B4 Interlude 20: Strangspine, pt. 3

Inside Earnsdale’s fortifications, rustic housing sprawled out in a great tangle. They were sturdy, built with stone foundations — cleanly cut grey blocks that looked strong enough to weather even the greatest of storms. As was common in frontier villages, the houses themselves were made from local materials, a mishmash of wood planed down to planks to construct small family dwellings.

Despite their limited materials, they clearly were built to a high standard. Even in a place this remote, there would have been no lack of carpenters and builders to ply their class skills and fortify the buildings beyond what would have been possible otherwise.

Wandering down paved roads, Bronwyn and his team followed their guide—one of the guards who had let them in at the front gate. Places this far out rarely would have seen strangers, let alone Delvers of their strength, so he wasn’t all that surprised when people came flocking to watch them pass.

He did find it a little odd, however, that half the crowd seemed more interested in the beast of burden dragging their cart than in them themselves.

He supposed that, given dauntles were native to the far eastern front of Vaastivar, the beast would have been entirely alien to them. But more than that, it came from a long-bred and controlled lineage — its pedigree obvious, its docility and strength plain.

To people like these, such a beast of burden would have been valuable. Much more so than his finely inscribed armour or his blade.

There was another facet of the town that caught his eye: ward lights stacked on top of poles lining the streets and dotting corners. It was rare to see them in such abundance outside a true metropolis. Sure, they were simple pieces of artifice and long-lived, but they did need maintenance — and in a place like Earnsdale, they had to have been made local.

Catching their guide’s eye, he nodded to one of the lamps. “Who made those?” he asked.

The guard nodded knowingly, a slight, proud smile stretching across his face. “Ah, I’ve heard artifice ain’t so common in other regions. But we used to see a fair few journeymen in these parts near the Spine. Used to be they came to practise — something to do with the higher mana near them floating islands, making it easier to work more complex structures. At least, that’s what Janesh keeps telling me.”

“Ah,” Bronwyn replied. That did make some sort of sense. Often journeymen tradesmen flocked to where their skills could be most heavily leveraged in an effort to gain as many levels and abilities as they could. From his limited understanding of the runic arts, the higher mana would have played a large part. It would have made it far easier to power enchantments and formations that would otherwise be a tad too inefficient or crude.

“I assume a few of them have stuck around?”

“That they have,” the guard replied. “We already had a bit of a problem with beasties, but that got a fair bit worse with the Phase change. A lot of ’em didn’t want to risk it. They’ve started to set down some roots. Happened all over the place. We ourselves got three of ’em. Hells, we’ve got artifice falling out from behind our ears now.”

As Bronwyn chuckled politely in reply to the guard’s joke, he looked around to watch the people of Earnsdale as they passed. Despite what he was used to, they looked warier than he normally saw in the people of the frontier. With all the travel they’d done, there was a tale he was becoming uncomfortably familiar with — too remote to easily flee to safety, and the town just a little too safe to justify the risk.

After a few more minutes, they reached the centre of the town, entering into a wide square surrounded by inns and general stores, its centre dominated by a large public fountain. Judging by the people he’d seen filling up buckets, it was one source of clean water for the populace.

One side of the square was dominated by what had to be the village’s closest equivalent to a manor — one of the few buildings made entirely of stone. It was two storeys high. Bronwyn wouldn’t exactly call it opulent, but it was clear that an extra level of care had been taken in its construction.

Their guide took them straight to the front door — a tall, sturdy thing made of oak. Imported, no doubt; he hadn’t seen any in the surrounding bush.

“This be Elder Humund’s place,” the guard said. “You’ll need to leave the cart outside, obviously, but I’ll keep an eye on it for you while you talk with him.”

Bronwyn gave the man a nod of thanks before he waved to his team to follow him as they ascended the handful of steps that led to the front door.

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“Do you think this Elder Humund will have anything for us?” Yanira asked, the giantess craning her head to look up at the building.

“A lead, I hope,” Bronwyn replied.

They’d had some word, of course, back in Deadacre — villages had gone dark and beasts had been seen in the area — but they hadn’t had specifics. Now they knew that suspiciously orchestrated ambushes were occurring.

What they really needed was fresh, detailed knowledge—exactly which villages had been hit and when, which ones had been wiped out and which had just been harassed. He needed to know if there was a pattern and, gods’ willing, any details of the swarm itself. If they could get some sort of confirmation that the beasts were coming from the Spine — and more specifically where from within it — it could make their job a whole lot safer.

They weren’t here to exterminate beasts by the thousands, just to assess the threat so it could be dealt with by an appropriate force.

After he knocked on the door, another guard opened it—though this one wasn’t dressed in the simple chain and leathers of those at the gate. He was wearing splintered mail, a tabard of grey-blue emblazoned with the sigil of a songbird on its front. A personal defender of the elder, perhaps.

Standing at six strides tall, the man would have had an intimidating presence to anyone else. Given his lacking presence and aura, the guard’s narrowed eyes didn’t have much of an effect on him.

Still, the man stayed staunch even when four Silver auras rolled over him. Bronwyn could respect that.