Between Winters, Part XVI
#19 of Between Winters
Brief Summary for new readers:
Rhania is a young vixen with a unique ability: she sees magic, not only in objects but in all things living. Although she cannot use magic herself, the power makes her both desired and feared by the warring fractions in Namairith.
The humanoid alliance sees her power as a means to cure the plague-like blood cough, while the rebel tribes fear that Rhania may swing the odds in their disfavour and they put a prize on her head. Rhania seeks protection within the alliance, led by the talented but brutal and uncompromising General Arbinger, who employs her as a spy and archer.
The alliance prepares an attack on the old trading post of Iuna's Blessing, now believed to be an orcish rebel encampment, and Rhania is sent ahead to spy for weaknesses. She discovers that the camp is home only to civilian refugees from tribes that sympathise with the rebels.
Here she meets her friend and beloved Snowhheart, a badger who has recently joined the rebels. Rhania learns that the human alliance has systematically attacked the weaker rebel tribes, in order to hone their combat skills before the final battle.
Rhania begins to have second thoughts about her relationship with the alliance, but in that same moment, general Arbinger launches the attack and Rhania is caught in the middle. Snowheart locks Rhania into a holding cell to keep her safe from the battle.
General Arbinger has trained a number of greyrobes for combat purposes; powerful human mages who specialise in fire-magic -a powerful weapon against taurian warriors who panic at the mere thought of fire. A clear victory for the alliance seems certain, but the taurs receive unexpected help from Victor Folchard, a human herbalist who provides the rebels with magic potions to protect them against the fire.
With the odds now at even, the taurs march out to meet the alliance on the battlegrounds, while the remaining civilians make an escape though the narrow Quemt pass and into the friendlier territories to the east, inhabited by the wolf-like Fenrir and the feline Kisanti tribes.
(This upload concludes the thee-part story arc of The Battle of Iuna's Blessing that began in part XIV.)
Between Winters, XVI
Straddled across his warhorse, and at a comfortable distance from the battlefield, General Ted Arbinger watched his greyrobes march across the plains south of Iunas Blessing. With every step they created a fiery inferno, and choked the life out of the air with each waving of a gloved hand. A nagging concern crossed Arbinger's mind; he had trained the mages long and hard and he had watched their skills grow, but they had also changed. Maybe it was fatigue, but lately his greyrobes had shown signs of mental instability. They were easy enough to command, but they carried out orders as if in a trance, mindlessly following every lead like moving dolls.
A sole figure broke from the enemy lines and walked calmly towards the greyrobes. Arbinger squinted to make out the strange character through the flickers of scorching air, and he saw a wolf, one of the fenrirs and dressed in a purple robe. Arbinger spat out a short laugh, the wolf was suicidal or insane -probably the latter for now the wolf took off his robe and laid it gently on the ground, leaving him naked and exposed to the magic fire.
Behind the wolf stood rows of taurian warriors, all frozen in fear and anticipation of a fiery death. Oh, this was priceless! Once they had watched that crazy wolf char into a screaming mess of blackened flesh, the taurs would bolt and scatter. Arbinger would then score yet another victory for the alliance, and if he spared a few taurs, even the fickle elves would stay with the humanoid alliance. Just torch the damn wolf he thought, and as if the mages had read his mind, the greyrobes conjured up a massive living wall of flame and sent it thundering towards the naked wolf. The fire scorched grass and singed insects as it shot across the field, but the wolf only welcomed it with his head bowed; then he too was engulfed.
For one brief moment Abringer felt the rush of a clean takedown, but satisfaction soon turned to bewilderment; the wolf stood alive and unharmed. How dares he not die? The rules were simple: you burn someone with magic fire, then they go up in flames screaming and finally they die, yet this pityful, naked creature dared to defy rules and now broke out in - what looked like a merry dance.
Mockery! I'm being mocked by a fey fenrir.
Bweilderment turned to disgust as Arbinger watched the taurs, likewise unaffected by flames rear and gallop towards the lines of mages. Horns and hooves tore into the mages and hurled them into the battlefield, where they screamed in rage as they were consumed by their own fire.
Arbinger did not understand, and for the first time since he joined the Knights many moons ago, he felt at unease. The strategy of fire against taurian troops had granted him victory every time, but something had changed. Why the fire was now ineffective against the taurs was uncertain, but he knew that this part of the battle was lost, and he was now faced with an impossible choice: either send his elven and human troops into the flames to save the few greyrobes who were still standing, or he could pursue the fleeing rebels into the Quemt Pass.
The unstoppable force he had in the greyrobes made him feel safe, confident and powerful. War itself bowed to him when he breathed in clean air and spat out dark flames, but his force was now reduced to unsightly heaps of writhing tissue and agonised wailings. The smell of fire and burnt flesh bought back a childhood memory from growing up among the kitchen staff at castle Oakenford. The cook gave him a live rabbit to keep as a pet; "it's yours," he had said. "Nobody's going to eat it." Only, when Arbinger went to feed it the next day he discovered that nobody had told the the wolves; one of their kind had broken into the cages and taken his rabbit.
The wolf took my toys, cried a heartbroken Arbinger. Now history repeated itself, and his indecision lasted only a moment.
-but they are useless anyway, now.
Rhys Baxter was not Arbinger's first choice for a second-in command. Baxter was a skilled soldier but he was also a brown-nose and too eager to please. Still, Commander Furness had let Arbinger down. Ever since the mission in Badger's Rest, Furness had grown slow and indecisive, and now the little shit had disappeared -probably hiding somewhere and feeling sorry for himself. "Oh, I killed an enemy in the line of duty". Arbinger spat in disgust.
"They may still have one of ours", said Baxter. "The fox that we sent ahead to spy has not yet returned".
"Then I'll ride ahead and find her. I want Rhania by my side". Arbinger pointed a gloved fist at the battlefield that was now a smoldering mess of living torches.
"Wait until the fire dies down, then retreat into the forest and let the elves cut the enemy down", he shouted as he rode off,
"-and take no prisoners!".
Snowheart charged his horse through the valley. He could hear and smell the allied army approaching from behind, leaving only minutes to secure the pass. There were no signs of rebel civilians, and he guessed that they had passed this way some time ago. Two guard towers stood on opposing sides of the valley, both connected to reservoirs of large boulders that tumbled down to close off the narrow pass, when triggered by a lever in each guard tower.
"Pull the lever!"
he shouted at the guard towers, then waited in vain for any reply and the passage remained open to friend and foe alike. He dismounted his horse and quickly climbed the western guard tower only to find it abandoned; the lever had never been pulled and the mechanism had not been released.
Rot your ears, he gave the release lever a good yank, and an avalance of boulders crashed from it's reservoir on the mountainside and into the narrow valley. Snowheart looked down from the guard tower and nodded satisfied - halfways there, but there was little time to spare. From this distance it was not difficult to smell the approaching troops, but the scent was deceiving: the troops had surely been given the same potion as Rhania, and their scent remained faint although the troops were close.
He descended the guard-tower in two jumps and ran to the east tower. This too had been abandoned before the boulders had been released. With no sign of the rebel sentry, Snowheart climbed the tower and yanked the lever with all his might but apart from a few creaking noises, nothing happened.
He cursed, pleaded and toggled the release lever -but to no avail. He eyed the length of rope connecting the lever to the release mechanism, and saw that the rope had come undone a short distance from the board that held the avalanche back. The only solution was to climb up and release the avalanche manually.
He began to climb the steep sandstone slope of the mountain. Not being a natural climber, he lay down on all fours and held on with every claw, and inched his way forwards and upwards. The galloping of warhorses drew closer, and he knew that the enemy would be upon him within seconds. He made a momentary mistake of looking down, and the sight was nauseating: the bottom of the pass was far below him and littered with rocks and boulders.
How did I get this far up? If I slip now... then he pressed on, until he reached the wooden barrier that held the rocks back, and pried it loose with one hand.
The response was instantaneous; tonnes of carefully picked boulders splintered the woodwork scaffolding and crashed down the mountainside. A rock hit Snowheart and he lost his footing. He dug all claws into the sandstone, but still slid down the mountain-side at blurring speed, and in between clouds of dust he caught brief glimpses of the rocky path rising to meet him. A boulder caught his left leg, he felt something snap and bolts of agony shot through the leg. Then he landed face down in the dust, while boulders crashed down around him, and he scurried, blinded and on all fours in the single direction that led him away from the falling rocks.
Red dust was in his eyes, his ears and lungs; he gasped for air, rubbed his eyes and struggled to get to his feet, something's not right with my leg. The veil of dust gradually lifted, and Snowheart saw that the boulders had completely sealed off the narrow valley. A decent rock climber could traverse the boulders, but no army could get their horses across. Success! he sighed in comfort that the rebels now had all the time they needed to reach the new camp in the borderlands. A single step forward sent a blinding bolt of pain through his leg that bled from an open wound. Got to sit down and rest for a while. Turning around, he discovered that he was no longer alone; fifty archers and knights stared back at him. He was caught on the wrong side of the blockade and facing the allied army.
Arbinger gritted his teeth and called his men to a halt. He was confused; the narrow pass had collapsed before him without warning and there was no sight of the fleeing rebels. No screaming either. Either the rebels had escaped through the valley and a stubborn wall of boulders now stood between them and his troops, or the avalanche had buried them all. Confusion now gave way to stark disappointment; he had so looked forward to the chase and the kill -and now he had been robbed of the opportunity for the second time that day. He hoped that the rebels had not been crushed under the boulders; that way he could always return another day and have the pleasure of personally grinding them into the red dust. But for now the battle had not worked out the way that he had planned it at all. He had lost his greyrobes and even worse, the rebels had negated the usefulness of his sole power -and this made him feel strangely uncomfortable inside.
Clouds of dust obscured the valley, but as they settled he noticed a single figure standing by the boulders - a badger, who leaned heavily against a crude staff and nursed a wounded leg. I guess he couldn't keep up with the rest of the rebels. Arbinger looked at Rhania, whom he had found captive in a holding cell when his troops charged trough the encampment. She was unhurt, so the loss was not total, but the enemy had still managed to take her prisoner and in doing so they had deprived Arbinger of a clean victory. All he had to show for his efforts now, was one flea-ridden badger with a bum leg.
Rhania had not said much after they freed her from captivity, but she mentioned that she had been locked up by -a badger. Could it be the same, he wondered. First a wolf and now a badger; Arbinger's initial thought was to capture the rebel and release every thinkable terror of the black tent upon him. "I ought to flay the beast, put his head on a pike and have someone make me a quilt from his fur" - but alas, there was no time for such luxury; he was expected back at fort Jaansworth by morning and he had to ride off if he was to make it in time. The least he could do, was to make a fine porcupine out of the badger and watch him squirm as he died. "Archers, aim your bows!", he commanded and fifty elven marksmen drew their bows.
"Release arrows on my command".
Arbinger raised his arm and hovered it there. The power, he thought, I hold life and death in the palm of my hand. He looked at Snowheart and hoped to see fear or even better, maybe the badger would drop to his knees and beg for his life
-not that it would make a difference of course, but the badger just stood there and stared back at him in defiance. You won't even grant me that favour, will you? Arbinger was about to signal for the archers to fire, when a clear voice cut though the silence,
"Wait!"
Arbinger turned to look at the fox. "Wait?"
"What you are doing...It's not right"
Time stopped, and fifty elven archers wavered nervously with their bows drawn. Never before had anyone questioned an order given by general Arbinger.
"You..dare to question my call?" Arbingers voice turned icy.
Rhania had acted without thinking. She knew as much, and she also knew that she was in trouble now -but she had to save Snowheart.
"You have fifty of your best aiming at one wounded rebel", she said. "Think of the legacy of this battle. It wouldn't be honourable to win this way."
"Honour is really beginning to get on my nerves", shouted Arbinger. "What I do is efficient, and I have to return to Jaanswoth right away".
"Fifty against one is not going to impress the elven chiefs", cried Rhania.
Those damned, fickle elves again. General Arbinger hesitated and looked at the wounded badger, at the army of elves awaiting his command, and finally back at Rhania. With a waving of his hand, he dismissed his archers and the elves put down their bows.
"You're right" he said, "this is the shot that concludes the battle, and we wouldn't want to leave a bad impression on the elves".
"-I'll allow YOU to make the shot!"
Rhania felt the snowstorms of an entire Namairian winter gather and settle in her stomach, as she realised what Arbinger was asking her to do. "Please, god no!", she whispered.
"You are hesitant?" Arbinger looked at Rhania with some confusion. "Isn't this the badger who captured you and put you in the holding cell"
"I don't think so."
"Well, here's your chance to pay them back. Let 'er fly."
Fifty pairs of elven eyes watched her closely as she reached for her weapon. Snowheart leaned against his staff in exhaustion, his wounded leg bleeding profusely. He staggered and did not have the energy to run or to defend himself. Rhania took an arrow from her quiver and aimed at his heart.
Holding the shot, she looked to the skies and in that moment she would have given anything, to not be a fox.
If I had only been an orc, or a badger - or even a human, I could use magic to summon a gale to blow the arrow off its course.
But when she looked down again, she was still the same fox that she had always been; sister of Snorri, and a damn fine archer, and without the slightest gust of wind, the shot was impossible to miss.
"What's holding you back?", shouted Arbinger visibly annoyed. "just finish the damn battle and we can go home". Then he looked at her with a sudden flash of suspicion, and his voice grew terribly quiet. "I trust that you don't carry any soft feelings for their kind. Remember, I still need to decide whether I love foxes
-or if I only like you."
Those of the allied soldiers who were blessed with a keen sight noticed that the wounded rebel spoke a few words, and most presumed that he said a prayer to Inaris in his final moments, but Rhania who had the hearing of a fox heard every word in their terrible clarity.
"For the love of your kin", he whispered. "-make the shot".
Rhania felt the veins throbbing painfully in her neck and her mouth felt dry as the land around her. Then the now familiar sense of seeing overtook her mind, and the valley exploded into a thousand shards of coloured light. She saw the magic of life radiating from every leaf, every lizard and from her loved one; orange fumes escaped with his every breath, and tongues of pure crimson flowed from the wound in his leg and radiated from his heart. She also saw a complete lack of darkness. He's at peace with himself, she realised. Rescuing the rebels gave him a purpose that has now been fulfilled.
Time slowed down and the seconds stretched themselves into weeks as she released the arrow. It sailed through the air in a perfect arc before striking its target. Snowheart winced from the impact and took an unsteady step back. Still standing, he looked down and put his paw to the arrow, and it came away bloodied. Then he collapsed without a sound.
Arbinger offered Rhania a satisfied nod. "An excellent shot -I always knew that I could trust your kind." He went quiet for a few thoughtful seconds. "You will be happy to know that I have come to a decision" he finally said.
"I love you!"
Rhania said nothing. Surely he didn't mean her.
"Would you... love me back?" he asked.
"I don't love humans."
"But, I'm so much more than that."
Rhania stared at him in disbelief "I would not love you. Not in a million years!", she sneered. "Not until the whole damned abyss splits open and floods Namairith with adorable river otters."
"But Rhania," said Arbinger. "I really can't wait for that long".
By the time they returned to the now abandoned town of Iuna's Blessing, the fighting had subsided, and only a few soldiers rummaged the streets, waiting for anyone in charge to make a decision. They met with commander Baxter, who had left his cover in the forest along with his troops of elves and human fighters.
"The taurs lost interest once the rebels were gone", he shrugged. "Wanna go after them?"
Arbinger felt tired and drained. He had been beaten, and chasing the nimble taurs into the hills was only a recipe for extended loss. Besides, he was expected back at Fort Jaansworth. Not now; today's not the right time. He needed power, to gain an advantage that was not related to fire and something that would come as a surprise to the enemy -something they hadn't prepared for.
"I need more magic," he said to Rhania. "And there's only one place in Namairith where I can get it."
- I want you to take me to the fabled library of Tamaria.