Chapter 130: Conscripted

“I fucking hate escort missions,” the young sergeant said.

 

It was tight inside of the command tent. Tight and a little rank, and hot despite the cold air blowing from the south. It was dark as well. The company didn’t have oil to waste on lanterns while the sun still shone outside.

 

His name was Tarn and he was an idiot. Not a bad sort really, and not a bad commander either, provided someone told him what to do. He could do his job well enough beyond the fact that everything that came out of his mouth was moronic, poorly timed, or uncalled for. No wonder he ended up with this apparently unworthy assignment.

 

The older, cannier officer cast a quick glance at Captain Cernit before replying with a nod. That was old Jarod Three-Eyes and he had seen much. Cernit had never worked together with the others, and Old Jarod knew better than to antagonize an officer right off the wagon. Besides, they knew Cernit was a noble and some nobles had a tendency to be asshats.

 

It was just the way things were in the Baranese army.

 

Cernit smiled.

 

“She’s different.”

 

“You know her?” Old Jarod asked.

 

“Besides the fact she comes recommended by General Jaratalassi? Yes. She took down undead crawlers and gut spillers by the dozen back in the deadlands where I met her.”

 

“Huh,” Tarn said, suitably impressed.

 

“Of course, she was only first step then.”

 

That got their attention. Cernit allowed himself a smile, feeling that for once in his life, he knew someone important. By Sardanal it felt good to be connected.

 

He would have said she stopped an entire undead horde led by two necromancers but that was the golem. Overselling a caster’s ability was also dangerous business.

 

“Jaratalassi said she’s the only witch he’s accepted in his second year. He also said she was among his ten best students.”

 

“Grim Jaratalassi? The bear trap?”

 

“In person. In any case, you will see. She should be here any time now.”

 

In truth, Cernit’s high finesse had let him hear the quieting camp around them. It could only mean one thing. Old Jarod stood at attention before him.

 

The person who came in the tent was almost unrecognizable. Gone were the gaunt traits, the hollow eyes. The one he had grown to call Bob was hale and confident, dressed in black and silver armor that must have cost more than he’d made since he’d last seen her, bounties included. A round shield rested on her shoulders, a dagger waited on her chest, to the side. The pommel was a black core the size of a large egg. More importantly, mana danced around her, visible in tiny fumaroles at the edge of her soul. It played strangely with the light that came from the entrance. Only the blood-tinged hair and emerald eyes hadn’t changed, though there was less despair and more control now. Cernit also felt that sense of weight one had when facing forces of nature. He inspected her.

 

[Ascendant, fourth step, one who has followed the path of direct war magic and leadership. Lethal. Undead nightmare. Man bane. Monster hunter. Leader. Smart. Lucky. On the rise. ]

 

Fourth step!

 

The woman’s face lit up when she noticed Cernit.

 

“Captain Cernit. Congratulations on your promotion!”

 

“Thank you. You look much better than last time!”

 

“I feel that way too. Glad to see you again. I love to see a familiar face. Let’s catch up later. For now, I believe an introduction is in order?”

 

“Yes. Those are Sergeant Tarn who will command the line, and Sergeant Jerod but everyone calls him Old Jerod Three-Eyes on account of his vigilance skill. With him, we’ll never get caught off guard.”

 

The two men saluted.

 

“Right. I am attached to your company as a member of the Academy. Do you know what that means?”

 

“Means you can’t give us orders?” Tarn replied before his two brain cells could catch up with his lips.

 

Cernit smacked the back of his head. The blow tilted the man forward.

 

“That means she’s considered an expert, not a member of our glorious army. But if she says jump by Neriad’s balls you’ll jump. Understood?”

 

“Yes sir!”

 

“I am only here to complete my objective, but I will be providing support and arcane-related advice to the commander, so Cernit. If I do give a quick recommendation though, you’d better obey. If you want to live, that is.”

 

“Makes sense,” Tarn grumbled.

 

“Could we know what that objective is? We’re to take a fort?” Jerod asked.

 

“Occupy. We don’t know if there is anything there,” Cernit said.

 

“Of course it’s fucking occupied,” Tarn grumbled in his beard.

 

“This will be our primary objective as far as you’re concerned. The rest is classified,” Viv said.

 

The two sergeants waited for her to elaborate, which of course, she declined to do.

 

“Wow, we’re doing something important.”

 

“Tarn,” Cernit said, “talk less.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“You just have to get me to that fort in one piece. That is all.”

 

“Understood,” Cernit said.

 

He knew what she was supposed to do.

 

“Are you ready to depart?”

 

“Anytime.”

 

***

 

Viv was not having a good time.

 

The trip to the regiment’s meeting grounds had been quite pleasant in a way wealth and connection could make trips enjoyable. Nice inns, nice manors, General Jaratalassi’s letter of introduction had been the best key money couldn’t afford. She had ridden her expensive horse down the best tables of the northern kingdom and to the border of Baran. It had removed the sting of Arthur’s ever longer trips. Now though, things were different.

 

Her mission was to reach the northern flank of the current front and open a portal to a predetermined region. She wasn’t sure how Jaratalassi knew she could open portals and suspected he’d just asked her in a hunch knowing her skill and relationship with Sidjin. In any case, she was officially a portal maker for the alliance. The destination portal being in the wilderness, she was granted an escort of good size: a hundred experienced infantrymen to protect her during the trip and help ‘secure’ the fort. Viv highly suspected Jaratalassi knew the fort was occupied but she didn’t know by what. That part was fine. The part that wasn’t fine was that they had to walk through the boonies of the boonies of Baran, a heavily forested area creeping along the barren wastes of western Haluria. The marches of Baran were a patchwork of deserted moors and survival villages huddled in remote valleys, eking a living between two invasions. None of the parochial villages kept any roads because roads led raiders to places, places where people lived. As such, everyone walked over rocky hills and through arid ditches. Everyone including Viv.

 

Now, Harrakan heavies were superior in combat for a variety of reasons, one of them because their paths favored explosive power. They were unmatched on the battlefield. The problem was getting them here. Harrakans were masters of logistics for a reason. You couldn’t win a war unless your overly muscular soldiers wearing seventy kilograms of enchanted steel could get in spear range of your enemies. The rest of Param favored a more balanced approach. That meant that the supersoldiers making this regiment had trained to move fast and far. It meant that Viv was contending with a hundred fucking winter soldiers on an ‘active stroll’ and that meant that her life was utter shit.

She’d not hated her life that much since special forces training. Worse, she was more resilient than even an Olympic Marathonian champion and it was still not enough. Even with people carrying her tent and some of her gear, even with scouts leading her silently through the easiest path without comments, even with all of that, she would collapse in her bed every night with a groan.

 

It was a different groan every time.

 

“How the fuck did they drag a water barrel through that thing?”

 

“If Mouq could see me she’d laugh her ass off. I’m in a world of magic and back to being a grunt.”

 

“My feet are now 80% blisters.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

Day after day, the regiment went farther into the forest. Viv got the beginning of a fever, the first time she’d been sick from actual disease since she came to Nyil. Fortunately, a small dosage of potions managed the symptoms until she got better. No soldiers said anything, not even Cernit, but they could see they were waiting, expecting.

 

Expecting her to break.

 

Viv was unwilling to give up. The path she had picked gave her a fast improvement of her physical stats as well as the mental. This was a good opportunity to push herself to her limit in a relatively safe environment. This was also a point of pride. Viv knew any other mage in her class would have demanded a better accommodation, possibly riding in a handcart. It would be reasonable too. Viv was not feeling reasonable.

 

“We can help more if you want. We expected to slow down,” Cernit told her one evening, not unkindly.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

 

“It’s fine. Don’t worry, I will not be too stubborn to forget our goal. I will be in shape to cast that spell.”

 

“Good. There is a betting pool going to see how long you’ll last.”

 

Viv huffed, a bit annoyed. So everyone was pretending not to notice her struggles then.

 

“I feel encouraged. Wait, what did you bet?”

 

“An officer does not join in such base pursuits.”

 

“Come on.”

 

Cernit smiled in the dim light of the tent.

 

“I bet two silver talents that you’d make it to the end.”

 

“Wow. Thank you for your trust.”

 

“Do not mention it.”

 

Viv’s pride lasted until she realized that Cernit was purposely slowing down the pace to let her adapt.

 

Bastard was cheating.

 

Like this, they walked for almost three days, then snow started to fall in heavy tufts for the first time this year. As Viv licked a thick flake off her lips, she allowed herself to smile. The men were whining about the much harder work but Viv had come prepared. She had potions, she had clothes, and she had… snowshoes. Custom-made snowshoes to attach on her boots made to her specifications by a refugee from the southern wildlands. An old man from the same region as Koro had weaved them himself for a meager price. The result was immediate. First, they laughed. Then, they scolded. Finally, they asked to see them.

 

“Snowshoes spread the weight over a larger area. That way, you can stay on top of the snow unless you’re really, really loaded,” Viv explained. “Even then the packed snow should only dip a little.”

 

“You sure came prepared,” Tarn said with some admiration. “Not a city flower then? From peasant stock, maybe?”

 

Cernit massaged his temples.

 

Viv wondered if Tarn had ever said anything that didn’t offend someone. She didn’t mind herself but even the mildest mage here didn’t enjoy being reminded of their humble beginnings. Paramese society was fundamentally layered. It was only a matter of time before Tarn put both feet in that damn mouth of his in front of the wrong person and got sent to steal a dragon’s favorite tooth. It said a lot about their assignments.

 

Viv didn’t interact much with the rank and files, they wouldn’t understand it anyway, but she heard that old Jerod was an exceptional scout. It was just that he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with his bow. Cernit had led a doomed defense that saw only six survivors return to Baran.

 

It sort of stank, Viv thought. She delicately shared her concern with Cernit.

 

“All part of Jaratalassi’s plan. Tarn is a great executor. Old Jarod is still a solid spearman. If the Halurians have any spies, they will see a bunch of misfits sent to a peripheral mission and think little of it.”

 

“The Halurians use spies? I took them for a straightforward bunch.”

 

“Their women are the wiliest snakes to ever live. They lead their nation’s dishonorable ways of waging war. Even more dishonorable, I mean. They… they convince men to betray the cause. They have… compelling arguments.”

 

“You mean sex.”

 

“Yes,” Cernit said, blushing a little. He looked terribly embarrassed.

 

“So General Jaratalassi hid this operation. It must be important. I still don’t know what we are opening the portal for.”

 

“Me neither. The general takes secrecy very seriously. He’s not just called the bear trap because of his defensive fighting.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

***

 

Day in, day out, the column moved on. During the day, they crossed the pristine snow between leafless trees and hidden stones. At night, Viv raised walls and lights to help with safety. The stars above shone brightly on a good day, so far from all the light of mankind. Most of the time they were muted, however, and the encampment became an oasis of existence in an ocean of darkness. Nature was silent now, with most creatures burrowing for the winter. Only the creaks of laden branches broke the silence. Sometimes, Viv would look out of her tent at night when the only motion were the puffs of breath from the hidden sentries, an ethereal reminder that life still persisted in this barren land.

 

After a week, rolling hills and crags replaced the denser forests. Even the few villages Cernit somehow found grew more rare while above, the gray cover of low clouds masked the entire sky. The world was reduced to a dreary expanse of white, gray, and the occasional brown touch of sleeping wood. Stones gave the snow strange forms and hid pitfalls that the scouts had to find for them. Water was thankfully abundant, as was wood, so they always had fire and warm water going.