Category: Tales of Vatan

Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

War Council

The following day, the Count of Oakharrow’s forces still hadn’t made an appearance. Everyone was beginning to find the lack of pursuers strange. Ulfberht’s kinsmen had prepared their expedition into the mountains. Ala and Myrthe convinced Caerel to write them a letter giving the Duke’s permission for them to conduct their search for the correct ore in the Irin mountains. The Irins were really foothills to the larger Orck Mountains to the south. The Irins were normally infrequently visited by orcks. No one really knew why the Orcks didn’t settle in the Irins, but things were not as they normally were in the Westmarch. The dwarves would be in the mountains proper in a matter of hours after leaving the Ford Inn, which was fast becoming the Ford Castle. They should be safe enough from the Phansigar, at least, if not the Orcks.

Ala and Ulf rode out of the Inn with them. Ulf had found a solid small horse, more of a pony, among the excess horses and he rode quite well for a dwarf. They rode with them to the first foothills and wished them a good journey and good luck. They then rode back to the Inn, in time for the evening meal. A council of sorts came together naturally over dinner. They were all there, Caerel, Brugor, Ulfberht, Talathiel, Myrthe, Matt and of course Ala.

“Does anyone have any thoughts on why we haven’t been attacked yet?” Myrthe asked no one in particular.

“I’m wondering that too. What are they waiting for? They obviously have enough troops camped outside Thetwick to drive us out of here.” Matt agreed.

“Perhaps it is a matter of strategy,” mused Ulf, “if they were planning to invade Taladaria anyway, perhaps they decided to dispense with a separate force to deal with you. They may have thought you were simply fleeing, not planning to take and hold the Ford Inn. It’s even possible that they simply don’t yet know what happened here.”

“That would make sense,” said Ala. “I wish we had some word from the Duke, but he doesn’t know we’re at the Ford Inn yet, does he? Also, it has only been a few days. He would never have been able to gather the muster yet. Even troops from the Taladarian Regiment could not yet have made it here.”

Caerel spoke, “I think we must simply continue to bolster this place’s defences. We will begin with earthworks of course. It seems Mistress Talathiel has kindly taken it upon herself to assist there. We will begin to send out patrols, just to see what is happening within half a day’s ride of here. I will visit the villages on the Taladarian side of the river and we will get them to muster some men from their militias to help garrison here. I also hope to gather some work details to help strengthen the Ford Inn. The threat of the Oakharrowers and the Phansigar ought to motivate them. Are there any other crossing points into Taladaria we should be worried about?”

“As you know, the Taladarian side of the river swiftly becomes very marshy downstream. There are some villages on the river, but I don’t know of any of them having more than very small boats for fishing. Landing is the largest settlement, there may be a barge or two that could be used for crossing there, but Landing is on the eastern, Taladarian bank. Bernard and I always suspected that there was traffic with small boats from Oakharrow into Sheffield but I don’t know where. I doubt it’s a route suitable for armies, though.” said Ala.

“It worth patrolling, but it’s unlikely to be a major supply route then?” asked Caerel.

“I think so. Beyond the marsh, it’s Oakharrow on this side and the main crossing point is Verbridge. I’ve never been there, but I undestand it’s massively fortified on both sides of the river. You and Myrthe will know it better than I.”

“True, Verbridge is a great fortification,” agreed Myrthe.

“Upstream, to the south, it is apparently possible to cross, but you have to climb into the mountains to do so. Ford Inn really is very strategically placed. I assume it must once have been fortified, in the past,” concluded Ala. She knew all this from her time running the Thetwick militia. It had been part of her job to know the strategic considerations of the area and she had been well taught by Bernard.

The innkeeper called over from the bar, “excuse me, there were indeed fortifications here once. The inn is built on the old foundations. They say it was burned a few hundred years ago.”

“Are there cellars?” asked Talathiel.

“Yes madam. Flooded by the river though, except the top level which is above the usual level of the river. There are steps going further down, but it’s filled to the brim with water.”

“I would like to see that tomorrow.”

“Yes Mistress.”

Ala wondered what Talathiel had in mind, but her train of thought was interrupted by Myrthe, “We should also warn the Duke. We have no idea how many Phansigar were infiltrated in the groups of refugees passing through here. A significant number of them are probably already in Taladaria. They could even already be in Duilhac.”

“I had not fully considered that,” said Caerel with a worried frown, “in that light and the need to know what my grandfather is doing, perhaps it would be best if you, Ala and your companions travel back to Peyrepertuse, checking for Phansigar on the way? I will visit the closest villages and call the muster. We simply must have more men here. Brugor will make the best defence possible here, while I quickly gather men.”

“We’d be extra vulnerable here, at least for a day,” said Brugor, clearly considering.

“Aye. Though we all would have expected an attack already. We cannot wait here indefinitely,” said Caerel, “I will gather men from the closest villages, return with them and then perhaps go to Pearson to gather a better equipped force afterwards.”

“It seems like the least bad option, milord,” Brugor conceded.

“You should go tomorrow,” said Ala, “we can wait here another day in case of attack. When you return with the first group of men from the villages and hamlets on the Taladarian side of the Iceflow, we can depart for Peyrepertuse.”

“That is indeed a sensible course,” agreed Caerel.

Ala spoke for everyone, “it sounds as if our tasks are clear. While Lord Caerel gathers soldiers the rest of us can prepare to leave the day after tomorrow. It gives a little time to gather supplies for the journey and do the bare necessities to make this place defensible. Perhaps Talathiel can make a little more progress too in that time.”

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Dwarven Mourning

She was woken by Myrthe who brought her a tub of water so she could clean up. Myrthe brushed her hair, silently removing grime and what could only be dried blood. She dressed, and pulled on her mail. She left the ruined tabard and also discovered that her cloak was just as damaged, so she left that behind too. Outside, she found out that Caerel had stood to what was left of his troops, to pay final respects to the fallen dwarves. In the light of dawn, the silhouettes of the armoured guardsmen and dwarves had a mystical quality that was befitting of the solemn occasion. The fallen dwarves each lay side by side, about a yard apart, on a bier that the dwarves must have constructed during the night. The ceremony was mostly silent, except for things that sounded like prayers in the language of thunder. Ulfberht beckoned Ala forward.

“Lady Alagariel, would you do the honours? It would be a boon to my kinsmen.”

It took her a second to realise what he was asking.

“Of course, Master Ulfberht.”

She had to concentrate to project her fire outwards far enough in six directions to light each pyre at once, but she managed it. All six biers turned into roaring infernos in moments. Behind her, the five remaining dwarves spoke in their thunder language. Ala stepped backwards in line next to Myrthe. Myrthe leaned in and whispered in her ear “Kinsmen, may you be borne to the halls of the gods upon these wings of elven fire.”

It was beautiful. Ala could feel tears running down her cheeks. She hadn’t known these dwarves, but they had been comrades in arms for a short while and the ceremony affected her. It didn’t matter at all that she’d only known them for a few hours at most. Bernard had spoken often of his brothers in arms, perhaps he had meant something like this? The ceremony also left Ala wondering where Myrthe had learned to speak dwarven.

After the ceremony, the dwarves kept their vigil, requesting that everyone go about their business and leave them to it. Ala got some more rest, which was also what Brugor had in mind for his hard pushed troops. They did start to make some small clean ups and repairs. Thankfully, no forces from Thetwick had yet been spotted. Talathiel had climbed onto the roof of the inn after the ceremony, near a point where Brugor had stationed two archers. They looked a little quizzical when the water elf turned to face the river adjusted her stance and began to speak slowly. By the time Ala was rested and went up onto the roof to see if Talathiel needed anything she could already see what the water wizard was doing. The river was swirling, twisting and lapping at the land directly up and downstream of the Inn and the ford. The land was eroding before Ala’s eyes. After a few minutes watching the spectacle, Ala could come to no other conclusion. Talathiel was altering the course of the river. It was a brutal demonstration of the Magister’s power. It was also very cool and quite unnerving. When Ala came down to the courtyard, she had to explain it to Caerel.

“Ala, what is your aunt doing?”

“She’s not my aunt, Caerel. She’s Gladiuth’s aunt.”

“Whatever. What’s she doing?”

“I think she’s making you a moat. When she’s done I expect the Ford Inn will be on an island in the river.”

That left Caerel looking at her in disbelief, but he didn’t press the point. After a moment, he just said, “I guess a moat would be nice.”

He then decided there was something more important that needed his attention and walked off shaking his head, leaving Ala behind wondering what to do with herself. The dwarves had embarked on the next part of their mourning process and that involved ale, cider and beer in no particular order. It was a ceremonial toasting, where anecdotes featuring the deceased were told. They understood that an attack might be imminent from the direction of Thetwick and didn’t seem to intend to get roaring drunk, sipping sparingly as each tale about their lost friends was toasted. Ala settled on the roof of the inn, where she had a good view of the surrounding countryside and could watch Talathiel at work. She stood in a number of poses, always with the knees slightly bent, and usually with her arms spread out, at a downward angle, her hand palms downwards. At some points in the ritual, she clearly had time to speak with Ala.

“This stance is called ‘water’,” Talathiel said. “Try it.” She turned away from the river, towards Alagariel. Ala stood up from where she was sitting, and faced her, mirroring her pose.

“Like this?”

“Yes, that’s about right. Small variations do different things, so there’s no exact right way to do it. You won’t feel anything at first, I think, but if you stand for long enough, you will.”

Talathiel changed her pose. “Earth,” she said and then moved again. “Metal.” She showed her wood and fire too. Ala tried each of the positions. There was something about them… something tickling at the edge of her mind in each one. It was strongest when standing in the fire position.

“This is a part of magic?” Ala asked.

“Not really. But it helps focus magic. Magic can be focused by rituals, though it is the significance of that ritual to the one conducting it that seems to be what is most important to channelling magic. Despite knowing this, I know of none who can channel it without resorting to such ritual. For we elves our rituals focus on the five elements I mentioned. We will speak more of it later. My request needs my attention.”

Ala tried the positions again on her own. Fire, particularly did something though she wouldn’t have been able to describe what she felt. She sat down and looked in the direction of Thetwick for a while after that, then did some sword-forms, allowing the familiar routines to relax her. After a while, she spotted Ulfberht in the courtyard waving at her to come down.

Ulfberht came over to her. “Lady Alagariel, I wish to speak with you.”

“Of course, Master Ulfberht. Why the formality?”

“It is a grave and formal matter of which I speak.”

“Please, Master, go ahead.”

“I have discussed the matter with my kinsmen and we have decided to explain what we are doing here.”

“I’ll admit I’m curious, Master Ulfberht.”

“Your sword. May I see it?”

“I would trust you with my life Ulfberht, but I’ve been told that drawing the blade might hurt those it’s not intended for. I would trust you to know of such matters, so if you wish I will give it to you.”

“Really? One of those? Who told you that? If it’s one of those blades… well I’m all the more eager to see it. You are right though. It could be dangerous. Perhaps you can hold it up so that I can inspect it?”

“Of course.” She drew the weapon slowly and held it up for him to look at it, slowly rotating it so that the light showed the details of the blade.

“Yes… yes… a true elf blade… and a very ancient one at that. One of the first perhaps. Look at the intricacy of those patterns. Beautiful. Would you tilt it please?”

She did.

“Yes, yes, just so, the dendritic pattern is very clear. Exquisite.” His eyes drifted the the hilt, “I see the pommel and grip are not original?”

“No. When the sword came to me, they had been damaged beyond repair by something. Acid I think. I have the pieces that are left.”

“It’s a passable job. Little training, but deft fingers and a lot of time. Did you make those yourself?”

“I did.”

“Then it may suffice. You possess a magnificent weapon, Lady Alagariel. The tales that accompany it must be fascinating.”

“I wish I knew some of them. It’s also my only real clue to finding out if I have any living kin.”

“Somewhere, there must be at least some elves alive who know that sword. With such life spans and learning, I can’t imagine none know of it.”

“I do hope you’re right.”

“Perhaps you will find one who can help. Now, about why Clan Ulfberht has travelled so far from Dwarfholme. I should explain. The ore that is required to forge blades like yours is the reason we came. Patterns, like the one in your blade, are initially formed by certain impurities in the steel. If a suitable smelting and forging process is used, that pattern you can see emerges. The crystalline structures in the steel blade align, achieving an unmatched flexibility and hardness. As good, some even claim better, than an Ulfberht blade. As true masters of our craft, we are required to learn the secrets of this forging process. We know for certain at least, that ore suitable to forge these swords was mined in that mountain range over there,” he pointed South, where the Irin mountains started.

“So, then you are on a quest to learn more of your art. A master craftsman seeking to learn yet more. It’s a noble calling, in my opinion.”

“We launched the expedition to find the ore. If we can, we meant to petition the Duke to be allowed to mine it and use it.”

“You said the pattern was initially formed from these impurities? I was told the pattern changes with use. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. I think, actually, that the blades the elves make are also infused with magic or elven essence in some way. Perhaps it is simply the ritual of their forging that does it, magic is a subject largely beyond my ken. Dwarves are notoriously unmagical. I have no idea how that is done, or whether such a thing could be done by dwarves. I have seen too much to discount the idea that there may be some magic in everything however. History makes me think that the elves know much more about unlocking it than the dwarves.”

“Dwarves are the ones with the reputations as the greatest of smiths.”

“A fair point, though I often wonder if that is because anyone can use a dwarven weapon… to fully use an elf blade, well, I think you must have some elven magic. I saw your blade work yesterday. You are fully attuned to your blade I think, but perhaps even greater things are possible. You are young, are you not, for an elf? I have studied the legends of the battle-dance. The greatest of the fire-elven battle-dancers were said to be able to project such fire and heat that they could slice straight through an enemy’s blade or armour, melting it as their blades passed through. Perhaps there is more you can yet master?”

“I am certain there is… and… Ulf… Thank you… for sharing your knowledge.”

“I have told you why I am here. My kinsmen and I are not yet certain of what we must do next. It depends a little on what happens here. Might I ask why you are here?”

“Me personally, or the group I travel with?”

“I can see there are things amiss in Thetwick, so I can understand why the Duke sent a force to investigate. Why you are with them is a little more curious, though. Would you enlighten me?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. I came back here to claim the inheritance my adoptive uncle left me. It was his family home and lands and I do not wish to tarnish his memory by leaving it to the Oakharrowers or these awful Phansigar. He charged me with seeing his possessions are well cared for, so I will see it through.”

“So you are seeking to safeguard your uncles’ lands. That is a fair enough calling.”

“To be honest, if the situation in Thetwick returns to its former stability, I would probably find a steward for his estate. I don’t actually have a real desire to hold his wealth. After that, I had plans to visit the elven realms and see if I could discover who my parents were. I have not given it much thought beyond that.”

“So you mean to take back Thetwick?”

“I don’t see how that is possible, without taking on Oakharrow itself. Thetwick is not really defensible against a determined army. To do that, I would bypass Thetwick, if I were the Duke or perhaps the King, should he choose to get involved.”

“As would I. I am thinking I will do this. My kinsmen will travel into the mountains. Among them is my house’s master smelter. He is the one most knowledgeable about ores. I should mention he is still with us thanks to the ministrations of you friend, the Priestess of Guanshiyin. I have, of course told her of our gratefulness and we will make a grand donation to her faith.”

“Myrthe embodies the tenets of Guanshiyin fully, she did not do it seeking anything from you.”

“I know this, but among dwarves, one good turn deserves another. We Ulfberhts prefer to pay out debts promptly.”

“I understand.”

“Now, to continue, transporting ore is highly impractical. If we find the ore, the ingots must be made locally. To do so, Thetwick needs to be stable and open to trade. I will not deal with the Phansigar. That puts my interests in line with the Duke’s, and I suppose, yours. Therefore my suggestion is that I join you in your travels, at least as long as they are aimed at returning Thetwick to the Duke’s control. If I am to leave House Ulfberht with a legacy, I must pursue the source of this ore to the end. I must endeavour to secure lasting access to the ore and my presence is likely more valuable offering you assistance than it will be mining a few chunks of ore.”

Ala didn’t understand why all these magnificent people she was meeting wanted to travel with her, but the idea of this solid dwarf as a travelling companion set her at ease, somehow.

“I think I would like that very much Master Ulfberht. Your sword with us would be most welcome. Though we’ll have to explain it to Caerel. I can’t imagine he will be against it after hearing your tale.”

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Ford Inn

The four of them cantered towards the Inn, moving much faster than the column with its prisoners, wounded and baggage. It would cut hours off their travel time. They approached the Inn at the end of the afternoon. They drew up and observed for a while. From a distance everything looked normal.

“Looks quite peaceful, doesn’t it?” Ala offered.

Matt offered an opinion, “yeah. I don’t like it.”

“He says that a lot, doesn’t he, Ala?” Quipped Myrthe.

Ala asked Fulgor to continue and the others followed. It was quiet, but seeing as the events in Thetwick had paralysed almost all trade, that made sense. They rode into the caravan yard. There were groups of refugees here, and even a few pedlars who couldn’t quite be described as proper merchants. Ala didn’t think they would be continuing their journey to Thetwick, not once they had apprised themselves of the news from travellers. That was unless they sold weapons and armour, of course, there was certain to be a demand for that in Thetwick now. They rode into the walled courtyard where the caravans typically camped. It really seemed like it was mostly refugees now, even more than the previous time they had passed through, which was only a few days before. The refugees stared at them as they rode in, many with a discomforting, blank, expression. She didn’t see anyone in any kind of armour, making her wonder where the warrior monks that had left Thetwick two days before had gone.

Ala thought about what she had overheard. Could some of the refugees be Mahr followers dressed up as peasants? It was very hard to tell a Oakharrower or a warrior monk from a peasant if you couldn’t go by armour and weapons. Especially if they were just standing still watching you, wearing the customary oversized peasant garb. As they were tying their horses, Ala spoke quietly to the others.

“There must at least be spies. I can’t really imagine that Oakharrow hasn’t placed scouts here. It’s actually strange that it hasn’t simply been taken over by those Mahr worshippers yet, with so many men available in Thetwick.”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” said Matt.

“Perhaps the Count wanted things to appear as normal as possible as long as he could,” mused Myrthe. “If he’d taken this place, word would have spread further into Taladaria by now.”

“Perhaps it’s as simple as that,” Ala agreed.

“I’m going to talk to the refugees, I think Guanshiyin’s hand might be of some use there, even if I learn nothing.”

“Be really careful Myr, some of those Mahrian monks could easily be mixed in with the refugees.”

“I’m just a wandering priestess… no threat. I’ll be fine.”

That left Ala and Talathiel standing in the courtyard. Ala felt uncomfortable with Myrthe’s plan but decided, for lack of a better suggestion, to get on with things. She couldn’t help but wonder if the Mahrians were letting the Inn continue on as normal just to see what they might catch.

In the meantime Talathiel was standing with her nose tilted upwards as is she was smelling something. “Well, that’s still a beautiful river. It is an old friend. I’ve always loved the Iceflow. Its currents is strong, as it has been for millennia. If we must defend this place I will ask it for help.”

“Is that something common to all water elves, the way you can… manipulate… the water?”

“No. Well. I suppose we must all have some affinity. It’s not manipulation though. That would be rude. It’s more like… coaxing. I ask and it comes. But I have cultivated that affinity. It is not uncommon among water elven wizards. It just comes more naturally than other forms of magic. We are water, somehow. Just like you are Fire. My affinity is much like yours. Not all elves have it as strongly as you and I, however.”

“I would love to learn more about it, Talathiel, but we should probably make certain we are safe here first.”

“I agree. We should pretend not to know the human boy while he goes about his business, I think. In fact, that may be sensible even in less contested places. Let us go see what is happening in the common room.”

The two of them went inside. Ala was beginning to lose the habit of raising her hood when she walked into any kind of establishment. Not that there was any point with Talathiel next to her, the sorceresses’ looks skipped right past exotic and were best well in a category best described as otherworldly.

The common room was not as busy as Ala had known it to be in the past. Not that she’d expected it to be, considering the situation outside. The atmosphere was subdued, people were speaking softly if at all, huddled together around a few tables. When Thetwick was controlled by the Duke, traders, minstrels and prostitutes had livened the place up almost every night. There were some refugees coming and going, taking food to the courtyard and Alissa was serving more of them, filling bowls with stew from the cauldron over the fire. There were a few groups of men, and even a group of well armoured dwarves, who were arguing with one another in their own language, which sounded a like thunder. It was a rarity and Ala stared.

She’d never seen proper mountain dwarves before. She’d seen a few plains dwarves in Duilhac of course and there was the one at the Duke’s court, but they had dressed and behaved as short stocky humans. When she was younger there had been the occasional dwarf she’d seen travelling with a caravan. She was fairly certain those had to have been plains dwarves too. This was a full-on band of mountain dwarves wearing angular plate armour and furs, with a wide range of oversized swords, crossbows, picks, flails and axes strewn about them. They had several weapons each, certainly more than any human would customarily carry.

“Your mouth is open Alagariel,” said Talathiel.

“Oh. Sorry. Just never seen a band of dwarves like that.”

“Mountain dwarves. Feisty bunch. Don’t come down from their mountains all that often and never without a pressing reason. I wonder what they’re doing out here? I can’t imagine it’s good.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Hmm… well… they are probably either selling weapons and armour, or they’re mercenaries. If the word has passed to the mountain kingdoms that there’s profit to be had here… well, it’s the most likely reason to find dwarves anywhere… but…”

“What?”

“Normally it’s more plains dwarves in those professions. Unusual to see a group of mountain dwarves out and about at all…”

Talathiel was pensive for a moment before continuing.

“If they are mercenaries or arms merchants, the information would have had to be carried through the Duke’s lands for them to make the trip via the Ford Inn. Such rumours could never have skipped by Duilhac without coming to the Duke’s attention. If they had learned of opportunities here through Greythorn or Oakharrow, they would never have passed through here. I think then, I have no idea whatsoever what they might be doing here.”

Ala couldn’t argue with Talathiel’s logic. The only real population of mountain dwarves she had heard of lived to the southwest in a realm called Dwarfholme. It was said to be entirely underground.

“Good point. Ford Inn really isn’t on the way from the dwarven Kingdom to Thetwick.”

“No. It isn’t. It’s strange that they’re here. It may even be something as silly as coincidence. Who would have imagined that? It doesn’t really make much sense.”

“Can’t we just ask them?”

“Mountain dwarves and elves don’t get along. Metal elves sometimes, but water and dwarf is a sure way to reach a disagreement. I’m not sure how they react to fire elves. Maybe they aren’t either. It’s been half a millennium since your kind was much seen in society after all. They are longer lived than humans of course, but still there will be almost no dwarves alive that remember King Anfos.”

“Do you remember him?”

“Not consciously, it wasn’t really something to worry about before everything happened. I never met him, or anything. After Fire was lost, well, something changed. There was an acute difference to how elven kind… felt… I suppose. It’s difficult to put words to it.”

“It’s hard to imagine for me. I don’t even have a real idea of what elven kind is like today, let alone five hundred years ago,” said Ala, as much to herself as to Talathiel.

The dwarves seemed to have settled matters between them. It was a cause for celebration and they ordered a cask of the innkeeper’s best ale tapped in accented but fluent common.

“This may get raucous,” said Talathiel.

The other two groups of men hadn’t escaped Ala’s attention either. They looked like pilgrims, though Ala felt there was something out of place with them. Too fit, too well fed and too muscular. What pilgrims might be doing here, or on the way to where they might be, Ala had no idea of. She wasn’t aware of a pilgrimage site worth visiting in Thetwick.

“Talathiel. The pilgrims. Their presence doesn’t make sense either.”

“Why not? Humans have flights of fancy all the time. No reason they couldn’t have decided that Thetwick’s bear pits or cauliflowers or whatever are holy or sacred or whatever this week. Humans are prone to such flights of fancy.”

Talathiel had already demonstrated she was extremely dismissive of humanity, but was obviously going to offer new and creative ways of reiterating the point. Ala wasn’t convinced, however.

“I don’t think so Talathiel. They’re all between twenty and forty, muscled, and they appear disciplined. I count sixteen of them.”

Talathiel appeared to reconsider the pilgrims, “hmm, you may have a point. We should really either sit down somewhere or go get something at the bar. We’re beginning to attract real attention from the dwarves.”

They were still standing at the door. Ala led them to one of many unoccupied tables. The half elven serving girl, Alissa came to their table, looking mistrustful and tired.

“Heya Ala… err Lady Alagariel..”

“Let’s not act different about all that, can we? Please?” Ala Asked.

“Right… Sow what can I get ya…. err… Ala, Lady Elf?”

“It’s good to see you, Alissa.”

That finally caused her to smile a little.

“You too. Now what do you want?”

“May we have some watered wine please, and perhaps some food.”

Alissa gave a terse smile, “alright, I’ll get you some stew, it’s all we have right now, I’m afraid.”

Ala nodded agreement. Alissa looked as she had not been having an easy time of it. When she left, one of the dwarves who had been looking at them, got up and approached them.

“Afternoon, Ladies. May I introduce myself?” he asked. “I am Ulfberht Ulfberhtsson, of the Kingdom of Dwarfholme, may we speak for a moment?”

Ala decided to be nice and see if the rumours were true.

“Master Ulfberht, a pleasure. I am Alagariel. This is Talathiel. How may we be of ser…”

Talathiel interrupted.

“You are the patriarch of house Ulfberht? What is such a vaunted smith doing here, at the Ford Inn of all places?”

“I am indeed, it pleases me that you know of our works. As for why we are here? It is a long tale.”

“Not trade?” Asked Ala.

“No. Ulfberht works are well enough known that we need not venture out to sell our wares. We can barely meet demand as it is.”

“Perhaps you should sit, Master Ulfberht,” Ala offered.

“Yes, yes thank you, Lady Alagariel.”

The stocky dwarf manoeuvred himself onto a chair. It was an ungainly process as he couldn’t sit and keep his feet on the floor. Ala wondered for a moment why a dwarf would address her as a noble. Or was he just erring on the safe side like many humans did?

“We are here in pursuit of our craft, I cannot tell you more. The secrets of house Ulfberht’s forge are our livelihood. A true master smith would even be able to guess what we are after just because of where we are looking for it.”

Ala spotted Matt coming into the common room. She pretended not to see him, he did the same to her and Talathiel.

“I understand Master Ulfberht,” said Ala, then more quietly, “there are troubles in these lands, I am pleased your journey is not seeking to become a part of them.”

“I do not seek violence, unless it is just and necessary, if that is what you mean.” He continued, “tell me Lady Alagariel. We Ulfberht’s make it a point never to rest on our laurels, we are constantly seeking to improve. To that end I have extensively studied elven forge works. I notice that the armour you wear is of an ancient elven make and quality that is seldom seen. Your sword, however, appears out of kilter, although the shape of the scabbard suggests that all is perhaps not as it seems.”

The dwarf’s eye for metal work was certainly what you’d expect from a master smith, Ala thought. While they were talking, Matt was moving around, exchanging banter with Alissa and the innkeeper. He was also exchanging words with various patrons and made an attempt at a jest with the two other groups of men which obviously wasn’t appreciated. He apologised and beat a hasty retreat back to the innkeeper. Once the pilgrims attention was not on him, he struck up a conversation with the innkeeper again.

Ala turned back to Ulfberht.

“You are very observant, Master Ulfberht. I am afraid I have a bit more immediate concerns. A fight will break out here soon I expect. Would you and your band please leave the common room?”

“I do not seek violence, Lady Elf. But I do not run away from it either.”

“With all respect Master Ulfberht. You and your band are an uncertain factor.”

“Are we now? Then it is a matter of allegiance?”

“Do you see those men over there?”

“You mean the Phansigar scum?”

“Phansigar?”

“Yes, I am quite certain,” se said with a serious expression, “I caught a glimpse of a tattoo, or the edge of one at least. It can scarce be much else.”

“You call them Phansigar? Why? What is a Phansigar?

“These vile bandits… we call them Phansigar, do you not use the same term? Anyway, we will gladly assist you in dispatching them. I thought it was against the law of the land, it stayed my hand, or we would have long have wet the floors with their blood.”

“We have encountered them before, but the name is new to me. Does the tattoo look like spread wings and two curved swords?”

“Yes, yes, that is their emblem. I was surprised to see them here, Lady Alagariel. They live in a chain of high and well defended monasteries just outside the borders of Dwarfholme, to the east of our lands. How they stop the orcks from running them off I do not know. I suspect some sort of arrangement.”

“Do you know anything else about them? Their motivations and goals perhaps?”

“They are a kind of despicable warrior monks that follow some entity or thing they call Mahr. Their right of passage is gaining the trust of a group of travellers and raping and murdering them in their sleep. They take any children back to their monasteries to be brainwashed. I am certain there is magic involved. They train full obedience and warfare as well as gaining trust. Assassination is a favourite of theirs.”

“You clearly know more of them than I, master dwarf. When things aren’t quite so precarious I would like to hear more of what you know about them.”

He continued on, seemingly not in a rush to start the fight, “they even have a religious dogma on which all this is distasteful behaviour based, or so I’ve been told. Being humans, dwarven travellers know to be wary. They have frequently preyed on those who come to visit with us and trade with us.”

Ala frowned, thinking of the bandits that plagued Sheffield. “Please go one Master Ulfberht?”

“These attacks on folk who mean to trade with us are an intolerable blemish on our honour. The dwarves of Dwarfholme hate them passionately. We have attempted to destroy their monasteries, but many are too deep within orck lands, or so inaccessible that doing so causes great losses among us. Still we campaign against them every year.”

“We have friends approaching. I was going to wait for them to arrive,” said Ala.

Talathiel spoke, having listened intently to Ulfberht’s explanation. “Wait a moment Alagariel. I have heard of murdering travellers. It’s happening around the kingdom. They make it their habit to gain travellers trust and travel with them until the opportune moment. They could be travelling everywhere with these refugees. There may be more of them in the yard, too if that is the disguise they are using.”

“Then the Phansigar are active in Taladaria, I would say, Lady Talathiel,” lamented Ulfberht.

“You are correct. Though, I’m no Lady, Master Ulfberht. That’s just Alagariel here.”

“Mistress Talathiel then or perhaps I should say, Magister?”

“Very observant, Master Ulfberht.”

Ala felt out of her depth. Apparently her educations on elven matters hadn’t covered how to actually recognise a Magister yet. She filed it for later.

“If the Phansigar are in among the refugees in the courtyard, this is not going to be neat. There will be innocent deaths.”

Ala looked around. “Maybe we just take the common room, for starters. We just need to make sure Myrthe is safe.”

The situation took over at that moment. One of the Phansigar had apparently decided something was not in order with Matt and had stood up, drawing a long dagger. Matt, as martially inept as he was, was backpedalling hard trying to get his sword up between them. The Phansigar’s companions were also rising, pulling weapons from their robes. Ulfberht bellowed something that sounded ever so much like thunder. His companions all sprang into action, readying their weapons. Ala got up and made for Matt, drawing her sword on the way. She jumped from table to table, severing the Phansigar’s arm below the elbow before he could really do anything about it because he was busy fending off Matt with his shorter weapon. Losing his weapon hand allowed Matt to run the man through, which he did with a horrified look in his eyes.

There was already a clash going on between the dwarves and the Phansigar. The dwarves were outnumbered, but they were fully equipped, while the “pilgrims” hadn’t been wearing mail as part of their disguise, so they were hard pressed. They did their trick where they simply sacrificed a few lessers, but this time Matt and Ala had been expecting it. Between the two of them, they cut down all four of the Phansigar who had been trying to move away with the blood bought cover. It was to no avail. The dwarves made short work of the remaining monks, except for one, who appeared to have drowned on the spot and was leaking water out of his mouth. Ala glanced in Talathiel’s direction, she looked back and shrugged.

“Matt, can you see if Myrthe is alright? I hope they didn’t hear the fight in the courtyard. Helmut, do you know if these men were with any of the groups of refugees?”

The Innkeeper peeked out from behind his counter, which he had ducked behind during the fight.

“No… no milady…. not that I know of.”

She pulled the arm up of one of the dead Phansigar, and stripped back the sleeve.

“None of them has a tattoo? Like this one? Spread wings with two curved swords underneath?”

“Uhmm… no… I don’t think…”

Alissa raised her head, “I think I’ve seen that, err, milady…” she said uncomfortable with addressing her friend as a noble. “The group at the back of the courtyard. One of the men had something that looked like that on his forearm.”

“Alright, that’s one group anyway. We’d best go and weed them out. We should really check everyone here. Do they have any women in the ranks that you know of, Master Ulfberht?”

“I don’t know Lady Alagariel. I think I’ve heard that they do take female children from time to time. I’ve never known them to travel with like minded women. I a scared to think what they do with the children, in fact.”

Ala addressed Helmut once more, “Ford Inn is requisitioned in the name of the Duke of Taladaria. Lord Caerel will be here shortly. You and your people will assist us.”

“Yes milady…” he managed without including any racial slurs, then under his breath… “it’s about time…”

Matt came rushing back in. “I found a window. Something is going on out there, I can’t see Myrthe anywhere.”

“So we go outside,” said Ala, and led off, unslinging her shield. Ulfberht followed close behind followed by the rest of his noisily armoured band. He seemed eager to continue the fight.

Outside, it became clear that there hadn’t been any real refugees at all. Everyone in the courtyard seemed to be bearing weapons, with the exception of all the women and children. They weren’t refugees either though, they had simply been hostages… dressing to make the Phansigar believable. It disgusted Ala. The Phansigar had murdered these women’s husbands, sons and brothers, burnt their homes then beat and raped them into submission just to make sure they would be more believable refugees. She felt an unfamiliar desire to remove them from existence.

The dwarves and Ala were surrounded, it seemed like there might as many as a hundred of them, though Ala knew one tended to exaggerate the size of groups of people. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be terribly well equipped and armoured. So perhaps seventy, she decided. Still far too many. Caerel was at least another hour away.

“I did not realise today would be my last day when I woke this morning, Lady Alagariel,” said Ulfberht, scanning the Phansigar in front of them with a serious expression.

“Nor I mine, Master Ulfberht.”

“I think under the circumstances, we can be a little more familiar. My friend dwarves call me Ulf. We dwarves cannot run, Lady Alagariel. We are not much built for it as well as being unseemly. Please use the time we can buy to try and escape.”

“My name is Ala, to friends, Ulf. I didn’t know it until just now, but I will stay with you. It is where I should be and it would not be right to leave my fight to you. Talathiel, Matt, I think it is vital that the two of you get to Caerel to warn him and then make sure the Duke knows.”

Neither Matt nor Talathiel argued. She could see they wanted to, but they knew it was pointless. Both of them simply did as she said. Particularly in Talathiel’s case, that surprised Ala. In any event her decision was made, she felt no doubt. She looked around for Myrthe. Probably already dead, she decided.

Ala felt very calm.

“Dwarves of house Ulfberht, may I have the honour of fighting alongside you?” Ala asked.

They responded, apparently as one and without prompting with a battle cry in their thunder language. The dwarves formed a line, to either side of Ulf and Ala, and raised their weapons high. Ala was still calm as she called her fire, concentrating for a moment to let it envelop her and then, to her surprise, her new-found friends, whose grim faces looked up in wonder as the golden-red flames enveloped them in a shell of fire without burning or blinding them.

The Phansigar had gathered, weapons drawn. They had pulled out shields and some had armour. In the middle of their line was an older man, with a warrior’s physique and a beard. He looked angry, apparently only barely able to contain his rage at their defiance. Ala’s calm became deeper still. The dwarves took up a rhythmic chant and began to march forwards, she fell into step with them. The Phansigar also came forward and as the first one lifted his blade to strike, Ala’s world gently changed to the place where time at once went impossibly fast and terribly slow. She could move freely, easily anticipating each opponent’s blow. She didn’t really know where she went or what she did exactly, though she later found she could remember all of it in detail if she concentrated.

Then, all of a sudden, it was over. It was quite a lot later and she stood in a dim courtyard that had been bright in the evening sun until a moment ago. Around her, dwarves were lighting torches. A horn call was heard in the distance. Caerel was close. The whole courtyard was strewn with bodies, among them several dwarves. Ulfberht was still standing, though he had deep gashes. Ala checked herself, she didn’t have a cut on her, though her tabard had countless slashes showing the elven mail beneath.

“Well Lady Alagariel, had I known you were a battle-dancer, I would not have acted so dramatic and emotional. Though…” he said, surveying the carnage, “the legends hardly do you justice.”

Ala looked around all the corpses in bewilderment too. How much of it was she responsible for?

“I didn’t know I could battle dance myself, until just now. I prefer Ala though, truly, Ulf. Surely I am only responsible for a very small part of all this?”

As she said it, she realised that probably wasn’t true. For almost all the corpses that lay in her field of view, she found she could remember how they had met their end on her blade.

“Well, we dwarves accounted for a fair share of course,” he said with a grin, “but, truth be told, not as fair as yours. My kinsmen fought bravely and well, I will mourn the passing of my friends who fell. They have honourably earned their place in the halls of the gods. Still, I think great friendships are forged on such days where there is also great tragedy, Ala.”

“I am honoured.” It seemed the only appropriate response. Suddenly a panic came over her. “Have you seen my friend, Myrthe? She is a priestess of Guanshiyin. Talathiel and Matt?”

“There do appear to have been some genuine refugees spread in amongst them. They tied them up over there. We’re untying them one by one, checking forearms. I think I saw one in a priestesses’ robes among them. The water elf and the human did as they were told. They scaled the wall over there. I think they just saw the beginning of your dance, perhaps, perhaps not.”

“It’s a strange thing. Like it wasn’t me, but it was at the same time. But I must find Myrthe, first,” she said as she rushed towards where the refugees were gathered.

Ala found herself crying with relief. Myrthe was alright, except for a nasty bump on the head and looking dishevelled.

“Oh, thank god you’re alright Ala. Was that a battle-dance?”

Ala nodded self consciously.

“It was beautiful and terrible all at once… and all that fire…”

“What happened to you, Myrthe?”

“I noticed something was wrong about the refugees, I didn’t feel Guanshiyin’s urge. It didn’t make sense. They saw my discomfort. That’s when they overpowered me, just after Matt went inside. I’m not sure what set them off.”

Once Ala had freed her and checked her for any hidden injuries, Myrthe started moving around to help where she could.

“Myrthe, would you check on the dead and wounded dwarves?”

“Oh yes…. yes of course.”

Ala looked at her bustling about, decided she was alright, and headed for the gate in the courtyard wall, calling to the dwarves as she went.

“Master Ulfberht, I would like you to meet the Heir of Taladaria.”

Ulfberht nodded, stood and followed her through the gate, just as Lord came riding up, with Matt and Talathiel on either side of him.

“I thought you two said none of them would survive? Though I’m glad you were wrong. It’s good to see you Ala. You do look a little the worse for wear. Who is this?”

“May I present Master Ulfberht Ulfberhtsson? He and his brave dwarves were instrumental to my still being alive. Master Ulfberht, this is Caerel de Duilhac, Lord and heir of Taladaria, his grandfather is the Duke himself.”

“Lord Caerel, honour upon your house. The lass exaggerates. I think she may well have managed it all on her own.”

“And on yours, Master dwarf. Just how many were you facing in there? You make it sound like fifty or more.”

“Perhaps we should simply count? It would be better to know for sure.” Suggested Matt.

“We should indeed know how many they were with,” Caerel agreed, “it may give a little more insight.”

They walked back into the courtyard. The unlikely carnage was still there, despite Ala’s dreamlike feeling. Myrthe had managed to save one of the badly wounded dwarves. He wouldn’t be doing any fighting any time soon. Several more dwarves were beyond help.

By now, it was getting dark. The dwarves had liberally placed torches around the courtyard which bathed the grisly scene in faint torchlight. Caerel walked around and ordered the bodies gathered outside the wall. Everyone helped, dragging the corpses out of the courtyard. Even Caerel participated, somewhat to Ala’s surprise. She found she had to concentrate for a few moments to remember each corpse and how she had killed them. On one hand it was amazing that she could remember at all. On the other, it still felt detached, which she was actually sort of thankful for.

It was well and truly dark before the bodies were out of the courtyard. The count had come to sixty-eight, not including those in the common room. There was no way of knowing how many had been killed by the dwarves and how many by Ala. Ala supposed she could try and recognise each one by concentrating, but she really didn’t want to replay each death in her mind. Brugor set the guardsmen in shifts, to keep watch during the night.

When they were finally finished they retired to the Inn. There were two large private rooms in the inn, and Ala shared one with Talathiel and Myrthe. Matt, Caerel and Brugor shared the other. The dwarves had elected to keep vigil over their fallen, building funeral pyres through the night. They were to be lit at dawn. Ala could hardly stand on her feet, now realising she was truly exhausted. She insisted on being roused just before dawn to join the dwarves in their farewell ceremony. She had lain down to meditate after she had told Caerel what had happened. He didn’t ask how it was possible, he just listened silently, letting her rest immediately afterwards.

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Ambush

They soon reached the others, they had stopped in a depression, making it hard for them to be spotted. Caerel, Myrthe, Talathiel and Lieutenant Hieronymus had obviously been waiting for them to return.

“Lots of soldiers camped on the plain upriver from Thetwick. We got into a bit of an altercation with some Oakharrowers and some of those Mahr cultists, too,” said Ala.

Matt didn’t say anything, he was still lost in thought. Ala continued, “I expect they’ll probably send out a patrol now. Or as quickly as they can get it organised. It’s likely to be around the size of our force, perhaps smaller, since they only saw Matt and me. Unless they’ve heard of the events on the road, that is.”

“That could be a risky gamble. Though I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” said Caerel

“We could consider ambushing the pursuers? Get them to chase us? We can always just lose them if there’s too many,” suggested Ala.

Caerel nodded, “it’s a thought. Not certain we’d learn all that much more from it.”

“It’ll be a few less of them to fight later,” said Brugor, “no impressive strategy in it, but that doesn’t make it less true.”

“Though we should probably take a moment and consider what we expect to achieve by slaughtering a few more of them,” said Myrthe.

Caerel spoke, “from what you’ve described, we can’t dislodge the Oakharrowers and their allies, not with the forces we have. We could probably harass them, ambushes, raids, etcetera, but our supplies aren’t endless and we’ll have to spend considerable time foraging and hunting within a few days to keep everyone fed.”

“All good points,” said Hieronymus, making no useful contribution whatsoever, as was customary.

“If we do ambush them now, we will be showing our strength. We can never be sure no one gets away,” said Matt, out of his despondence for a moment.

“I feel we should take this opportunity to ambush again. It’s a chance to gather as much intelligence as possible” said Caerel. “Then we will go back to the Ford Inn, and dig in there. It’s the bottleneck into Taladaria, we can be supplied there, launch patrols and raids, and we can make certain that my grandfather knows what’s going on. We should neutralise the pursuers though, I have no desire to let them hound us all the way to the Ford Inn.”

Ala was impressed, yet again. It was sound strategic reasoning. She was pleased he wasn’t suggesting an attack they were unlikely to survive.

“A sensible course of action, in my opinion,” she said.

Everyone agreed that is was the best plan, including Hieronymus, who agreed with all consensus decisions once he figured out what they were.

Caerel rode off ahead, he was a swift rider and he was going to gather the men at the ruins and set up the ambush. The rest of them were going to try and draw in the patrol that was sure to come and investigate. They rode to the crest of the hill overlooking Thetwick where the corpses from Ala and Matt’s fight were still strewn. They made no effort to cover their tracks. The idea was simply to let the approaching patrol see them and then run for it, feigning problems if they threatened to get too far ahead. Hopefully Caerel would have the ambush organised in time. When they arrived at the top of the hill, they didn’t have long to wait.

They dismounted and let the horses graze a bit, but Ala soon spotted banners and horses gathering around Thetwick in the distance. There were around thirty horsemen gathered, and the group even flew banners, which was more open than they had seen thus far. She recognised the banner of Oakharrow and the same shape that the men had tattooed on their forearms was also flying on a long pole. The whole group was cantering towards them. They couldn’t pretend not to have seen it for long, so they mounted up in what was meant to look like a hurry and galloped off over the crest of the hill. They could just hear the pace of the hoof beats increase as the formation gave chase. Over the crest they slowed down a little not wanting to get too far ahead of the formation following them.

It went well, they galloped across the countryside with the patrol from Thetwick in pursuit. It wasn’t all that far back to the ruins, especially at a gallop. They didn’t really know exactly where Caerel was going to set up the ambush, but Ala assumed it would be near the ruins to give him as much time as possible. They had to ride the exact route they came by of course, otherwise Caerel wouldn’t know where to place his men. This resulted in a bit of an erratic course since she had been covering the exact route for the first time on the way to Thetwick and hadn’t taken the shortest path. Ala guessed Caerel would have sited the ambush at a gully about five minutes ride from the ruins, it was the best site that she could remember seeing. They had come through it on the outward leg of the reconnaissance and it was well situated for an ambush conducted as Bernard had taught her to do it. They rode through the gully and at the end of it, Caerel was standing there, waiting for them out of view of the pursuers, waving them over. Ala turned Fulgor towards him, riding their little troupe out of the pursuing men’s line of sight.

When the Oakharrowers had all ridden into the gully, Brugor’s horn call commanded Caerel’s archers to fire. Ala could clearly hear the sound of cavalry approaching. Caerel’s infantrymen sprinted across the gully, forming a line of pikes, cutting off the pursuers advance. At the same time the second volley of arrows found their marks. The archers were professional longbow men, they had fired their third volley by the time the first arrows touched ground. The far side of the gully was steep, but not impassable. A small stream ran along the base of it. Ala heard Talathiel speak, the words were familiar but unintelligible. The stream swelled, making the area around it a bubbling mire. Some of the more observant pursuers realised they were being herded and attempted to charge out of the area targeted by the longbow men. They spurred their horses towards the line of infantry, which appeared to be the weakest link in the trap.

Caerel was behind the line of infantrymen, yelling orders. “Steady! Set pikes! Remember, the horses will not ride through a closed line. The man next to you is depending on you to stand your ground!”

Some of the pursuers apparently knew this too and four made for the far end of the line. Ala, Myrthe, Matt and Talathiel were bunched at the other end, still on horseback, which explained why the enemy had chose the other end of the line of pikemen to attempt a breakthrough. The terrain on the far side of the infantry line was rough, but not impassable for an athletic horse with a practised rider. Ala told Fulgor to gallop to the that end of the line and arrived there in time to meet the first man who was manoeuvring his horse over the terrain. He was one of the religious warriors. She could tell now somehow, their eyes seemed… colder… there was a kind of craze to them which Ala could only describe as unnatural. The rest were behind him, all were the same warrior monks.

The lead man violently spurred his Braban\c on horse, kicking it hard. He was wearing a conical helm with an eye and nose guard, and he had a full brown beard streaked with a little grey. He wasn’t properly positioned to get his weapon in line, so he simply body slammed Fulgor with his shield, yelling something as he passed by. The next in line rotated his horse, to allow his sword arm access to Ala. That turned him in the wrong direction to make an escape. The Phansigar’s choice to attack Ala was sacrificial, with his horse now turned in the wrong direction, he was very unlikely to be able to manoeuvre out of the melee. He meant to occupy Ala so that the others could get away. It was the same tactic the men on the hillock had used. It took Ala a moment to recover Fulgor from the slam, but she quickly coaxed him into sword range, capitalising on a small mistake the expendable man had made. He had raised his sword to cut, but he hadn’t been properly focused on hitting Ala’s centre line, his attack wasn’t straight. She simply extended her sword tip towards him and urged Fulgor forward with her knees. Her sword went straight into the man’s face.

Fulgor’s momentum pushed the tip of her sword all the way through his head. She then urged Fulgor backwards, freeing her blade with a twist. It was too late though, the other three men had passed her by. Matt had apparently managed to rekindle his nerve, and he shot one of the men with his crossbow, but the Phansigar didn’t go down. The wounded man immediately slowed and despite the crossbow bolt sticking out of his back did his best to interrupt Ala’s chase. She couldn’t get around him without exposing herself and had to slow down to deal with him. By the time he slid, dying, off his saddle into the dirt, the remaining two men had managed to gallop out of sight.

Ala looked back towards the kill zone. What was left of the patrol had encountered Caerel’s cavalry and was being systematically cut down. The warrior monks fought to the death while the Oakharrowers gave up without too much of a fight. Now that Caerel’s men knew this, they were careful to give no quarter to the Phansigar. Only two warrior monks survived, their wounds making it impossible for them to fight on. All the Oakharrowers had dropped their weapons as soon as it had become obvious the situation was untenable. Caerel’s command lost three more men and another five were wounded. They wouldn’t be able to conduct another ambush with such losses. Among the dead was Lieutenant Hieronymus. Caerel could be heard yelling orders. Brugor was farther off, doing the same.

“Alright men, disarm these prisoners. Catch what horses have escaped, you have five minutes, leave any that are too far off. We need to move from here in fifteen minutes. Put the prisoners on horses, hands tied to their saddles. Check the saddles and saddlebags for weapons. I don’t want any surprises.”

Ala rode around, quickly doing a check of the corpses while Brugor was forming up their column. Once again, she didn’t think Gordon Marchmain was among the dead. They had gathered nearly two dozen prisoners in total now. Within around twenty minutes, they were indeed moving, with everything they could take with them. They set a hard pace, and Matt and Ala rode in the rear screen with the remaining cavalrymen. Their job was to spot anyone pursuing them. They were moving hard, the objective was to get to the Ford Inn before a proper pursuit from Thetwick could be mounted.

Ala counted out in her head. The warrior monks who escaped would need around an hour to get to Thetwick and perhaps another hour to put together a relief column. If they moved with mounted men only, they could be as little as three hours behind them. With the wagons and prisoners, the pursuers would gain on them quickly. It was going to be close if they didn’t abandon the wagons, something that Brugor and Caerel clearly wanted to avoid. The conversation Ala had overheard on the Hillock worried her. It meant that forces from Thetwick could have already passed behind them and already arrived at the Ford Inn, though the camp had still looked full. They could even send two forces in reaction to the men that had escaped the ambush, one of which could be sent to try and cut them off on the road.

The job of screening involved a lot of galloping around so it was switched among the riders so as not to tire out the horses. When she was relieved, she cantered over to Caerel, who was riding at the head of the column with Myrthe, Talathiel and Brugor.

“Caerel? With the wagons, we may be overtaken before we get to the Inn.”

He shrugged, “yeah, I know. We can’t really afford to lose them though.”

“It’s also possible that the enemy passed by behind us and has already moved on the Ford Inn. While we were camped at the tower.”

Caerel’s expression changed as he looked in the direction of Ford Inn automatically. “Now that I hadn’t considered. I bloody hope not. Why would they suddenly do that now, after several weeks?”

“Well, it’s just that some of the chatter Matt and I overheard on the hilltop gave me the impression something might be brewing. I’m not sure, it may have just been idle soldier talk, but one of them thought the Count of Oakharrow wanted to move on Taladaria itself. That means the Ford Inn.”

“There’s really no other way into Taladaria in the whole March?” Caerel asked once more.

“Unless they’re building a bridge somewhere, or have access to barges or the like, I suppose. The patrol we ran into on the way in might have given them the reason to act now. They may even have been sent to seize the Ford Inn in preparation. Those men also said something about monks dressed as farmers that left towards the Inn the day before yesterday.”

Brugor spoke up, “well, I don’t think it’s all that likely. But if we do get caught up just as we arrive at the Ford Inn and it is being held by more of the Count’s men. We’ll be in between a rock and a hard place.”

Caerel shook his head, “that would be a problem.”

Brugor continued, “again. It’s unlikely. But I’d rather be safe than sorry. If the Count decides to pursue us, the force is going to be large enough to wipe out our remaining men. He knows, near enough, what our strength is now.”

Caerel considered again, “I agree with you Sergeant-Major. Unless those men dressed as farmers are part of some different plan, not related to attacking us,” he frowned for a moment, mulling it over. “The day before yesterday? If those men were headed to the Ford Inn, they would have passed behind us and be at the Inn already.”

“We should scout ahead and find out ,” said Myrthe. “How about Ala, Matt and myself go? The four of us won’t look as immediately threatening if spotted.”

Caerel nodded, “agreed. We will continue pushing towards the Ford Inn in the meantime. Be very careful. Signal us on approach if something is amiss.”

Myrthe nodded to indicate she understood.

“I will join them,” Talathiel announced.

Caerel looked at her, obviously feeling as if his opinion was irrelevant to Talathiel, which was probably true.

“If you wish, Mistress,” he said.

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Maiden’s Tower

They all mounted up and continued down the road in the same formation as before. Though they were with fewer men, it didn’t change the way they conducted the advance. The wounded cultists had been gagged and tied securely into the supply wagons. Ala had no expectation of being able to make them talk even if they decided to torture them, which she wanted no part of. These Mahr followers were a rare breed of fanatic and their presence in Westmarch was yet another development that made Ala feel as if she was missing vital information to understand what was going on. She felt as if the campsite upstream from Thetwick that Martha had described was likely the answer to what had happened to the bandits that had been plaguing Sheffield. The religious warriors they had encountered and the relationship between the Marchmains spoke of a far deeper and more insidious plot that she had ever imagined and she didn’t yet understand what the motivations of the Constable and Count of Oakharrow might be. Was the King of Selinus involved too? It was possible, and the religious warriors certainly seemed like they probably originated further away than Oakharrow. She parked her thoughts when it came time to branch off with the scouts to check Maiden’s Tower.

Ala and two cavalry men rode out ahead to make sure the ruins were deserted. They left the road, and made their way through the trees to the remains of the keep. She need not have worried, it was as quiet as Ala remembered. She stayed there while the two cavalrymen rode back to escort the rest of the command to the side. There wasn’t much left of Maiden’s Tower except a few low walls, but the original builders had chosen the site well. There were only two ways up to the top of the hill which could be managed by horses, the rest was too steep and hard to climb on horseback. A natural spring bubbled up, offering fresh water, and the view was excellent. It was one of Ala’s favourite places in the Westmarch. It was also where she had been spotted practising with her sword and fire four decades ago when she hadn’t been living with Bernard for long. She hunted around for a while until she found the stone with the half common and half elven inscription. It was where she had left it last, carefully hidden, but it was thoroughly overgrown. She couldn’t help but smile that it was still there.

They settled in and made camp. When dark came, it was a clear, bright night and they could see almost all the way to Thetwick. Ala looked in the direction of the town, seeing a glow on the horizon that did not spell much good. Something was burning tonight. After the evening stew Myrthe came out to find her. She’d been very preoccupied with Caerel for much of the journey.

“I’m sorry Ala, I haven’t been giving you much attention, have I?”

“It’s alright Myr. You and Caerel are having a thing. Who knows how long that will be possible. Enjoy it.”

“You’re very understanding, Ala.”

“As well as long lived.”

Myrthe giggled about that, “did you come here often when you lived in Thetwick?”

“I used to come here very often actually, it was my refuge until the militia started taking up the bulk of my time. I used to come here to practice.”

“Sword stuff?”

Ala nodded.

“Do you know anything about the ruins?”

“Not much. There’s a stone with an inscription on it, over here. I’ve read it many times, though parts of it are cracked and damaged. Here, I’ll show you.”

Ala showed Myrthe the stone and lit her fire so the Myrthe could read.

“That’s such a useful skill… let’s see…. De Baerle… let me think for a moment… oh yes, I know, the Marquesses of Thetwick. Oh Ala, I bet this used to be the De Baerle keep!”

“What do you mean?”

“A while ago… I can’t remember exactly when, but there was no male heir to become Marquess of the Westmarch. The daughter of the Marquess… was it Annette de Baerle? I think so… anyway, she married a Duke of Taladaria. Bryan, maybe?”

“Is that how the Westmarch became a part of Taladaria?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s so cool that we’re camped exactly here!”

“Having dynastic fantasies are we?”

Myrthe looked at her with feigned annoyance. “It’s a fling, Lady Alagariel. Just a fling.”

“Well, I think your fling is surreptitiously looking for you,” said Ala. With her elven eyes she could see Caerel making the rounds in the dark. It was obviously an excuse to look for Myrthe.

“I shall go see if that unlikely conclusion is true,” Myrthe declared. Before she went she turned to Ala, “thank you for showing me this, it’s such and interesting piece of history… is this where those farm boys thought you were a fire wraith too, by the way?”

Ala nodded, she had told Myrthe the story of the Chad and his Wraith Hunters on the road to the Ford Inn, though she had understated the bits about the fire.

“That makes it even better! Goodnight, Ala!”

“Goodnight.”

They had set up a watch roster that had everyone taking one of five two hour shifts. She meditated for two hours and then joined two of the watches during the darkest part of the night. Elven night vision was a lot better than that of humans. She talked quietly to the guards on duty, finding out where they were from and getting acquainted. Most of them just answered her questions correctly, they were unnerved by any noble and a comely elven one was too much of an unknown to allow anything remotely like a normal conversation. Only one of them dared to ask any questions.

“Good evening guardsman,” said Ala, causing the man to jump when she was making her rounds again. “How goes your watch?”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” He said irritably, then realised who he was talking to. “Sorry, sorry milady, you startled me.”

“Relax, guardsman. What’s your name? I’m Alagariel.”

“I know milady. I’m Kendrick Hawk-eye. Well met!”

His attire marked him as one of the archers. He wore padded armour, leather wrist braces to protect him from mishaps with the bow string and a warm woollen cloak to protect against the night’s chill. Besides his longbow and two quivers he had two short swords at his belt, more like long knives than swords. He had keen eyes, somehow he reminded her of a hawk or another bird of prey. That must be how he got the name.

“So Kendrick, how goes the watch? Anything of interest?”

“All quiet so far milady, except for that glow over the horizon, just off Thetwick. I think it’s campfires.”

“How can you tell? I can just see a glow. Have you been here before, do you know Thetwick?”

“I’m actually from Greythorn milady. I grew up there… got into… well a little bit of trouble. Not that that’s hard in Greythorn.”

“May I ask what happened?”

He shrugged. “Nothing to be proud of. We were starving one winter. I stole something and was recognised. They hang you for that. I ran.”

“A hard life.”

“Aye, that it is, in Greythorn. So, I ran all the way to Peyrepertuse and joined up. I did pass through Thetwick on the way. Was there for a few weeks before I learned of the Duke’s Regiment and decided to try my luck.”

“Is the story about the Witch of Greythorn actually true?”

He smiled. “I don’t rightly know. Old timers believe it. Or well, somebody or something definitely razed the whole castle in one night.”

“Just the castle? I thought the story was the town too?”

“No, that was razed when they built the new castle. Pretty sure of that. In fact, among the poor, the Witch is celebrated. She was Baroness too right? They only De Crequy that ever looked out for the people of Greythorn, is how they talk about her.”

“People don’t mind that she was… you know… a Witch?”

“Don’t suppose they think about it much. In the stories I heard, she gave the Baron his comeuppance. That’s seen as a good thing. Of course, the De Crequys went bad again mighty quick.”

“The Witch of Greythorn is such an intriguing tale. Anyway. What makes you think there are campfires over there?”

“I was curious milady, I climbed what’s left of the tower. You can just make out the pinpricks of light. I have good eyes, archers have to. They say elven eyes are even better. Maybe you could climb up to have a look too? I’d like to be sure I wasn’t crazy. I’ve seen what a field of campfires looks like before, but I was in the middle of it then.”

It was a bit presumptuous of course, a guardsman asking a lady to climb a tower in the middle of the night. It seemed like a good idea to Ala though.

“Good idea Kendrick.”

She climbed the tower easily and found her balance on the highest remaining wall. The last time she’d been up on top of the tower had been years before. She looked in the direction of the glow. The extra couple of yards made the difference. There were quite a few pinpricks of light. It was difficult to count properly, but she judged at least twenty. She shared the analysis though. Thetwick wasn’t exactly in the direction she was looking. These were definitely open air campfires. The site would be a couple of hundred yards up the creek, exactly where Martha had said it would be. As she stood on the highest point of the tower, balancing on the irregular wall, she suddenly thought of Talathiel and what she had said. The feeling was unmistakable. Ala quickly climbed down the tower.

“Well, milady what do you think?”

“I think those pinpricks look a lot like campfires. At least twenty. The forces at Thetwick have increased since Martha saw them,” she spotted Kendrick looking blank at the name so she clarified, “you remember, the woman at Ford Inn, who gave evidence to Lord Caerel?”

He nodded, understanding who she was referring to.

“Anyway, more men than she reported are there now. I’ll inform Lord Caerel, but first I have to do something. I’ll be back in a minute, I expect.”

“Yes milady,” said Kendrick, looking even more puzzled.

She walked down to the spring, which trickled gently down the hill. She was pretty sure it must be connected to the rivers and so to the world’s waterways, she reasoned. She took the vial, shook it for a while, and poured it into the spring’s little head water. It was so quick she wasn’t really sure it happened, but it looked like the water fluoresced for a moment and that the glow disappeared down the hillside at unimaginable speed. Nothing else happened. She waited for a moment. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but nothing else seemed to happen. So, she walked back to Kendrick’s post.

“I’ll tell Lord Caerel about the sighting first thing in the morning Kendrick. I’ll be sure to mention it was you who spotted it.”

“Oh that’s not important milady. Just so we don’t wander into an army unprepared.”

“It was good thinking Kendrick, climbing the tower. I wouldn’t have thought those few yards would make the difference.”

“Just thought it was worth a try milady.”

“Good work.”

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