B4 Interlude 19: Strangspine, pt. 2

From his position at the head of their cart, Bronwyn looked around with interest. They were on a paved road that cut its way between shallow hills, ubiquitous in this region of the frontier. On every side, they were surrounded by dense brush, undergrowth, and canopy so overgrown that they merged into almost solid walls of living green stretching twice, thrice his height into the air. He supposed to some it would have been imposing, but he found it quite cosy — the sounds of birds and chirping insects truly made it feel like summer.

It was a refreshing change from the sparse glades, light forests, and open fields that surrounded much of the area near Deadacre.

As they rounded a corner, he spotted it in the distance — the Spine. It was just barely visible, dark flecks floating on the horizon like mountain peaks cut off by clouds. Except there was nothing to support them. There was no natural illusion or false trickery. He knew that, however many leagues away they were, closer up they would be floating islands, held aloft by nothing but natural magic.

It had taken them weeks to travel this far as the land changed around them. The air was wetter, humid, and hot. Even for him, who had travelled across every expanse of the frontier, it was a novelty. Rarely had he had an opportunity to come to the Spines. There were few settlements even this far from them. Before the Phase change, it had been one of the few areas of real danger in the frontier — a high-mana zone where even Silver or stronger beasts could be found.

He doubted that last bit. Even for a high-mana zone, beasts in the latter half of the second tier were rare, and the Spine was not as large as the Arboreal Sea or other greater wilds.

A few more bends, and their destination came into view. A massive swathe of the surrounding bush had been cut back and tilled — packed fields stretching for what must have been half a league around a large village, or perhaps a small town. Earnsdale. Their first stop.

Earthen works had been built up into a mound in a shallow concave between four larger hills that sheltered the settlement — a fortification bolstered by a high defensive wall constructed from the local stone common in these parts. Even though most villages their size would make use of lumber, the surrounding brush lacked oaks and elms. As laborious as quarrying stone must have been, it was far better than using bundled twigs for defences—especially this close to the Spine.

There were men on the walls. Too many men. Normally, in a village like this, he would have expected a bare smattering: a couple on each gate, with perhaps a few more patrolling the walls to keep watch.

There were easily dozens, watching every angle like hawks. None of them moved alone — pairs and trios only, each plainly watching the treeline nervously. All of the treeline.

Why? Earnsdale was still weeks from Strangspine. The last communication they’d heard had put the beast disturbance leagues further into the surrounding bush. Hells, could the problem have already spread so far?

His suspicion was high. Much like any other remote community that lived near danger, they were a hardy people — hardier even than the average seen across the frontier. The closest comparison he could think of were the communities living near the edge of the Arboreal Sea. No longer villages, he supposed — Dawntown.

Yet it was exactly that hardy determination that made him surprised at what he noticed next: the fields.

The fields around Earnsdale were sloppy. That was strange. Given how hard the brush was to beat back, it required constant effort to maintain. A gift from the density of mana in the area. They were normally meticulously picked over, at least from what his research had suggested. Farmers would have had to make use of their skills to maximise every bit of yield to support the village’s population.

Crops grew tangled and unruly, and weeds of all things dotted the neatly rowed fields. Rather than dozens of farmers, he could count the people on one hand — each of them moving in trios, wary eyes scanning the edge of the brush as they carried spears instead of pitchforks. Another sign pointing to the fact that even this far from the Spine, the locals had met with misfortune in recent times.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Bronwyn nudged Dross, nodding to the fields and the men manning the walls. “How likely do you think it is that this is related to that beast horde, and not just because of the Phase change?”

“Pretty damn likely, I’d say,” Dross replied after scanning their surroundings with his eagle-like vision. “Them farmers’ve got mean looks. Not one of ’em’s lacking a weapon. Hells, even the guards at the front gate are mean-mugging us. Something’s definitely up.”

The ranger nodded toward the heavy, barred gate set in the palisade wall closest to them.

Bronwyn nodded and urged their beast of burden to speed up to a swift trot. Soon, he too saw the guards — dressed in plated leathers, they held pikes in tight grips, watching their approach with plain suspicion and deep frowns.

“Ho there, travellers. We ask you slow your approach. We haven’t seen your like around these parts before,” one called out, his booming, enhanced voice easily carrying through the fields toward them.

Bronwyn complied. No reason to antagonise the local security — especially when they were just doing their jobs.