Fury of Molith (Fengysha Series Book 2)

by Jordan Cramm

  “Thank you Gorak...your majesty.”

  “Yeah, well...”

  Wolflen nodded.

  As they rode away, Ayvock was still wondering what had just happened. He wasn't sure how asking about Gorak's feelings toward Fenka, he had given offense. Wolflen shook his head too when Ayvock asked about it.

  “I think you really have to stroke his ego to get anywhere with him,” Wolflen stated.

  “I'm not stroking anything of his. And you...a pipe?”

  “Yeah well there seems to be a shortage of cigars.”

  “Fine but HIS pipe? I mean saying it needs a cleaning is probably the understatement of the year. He's a pig.”

  “Hey look...we got some time to ourselves. I thought that would be a good thing. Hence, the rum I brought, and now the pipe and tobacco. If you prefer to stay in camp and dig a ditch though...”

  “No no...” Ayvock retorted, “it is nice to see the all-powerful, all-mighty War Mage again, come down from on high to mingle with the little people, but you gave away the rum not to burst your bubble, and besides, we are tracking an enemy not out on a leisure ride through the countryside.”

  “One, I did not hand over all the rum, and two, who says we can't track the enemy and relax a little while we do so?”

  “How much rum you still have?”

  “3 bottles.”

  “Oh.”

  Ayvock started nodding and soon agreed that they could in fact relax a little. Of course, he knew they wouldn't be doing any of that until they were out of sight of the main camp. He also knew their relaxation could easily be cut short if they encountered enemies quickly, rather than scouting without results. Still, it was nice to think they might have a chance to relax, even if only for a few moments.

  Several chimes later, the two brought their mounts to a halt as they came upon a small stream. They paused and dismounted, agreeing that the animals could do with a brief rest, and a drink as well. And so they stood, scanning the area a moment; Wolflen in his favorite burnt orange armor, and Ayvock in his black armor. The two stood apart from others. Only high ranking among Izenian ranks wore black armor, while the rest wore gray. The only variations to that were the colors of fabrics worn underneath that were chosen by the wearer. That, and some armor pieces did have markings upon them, and that too was done personally by the one that wore the armor. Otherwise though, everything was uniform; at least for the Knights. Rangers and Shamans were slightly different, wearing whatever they chose. It was much the same among the Elves though too, for their Knights each wore varied degrees of yellow armor. Wolflen and Ayvock had grown accustomed to noting the subtle differences in their rank based upon the brightness of that yellow armor. Of course, much as the Izenians, the Elves allowed different garb for their Rangers. As for the Clerics, they mostly chose leather armor covered in magic-enhanced robes.

  The ground around the stream was sand and rock, and so as their animals drank, Wolflen and Ayvock sat. It was nice weather out, with a sunny sky overhead. Wolflen already had a bottle in hand and he passed it to Ayvock who gladly took it.

  Next, Wolflen pulled his newly acquired glass pipe from one of his belt pouches. He did not fill it however, but instead, lowered it down into the stream to be rinsed by the slow flow of running water. He also knew that the water alone would not be enough to clean the pipe, and so in his other hand, a small fireball began taking shape in his palm, and then he pulled the pipe from the stream and held it over his palm-up hand, causing the flame to begin boiling the water inside the pipe. Ayvock snickered as he watched, but was happy to be working on the bottle he had in hand alone for the moment at least.

  Wolflen turned the pipe over and over slowly, while maintaining a small flame in the palm of his hand. Ayvock asked if the flame burned Wolflen at all, but Wolflen said he was fine. He told his friend that the flame wasn't directly touching his skin, and it did hover above his open palm. So other than the heat that he felt, Wolflen was unharmed. He did also say however, that the pipe was becoming quite hot to the touch, and so he dumped out the hot water and what residue would go with, and then he lowered the pipe into the stream again, repeating the whole process. After a few more repetitions of the process, the pipe was nearly spotless again, and clean to satisfactory standards. Wolflen noticed then that it was blue in color; deep blue glass the color of sapphire. It had seemed black previously. As Wolflen held it up to catch some sunlight, Ayvock merely shook his head as he saw the blue gleam of the pipe.

  It was relatively small in nature—the pipe. It had a bowl shape on one end where the tobacco could be placed, and a curved stem about 7 inches long that was the mouthpiece. As for the bowl itself, it had several small holes poked into it; tiny enough to allow the air and smoke into the pipe, but that also did well in preventing the contents from getting into the pipe itself.

  Wolflen pulled again at his belt, and this time retrieved some of the tobacco he received from Gorak. As he gathered the desired amount, which was enough to nearly fill the pipe bowl, he put the pipe to his mouth after taking a breath. As he held it there, he began concentrating his magic until a small cherry of flame formed over the top of the tobacco as he inhaled. A plume of sweet smelling smoke followed after, and Ayvock commented that it was a nice cloud.

  The animals paid it no mind, but the sweet scent was inviting, and Ayvock asked to trade for a moment. Wolflen nodded, and the pipe and bottle traded hands per his request. As Ayvock put the pipe to mouth, he nodded at Wolflen who again used focus magic to ignite the tobacco in the pipe, and again there was an ember burning within the pipe bowl. Meanwhile, Wolflen tipped the bottle he had in hand now back, taking a very large gulp and then another before bringing the bottle down again. He wiped his lips of some overflow, and smiled as he witnessed Ayvock take another draw from the pipe before handing it back.

  “You getting a buzz yet?” Wolflen asked.

  Ayvock nodded as he put forth his hand for the bottle, which Wolflen handed him. He took another drink and then handed it back to Wolflen. Wolflen told his friend to watch what would happen next, and Wolflen readied the pipe first. As he started in with it again, creating the glowing ember once more, he began drawing a very large breath of the smoke into his lungs, and he was holding it there after doing so. Then, without exhaling, he tipped the bottle up quickly, taking another quick gulp, which he swallowed before exhaling a large plume of smoke. He was coughing when he finally let it out, and he and Ayvock laughed about it.

  “I think you need pipe weed for that trick to be worthy,” Ayvock remarked with a grin, “not pipe tobacco.”

  “Yeah,” Wolflen remarked, I mixed a little bit in.”

  Wolflen began laughing, and Ayvock realized that the pipe weed and drink were affecting him too now. He suddenly felt tingly, and disoriented, as though his hands had become farther away on his body. It was an odd sensation and one he never experienced before.

  “Wait,” Ayvock replied, “you what?”

  “I've had pipe weed for a while now. Jakarta gave me some back in Peludeen. He said it would help after hard days of training when the muscles just wanted to collapse. He also said it would help keep my mind free to focus on what I wanted, which is useful for the War Magic. I don't use it often, and normally I put a small bit into tea and just drink it. I've never smoked it before, but so far I have no complaints.”

  Ayvock just shook his head as though he were ringing out his hair, even though it was dry. Wolflen laughed, and then stared at his friend's first reaction to pipe weed. It was in fact of good stock, so the reaction was on par for a first timer. Ayvock raised his head a moment with a smile, and Wolflen could tell by the outstretched hand, Ayvock wanted the pipe again.

  Wolflen laughed but passed the pipe once more. After that, both of them spent some time laughing and talking together. At one point they had even stood and moved around a bit before sitting back down to talk some more.

  “...which is why as comfortable as it is for armor, I really sometimes think I
should have chosen a color besides black,” Ayvock trailed off.

  “Well,” Wolflen said, “it is fitting since you are my Judicator. Mine isn't too bad. I am getting used to being acclimated to it I think. I won't lie though, at the end of a day, it is nice to be out of the armor and back in bed with Katrina.”

  “That has nothing to do with the difficulties of armor wearing,” Ayvock stated with a laugh.

  Wolflen nodded and laughed too as he tipped the bottle back once more.

  “Remember Grimton?” Ayvock asked.

  Both boys began a round of laughter, and Wolflen almost spit out the drink he was taking as he heard it. He was nodding and laughing now though, agreeing that their misadventure in Grimton had been quite the time.

  “I remember you screaming,” Wolflen said as he took another drink, “and then I remember running like mad, being lost.”

  “Yeah well,” Ayvock retorted, “it turned out okay in the end didn't it?”

  Again Wolflen nodded.

  “So do you think we will reach the enemy lines today?” Ayvock asked.

  Wolflen shrugged.

  “Hard to say,” he replied, “we don't have much daylight left today, so if we don't see the enemy soon we need to either camp, or return to camp. Personally I would prefer the comforts of my own bed and tent.”

  “You mean of her arms...and whatever else.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well,” Ayvock pointed out, “we have been patrolling for most of the day. It wouldn't be so bad to turn back, but then we would have to send out more patrols through the night, or tomorrow again....”

  “Yeah. But Katrina is back at camp with the tent, so if we stay out here, it's under the open sky tonight. I do have some food rations in Sespa's packs, and some water as well, so we could keep going if you want.”

  “Why not,” Ayvock remarked, “we still have some sunlight left. The animals are watered, we are rested, and we need a time frame for our impending attack. I say let's press on.”

  And so again they pressed on, riding parallel to the stream until it dried up all together after a couple miles. As they continued on, they noted that the terrain seemed to be getting drier and drier, and the desert was up ahead now, the sandy dunes coming into view. Wolflen realized they had traveled it's distance underground, even going beyond it, but now they were on the outskirts of its other side. He also knew that the desert would make for slow travel for the rest of the Elven and Izenian army that was likely not very far into the desert on the other end of it. As Wolflen and Ayvock stopped a moment to scan their surroundings, they saw a large dead tree off in the distance, and at its base, a man seemed to be cooking something over a fire. At their distance, they couldn't be sure though, so Wolflen and Ayvock chose to ride in the man's direction. Before long they were upon him, and realized he was Elven. As they approached, the Elven man stood and welcomed them.

  “Oh wonderful,” the man said, “so your force did make it ahead then? I assume you are both scouts for that group. I was scouting for the main force, but along the way I lost my Destrier to a nasty beast of the sands.”

  Wolflen looked at Ayvock and then back at the Elven man before dismounting from Sespa's back and extending his arm for a handshake. The Elven man seemed mysterious, dressed in what looked like very light armor, and with a full shrouding cloak that was beige in color, and it shrouded most of the man, apart from his face. Beneath the cloak however, Wolflen caught glints of black, and toccata brown colors, though they looked to be thin. Wolflen guessed the man to be a Ranger perhaps, though no bow or arrows were visible.

  “I am Wolflen Darkmoon...War Mage. And your name?”

  “Me?” the man replied, “I am Frip. Short for Friprimar. Everyone who knows me though just calls me Frip. Do you think I could ride back with you to your camp seeing as how my own horse is gone now? I could walk the distance but there’s a good chance that once the Werewolves get beyond this desert area, they are going to gain speed and I fear they might catch me if I am not on horseback myself.”

  Wolflen and Ayvock looked over the man as they nodded to each other and then back at him. The Elven man had long black hair, but he smiled as he spoke with them. Neither Wolflen nor Ayvock could remember ever laying eyes on the man before, but with such a large army that the Elves had arrived in Molith with, that was not terribly surprising. They had brought thousands to the shores of Molith, and neither Wolflen, nor Ayvock had met them all.

  “Sure thing Frip. This here is Ayvock. Tell me,” Wolflen inquired, “just how far behind is the Werewolf horde currently?”

  “Hmm,” the Elven man scratched his head. I lost my horse this morning, and the Werewolves were about two days behind on foot I would guess before they clear this desert here. After that, I can't say. How much farther from here to your camp?”

  “Half a day's ride,” Ayvock interjected, “maybe a little more.”

  “So at most 3 days,” the Elven man replied, “and likely safer to say 2 to be conservative. Please, where are my manners? I have some meat cooking here. It may not be much, but I would be happy to share—honored even to eat with the War Mage.”

  “Thank you,” Wolflen remarked, “I suppose we could eat if we make it quick. This news of yours surely needs to be heard back in my camp, but a supper meal would be most welcome. We have some Rum left I believe, and some pipe weed as well, if you would like.”

  Lord Eklar Felken smiled. His deception about being a man named Frip was well in tact he knew, and now he knew he had made the right decision being dropped off far enough into the desert as to avoid detection from anyone on Molith until he made it out of the desert on foot himself. And since he had the advantage of being on the back of a Dragon at the time to make his observations, he also had been able to scout where all the parties were in a short period of time. That he had remained unnoticed was something he hadn't been sure would be possible, but now it was clear he had succeeded.

  “Sure thing,” Lord Eklar said, “ole' Frip never turned down the sharing of some pipe weed, and after the events of the day it would be a welcome comfort. I think I will pass on the Rum however. Huh,” he continued shaking his head, “it’s amazing how life turns out sometimes. One minute you are scouting on horseback and the next you are on foot in the desert not knowing if you will survive for very long. Then the next minute, you run into the War Mage. Well, I feel safer now knowing you are here.”

  Wolflen nodded and thanked the man for the compliment. Wolflen and Ayvock sat on the ground at his request after that, and together they shared the meat that had been roasting over the fire, even as the sun still hung in the sky yet. Wolflen readied the pipe once more, and together, the three shared in smoking some of the pipe weed before deciding that they should be on their way back to camp. As Sespa was a larger animal than Ayvock's horse, it was decided that their new companion Frip would ride with Wolflen. Meanwhile, Ayvock held his reigns with one hand as he rode, and in his other hand, he gripped the nearly-gone bottle of Rum.

  Of course it was dark when they arrived back in camp, and ultimately they were led back to camp by an Izenian rider on horseback. Jakarta had given orders for short range patrols to begin riding the perimeter apparently, and such was a relief to see as Wolflen approached. His sense of direction had not failed him, but in the dark and without guiding light, the way back to a place he had only been once was a bit challenging to find, and given that they had been drinking and smoking for a part of the day, he had no intention of trying to simply teleport them all back. Besides that, he wasn't sure the animals would understand the need or the command for them to close their eyes so that Wolflen could teleport them all back.

  Once back in camp, Wolflen asked Ayvock to find a tent for their scout friend Frip, and Frip dismounted. Within camp, fires burned, and Wolflen knew that in addition to the guard patrols, there were likely many guards still standing at their new posts, behind barricades, or in the newly constructed archer towers. Of course, upon his return, the camp beg
an to cheer, especially as Wolflen told his men as he rode that they could take some well-earned rest. He noticed the Dwarves were already doing that happily, though many were gathered near the food wagons, sitting on benches at tables that Wolflen was sure they had helped to construct. Despite their short-comings, Wolflen appreciated their work ethic. Everyone here has accomplished so much; even the trenches were dug. If we had more time I would throw them all a party. And the ballista seems ready... Wolflen stared off and saw the catapults standing ready, with guards at each one, and torch poles to offer light.

  As he continued riding, he came to his own tent at last, but to his surprise, found it empty when he arrived. So, he exited the tent again, and began thinking about where Katrina might be. He jumped on Sespa's back once more, and then rode toward the nearest archer tower, but she wasn't there, nor at the next one, nor the next. So, he turned Sespa back toward the camp interior until spotting her at last, sitting with Jakarta, Mage Carra, and Ravenshade at one of the new picnic tables beyond a food wagon. He smiled as he saw her from a distance. It was almost serene to see. Of course, everyone was wearing their armor, and everyone was armed, but from a distance they looked to be somewhat relaxed.

  As he rode up, he could tell that they were all eating a late meal. No doubt hoping to be awake for his return he thought. Well they were. After dismounting from Sespa's back, he told her to go on and hunt or turn in for the night if she wanted, and Sespa seemed happy to run off as he had no further need of her at the moment. Then Wolflen stepped toward the picnic table, and the others called out to him happily, still laughing about something said before his return.

  “You're back,” Katrina said as she watched him remove his helmet, “and unscathed! Our time is short then if you found the enemy and are back so soon.”

  “Not quite,” Wolflen remarked as he sat down at the table next to her, “we have 2 or 3 days.”

  “Wait,” Jakarta smiled, “you weren't gone that long. How do you come to that conclusion?”