The Second Age Year 872
Sixteenth day of the fourth month
It was the dead of night on the slow-moving river, mirrored on both sides by woodlands and grassy banks. The water was crystal clear, so clear that even in the dark, one could see the riverbed, with its polished stones, fallen leaves, and trees that had been submerged for countless years. The grass gently rested on the water’s edge, moving only in the faint breeze or swaying slowly on the water’s surface. Several floating lights were above the water. They looked like small, dancing droplets of flame, bobbing and weaving as if gravity had no effect on them. They flew freely in the air, as if guided by the wind. However, upon closer inspection, these yellow-reddish flames revealed themselves to be sheaves. For what they truly were. They were not whimsical flames representing a freedom that those watching would never truly have. They were merely light from small lanterns attached to the hulls of several long ships, each with small square sails and several oars to push them across the water. Tharos stood at the bow of the ship, holding a copper-coloured helmet with a large red plume under his arm. He enjoyed the smell of fresh water and the sounds of crickets chirping and owls hooting in the distance in the deep woods. His free hand gripped tightly to the mast of the ship as the slight rocking of the boat threatened to throw him overboard.
“What’s the matter, milk drinker? No sea legs?” Rayner said to him, a wide, toothy smile on his face. Rayner himself looked as if he had been crammed into the ship and was unable to move his limbs. He almost looked like an overgrown baby who had outgrown its cot — if the baby in question wasn’t a baby. He was instead a man of great girth and stature, who, on the night of the full moon, would transform into an eight feet tall killing machine.
“No, I’m perfectly fine, Rayner. Thank you for asking. It’s just the Arachne venom. It hasn’t been fully expelled from my body yet. However, I believe this upcoming battle will cure me.” he lied to Rayner. He was frustrated to admit it, but he could never fully handle being on the water. He could ride a horse, pilot his Azharesh and travel by airship without issue. But the second he was on a boat on a river, lake or even the open ocean, he would struggle. His strong legs would start to bend and buckle like a trunk of a rotting tree in a storm.
“That’s the spirit! Nothing like a good battle to get the blood flowing,” Rayner answered, before turning his attention to Cenric, who sat straight across from him. Rayner answered, turning his attention to Cenric, who was sitting straight across from him. “What’s the matter, whelp? You’ve been quiet all night.”
Cenric had his head down, staring at the bottom of the ship while fiddling with his fingers. He was just as cramped in as Rayner, alongside several dozen fully armed and armoured soldiers, all packed together shoulder to shoulder, breast to breast, with the tools of war lying beside them. They were like boxes of cargo, stacked and shoved together as tightly as possible to fit as many as possible. These long ships were not the proper longships used by Wilders to traverse the many interconnected lakes and rivers of Aria; they were even poorer copies of those designs made by the Invicti. These longships had been haphazardly made by several of Quintus’s camp followers who happened to be shipbuilders before joining the Black Flowers. They did a good enough job, though, as the ships were functional and could float on the water. However, they were way too small for the task at hand — they would only fit perhaps two dozen warriors and a few tons of cargo.
Cenric looked up at Rayner, then back at him, and said, “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just a bit nervous.”
“I wouldn’t worry. You’ve handled worse and walked away.” Rayner said, trying to console Cenric. Tharos decided it was time to join in the conversation.
“It’s fine to be a little bit nervous before conflict. However, Rayner is right. There is nothing to worry about. As long as you keep your mind focused on the here and now, you’ll be fine. If you don’t keep your wits about you, you may lose your head.”
Cenric gave a small nod. “Understood.” he said, shifting his body into a more upright position, his posture becoming stiffer and more rigid than ever before.
Tharos sighed upon seeing this. “Good enough,” he said under his breath, turning his back to the front of the ship. He turned his back to the front of the ship. Looking ahead, he saw the outline of a small dock illuminated by torches. Several boats were tied to the dock and larger ships had been moored to the riverbank. He didn’t sense anything other than wild animals. It seemed that their approach had gone undetected, which gave him a sense of relief, as it had been untold years since he had last commanded troops. Although he wouldn’t call himself a great general or leader of men, He knew a few things about the art of war. Warfare and learning its principles was one of the most practical things a prince like himself, or anyone, could ever learn. He knew two things for certain: one, that plans never survived first contact with the enemy; and two, that the fog of war hung over him and his companions like a choking miasma.
He turned to one of the soldiers behind him and ordered, “Dim the lights and prepare to disembark on the nearby bank,” pointing to a bank a few hundred feet away from the docks. The soldier nodded in affirmation and started to extinguish the torches. As he did so, the other longships followed suit and all the flames in the lanterns were extinguished. The only light before Tharos was the faint rays of moonlight in the night sky and the distant torchlight from the dock, which was coming into view. The longships started to breach the nearby riverbank and the soldiers disembarked. Tharos himself disembarked, landing on the rocks and putting on his helmet and fastening it to his face.
As he finished putting it on and fastening it, He quickly realised that this helmet was rather uncomfortable to wear and was different to the helmets made by his people. This helmet offered only basic protection; a few inches of metal were all that stood between his face and potential slashes or blows to the head. At least it would serve its purpose well enough. If he had had the choice, he would have preferred a helmet from his own people. The helmets of his people often came with several magical enhancements, such as enhancing the five senses, for example.
He then heard Cenric speak up. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked Tharos, following behind him and putting on his own helmet. “Are we going to charge in, swords swinging?”
“Cenric, when have I ever gone in sword-swinging?”
“Well, a few days ago with the spiders and maybe a year or two ago with the snake people.”
“Point taken, but aside from those times, what other examples do you know of?”
“None.”
“Correct,” he said to Cenric, smiling confidently. ‘But to answer your original question, we are going to the outpost together while Rayner moves the men into position and waits for our signal to attack.
“And what is this signal going to be, if you don’t mind me asking?” Cenric asked, turning his head to the side like a curious dog as he looked at him. He tapped his head and Cenric’s eyes widened as he understood, giving him a knowing nod.
“While Rayner gets the men into position.” he continued, “We are going to sneak into the outpost and start a diversion. I am going to show you how to sow disharmony and chaos in the ranks of the enemy without spilling a drop of blood.” Cenric nodded slightly upon hearing that.
“Well, don’t keep us waiting too long. I don’t want my sword arm to get rusty.”
“Fortunately for you, we have a limited time frame to work with.” He turned to Cenric. “Come along; we’ve got a job to do.” He walked into the woods, with Cenric following behind him. Rayner and the other mercenaries were out of view.
As they passed through the bushes under the treeline on a cloudless night, they could see nothing but a crescent moon and the faint flicker of stars in the night sky. Tharos took off his helmet to admire the beauty of the stars. As he admired these shining diamonds in the sky, He felt a sensation at the back of his head. Up ahead, maybe a few hundred feet ahead, he could sense the presence of people. He turned his attention in the direction where he could sense them and saw the flicker of torchlight, some of which were moving through the shadows.
He pointed in the direction of the torchlight, then put his finger to his lips before putting his helmet back on. Cenric, who had been watching him closely for the last few minutes, nodded. The two of them then moved closer, crouching down and advancing slowly. They entered the clearing and saw what looked like a small fort, about one or two hectares in size, with wooden walls about ten feet tall and watchtowers at the edges. In front of the walls was a massive ditch several feet deep that ran in front of the battlements. There were also several buildings, most of which looked like barracks, with one massive, tall building that looked like several squares stacked on top of one another.
All Tharos could see was a small dirt track leading to the docks, with side paths connecting to main roads. Judging by the size of the outpost and the number of soldiers he could see, Tharos knew that they didn’t have enough men to launch a full-scale attack. Even under the cover of night, they would be at a disadvantage. He estimated that they were outnumbered by at least two to one, possibly even three to one. He had to even the odds somehow. After watching the outpost closely for several minutes, Tharos noticed something in the distance. Several large wagons, each heavily laden with boxes and massive jars of cargo, were heading to the fort. The wagons were big enough for one or two people to hide under, and they were moving quite slowly. Tharos tapped Cenric on the shoulder and pointed to his head as he established the metal link.
(“So, what’s the distraction?”) Cenric asked his voice like a faint whisper. Even thought he would be the only person to hear this convocation. (“You never told me.”)
(“We’re going to start a fire.”)
(“How are we going to do that? I didn’t bring a bow with me and I wasn’t given any fire arrows. I have a torch or two in my bag. But unless you can find a way to sneak in, they’re useless.“)
(“Well, consider this another learning experience. If you can’t see an opportunity, just wait for one to present itself. Luckily for us, such an opportunity has just shown itself. Look over there,”) he said, pointing to the caravan of wagons. (“We’ll use those wagons to get inside. Follow my lead.”)
Cenric nodded as he looked at the wagons. (“Understood. I didn’t think of that.”)
(“It’s fine, you’re still learning. Remember to use the environment to your advantage, Cenric. Take any opportunity to improve your chances of winning or surviving.”)
Cenric nodded. (“Understood, thank you. I am learning so much.”)
(“It’s a pleasure to teach. However, let’s save the compliments for after the job is done.”)
He gave Cenric a small smile as they started Creeping along the edge of the bushes, they spotted a bend in the path where the wagons would have to slow down to turn. Tharos sized up his opportunity as soon as the last wagon had completed the manoeuvre to turn. He scooted underneath one of the wagons, grabbed onto its underside with his back to the ground, and pulled Cenric next to him. As the wagons approached the entrance to the outpost, he could sense the mounting tension in the air. One wrong movement, one wrong breath, and they would be caught. He watched Cenric clinging to life under the wagon. He saw sweat starting to form on Cenric’s brow as the wagons came to a sudden halt and the horses neighed loudly in protest. After a few moments, he could see boots with spears passing through the wagons; the torchlight was almost touching them. There was conversation at the front of the wagon convoy. It was hard to make out what was being said. After a few more words were exchanged, the wagons started moving again and the torchlights began to disappear.
(“Steady yourself and keep focused. When I give the word, prepare to drop down and roll.”) Cenric nodded in acknowledgement.
As the wagon caravan entered into the outpost, he could see at least a few dozen soldiers on active patrol, the rest of them were in the buildings or the tents that were dotted around the outpost. After they travelled for perhaps about one hundred feet into the outpost, they came to a stop. He heard more talking, this time it was more audible, and he would make out some of it.
“It’s about time you got here! we needed those supplies here by yesterday.” A voice said. It was rough and coarse, that of an experienced warrior.
“Sorry about that, sir.” Another voice said. This one softer.
“We got ambushed en route by a group of brigands.” Before the softer of the two voices could keep speaking, they were cut off:
“Did you lose any cargo?”
“No, sir, we didn’t.”
“Good. We had issues with brigands lately, the waterways have been full of them.” The older of the two voices said with a sigh, and then barked an order. “You and your men can take those wagons to the storehouse, and load the cargo. When you’re finished. Park the horses by the stables, and report to the commander.”
“Understood, sir.”
(“The storehouse?“) Cenric asked.
(“A good place to start a fire, don’t you think?”)
(“It’s your plan, Tharos. I’ll just follow along,”) Cenric answered back.
(“Well, if we can’t destroy or capture this outpost, We can at least help deny these people the resources they need.”)
(“So that will be job done, right?”) Cenric asked.
(“Well, not entirely, but as long as Quintus, and by extension the people of Chalybs, are happy with this result, that’s all that really matters. So hold on tight. We are going to here for a while. It seems.”)
(“Ok,”) Cenric said, giving a small nod. For several more minutes, they remained under the shadow of the wagon, staying still like snakes in the grass. The soldiers took the wagon to the storehouse and started to load. As they finished this task and took the horses, one of the shoulders stayed behind.
(“How much longer do we have to do this? My arms and legs are getting sore!”)
(“Just a few more moments. Focus and keep your cool.”)
“Go ahead without me.” one of the soldiers said. “I’ll just unload this wagon and lock up the storehouse.”
“Be my guest.” said one of the other soldiers sarcastically. “Just don’t be late. I don’t want the commander yelling at us again.”
“Don’t worry, it won’t take long,” he replied. Tharos waited until the other soldiers had walked off. There were only three of them and, from what he could tell, no other soldiers were within earshot. Now was the time. Slowly dropping down from underneath the wagon, Tharos rolled onto his side and crouched down on the other side of the wagon, out of view. He was about to sneak up on the lone soldier and take him out. Cenric made a small, stuttering thud from underneath the wagon.
(“Oops, sorry.”) Cenric thought as he dropped to the ground.
“What was that?” the soldier said to himself under his breath in a mutter. “It better not be rats again.” he said as he put down a massive box and started to investigate the source of this new noise.
(“Cenric, stay still. Don’t move or make a sound,”) he ordered. He had to move quickly before this whole outpost was alerted to their presence.
Before the soldier knew what was happening, Tharos had struck. Grabbing a dagger from his belt, he flicked his wrist and threw it straight into the soldier’s neck. The soldier gave a quick, shocked gasp as he processed what had just happened, then dropped to the ground with a small thud. His armour clattered as his body began to twitch. Tharos felt like he was being struck by lightning as the soldier took his last breath, it was a feeling that he tried to ignore. He saw that the storehouse door was now wide open, and that there were a few candles and torches around — enough to start a small fire. As he went to retrieve his dagger, Cenric emerged from under the wagon.
(“Sorry.”) said Cenric as he dusted himself off.
(“It’s fine. Cenric. Mistakes like this happen. Just make sure they’re not the kind of mistakes that can cost you your life.”)
Cenric nodded. (“Understood.”)
(“Good. Now help me drag this body into the storehouse.”) Cenric then looked at him, a disgusted look on his face. Tharos knew this face well.
(“Cenric, I know you don’t like touching dead bodies. But we can’t leave him out in the open for the everyone to see.”)
(“Got it.”) As he and Cenric dragged the still-warm body in, it slumped like a wet noodle. They dropped it into a pile of boxes. Using the torchlight from a torch he grabbed off the wall, he looked around the storehouse, which was two storeys high with a basement. Most of it was food and weapons, but they also found several jugs of alcohol and oils. Although most of the storehouse was made from brick and stone, some parts were made of wood, as were several of the other buildings. Not to mention the tents made from fabric — this entire outpost was perfect for kindling a great fire.
(“Cenric, keep watch while I get the fire ready. Be ready to move once it starts.”) Cenric positioned himself by the door. Tharos took the jugs of alcohol and oil, placing some inside the storehouse and some outside, by the wagon. Standing outside the storehouse, Tharos held a torch. (“Prepare to move like the wind,”) he said, throwing the torch onto the pile of oil and alcohol. Within moments, a trail of fire formed and spread throughout the storehouse and onto the wagon outside. As they moved away, keeping out of the patrol’s guard’s sight, finding a place to hide in between some empty tents and a small series of latrines. Tharos felt himself wince as the smell of human waste was starting to get to him. However, he didn’t have to wait long, for within a few minutes the fire had quickly spread, turned the once sleepy outpost into a scene of pandemonium as the fire raged on. And the smell that made him tighten his nose had been replaced with the smell of smoke that made his mouth feel dry.
That was when they made their way to the front gate, passing several soldiers that didn’t even give them the time of day, and as they reached the front gate. That was when the attack began. As panicked soldiers tried to extinguish the flames, they were struck down by arrows and crossbow bolts. Before anyone knew what was happening, Rayner and the rest of the troops had taken the front gate and were cutting down anyone in sight. They saw a large group of men and horses outside the gate being cut down as though they were blades of grass. As they left the outpost, they were flanked by the bodies of fallen soldiers lying in the dirt; some with arrows or crossbow bolts in their heads; others stabbed or sliced open with swords and axes. Tharos could taste the anger and fear in the air, and the rush of combat made him feel truly alive. After exiting the gate, they headed to the treeline. Tharos propped himself up against a tree while he and Cenric watched the outpost being set alight. Cenric was covered in dirt and blood.
“Well, I’d say that’s a job well done,” he said, turning to look at Cenric.
“Aren’t you going to join in?” Cenric asked him.
“No, let Rayner have his fill. I’ve had enough excitement for one night. Why do you ask? Do you want to join in?” He asked back.
“No,” Cenric answered looking away from him, and back the burning down outpost
“Well, despite a few setbacks, i think you did quite well.”
“Thank you,” said Cenric. “Are you going to teach me one day to hang onto wagons as long as you can? My arms and legs felt like they were burning after several seconds.”
“I don’t think I can teach you that. I can run for miles and not lose breath, I can go for ages beyond counting without a single drop or morsel of food, and every time I slay I am overcome by a wave of pleasure like I was struck by lightning. What I am and what I have become is nothing you want to become, Cenric.” He paused. “Unless you want to lose what makes you feel truly alive.”
Cenric turned to him again and nodded. “Have you still not figured that out yet?” Cenric asked. “Why You’re still alive, even after all this time?”
“No, I haven’t. None of the books I have read so far have explained why I am still alive. Whatever I am, whatever I have become, and however I reached this state, it seems this is a puzzle I won’t solve anytime soon. In fact,” he mused, allowing himself a moment. “I was quite surprised that Arachne venom was able to affect me at all.” One thing he had noticed and realised during his travels was how difficult it was for him to get drunk. He had heard that the Invicti people were famous for their drinking habits, some of which could put dwarves to shame. Yet he could drink several bottles of the strongest wines in the frontier as if they were water. He assumed that he was currently immune to poisons and toxins, although perhaps only the more common and mundane ones.
“Well, no matter how long it takes. I’ll stay by your side until you figure it out, or until the day I die, I suppose.” Cenric said, with a small shrug. Tharos appreciated Cenric’s loyalty, but he didn’t want him to follow him around like a puppy. He wanted Cenric to be free and to be his own man.
“I appreciate the sentiment. However, there may come a time when we must part, whether by choice or through circumstances beyond our control. People come and people go, and neither Rayner nor I will be around forever.”
“I know that. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” There was a brief silence as they watched the outpost burn amid the sounds of screaming men and horses. Tharos felt that Cenric wanted to say something else to him but was holding his tongue.
“Is there anything else you wish to say?” he asked Cenric, who had been watching the outpost burn down for the last few minutes. His bright green eyes looked as if they were absorbing the flames.
“That soldier,” Cenric started, his tone sadder than usual. “Did you have to kill him?”
“I did. If I hadn’t, he would have alerted the entire outpost. Unless you want to fight the entire garrison and put Rayner and our troops at risk.”
“You could have knocked him out,” Cenric pointed out.
“Even if I did, the result would be the same,” he said, gesturing to the fire before him.
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“What brought this on? I know you have your reservations, but what about this soldier has you so concerned?”
Cenric looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back at him. “I feel responsible for his death. If I hadn’t made a noise, they wouldn’t have come to investigate, and he would have walked away.”
He moved closer to Cenric and put his arm over his shoulder. Cenric let him. “He was doing his job and his duty, and so where we. Death is a risk that all warriors must accept. If you want to live by the sword, you have to kill with that sword and accept that one day that sword may be turned on you.”
“Is that all life is? Kill or be killed?” Cenric then asked him.
“No, not always. Life is what we make of it. Sadly, however, in this time of chaos and strife, life can only be one thing. Brutish and short.”
“Do you think things will ever go back to normal, or how they were back then?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps one day, those days and nights will return. when dragons roamed the skies freely, the winds and waters were rich with magic, and the races of man built spires of gold and silver. But that won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I hope I live long enough to see it,” said Cenric, hopefully.
“Me too.” he replied, giving a small smile. At that moment, they heard the noise and fire start to die down and saw Rayner and several others start to walk out of the front gate. Tharos then took his arm off Cenric. “We’ll discuss this later. We have to leave.”
“Understood.” said Cenric, as he picked up his weapons of the group and following behind him as they left out of the bushes towards Rayner and the rest of the troops.
