The Fable of Griffon: Book 02 - Herald's Dawn, page 15
“What is it Phorest?” He asked, the Shian suddenly turning up to look at him.
Phorest didn’t answer at first looking instead to Jarren. “You said they are manipulating the lines. What is the ley being used for?”
Jarren stood, moving slowly over to the map and lowering his hood as he came into the light. The cut across his cheek was little more now than a thin and fading scar and even the damage to his armour seemed to be regrowing. Nevertheless the Polir still seemed to move a little gingerly.
He studied the map for a moment, closing his eyes in thought afterward. A pause fell over the assembled group. “I’m not sure. However…” He moved his finger over a wide area of the map surrounding the castle “In this area are a number of detection beacons, fed by the ley. The reason your scouts have failed is that the patrols knew where to find them before your scouts even left the clearing around us.”
“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Ikkan retorted angrily. “I lost a lot of good men because of this!”
“You have Shamans of your own. The halfling over there is equally capable of noticing them.” Jarren answered, causing a number of angry gazes to be directed to Dabilo as she suddenly shrank back into her seat.
“Hey! Don’t blame me! I’ve been quite busy enough saving you all!” She snapped in her defense, peering out from the table as though using it for cover.
“They have only recently been placed, probably to cover the withdrawal from just such a counterattack. If you launch an attack they will be ready and waiting for you long before you hit the camp.” Jarren continued, moving back from the table. “I know they have been set up, but precisely where I cannot say. There may even be more.”
“Anything else you feel we might need to know?” Deanston asked the Polir bitterly.
“Nothing more you need to know.” Jarren replied, looking up to the marshal.
“Information wins wars, and you seem to have more than a fair share of it! Perhaps we should wring it from you!” Deanston muttered angrily.
“And would you be the one to try?” The Polir’s voice was still calm as Jarren matched the Paladin’s gaze.
“So what do we do?” Retine asked, interrupting before the confrontation could escalate, looking to Griffon who tapped his fingers against the table as he considered their options.
“We have to maintain the defense. We can’t launch a counter attack, not whilst those beacons are up. If we could cause a distraction within the camp…”
“Well all we need to do is break the anchor that the beacons are using, just like any other long term enchantment. We just have to get to it first. I don’t suppose that book of yours is going to be any help Phorest?” Dabilo asked hopefully.
Phorest glanced down to Raphaniel in the satchel at his side, its pages seeming to rustle even though the book was closed. “Sadly not.”
“If our shaman and the Eastling can sense these beacons can we not just simply remove them?” Ikkan asked, glancing about the assembled council.
“The Polir says I can sense them like that means anything useful.” Dabilo muttered in response. “Enchantments don’t work like that. If it’s something that doesn’t want to be noticed, I won’t see it until I’m practically on top of it. Too late by then.”
“What use is your magic then?” Sneered Balix.
Dabilo turned back to the dwarf with a hard stare, as though chiding a child. “I am an arcanist; not an enchanter. The beacons are outside my area of expertise. I don’t know exactly what we’ll be looking for until it’s too late. Your shaman aren’t going to be any better.”
“Then we cannot leave without inviting ambush and cannot stay without inviting annihilation.” Griffon ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at the map in despair. “We maintain our position here until relief comes, the orcs are made to give up any hope of taking this city or we die making them regret trying.” Griffon told them finally. “Reinforce and repair as much as you can. Ask the clerics to get as many warriors back on their feet as they can by morning. Let’s not waste the time we bought.”
“Sire.” The marshals said as they bowed, turning to leave. The rest of the assembled group bowed their heads in understanding before beginning to follow to make their own preparations. Ostler remained behind as Griffon stood, looking down over the maps.
“Your majesty?” He asked, looking at the young king in concern as Griffon hunched over the table, his fists clenched. The door swung shut leaving the two alone in the room as the torches flickered.
“Damn it!” Griffon pounded his fist angrily on the table, splintering the wood. Immediately he stood straight and tall, as if composing himself again after allowing his emotions to take the better of him. He took a deep breath, brushing an errant hair aside before he turned to Ostler who said nothing. A moment of silence passed between them before Griffon nodded and walked out back into the darkening open skies beyond as the sun fell behind the horizon. The monk followed behind, stopping beside him as Griffon stood at the peak of the broken keep’s motte. Griffon looked over the camp around him, over the remaining men and women under his command as they made grimly ready for the coming battle. He could sense it as the orders were given. They knew as well as he; this would be their final resting place.
He stepped back, leaning against the cold stone of the keep wall as he looked up to the clear sky overhead, the stars glittering down through the blanket of night as it spread its reach slowly across the world he knew.
“I’m sorry I brought you here Ostler. I never wanted to come, I never wanted to leave her.” He said softly, looking up as if imagining her standing there before him.
“I know.” Ostler replied, trying to find the right words to say. He knew how his friend felt, Ostler had himself people he cared about back in Gowaith, but no words could find him comfort. He stood awkwardly, letting a pause pass between them.
“I can’t even win the battle placed before me.”
“Don’t lose heart sire. Conrad will come.” Ostler told him, as much himself.
“I know.” He sighed, trying to keep a positive outlook. “I promised I would see her again. I promised I would return, but I can feel it slipping from my grasp that it will be anytime soon.” Griffon sank back against the keep wall, sitting down upon the grass as his arms rested upon his knees. He put his face in his hands for a moment before looking toward the monk. “This war will keep me trapped until it takes me from them or takes them from me.”
With a heavy heart the young king rested his head back, looking up at the stars above them. “I missed his birthday.” He said with a heavy heart. “What kind of father am I if I am never with them?”
Ostler thought about it for a moment, frowning down at his friend as he tried to find the words. “You’ve only missed one.” He said eventually, earning a tired smile from Griffon. “Never doubt that you will see them again. There is no doubt to me that they are the light that guides you. Don’t lose sight of it.”
#
Phorest stood at the top of the gatehouse, looking out to the massed flickers of light at the edge of the city. The wind howled through the streets, the music it created as it flew through the lonely ruins sombre and ghostly. Carefully he put together the lens that Kierke had given him so long ago, wrapping the two glass pieces in the leather casing before looking out to the West, trying to catch a closer look of what lay to the horizon.
“Phorest!” Called a familiar voice from beneath the gate. Phorest looked down, still using the lens, almost jumping back in surprise as he saw Seth waving up at him, magnified within the Charadonian toy. He put it aside and looked down in astonishment. The Geranodorian mage grinned back, a young maiden stood with him in cleric’s garb who looked about nervously at the signs of battle around the hill.
“Long time no see! Good to find you are still having fun!” Seth shouted up.
“How did you..? What in the name of the gods are you doing here?” Phorest called down. Shump wandered up next to the Shian, curious to see what it was the elf was talking to.
“Seth! You mangy Geranodorian! What are you here for?” He smiled, waving down to him.
“Good to see you too you stinking barbarian!” Seth called back pleasantly. “I was trying to meet up with you all, but I missed you by a few hours, followed you up here! You certainly do make a mess when you want to don’t you?” He said looking about.
“How did you get past the patrols?” Phorest asked as Shump signaled to the sentries nearby to open the gate.
“Just some tricks I know. Easy enough when you know what to look for.” Seth answered.
Phorest smiled, reminded of what Dabilo had said before in the war council. He glanced to Shump, who looked back to him with a knowing expression.
“I’ll get Griffon.” The half orc smiled, rushing back down the steps into the courtyard.
“What is it?” Seth called up as one of the shamans warped the wood of the new gate to create an entrance.
“Nothing yet.” Phorest answered. “Welcome back Seth.” He added as he wandered down to meet the mage and his companion. Balix and Dabilo were already there, eager to find out why the gate was being opened.
“Hello Dabilo.” Seth smiled as he walked in. She said nothing at first, instead her eyes glancing over to the woman with him disapprovingly. “How have you been?” He asked her when the pause grew uncomfortable. The cleric beside him didn’t speak, too shocked and horrified at the signs of battle, the spatters of blood on the walls and the smell of the funeral pyre at the base of the hill.
“I don’t trust this. It seems far too convenient. Suddenly out of the blue comes a friend of yours. How can we be sure this isn’t some kind of trick?” Balix muttered as he approached.
Dabilo glanced towards Seth for a moment. She walked about to the mage with a grim expression. “Typical just as I finally get that five tennu I owed you together you come and show up.”
Seth mouthed a silent ‘hah!’ “Make that eight and three ube you cheating little scoundrel! If you think I forgot after all that work just because I went to the guild for a bit, think again!” He waved his finger at her in emphasis. “And don’t think just because I kissed you once you can knock chunks off my money. You weren’t that good.”
Phorest watched her reaction as she managed a forced smile. “It’s him.” She said, looking back up to Balix before throwing a small pouch at the mage. “Careful Seth. Unlike you, I always pay my debts.”
#
Hardly an hour had passed by since the mage’s timely arrival. Already they moved carefully through the ruins, slipping up close to one of the beacons. Seth reached out carefully with his hand. He could almost feel the beacons presence close by, albeit that he was unable to see them past the shroud he had cast over himself and the others. He concentrated on the job at hand, feeling the beacons power with his hand. He could feel the spells surface as though it were a tangible thing. Running his hand over it he calmed its strength, draining its power. He was doubtful it could sense them through his own invisibility spell but he had reasoned better safe than sorry.
“All right. Let’s go.” He whispered. “Remember to stay within nine metres of me or you will be outside the shroud.” He wondered if the two barbarians were even listening as he glanced back.
Ostler led the way, climbing carefully over a ruined wall of one of the larger buildings, shattered tiles and roof supports lying scattered over it from where the building had collapsed. He helped Dabilo over as Phorest and Griffon followed carefully behind. Seth followed with Galeema close in tow.
“You know I don’t think I caught your name before we had to leave.” Ostler asked the cleric as he helped her down. Galeema nodded apologetically.
“Your pardon please Paladin…” She began, her voice subdued.
“Ostler.” The monk said as he smiled comfortingly.
“Galeema Turpan. I had wanted to meet with you all. Mr Legan kindly showed me the way.” She explained.
“Nice to meet you.” Ostler said.
Balix and Shump clambered over the wall near them, interrupting for a moment. They were the last of the group that had gone on the mission to the camp, having left Ikkan in joint command with the Marshals, waiting the signal the passage was clear. “This stuff stinks.” Balix muttered, holding up the small pouch each of them had hung at their belts. Within it was a heady mixture of salts, soots and herbs, chosen to disguise their scent from the sensitive noses of the Badlanders.
“Smelt worse.” Shump answered gruffly, moving around a pile of scorched rubble.
“Shh!” Phorest warned, stopping suddenly and indicating to the others to do likewise. He craned forward, looking ahead and listening carefully, his hand on his sword hilt as he examined the dark ruins ahead of them.
A long moment seemed to pass, everyone looking cautiously around them at the shadows that seemed to flit about among the shelled out houses.
“What is the matter?” Griffon started to ask quietly, before being quickly cut off by Phorest who continued to look around them.
“We are not alone.” The elf answered, his voice kept extremely low as he looked around.
The night seemed to become still and silent as the group huddled together slightly around Seth, trying to stay within the field. Slowly shadows seemed to move oddly within the moonlight. They sniffed the air, a low growl emanating from the largest as it looked about from where it stood in the scorched ruins of the shop opposite. Slowly and carefully Phorest stretched down to the ground, picking up a stone that lay there and throwing it across the street to land with a noisy clatter. The shadowy orcs reacted instantly, rushing for the noise with a patter of light footfalls. The group waited for a few moments before continuing, making sure the orc patrol had, had enough time to give up trying to find them and moved on.
“If we wanted any more proof that something has been done to these Badlanders I think we just saw it.” Balix muttered, shooting glances back where they had come.
“We should have just killed them. All this fussing around gets on my nerves.” Shump grumbled.
“You will have plenty of battle yet. We just need to break the anchor.” Ostler reminded him as they climbed over another ruined wall.
“Sooner the better.” Shump muttered in response.
At last they came to the edge of the city ruins, the remnants of the outermost defensive wall standing before them like a steep but low hillock ringing the city. The torchlights lay just beyond, posted intermittedly among campfires and the orcs tents. A long hedge of stakes had been set up facing the city, but it was poorly crafted and seemed more for show than a dedicated defense.
“Look.” Phorest indicated a short distance to their right from where they peered over the earthen wall top.
Griffon looked up in shock to see what seemed to be a gallows, the bleeding remains of a strange reptilian creature hanging from it by its remaining wrist. Galeema looked on horrified at the hanging corpse. For all its horror she could not tear her eyes from it, fascinated by the sight illuminated by the flickering lights of the fire near it.
“Would that be one of the Polir’s Kuunsi?” Shump asked.
“I think so. But why do this to them?” Griffon answered, glancing back to the enemy encampment. A few sparse sentries patrolled the perimeter whilst most of the horde sat sullenly in the heart of the camp. “Can our forces get here without raising the alarm from the beacons?” He asked.
“Not without taking out the anchor. The beacons will regenerate over a matter of minutes, and I can’t hide a force that big.”
“Then we had better split up. Shump, go with Dabilo, Galeema and Phorest. See what you can find to the West of the camp. The rest of us will head North. You know the signal to give if you find and destroy it. Once you see the signal we meet back here and join with the others. Understood?” He asked looking around them, their expressions ranging from impatient and eager to anxious and serious. None of them objected to the plan and Griffon turned to look down at the sentries around the camps edge. After a few moments they began to move apart, wandering around the camps further edges. The gap widened enough for them to advance.
“Good luck.” Seth nodded to Galeema as they began to part.
#
Phorest led them past the tents, slowing making their way around the camp, taking cautious glances at the orcs that milled about or brawled around the large campfires. Smells of roasting flesh and strong spices wafted around them as prisoners caught from the battle were cooked for the assembled troops.
“By Uillime.” Phorest whispered as the others came into cover close by, using the shadows cast by the torches and the cover of the animal skin tents.
Shump looked around to see what it was Phorest was looking at, turning back to the elf with one eyebrow raised slightly and wearing an unimpressed expression. “Don’t be such a child, you’ve seen worse.”
Phorest turned back to the barbarian, not certain if he should be concerned at how unfazed the Lenatethian was at the sight. He paid it no more mind, taking one more glance around before ducking back around to the back of the tent. Galeema stood in his way, trying to peer round to see what had attracted so much attention. Her eyes widened in horror as one of the orcs jabbed at one of the roasting corpses, picking a piece off to chew. She backed away, shaking her head in denial as her mouth opened wide as though to scream. Shump leapt at her, clamping his hand around her mouth and pulling her out of sight. She struggled in the barbarians grip, her muffled screams making the others glance around in panic in case she attracted any of the orcs.
“Calm down! We are here to stop it. If you make a noise now we are all going to end up like that.” Phorest tried to explain. He caught her eyes, looking into them, trying to give her something to focus on. “Look at me, look at me. Stop or we die here. Understand?”
