by Andrew Day
The soldier stared at her levelly. Without looking away he told his companion, “Run and get the sergeant.”
“Forget the sergeant,” said Caellix. “I want an officer. No one below the rank of captain. Move it, maggot.”
The first soldier ran off as fast as he could. His companion matched Caellix’s stare.
“If you’re Legion, where have you been?” he asked.
“Extended scouting mission.”
“How come I never heard about it?”
“Why would anyone tell you anything? You’re clearly an utter moron.”
“You want to watch your tone. You don’t scare me, dreadlocks.”
Caellix responded to this by headbutting him in the face, and taking his sword while he clutched at his broken nose.
“If you were in my unit, I’d have just killed you,” she told him.
“And I’d have et you, heheh,” added Dogbreath.
“Now get out of my way, or I break something else.”
Still holding his nose, the soldier stepped out of the way, glaring daggers at her. Caellix dropped his sword in the mud, and pushed past. The others followed behind her.
“Serves you right,” Mouse told him as she filed by.
The Legion wasn’t in quite the same shape as Serrel remembered it. A large number of supplies had been lost during the attack, including a number of tents. The new camp was filled with a number of makeshift shelters hastily erected by soldiers so they could get out of the rain. Mostly they were just ruined sheets of cloth, held up by whatever was available, including more than a few spears. All around, wet men and women huddled around what little cover there was, the choicest spots being by the few fires that were blazing fiercely out of the rain.
Soldiers looked over at the group, but did nothing to hinder their progress. Caellix wove through the camp, aiming for the largest of the few tents that remained whole. They were met halfway by the sentry they had met earlier. Behind him was Captain Snow.
“Sergeant?” said Snow. “And what time do you call this?”
Caellix sighed in visible relief. “Captain. It’s good to see you again.”
“You as well, Sergeant. Although I have half a mind to formally reprimand you. You know I have never abided tardiness.”
“I did tell you the mage would slow me down, Sir.”
“To be fair,” Serrel had to defend himself. “Jumping into the river was the sergeant’s idea.”
“The things you get up to, Caellix,” said Snow with an amused smile. “Come on, let’s get you all out of the rain.”
He led them to one of the tents, and held the flap while the group filed in. Inside the large tent most of the space was taken up by a long table. Dillaini had apparently taken along her very own table to serve in their makeshift war room. It had not survived the previous attack unscathed. At least a quarter of it was missing, the wood around the missing section black and scorched. A missing leg had been replaced with an axe handle. But it was dry and warm in the tent, or at least drier and warmer than outside.
“Go fetch the generals, there’s a good chap,” Snow told the messenger, who went back out into the rain. Snow turned back to the group. “Well, looks like you’ve had an interesting time.”
“You too, from what I’ve heard,” said Caellix. “How did the Hounds fair?”
Snow sighed. “We lost a few of our people, Sergeant. I lost a bit of myself as well,” he held up his heavily bandaged hand. “Two fingers. And I liked those fingers. They were quite useful. Fortunately, I still kept my ring finger, or my wife would have murdered me.”
“I’m sorry, Sir... Holly didn’t make it, either.”
“That’s... unfortunate. She was a good soldier.”
“We brought her body with us, along with three others. We should give them a proper burial.”
“We will. We haven’t had a chance to properly deal with our casualties.”
“I heard that as well,” Caellix frowned. “Did the General really order the wounded to be left behind?”
“I’m afraid so. We broke what was left of our camp and pursued the Ferine. I think General Roth may have sent someone back for them, though.”
“When we saw the camp, there were very few wounded left. Ferine were all over the place. We had leave a lot of people behind after... Well, it’s a long story, Sir.”
“Let’s leave it for when the generals arrive. I see you found Morton at least. We’d thought he’d died in the attack.”
“No. But going to wish he had.”
Snow glanced at Morton, who didn’t meet his gaze, and then at Brant who was still holding a knife at the man’s back. “Oh. How disappointing.”
The tent flap was roughly opened, and three more people entered. Arch-General Dillaini and General Roth were followed in by a older man with a long white beard clad in sodden green robes. Everything about him screamed “wizard”.
“This had better be good, Snow,” said Dillaini impatiently. She sniffed in irritation as the smell of wet dog hit her nose. She glared down at Vost where he was sheltering under the table. The dog stared back. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“General, Ma’am, this is Sergeant Caellix,” said Snow. “As you know, I sent her out on mission to find our missing men.”
“That was days ago,” Dillaini replied casually, as if missing men were of little importance. “Did she at least find them.”
“They were dead, Ma’am,” said Caellix.
“Tragic,” Dillaini said without interest. “Anything else? Because I have...” Her voice trailed off when she spotted Dhulrael. “Who’s this suppose to be?”
“General, this Dhulrael Halvaenas, Patrician of Vollumir,” explained Caellix, in a voice suggesting her own patience was hanging by a thread. “And now, if you don’t mind lending me a few moments of your precious time, Ma’am, there are things you need to know...”
Dillaini listened with pursed lips as Caellix, along with Dhulrael and Jurgen, explained the events they had gone through during the last few days. She kept it concise and to the point, downplaying anything heroic performed on anyone’s behalf, and trying to keep the recrimination from her voice when she described events at the old camp.
“So...” Dillaini said slowly at the end. “You’re trying to tell me you think Vharaes is using ancient elven relics to attack us, and that he still has one in the city.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Fascinating,” said the wizardly man for the first time.
“Bullshit,” said Dillaini.
A less controlled person might have frowned, or twitched nervously. Caellix stayed completely stony faced. “It’s the truth, Ma’am. We saw one of these things for ourselves, and we destroyed it.”
“We all saw it, General,” added Jurgen.
“And based on the word of a confessed traitor, you believe there is another one in the city. Why hasn’t he used it yet?”
“Maybe he’s waiting for daylight, or maybe just for us to attack.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for Elsbareth forces to arrive,” suggested Snow. “The extra reinforcements sent by the King will arrive tomorrow morning in time for our assault. Vharaes might want to destroy the Legion in front of his countrymen, just to show them how powerful he is. It would be quite the message.”
“Maybe, maybe, maybe,” parroted Dillaini. “Do you actually know anything for certain?”
“We know the amount of damage one of these things can do if they turn it on us... Ma’am,” said Caellix pointedly.
Dillaini glared at her, and then at Jurgen. “And you,” she said to Jurgen. “You know, I don’t recall authorising your Nightblades for any missions.”
“As you know, General,” Jurgen replied with a smile. “My Nightblades and I often take orders directly from the Empress and her inner council.”
“So my sister has sent you on a mission. And there I was thinking I was supposed to be in command of the Legion. Am I allowed to know the details of your secre
t mission?”
“Of course. I’m going to kill Vharaes. But for that, I’ll need him,” Jurgen pointed at Dhulrael.
Dillaini stiffened, and stared at the elf. “Him?”
“The elf says he can get us into the city, perhaps even the fortress, but he failed to elaborate.”
She sniffed. “Really.”
“Oh, yes,” said Dhulrael enthusiastically. “I know all of the old tunnels running into and out of the city. I doubt the Ferine could have found them all. And most importantly,” he rolled up his sleeve, and showed them his tattoo of office. “This mark was crafted especially to be able to open several secret passages into and out of the fortress. Even if he knew about them, Vharaes would have no way of sealing them himself.”
“Unless he tortured the city council,” added Annabella.
“Oh... well, yes, there is that.”
“General, you give me the elf and a few men, and not only will I take care of the Illudin, I will personally deliver you Vharaes’ head,” Jurgen promised.
“And it just so happens I have a few good men available, Ma’am,” added Snow.
Dillaini messaged her temples. For someone just given an advantage in the upcoming siege of Vollumir, she did not look particularly happy.
“Let me think about this,” she said. “Leave your prisoner. We’re going to have a little talk. You too, elf. The rest of you go... Oh, I don’t care, just get out.”
The group filed out of the tent. Outside, the rain had degraded into a irritating drizzle, but thunder still boomed close by.
“She’s not very nice,” commented Mouse.
“I’m sure she’s all warm and fuzzy once you get to know her,” said Brant. “You know, like a bear. A perpetually angry, angry bear.”
Serrel looked about. It was strange having so many of the Legion around after days in the forest.
“Don’t just stand around gawking, you lot,” said Caellix. “We’re safe at last.”
“To a degree,” said Victor. “Vharaes could attack at any minute.”
“He’s not attacking yet. Make the most of it. Find something warm to eat and someplace dry to rest. Things are going to get exciting tomorrow morning.”
“Just for a change.”
“She’s right,” agreed Jurgen. “Blackwood, Kincade, with me. We have a mission to prepare for.”
“I guess I wasn’t that tired afterall,” grumbled Annabella as she followed Jurgen away.
Victor clapped Serrel on the back. “Stay out of trouble, you two,” he told Serrel and Mouse before walking off.
“You can say goodbye before you go running off this time,” Mouse chided him.
Victor waved over his shoulder without looking back.
“I’m going to make sure Holly’s being taken care of,” said Brant.
Caellix nodded. “We’ll be with the rest of the Hounds. I want to make sure they’re behaving themselves.”
“I can keep my own people in line without you, Sergeant,” Snow tutted.
“I’m sure you can, Captain. But now I’m back, I want them to know that the holiday is well and truly over. Come on, Fresh Meat.”
Serrel made to follow, but found Mouse tugging at his sleeve. She nodded her head in the opposite direction.
“Oh. Uh, Sergeant?” Serrel tried. “There’s something I would like to take care of first. Can I have a moment?”
Caellix sighed, like he had asked some terribly unreasonable thing of her. “Don’t get lost. I’m expecting you back with us before we move out.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
He let Mouse lead him off into the camp.
“Do you know where they would be?” he asked.
“At this time of night, where else?” replied Mouse. “Double rations.”
There was a large tent which was acting as a makeshift kitchen. Several huge pots were boiling over roaring fires. All around the tent, soldiers not on duty were having their tea, hunkered under whatever shelter they could find or put together. Clusters of hooded man and women were huddled together, eating hot stew from wooden bowls, or warming themselves around little fires, using whatever was available as fuel.
Amidst the shouts and low murmur of conversations, Serrel managed to hear a familiar voice.
“You won again?” someone said indignantly. “How is it that you always win?”
“He cheats,” stated another, female voice.
“I never!” cried a third voice innocently.
Serrel headed in the direction of the voices, and found a ragged piece of cloth, no doubt cut from a ruined tent, held up by four warstaves, one tied at each corner. There were three people sitting on the ground underneath out of the rain, three young men and a girl. They were playing cards.
“You cheat. You always cheat,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “That’s why we never play for money.”
“That’s ‘cos you’re all too cheap,” a smaller boy replied unperturbed. “We could play for rations.”
“I already owe you three days bloody rations!” complained the first boy.
“You ought to learn to play better, Fancy Pants. You don’t see Edgar complaining.”
“You’re letting him win.”
“You’re just a sore loser, Justin,” shot back the last boy.
“Am I dealin’ then, or are you lot gonna whinge some more?” asked the first boy.
“Just deal, you tricky little git,” said the girl. “And take those cards out of your sleeve!”
“What you on about? No cards up my sleeve.”
Serrel said loudly, “I can see the cards from over here, Tim. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Greasy Tim paused in mid-shuffle and glanced up at him. He grinned. “Wotcha, Serrel. Where’d you come from?”
The other three peered out from the shelter at him.
“Serrel!” the girl squealed happily. In her mad dash to get out of the shelter she nearly knocked it over, causing an eruption of complaints from the three others.
Kaitlin Astral flung her arms around Serrel and squeezed him hard enough to cause his already beaten body serious pain.
“Ow, Kaitlin!”
“We were so worried!” she told him.
“I wasn’t,” said Justin Tremmel. “I knew you’d turn up sooner or later.”
“You said he was dead,” pointed out Edgar Paum.
“I’m fine,” said Serrel. “But can you let me go so I can breathe?”
“Sorry.” Kaitlin released her hold, then spotted Mouse. “Mouse!” It was the smaller girl’s turn to be violently embraced.
“Hello, Kaitlin,” Mouse said stoically. “I missed you too.”
“I never said he was dead,” insisted Justin.
“You did,” said Edgar. “You said they were both probably dead, so there was no point in worrying.”
“I am touched by your concern, Justin,” said Serrel.
“I just-”
“Come on, you’re both soaked,” fussed Kaitlin. “Get out of the rain. Have you eaten anything? Justin, go get them some food.”
“Why do I have to- OW!”
Kaitlin smacked him hard in the arm as she ushered Serrel and Mouse undercover. “Because I said so, Fancy Pants! Hurry up!”
Justin went off, muttering under his breath and rubbing his arm. Under the improvised shelter it was a tight squeeze for the five of them.
“Where you been then?” asked Greasy Tim. “‘Aven’t seen you in ages. And Katey was going off her nut when Mouse disappeared.”
“I did not,” said Kaitlin sternly. “I was just concerned when I couldn’t find you after... after that night. I tried to look, for both of you, but we had to move on.”
“I got lost, and got left behind,” said Mouse simply.
“I’m so sorry, Mouse.”
“It’s not your fault. And I managed to find Serrel.”
“Technically, I found her,” said Serrel.
“He keeps getting into so much trouble,” Mouse added.
“No more than you.”
“He fell off a cliff.”
“You fell off a cliff?” Edgar repeated in horror.
Serrel opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t really come up with a counterargument. “Well... the cliff kind of exploded. It wasn’t my fault.”
“That was the second time. Apparently the first time he jumped off the cliff,” Mouse went on.
“I had too,” Serrel explained to the incredulous looks cast his way. “We all did. We were being attacked by... Look, can we talk about something else? What’s been happening with all of you?”
“Not much,” said Greasy Tim. “We marched a lot. Elfs attacked us that time. You see the elfs?”
“Yes. We saw the elves.”
“Grotty buggers, ain’t they? Just like Edgar told us. Boggles the mind it does.”
“None of you were hurt in the attack?” Serrel asked. He looked around the cramped shelter. “Where’s Bull?”
“He’s off somewhere, diggin’ a hole or makin’ a catapult,” said Greasy Tim. “Them soldiers boss him around like nobody’s business. Worse than Katey they are.”
“I don’t boss people around,” argued Kaitlin.
Evidence against this reappeared in the form of Justin, who returned carrying two bowls of stew.
“Anything else?” he asked in a put upon voice. “Would you like the cheese platter, perhaps?”
“We’re glad to see you too, Justin,” Mouse told him, taking a bowl from him.
Justin fell into sheepish silence. “Oh. Well. Not to say I wasn’t worried or anything-”
“You weren’t,” said Kaitlin and Edgar in unison.
“I was. I just didn’t go on about it. Not like how you kept going on about Victor.”
“I never went on about Victor,” said Kaitlin haughtily. “Not once.”
“Not at all,” agreed Edgar quickly.
“Never mentioned him once,” joined in Greasy Tim.
“We met Victor,” said Mouse casually.
There was a slight tensing of Kaitlin’s muscles. Her face took on an expression of forced calm. “Really?” she asked simply.