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Chapter 602
🕑 Added 2023-06-12 12:00:06 +0000 UTCEnjoy!
ToC
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It was hours yet to Birchstone, and at first the journey was slow and silent as the ever-increasing snowfall. Accumulation didn’t bother them, not on enchanted roads that repelled the ice, but it did fill the air until their odd processional was marching through a column of white, cut only by the rarest glimpses of distant daylight. Golden sigils ignited along the forward facing edges of pyramidal stones, painting the High Roads with just enough illumination to see where they were going. It was only midday, but the storm was thick with purple shadows and the sound of rolling thunder.
The captain and his Ironclads all rode atop pale-feathered Avum, their crested necks adorned with the standard of Clan Red Shield. The birds were large, but the mounted captain was no more than a single head taller than Felix was standing. The Claw, all of them posing as guards for his merchant company, kept pace and maintained the perimeter while the Ironclads got some rest.
Felix had spent some time chatting up the leader of the Dwarven warriors. He was a nice enough guy, all things considered. Honest, too. The man didn’t say anything but what he meant, if Felix was judging his Spirit correctly, and the captain was appreciative of their help. He was more than happy to tell them what he could about their destination, too.
“Thanks to the Titan, Birchstone is bursting at the seams. I can get you into the city Mr. Veil, on account of you helping us, but the Clan Hold is another matter.” Captain Doric shook his head. “None are being let into the mountain, not unless you’ve got High Clan blood in those veins. Until the Titan is driven from the Rimefangs for good, they are the only ones allowed inside the ancient halls.”
“Is that what you’re out here to do, captain?” Felix asked.
“Fight the Titan? Are you mad?” Doric guffawed, but it was cut short by a grimace. “Ah, that hurts. Damnable Trolls. No, lad. My humble company cannot trade even a single blow with that nightmare. The Forge Knights themselves failed at that task—we would be snuffed out faster than a candleflame in a hurricane.”
Forge Knights. So they still exist…and Imara beat a number of them. Felix nodded along with the captain’s words, only half-listening. Does that mean she’s as strong as me? Stronger?
A part of him—a part he didn’t much care to acknowledge—was eager to find out.
“So you’re out here for the Trolls, then?” he asked.
“Trolls and other beasts. Ironclad companies like ours are employed by the High Clans to act like guardians for their upland territories. Means we range the slopes, dells, and valleys regularly. When trouble comes for the villages, we respond.” Doric blew a tight breath out of his lips, his square-cut beard bristling. “I’ll tell you this for free, Mr. Veil: this winter has been the most troubling in recent memory.”
Felix nodded, trying to convey a general sense of agreement. The captain barely noticed.
“Violence has been brewing in the city walls well before we packed it full of townsfolk. Cutpurses on every street corner, bending knee to the rat lords or whatever they call themselves. Then the Titan and her Hierocratic dogs put their noses in our business. And that Gnome,” Captain Doric almost bit the word in half. “The Gnome has multiplied our troubles tenfold.”
“How so? If you don’t mind me asking,” Felix said. “I heard some of this during our travels, but never the whole story. How’d it all begin?”
Doric tugged on his reins, drawing an indignant squawk from his Avum. “Ach. Sorry, Fini. The whole problem started when some precious bits went missing in Birchstone. Jewelry and the like. Had the guard up in arms for days, huntin’ for the thief, but they couldn’t turn up hide nor hair of him. Then a Pathless dog shows up, bloodcaped lackeys behind him, and says he can find the thief. Says he’s got a hunter, specialized for it.” Doric spat to the side, and Felix watched the spittle skip off the High Road and into the gutter.
“The Titan.”
“Aye. The whiteskirt lickspittle let her loose in Birchstone, and he wasn’t lyin’. She soon found the Gnome. Problem is, the Gnome was more slippery than a patch of spring thaw. Every time the Titan got him cornered, he escaped. Drove the woman mad, and she damn near destroyed half a district. Then, the thief got into the mountain.”
Felix winced. He’d seen a bit of that, back when he was in Ahkestria.
“The Titan came up against the Watch and she tore through them like decades old sheets. Blood ran across the gates that day, and not even the mountain could stop her. She broke into Red Shield’s Clan Hold by pure Strength and holy fire, lit up like a bonfire, until all that armor of hers was cherry red.” Doric shuddered. “The Gnome kept runnin’, and I don’t blame him. The Titan was off to kill, no matter what her priestly minder said.”
Jesus. “And she rampaged through the Clan Hold?”
“She did, lad. Many died that day and most weren’t even fightin’ her. Folks burned just from bein’ near enough, and her angry tread broke homes and businesses. Then, finally, the Gnome got away, somehow, deeper into the mountains. The Titan followed, and she hasn’t been seen since.”
Felix didn’t have to fake the concern on his face. “How long has she been gone?”
“Months. We’re hopin’ the thief has her halfway back to the Hierocracy now. Let them deal with her rampage.”
“But you aren’t sure,” Felix guessed.
“Not by a league, lad. But don’t worry,” Doric added, apparently remembering who he was talking to. “The city’s safe. A whole net of scouts are keepin’ a weather eye out for her comin’. The Titan ain’t gettin’ close without a whole hell of a ruckus getting raised.”
“That is a relief,” Felix admitted. He would appreciate a warning before he had to deal with her. “I hope you don’t find this rude, but does Red Shield not have any warriors that can match the Titan? Perhaps not kill her, but drive her off?”
“No. Whatever trainin’ that woman’s been through has her Tiers above even the best of us.” Doric scratched his cheek and cast a look back at his men before lowering his voice. “Word is, one of the Grandmasters of the Clan descended from the Undermount itself. Clashed with the Titan…and came out of it bloodied.”
Felix clenched his jaw. “How’d the Titan fare?”
Doric shrugged. “It’s all rumors. As captain of my company, I’m allowed inside the Clan Hold every few weeks to report, but I’m common as they come. No High Clan blood in these veins, and without that, you’ll not get to the real secrets of the Undermount.”
They walked a bit more, letting silence overtake their conversation. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not for Felix and, judging from his Spirit, not for the captain either. Felix had decided he’d liked the guy; he reminded him of Harn in many ways, or Rory even. The Ironclads were more of a mystery. They rode without much chatter, held separate from his Claw, heads low. Sorrow rolled through their Spirits, a distant dirge for their fallen. Felix was inclined to like them too.
He’d been in too many battles, lost too many people, not to feel for them.
The High Roads wound in and out of valleys, lined by the occasional walled town or tiny hill fort. All were empty, their dark husks staring out of the storm like empty skulls. The roads ran past them, hung over by skeletal trees clogged with ice, and up inclines so graduated that even the lamest Avum could walk it without issue.
“How about yourself, Mr. Veil. How did you come into so many strong guards? Unless I miss my guess, they’re all Journeyman Tier…and so are you. Most Human merchants are coddled and soft. You look ready to fight a Dire Wolf barehanded.”
Felix laughed. It took a measure of Felix’s Willpower not to fiddle with his Veiling Amulet—a small measure, but important nonetheless. “I’m glad you think so highly of me. My uncle thought it better that I knew how to handle myself well before I could go off on my own.”
“Uncle?”
He nodded toward Harn, who had his helmet off and was talking to Evie. “Trained me himself. This is his company, and my first trip as the boss.” He gave the captain a relieved grin. “So far, it hasn’t been a disaster. Done well, even, by all accounts.”
Deception is level 46!
Doric laughed. “Good on ya, lad. Times are tough. Imagine that’s as true outside the Rimefangs as in it. My nephew’s been struggling as a mason, but at least my nieces have been doing well with their tavern. Coin flows for good ale and a soft bed, after all.”
“I imagine a packed city makes for even better business.”
“You’d be right, Mr. Veil. Even the destruction has helped my sister’s son, what with all the reconstruction, but he’s a layabout. Rather soak himself in wine than sweat.”
“We all try our best,” Felix peered ahead to where the High Road disappeared around a bend in the mountains. They were following a ridge above a slate gray river hundreds of feet below, and though the path was wide and even, he didn’t entirely trust the lack of guardrails. He wasn’t exactly afraid of a fall, but an ill-timed landslide or monster attack could drive his people off the edge. “Those Trolls you fought. I hear they’re common around these parts.”
Doric grunted. “They are, but not so common for deep winter. They’ve usually had their fill of slaughter by year’s end and found a deep cavern to sleep through the coldest months.”
“What woke them up?”
“We don’t know, but whatever it was had them riled up bad. Trolls are violent, gluttonous things at the best of times, but not like that. They normally hunt in smaller packs of two or three, not a near-dozen, and never during the day.
“I am quite surprised to see Sun Trolls at all, captain,” Tzfell said from behind them. She had crept up on them at some point, her head fully covered and mouth swathed with a thick scarf. The Dwarf half-turned in his saddle, giving the Chanter a long look. “They only Evolve during the summer months, when the heat and fire Mana of the sun bakes the lower slopes. Do you know how such creatures came to be?”
“No,” he said after a moment. “And that don’t sit right with me, either.”
Felix frowned at the Chanter, but she ignored him and started jotting notes down in a small, brown book.
Pit stuck his head out of Felix’s hood and collar, shaking his floppy, crimson-furred ears. The disguised Chimera had fallen asleep over an hour previously and now he pushed himself into a big, wobbly stretch.
“Morning, lil pig,” Felix said, scratching the top of his head.
Pit let out a pleased chirrup. A strange noise to come from a dog, but the captain didn’t seem to care. “Ach, Dire Hound, yes?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah.”
“Used to have a Howler, m’self. A lot like hounds, Howlers, save for the shells, the claws, and the inflatable sacs along their necks. Ah, Lobber.” Doric gave a deep, tired sigh. “I miss that old beast.”
Felix tried not to squirm at the mental image the Dwarf had conjured. “Sounds like he was a great friend.”
“Aye, he was. No offense to Fini, here,” he said, patting his mount. “But there’s just somethin’ to havin’ a bond like that. You said it right, Mr. Veil. Not a pet, but a friend. A companion, even.”
Pit wiggled his head, chin lifted. Felix snorted. “They’re alright.”
Pit stuck his tongue out at him.
Something shifted as they rounded the bend in the mountain, and Felix heard it as a sudden, sharp whine in the wards. Without warning, a cascade of vaporous lights arced around them and a stream of violent wind tore across the path as if it had been waiting for them. Thunder rolled, a sharp explosion of sound that buzzed against his teeth and shook Felix’s insides as a gale tried to rip the cloak off his back. Pit squawked indignantly.
“Damnable storms! Hold the line, men!” The captain shouted and his Ironclads hunched their shoulders as Doric lifted an amulet into the sky. It blazed white-green, the color of air Mana, and those pyramids flickered. New inscriptions lit up, and the wind died down to a dull roar.
“There,” he panted, tucking the amulet back away. “Didn’t expect the storm to hit us so badly. Had to reattune the High Road, or else we’d have ended up plastered against that ravine.”
Storm Shaping is level 36!
“I’m fine,” Felix said mildly. After a moment’s surprise, he had bent the wind around himself and Pit with a touch of his new shaping Skill. It hadn’t been hard, but it cost him a decent chunk of Mana. That storm above them was no joke. “Bit stunned, though.”
Doric grunted. “Wards on the roads are usually kept in better order, but I doubt anyone’s run down this since we left. Still. The High Roads don’t fail.”
Felix hadn’t meant that; accidents happened all the time. What had stunned him was that the High Roads even had adaptable wards. That was crazy complicated, and he was glad Atar hadn’t come with them; the mage would have torn apart a dozen of those pyramids already. “I’m fine, just a little tousled. I—What’s that?”
Through the swirling gusts of the winter storm, Felix could see the High Road winding down the mountainside, tracing the river far below until it dropped level just before the high walls of a city. Sturdy defenses and high, powerfully solid towers jutted above the walls, all of them built with sharp angles and an abundance of stone. Behind it, dominating the horizon, was a single mountain.
“Ah, we’re not far off. That, Mr. Veil, is Birchstone.”
Comments
The last segment feels stilted, Felix just states he’s alright, followed by another assurance that he’s alright, neither being prompted. Maybe Doric asking if he’s alright would help and rewording/replacing the second statement with the beginning of a question asking if reattunement needs to happen often would help make it seem more natural
Kevin McClelland
Thank you for the chapter!
Ben Cooper
I truly enjoy the character of Beef, but I am looking forward to Felix meeting a more mature Unbound. I'm also curious to see if the gnome was similarly summoned from an intense, potentially life-or-death situation, and I would love to know what inspired his choice of gnome upon being summoned. Here's hoping they meet up before too much longer.
Aaron Schwartz
It’s dwarf time! diggy diggy hole!
Travis Estes
Tftc
