

Sarette had never been to Jol’s Brook before, but the village was a sad sight. Only a few buildings remained standing. Most were just piles of ash and charred wood. Bodies lay in the mud and slush of the well-trampled streets, and the few figures roaming around town weren’t making any effort to clean them up.

She focused on the moving figures. They all carried weapons of one sort or another, and wore the same style of brigandine armor.

“They look odd,” she said. “They’re moving strangely.”

“Can I see?” Corec asked from behind her.

She moved back down the hill and handed him the spyglass. He took her place, looking toward the village without a word. When he returned, his face was solemn. He handed the spyglass to Boktar.

The stoneborn man took a look, then cursed. “Bloody hell. The red-eyes.”

“You know who they are?” Gregor asked.

“No, but we’ve run into them before,” Corec said. “Or at least we’ve run into people wearing the same armor. If it’s the red-eyes, we won’t be able to talk to them. There’s something wrong with them.”

“What do you mean?”

“All they did was attack. They never spoke, and they wouldn’t surrender.”

“What are they doing way out here?” Ellerie asked.

“The free lands, Circle Bay, and now the Storm Heights,” Corec said. “They get around. Maybe this group isn’t affected, and can tell us what happened to the others.”

Boktar said, “If they killed those people, I doubt they’ll have much to say that we want to listen to.”

Corec nodded. “I didn’t see too many of them. Let’s leave the sleds here and head down. Boktar and I will take the lead. Katrin, Bobo, do you want to stay here?”

“I’ll come with you,” Katrin said.

Bobo sighed. “I’d better come, too.”

“Wait,” Sarette said, and removed her gambeson, then retrieved her chainmail from her sled, where she’d left it in a tightly rolled bundle. Unrolling it, she draped it back over her body, feeling the comfortingly familiar weight settle on her shoulders. After fastening the straps which kept it tight around her body, she put the gambeson back on over it, and buckled it closed. Then she drew on a pair of light, chain mesh gloves, meant to keep her hands safe if an opponent’s weapon slid along the shaft of her staff-spear.

While she was doing that, Treya took off her coat and snowshoes. Gregor braced his crossbow against his hip and used a goat’s-foot lever to cock it before loading a bolt.

“I’m ready,” the scout said, looking up at the rest of the group.

“Let’s go then,” Corec said.

They proceeded down the hill, Corec and Boktar out in front. Sarette and Treya were right behind them.

“You’re not wearing any armor!” Sarette protested to the other woman.

“I can’t fight in armor. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

When they neared the village, Boktar unslung his warhammer from his belt, and Corec detached his scabbard, tossing it to the side after drawing his blade. Sarette took a deep breath and grasped her staff-spear in both hands, her right hand down near the bottom of the shaft and her left hand halfway up toward the blade.

The men wandering through the village didn’t take any notice them until they’d reached the edge of town. Then, the nearest saw them and snarled loudly. His compatriots gathered in a group and drew their weapons. One stared at Sarette and growled, a red light glowing in his eyes.

“They’re red-eyes, all right!” Corec shouted back to the rest of the group.

The six nearest red-eyed men ran at them, and Corec and Boktar jogged forward awkwardly as the deeper snow gave way to slush and mud. In the distance, three more of the armored soldiers approached the battle, ignoring the bodies they were stepping over.

Sarette froze. She knew what she needed to do, but she couldn’t make her feet move forward. Her training had always been one-on-one, and well controlled, and the sudden burst of chaos was overwhelming. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Treya running past her toward the melee. Sarette wanted to join her, but she couldn’t figure out where to begin. Corec was directly ahead of her, but just as she started in that direction, he drew his huge sword back to swing. She doubted he was aware of how close she was, so she looked around to find some other way to help.

The spot where they’d stopped was bracketed by two of the only four buildings which still stood intact. Suddenly, the doors on both sides opened and more of the soldiers came streaming out.

“Trap!” Boktar shouted, slamming his shield against one of the men hard enough to knock him down.

Before she realized it, Sarette was surrounded, along with Treya, Corec, and Boktar. There had to be over twenty of the red-eyed men circling them.

One of them rushed at her. She let her training take over, parrying his arming sword to the side, then charging her staff-spear with lightning and touching it to his brigandine. The armor had too much cloth padding for the attack to kill him, but as the flash of blue light hit him, he let out a high-pitched squeal and fell forward, collapsing to all fours.

His helmet didn’t cover the back of his neck, so she grasped her spear in both hands and plunged it down as hard as she could. He fell on his face, twitching. Then he stopped moving.

Sarette pulled the blade out and stared down at the body. She froze again, suddenly wondering if he’d had a family.

A weight slammed into her back, and she went sprawling onto the dead man. Wincing in pain, she managed to roll over and look up, finding one of the red-eyes standing above her with a longsword. He was eerily silent as he prepared to strike another blow.

Then a beam of white light hit him in the back of the head and he collapsed, still without ever making a sound. Sarette caught a glimpse of Ellerie aiming a hand in her direction before the swirling combatants blocked her from sight again.

Sarette braced her staff-spear against the ground and forced herself to her feet. She doubted the sword had penetrated her gambeson, much less her chainmail, but the impact had somehow been more painful than anything she’d experienced in her years of training.

She charged her staff-spear again, but knew she wouldn’t have the power to do it a third time. Fighting through the pain would be difficult, and once she’d discharged her weapon, she’d be at a disadvantage.

Then, two more men charged at her, and there was no more time to think, only to react.