Callie's Heroes

PART I - HERALD AT THE GATE

Captain Huvaen Amalrinde was riding hard, as hard as he dared to go given the rough terrain. Thankfully, the curvax was a master of running over uneven ground, and even the injured one that bore him proved the reputation. She was getting tired though, and needed to rest for a bit. Steering the mount slightly to the right, Huvaen rode towards the edge of a grove of trees.

“Here you go, girl, we’ll rest a few,” the Elf said, quickly dismounting. “I know you’re hurt, but that was the only healing spell I know. We can’t be far now, perhaps eight kilometers, and we’ll go slower if we need to.” He patted the animal, taking a piece of fruit from the saddlebags and offering it. The curvax accepted it happily.

Examining the rear haunches of the beast, Huvaen winced at the obvious bruise and swelling. He thought briefly about casting a heal again, but that could just make it harder to give her proper care later. “I’m sorry I can’t do more,” he said in a warm tone, patting the animal’s neck. He was a Warrior, but had spent time in the past learning a simple healing spell, which he had applied both to himself and to his mount. He wasn’t very good, though, and the healing wasn’t much, but was enough to keep moving.

This was his fifth mount since he set out at speed from Imor the previous day, swapping in villages along the way when the sprinting curvax he rode grew too exhausted. He managed to make it two-thirds of the way to his destination, finally forced to stop in Highridge Crossing due to the failing light and dark clouds threatening rain that never actually materialized. He’d left shortly after first light and a light breakfast, with the hope to make it the final distance before noon, cutting overland when he could for speed. Now, with the injury, the going was slower.

He had needed to follow the road for the first ten kilometers past Meadowglade, the final village along the route, to get to a pass through a long outcropping of rock, and that was where he had been attacked. Passing through the natural barrier, Stone Elementals, at least a dozen, had emerged on the southern side of the road. Normally, a few would be no bother. They were generally weak, or could be easily avoided due to their slow speed. But these were stronger than normal, able to summon and hurl stones and even small boulders. One had struck the curvax and another had hit Huvaen, almost knocking him to the ground. Now there was a danger to others on the road, and he had to get to his destination so the camp Scryers could notify the village not to send anyone until the problem had been eliminated. After the attack, he had done what he could with his spell, and then the curvax had run as hard as he dared push. He’d lost time, though, and more than he wished.

While the animal rested a bit, happily eating another piece of fruit when offered, Captain Huvaen used his sword to cut down a thick, solid-looking sapling. With a few more whacks, coupled with some work with his dagger, he removed all the limbs. This left him with a long, sturdy pole at least three meters in length. He pulled the banner flag from the saddlebag, tying it securely to the end of the makeshift flagpole.

“This should keep us from being attacked,” he said in a warm voice, patting the neck of the curvax again. “It would be awful to come all this way only to be killed approaching the camp.”

Carefully, trying hard not to bump his mount’s injury, Huvaen mounted, sliding the thick sapling into the deep, hard-leather pole-boot attached to the saddle. He winced at his own throbbing arm, loosened it with a stretch, willing himself to ignore the pain, and grabbed the reins. Over him, the burgundy-colored cloth fluttered in the breeze, which carried distant scents of the forest and wildflowers. Instinctively, he patted his chest, feeling the subtle shape of the leather letter sleeve he carried inside his clothes.

“Let’s go!” Captain Huvaen snapped, lightly kicking with his feet and clicking his tongue. The curvax needed no more encouragement than that, and took off at a light trot, slowly gaining speed. Before long, the speed was a slow, lazy gallop, easily passing over the uneven, grassy ground as they followed the straightest route they could. Overhead, the banner called out the royal crest of King Feldwin del Montano.

Commandant Xera, along with Legate Galin and Master Trainer Thorn were seated at their conference table, not really talking about anything specific, as they ate a slightly-early lunch. It was the Lastday of the fourth week, which meant everyone was feeling particularly lazy, eager for the day to end so they could relax. Late next week would begin Midsummer, so there was a general excitement throughout the camp, with the upcoming Lastday having no training, to allow for the celebrations to kick off, and the first two days of the following week likewise being part of the holiday.

“Demon training is going well,” Thorn said casually. “After nearly two weeks, everyone is able to handle the Bronze Imps and Fiends with little difficulty. There’s a few that are struggling, but I think they’ll get it. Everyone is trying hard to live up to Pixyl’s example, which I suppose was why Terrin suggested using her for the demonstrations. More importantly, though, they aren’t being reckless, which had been my concern early on, given how much she tends to show off.”

“She has proved quite entertaining, I must admit,” Xera concurred. “As long as she’s not inspiring foolish risks, and instead simply showing that it is possible despite her size, there should be no issues. But please make sure that the correct message is getting through.”

“Speaking of Demons, those new Ranger bows are something,” Galin added with a low whistle. “They simply melt the Demons due to that Dryad Nature blessing. I’m trying to picture what it will look like if the Ranger recruits hit Gold before we send them on. It will be a battle-changer, for sure. Plus Juniper has promised us more Heartwood, too.”

“It definitely will change things,” Thorn agreed. “By the way, Vonn is doing a remarkably good job as the Ranger trainer, despite her insistence that she would be a poor substitute. That was actually according to Reynard, too.”

“And how is he doing?” Galin asked.

Thorn shrugged. “Honestly, he’s going crazy being immobile, and maybe starting to get a little depressed, too; Midsummer is hard for him every year. We help him get up to the field so he can keep contact with the recruits, but he's mostly stuck in his cabin, essentially waiting for his leg to grow. There was also some understandable tension between him and Rowani when she started the Regrowth treatment, considering she’s now essentially seventeen years old and why. I think they got past it, though. He should be able to get around slowly, on his own, before long.”

“Mentioning the Rangers, how is our new Beastmaster doing?” Xera asked. “It’s been nearly two weeks now. Has she reached Bronze? Is she close?”

“I talked to her this morning,” Thorn said, swallowing his bite. “Jesca will certainly hit Silver next week with her Ranger class, and I have no doubt she’ll reach Gold before we’re through, if she continues at this pace. She’s incredibly driven. Her Beastmaster progression is progressing quickly, as well. She’s at IRON.930 as of this morning, and yesterday she was at IRON.838, so steady progress, and I suspect she’ll reach Bronze early next week, as well, possibly even Secondday morning. She’d really like to go faster, but we don’t know anything about this class, so we can’t properly challenge her. As it is, when she’s not working her Ranger studies, she’s talking to the animals or practicing with her whips, or even working with the Unicorn on taming her, with the help of the Herdmaster. She’s actually getting fairly skilled with the whips, from what I can tell, and has developed her own interesting style with a whip in one hand and a shortsword or dagger in the other, pulling the target close or entangling it so she can skewer it.”

“She can speak with the animals, even at Iron?” Xera asked, surprise in their voice.

Thorn shook his head. “I misspoke. She can only send and receive empathic feelings right now, just like the Druids when they first receive the skill. She should be able to talk to them verbally and receive thoughts telepathically at Bronze, though, if it follows Druid progression.”

“Did I see the Unicorn with a saddle?” Galin asked. “Isn’t she too young to be a mount?”

“Jesca and the Herdmaster are essentially training Artemis like a curvax,” Thorn said, “even though she’ll be larger than one in the end. They get light training saddles even at this age. She won’t be able to carry Jesca for a few months, at least, although Callie and the Goblins are light enough.”

"What kind of name is ‘Artemis’,” the Legate scoffed. “Or Loki, for that matter. Crazy Callie names.”

“I like it. It seems … regal,” Xera said, shrugging their shoulders. “Apparently it is named after a goddess in her world. A goddess of the wilderness or some such.”

“I thought they didn’t have gods?” Thorn said. “Just like here.”

“They are just myths and stories,” Xera replied. “Just like here.”

The conversation was interrupted by the call of three short horn blasts in the distance, which then repeated a second time. The conversation cut short, and the officers looked at each other, confusion on their faces.

“Are we expecting anyone today?” Galin asked.

“Not that I’ve been informed of,” Xera said, their face still perplexed.

Then, the trio of sounds called out again, this time repeating in a more-insistent manner. It was joined by the long, slow drone of the deep-sounding alarm horn. That meant they were under attack!

“Go!” Xera yelled, pointing to the Legate. “I’ll be right behind.”

Not waiting for further instruction, the Elf bolted for the door, grabbing his sword belt from where he’d set it down. Thorn followed right on his heels, while Xera leapt to run into their office. They needed their own helmet and sword.

“The attack horn!” Kyra shouted as she opened the door, worry on her face, and then dodged aside as she was nearly bowled over by the Legate.

“I’m sorry,’ Galin said, stopping to help Kyra steady herself.

“It’s fine. Go! And be careful!”

“We will!” The Legate replied. He turned towards the door, following after Thorn, and then spun. Placing a hand on either side of Kyra’s face, Galin gave the Elf a quick kiss. “It will be fine,” he added in a low, reassuring voice. “Please assist the commandant with their sword, if you would,” he added, before sprinting out the door.

Thorn and Galin raced towards the north gate, other soldiers seeming to emerge out of nowhere to join the rush. Again, the low drone of the horn sounded, alerting the entirety of the camp that there was an attack incoming.

“Who would be stupid enough to attack here?” Thorn asked the Legate as they ran.

“Someone with a death wish, apparently. They are in for a shock.”

Reaching the bottom of the gate’s lookout, Galin climbed as fast as he could, Thorn right behind. At its top, the Elf guard was still blowing the trio of blasts and another guard, a Dwarf, blew into the big horn again.

“Enough, you have our attention. Report!” Galin demanded.

“Rider approaching, sir!” the guard with the smaller horn snapped in return.

“Just one? You sounded the attack!”

“Look, sir!” the Dwarf said quickly, handing the Legate the spyglass. “I thought you might want everyone.”

Snatching it, Galin closed one eye and peered through it with his other. Just as the guard had said, a sole rider was coming at a slow gallop. But then the wind caught and the banner he carried fluttered. It was a deep red, with a golden eight-point star. The colors of the King!

“The King’s herald?” Galin said with a questioning inflection as he handed Thorn the looking glass. “He’s coming reasonably hard, too. Maybe two kilometers out.” Then he looked down at the Dwarf. “We probably didn’t need the attack horn, but I admire your enthusiasm and the warning, all the same. Good thinking.”

“Uh, sorry sir.”

“It’s fine, we’ll call it an exercise.”

Galin started down the ladder, sliding most of the way to the ground. He started pointing directions. “Form up! There is a herald from the King coming. Everyone in ranks! Either side of the gate.” He then looked skywards. “Sprites, find Corporal Vanis and get him here with all immediate haste! He should be on the field, possibly eating lunch. Go!” As if shot from a cannon, their ‘goodbyes’ fading away in a receding doppler, four Sprites poured on the magic and raced towards the field, streaks of colored energy fading behind them.

“You think he wants the Prince?” Thorn asked, having reached the ground as well.

“I have no idea, but I thought it best that he be available when the rider arrives. With the speed he’s coming, I have a feeling it’s something important.”

It took a few seconds for the assembled dozen or so soldiers to fall into rank on either side of the gate entrance. While ostensibly a ceremonial display, it also put them in ready position should there be a problem. Galin observed, notating mentally those that seemed a little lax on their discipline, and he’d pass that along to the Major to address. Still, as a whole, they fell into line quickly and stood smartly, likely in part due to who was coming.

“What’s happening?” Xera asked, running to join, now wearing their sword and helmet.

“Herald of the King,” Galin muttered, a touch of bitter attitude in his voice. “Just a single rider, coming hard, though. The lookout was … enthusiastic.”

“A good drill, nonetheless. We should fetch the Prince,” Xera suggested.

“I’ve already sent Sprites.”

“One Kilometer!” a voice called down from abover, distant sound of hoofbeats now able to be heard.

Quickly, Galin walked through the line of soldiers, shoring up two or three to straighten the formation, before taking up a commanding position, the Commandant to his right and Thorn to his left, both one step back. While Xera was in general command of the facility, military issues and operations fell to the shoulders of the Legate, and the Commandant deferred charge of the situation to him. Swallowing hard, Galin wondered why the King’s herald would be coming unannounced. As much as he tried to fight it, his mind spun with increasingly dire scenarios, worried that Juniper’s ability to find Symbiotes or Callie’s origin had somehow left the walls.

The distant sound of fast hoofbeats grew louder, and from the tower the guard called down, “Thirty seconds!” The way for the rider was clear. The gate, in fact, was usually kept open, since the camp was so remote and the risk was so minimal. The wall actually didn’t even encircle the entire camp, since it was open to the field and the forest beyond. It was more designed to provide a barrier against the road should it be needed, and it had in fact never been needed.

The curvax and its rider tore through the gate and quickly slowed to a stop. The Elven rider looked around, seeing the receiving lines of nervous soldiers, before noticing the Legate and others.

“You! Hold this for a moment,” he said sharply, handing the banner to one of the soldiers. The nervous Fairy, unsure what to do, simply took the pole, swallowing as she looked up at the fluttering royal banner. The rider then swung down from the saddle.

“My curvax is injured. I applied light healing, but she needs further treatment,” the rider said tersely as he retook the banner. “Someone see to her. Right rear flank; a crushing attack.”

“See to it. Take it to the Herdmaster,” the Legate ordered with a snap, pointing two fingers at the line. Immediately, two soldiers fell from formation, taking the offered reigns.

Carrying the makeshift pole and its flag, the newcomer started walking towards Galin and the others. He was another Elf, and carried himself with a very strong command presence, despite being outfitted with only the lightest of leather travel armor. He was trying to look like a simple courier, and this was definitely no courier.

The newcomer was about to speak, when the thundering sound of hoofbeats approached from within the camp. Eyes turned to see another curvax riding hard, dirt and grass being flung into the air behind it. Mounted on its back, appearing to hold on for dear life, was Vanis. The pair screeched to a stop, sliding well over a meter across the ground. Vanis slid from the curvax’s back, stumbling but using the animal to steady himself.

The Warlock approached the officers, as behind him, the curvax wobbled, assuming the form of Tazrok, who quickly stepped up behind Vanis, looking both concerned and intimidating.

The herald saw Vanis approaching, and was just about to say something, but the hulking form of an Ogre suddenly appearing behind the Prince shocked him momentarily.

“Captain Huvaen?” Vanis asked. “I am surprised to see you. Is there a problem?”

“Well met, Sire!” Huvaen replied, forcing himself past the shock of seeing Tazrok and pounding a fist to his chest with a slight bow. “I am tasked by your father to deliver a cipher with all haste to your hands alone, but that is not the most-pressing issue and it can wait.”

“What is wrong?” Vanis asked, a worried look on his face.

“I was attacked on the way here by a large number of Stone Elementals. The road to the village is not safe.”

“What? Where!” Legate Galin demanded.

Huvaen looked at Vanis for direction.

“Go ahead, Captain. Legate Galin is in military command here,” Vanis then glanced at the Legate. “The Captain is in the Imperial Guard, and answers only to the royal family.” Turning back to Huvaen, Vanis ordered, “Captain, I also place you in the Legate’s charge for the time being.”

“Of course, Sire.”

“Explain!” Galin ordered.

“I’m not sure how far down the road, as I largely came overland, but there is a large outcropping of rocks, with the road passing through it. I was attacked by several Stone Elementals, at least a dozen. Likely Greater Elementals, as they were able to summon stones and boulders to throw at me. My curvax was struck, as was I.”

“Are you injured?” Vanis asked.

“I applied a healing spell to us both. What hit me was fairly small, so additional care can wait for now,” Huvaen said, wincing slightly at the reminder of his injury. He turned back to the Legate. “The village must be warned not to send anyone through until the threat has been eradicated. You have a Scryer to send that message, yes?”

“We do,” the Legate confirmed with a nod.

“That outcropping is about twenty kilometers away, overland,” Xera said. “Perhaps a little farther.”

“We’ll need to assemble a team,” Galin snapped, looking skyward, “and get moving quickly if we want to deal with this before we lose the light to dusk.”

Master Trainer Thorn stepped up, placing his hand on the Legate’s shoulder. “This is a training opportunity. Corporal Vanis, as you are standing right here, the task falls to you. I place you in charge of this mission.”

“That is the Prince you are addressing!” Huvaen snapped sharply. “You would dare so casually send him into battle?”

Vanis sighed. “Stand down, Captain. Here I am only a recruit. Seasoned veterans will assist.”

“But…”

“I said ‘stand down’.”

Thorn nodded subtly to Vanis in thanks for diffusing the situation quickly. Ignoring the Captain, Thorn asked, “Sergeant, how would you like to proceed?”