BBook 2: Chapter 41: The Vastlands II.

BBook 2: Chapter 41: The Vastlands II.

All throughout the journey, I could not shake the feeling that something stalked me. Eyes followed me from a distance as I journeyed alongside this monster towards the edge of these lands. My senses caught nothing else, no matter how often I checked. Poor eyesight did not complement a sense of smell reliant on the direction of the wind. It was instinct that told me there lurked something off in the distance.Updated from n0velb(i)n.c(o)/m

They were wise not to approach, given the company I traveled in.

Valencia stalked ahead, unusually silent. The dreadknight had spoken little since the farm had been left behind, content to tread ground underfoot and keep her silence.

I wondered, then. What truly drove this woman? Her end goals remained a mystery to me, even after what she had proclaimed back on the farm.

It was better that way, I supposed. Dangerous company was not something I had ever shied away from, yet an aura of misfortune followed in her every footstep. Shunned by the very Gods Above, it seemed she was damned to dread and death wherever she trod.

The sum total of her choices, harsh though they were.

Yet it would be callous of me to dismiss her fate like that, and I had vowed not to be the monster she had become.

Instead, I felt..empathy, if such a thing were possible.

Not pity, nor sadness for her. Just the acknowledgment that she walked a hard, harsh path that fate had forced upon her. The evil she had become had been planted within her by others. That much I could relate to, on some level.

I knew what it was like to have a mind muddled by influences outside of my control. The remnants of who Garek had been still taunted me. Bloodlust and battle-thirst reared at the worst times, anger seeping into my veins. Influences that came from a shell inhabited by my spirit.

Her vessel was a demon contained within a human shell.

I wondered, then. How much did that truly influence her, even though she claimed to have crushed it?

These thoughts I kept to myself throughout the time we walked. The sun rose once more upon a vast, empty expanse as we continued along the winding road that led to Greysong Keep. Ever-present since I had begun to live here, the forests of the Redtip fell away behind me, replaced with rolling farmland, and the looming form of another range of mountains in the distance.

They loomed as we drew closer, the spine of some great behemoth that slumbered beneath the earth. This day too passed to noon and then evening as an unlikely duo traveled this winding road. I saw hamlets as we walked, emptied as their inhabitants were coaxed out by riders and ordered to move further in.

Preparations for if the fortress fell. Villages lay empty as we drew near the bleak keep nestled between two mountains. Half-harvested crops spoke of a hungry winter to come, should they not be able to return. A cool breeze heralded frost to come. Perhaps not tonight, but soon. It seemed as just yesterday when summer had been in full bloom. Now, winter crept ever-closer on the horizon.

Greysong Keep was larger than the name implied. A wide, sturdy fortress that bridged the span between two slopes of sheer rock. Pathways were carved into the stone to either side of it, ladders leading from the battlement to perches high above. Almost certainly carved out of the mountainsides by magic, they provided both lookout spots and sniper nestings.

They also meant the inhabitants of the fortress knew of our arrival long before we actually approached.

A single gate heaved itself open and riders galloped to meet us, dust kicked up in their wake as we climbed the slope towards them. The barons flag was carried in their midst, outstretched as armored cavaliers came to greet Valencia.

Judicator. Came the greeting as their captain slid from his horse, head inclined toward the Dreadknight. We await your presence.

The deference in his tone was not false. I could smell that. Unease stirred in the riders, inflicted on them by her presence.

They showed her respect all the same.

I elected not to.

How sturdy is the gate? Valencia demanded. Is it mundane or reinforced by mages? How do you plan to harass them as they come through the valley? Who of note is among our forces?

The best metal in the land. Several handsbreadths of rolled steel. Made to stave off the best war machines of man. It will crumple under the minotaur siege engines. Reinforces though it is by magic, they will find a way to tear it down.

Mages. Valencia demanded. Are there any currently stationed here?

We have a pair of sibling war-weavers. The rest were withdrawn to the inner lands some time ago. Trouble on the barons borders?

Information for another time. Focus on the danger that is to come. Fetch them in a few moments. I wish to know their capabilities before we engage in battle.

Theyve not seen a minotaur force before, if thats what youre concerned with.

I stood there and let the information flow around me. Soaked up the talk and responses being snapped back and forth. Valencias usual dread glee was gone, replaced by cold efficiency and stoicism. I learned that snipers wielding piercer bows were stationed in nests along the mountainside, ready to pepper and slow the host as it approached.

I learned and forgot the names of notable knights and champions, skilled warriors of different classes.

All this would only serve to slow the warherds advance. They would make it to the gates, would find their bloody way inside the fort.

That was where I would stand before them and do battle.

The sound of horns in the distance echoed through the valley, all conversation grinding to a halt as gazes turned toward the sounds.

Blurred as my eyesight was, I could still make out figures that moved at the valleys mouth. Across the vast tunnel of stone, I saw my own kind. Minotaurs. These were not on foot, however. They road atop hulking, muscled beasts bred for war. Horned predators with gleaming eyes and sharp fangs.

Forward scouts of the horde, come to taunt the defenders with their presence.

Well then, Valencia spoke. Lets see what those prey-piercers of yours can actually do.

Trepediaiton grew in my gut, hand clamped to the handle of my greatspear. Eyes locked on the blurred figures in the distance, I watched as Adric gestured to a sentinel high above. Whatever message he relayed was soon passed along to its recipient.

The snipers were so far down the valley that I could not see their nests, but I knew the minotaurs circled underneath, taunting them from atop their mounts. Why shouldnt they, after all? I had seen what the best human bows did to the hides of minotaurs, and it was nothing.

I watched a figure stagger and nearly fall from its mount, heard bellows of pain echo along the valley. More came, and the message was delivered in volley. They were not invulnerable here. The small host wheeled and bounded away, followed by more arrows from on high.

There was some relief within me. They would not be able to just roll through the valley uncontested, able to shrug off human weaponry. These men and women had waged war against minotaurs before, seen their strenghts and weaknesses. They had adapted, learned, forged new tools to bridge the gap and better kill those they fought.

As humans did.

I just hoped it would be enough.