A loud creak from a loose board near the doorway made Ilarra freeze. She could practically feel Raeln tense behind her. He had not made that noise.
Easing her pack onto her shoulder, Ilarra slowly got her sandaled feet under her, ready to run if Raeln gave her the signal. Instead, he had a hand held up toward her, warning her to stay where she was. Never would she argue with Raeln when it came to safety. Likely, he would try to clear a path for her to run if things came to violence.
Seconds passed and the edge of an axe appeared in the doorway, though the wielder stopped just out of view. Whoever it was backed away suddenly and Ilarra heard a rush of more feet pounding up the stairs, stopping somewhere nearby.
“Show yourselves,” came a growling voice from the hall. “I’m guessing one elf and one big dog. We don’t want a fight…but you’ll both die if you don’t come out right now. None of us are in the mood to negotiate.”
Raeln motioned for Ilarra to relax and then stood slowly. He took a slow breath before stepping fully into the doorway. The whole time, he kept his hands visible to whoever was out there, making sure they did not think he meant to attack first. Showing that he had no weapons was probably reassuring to the people outside, but after years with Raeln, Ilarra knew that he was likely just as dangerous without them.
“Stay right there, big guy,” the same voice from outside ordered as someone shoved Raeln back a step to clear the door. “Check the room. We need to know what we’re dealing with. Play nice and no one gets hurt.”
Though Raeln moved aside for the newcomers, Ilarra saw him adjust his footing, bracing himself to fight. He was giving them the benefit of the doubt, but preparing to kill them all if he had to.
Coming around Raeln, two red fox wildlings in battered leather-and-chain armor hurried into the room, carrying shields and short axes. The man and woman pair had dried blood in patches across their clothing but moved with the stubborn determination of trained warriors. Both gave Ilarra a quick look and began searching the room for anything or anyone else. Apparently not finding whatever they were looking for, the two wildlings went back out into the hallway.
“Alright,” came the first voice again. “Both of you come out and downstairs. Our pack-leader may want to talk with you.”
Raeln gestured Ilarra to his side and she obeyed, following close behind him as he led the way out of the room. The speaker for the foxes coaxed them out, repeatedly telling them that they would be fine and not to worry. When she reached the door, she could see an older fox male waiting at the edge of the door, watching them carefully.
As they left the room, Ilarra found herself quickly flanked by three foxes on one side and the two that had entered the room previously on her left. The man who had been speaking was one of the three and the only one of the foxes not heavily armored or carrying a weapon. Unlike the rest, he was dressed in a robe of heavy fabric that had seen better days, looking as though he had run halfway across Eldvar without rest. The wildling’s jaw sat at a funny angle, as though it had been broken badly at some time in the past.
“Downstairs…now,” the spokesperson told them, moving aside and gesturing toward the stairs. “Please hurry.”
Playing the part of obedient servant, Raeln helped Ilarra past the foxes, keeping them from getting too close to her. The whole time, he kept his eyes down like he was deferring to Ilarra, though she knew he was using the guise to watch the foxes. Whether they bought into his behavior or not, she could not be certain.
Once they passed the foxes and made for the stairs, the five strangers closed behind them, making sure that Raeln and Ilarra could not go back up the steps.
Ilarra could immediately see what the noise had been earlier. Whereas the main room had been mostly clear during their arrival, it now had been fortified heavily by the foxes. The tables had been lined up on their sides at the bottom of the steps in rows that appeared to be intended for use as barricades. Stacks of weapons, ranging from axes to spears, had been set up at each row of tables, giving defenders fresh weaponry if they were forced to fall back.
Despite all the preparation, Ilarra only saw three more fox wildlings downstairs, and they appeared less ready for battle than their fellows who were escorting Raeln and Ilarra. Those three were badly bloodied and tending to their wounds in a hurry. The wounds were fresh.
Leading the way down the stairs, Ilarra tried to smile at one of the fox men at the bottom floor, but he gave her a nervous stare, before looking away. The other two appeared too scared to even glance in her direction. Whatever was happening had terrified and hurt these people, which made Ilarra more scared than she had been at the surprise of them being there in the first place. She then noticed another fox, lying off to one side of the room in a pool of blood, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Sit,” the spokesman ordered once they had gotten into the middle of the main room, past the flipped tables.
Smoothing her dress as she sat down, Ilarra made a point of not looking at Raeln, who knelt beside her. She knew full well he could spring into an attack from that position, despite appearing entirely relaxed.
From upstairs in the first room at the top of the steps, Ilarra heard soft words being spoken, then the quiet sobs of a scared child. Before she could wonder at it, another wildling came from that room, this one with grey fur and a bearing that told her he was no stranger to combat. In that man, she saw no fear, only readiness and determination. There were no children to be seen, so Ilarra dismissed what she thought she had heard as absurd. No one would bring children when they were clearly prepared for war.
“What’s the situation?” the grey fox asked, grabbing a spear from where it rested beside the stairs. “And why are these two still here?”
“Wanted to know what you want done with them,” the red who had spoken to them up to that point answered. “Kill them?”
Raeln’s hands moved from being folded in his lap to resting on his thighs.
“No,” the grey fox told the red, shaking his head. “These aren’t our lands and we don’t get to make those decisions. They haven’t attacked, so we send them on their way.”
“Pack-leader…”
“I gave my orders. Question me again and I’ll send you with them as a pelt.”
Nodding nervously, the spokesperson came back to Raeln and Ilarra.
“Insrin is being generous today,” the red fox told them, gesturing toward the door. “Leave quickly. I recommend running.”
Raeln hopped onto his feet immediately, offering a hand to Ilarra. Ignoring a challenging growl from one of the foxes, he grabbed Ilarra’s arm as he turned to move toward the door. He practically dragged her at a near-run the whole way until they stood in the sun-drenched grass and dirt road in front of the building.
“What was that about?” Ilarra asked, but Raeln held up a hand to silence her.
Nervously, Ilarra followed Raeln’s stare.
Spread across the entire dimly lit pre-dawn horizon, stumbling humanoid shapes were marching toward them like an army far larger than Ilarra thought possible. Clouds of rising dust around them told of thousands more behind them.
As shocking as the vast army was, it was what followed them that made Ilarra’s heart sink. Towering a hundred feet or more above the ground were gleaming metal creatures—golems, she realized, thinking through her studies—that were driving the army straight toward Ilarra and Raeln.
Unlike Ilarra, Raeln did not hesitate or panic. He scooped Ilarra up in his arms and began running directly away from the approaching army.
Situated as she was, Ilarra finally got a good view of the little village they were moving through. Whereas she had initially thought it to be an outlying portion of Lantonne, she now saw that it had once been some kind of mining village. No more than a hundred feet off to her left, she saw the drop-off of a surface mine, with roads going all directions from its edge. Either the mine had been abandoned along with the village, or Lantonne had changed their methods of mining, leaving the village to rot away.
Raeln ran from one building to the next, eyeing each for something that he could not communicate to Ilarra, nor would he take the time to try. Finally, as they neared the southern edge of the village with the army already entering the northern portion and the ground shaking with the footfalls of the golems, he stopped and put Ilarra back on her own feet.
Kneeling at the side of a squat stone structure, Raeln grabbed the handles of a pair of metal doors set into the base of the building. Whether it was a fruit cellar or a storm shelter, Ilarra could not care less. It was the sturdiest set of doors she had seen yet and that was likely what had caught Raeln’s eye.
Growling as he strained to break the thick layer of rust on the lock, Raeln braced his feet against the frame of the doors and pulled until Ilarra could see his muscles trembling through both fur and clothing. With a deafening crack, the lock shattered, and Raeln tumbled over backwards as the doors were flung open.
Ilarra grabbed Raeln’s hand and helped him scramble back to his feet and down the steep steps into the cellar. Rotted wooden handrails on either side of the steps gave Ilarra something to guide her, though Raeln ripped one rail off as soon as he had gotten in past the cellar’s entrance. Once they were far enough down that they could see nothing further, Raeln reached back and pulled the metal doors shut, and Ilarra heard the sounds of him wedging the broken rail into the handles, sealing them in.
For the rest of the day—and possibly the night, for all Ilarra could tell—they huddled at the foot of the stairs as thousands of creatures stampeded overhead. Occasionally, she heard the creak and ground-shaking crash of the golems, though they seemed not to come completely into the village, unlike the army.
“That has to be Altis’ army,” Ilarra whispered mostly to herself, but it had become habit to speak her thoughts aloud for Raeln’s benefit. “I’ve never even heard of an army that large. Altis only has about ten thousand soldiers, according to father. That looked more like fifty.”
Another crash nearby, followed by something banging on the metal doors made Ilarra stifle a scream. Raeln put his arm around her, and eventually the noise at the doors stopped, though it still sounded as if a thousand sets of feet were jumping up and down above them. That too eventually faded into the distance.
Ilarra spent hours staring up at that door, wondering when the enemy would come for them again, but the day or night passed without further indication that they had been found.
“Acceptance”
We, as a people, are defined by what we know and what our minds have enshrined in fact. The wise shall be elevated above the mighty, for without their wisdom, the mighty will never know where it is just to strike at.
Embrace your wise men and women, for they will lead Turessi in my absence. The mighty may never lead by right of strength but have more than ample place in our society. Let wisdom reign supreme and teach your children well, for that education is their entire future.
-
First law of Turess
Therec stumbled as the servant who was supposed to be bringing him water to wash himself for the morning instead punched him. Holding his cheek as he staggered away from the man, he fought to calm his racing heart, seeking peace within himself. It was all he could do without furthering the hatred of these people. Faintly, he heard the sound of a knife being drawn and began to wonder if he would have to kill the man, regardless of the risk to his mission.
Before the servant could strike again, two dwarven guards that had been assigned to prevent just such an occurrence rushed into the room and knocked the man over. With much cursing and a few well-placed kicks, the dwarves dragged the servant from the room, offering mumbled apologies as they departed, closing the door behind them.
Sighing, Therec went to the window, looking down over the massive city far below the tower he stood within. Without giving it much thought as he studied the buildings and the far walls of the city, he touched his swollen cheek with a gloved hand, calling on the spirits of the dead to ease his body’s pain. Almost immediately, the healing magic cooled the skin and slowed the swelling near his eye.