She owed Dulsenor an apology for cursing his name, even if she hadn’t given the comment voice. Hardly could Greshalin justify any animosity towards the puma when he hadn’t much say in the matter. The man’s lack of control among so many others whom the Yerra had bent to his will was not forgivable as much as it was a horrendous abuse by the elk. Foremost of Imfay’s victims had to have been the two men slumped across from each other in the tent for high commanders.
Jaium, bandaged but no less beaten from days prior, and Litheiuss, seeming the mental part for what the wolf appeared, hadn’t been stirred by the call to arms. As Gresh and Orathone entered, neither so much as shifted as took stock of who had entered before returning to their individual mental arithmetic. It was as though both had seen the outcome and reacted accordingly. Litheiuss had lost pieces of his sanity in the face of such destruction, while Jaium looked as though he was ready to solemnly step into death. Yet, the myriad of weapons and various bits of equipment said that neither man was prepared to go down without a fight.
“Baylen, we have a problem,” the lynx called, hoping to rouse the veteran into that state of aggression he always seemed a paw’s length from.
Rather than intense, the wolf only seemed irritated, “There always is, and we always sort it out with the edge of a blade. How long until they’re in camp?”
“Not just the invaders. We have a problem with someone in camp.”
“Not a spy. Tell me, burn it all, that we haven’t been letting someone slip off with everything we have and drop it right in the Legion’s lap,” moaned the elder buck, sounding from the depths of misery.
Orathone interceded, “Lith, if it were so simple, we wouldn’t be worried. This isn’t a spy, but something far worse.”
“A traitor? If we have to bring the Goredrinker forth to prove such tact is only to fail, I don’t begrudge anyone the cost,” Jaium muttered, beginning to rise, ready to root out the villain among them.
Greshalin could wait no longer with subtly, “It’s the Yerra. Imfay is manipulating everyone he can to set everything up for what he wants best.”
“How?” Litheiuss seemed at once calmed in mind and spirit enough to focus on the present trouble.
What there was to explain took some suspension of disbelief even after all Jaium and Litheiuss witnessed done by the paws of the two that told them. To insist on an unbodied voice, an echo from some primordial place, a superposition between life and death, was enough to assure lunacy in whoever asserted its existence. However, with the lynx and buck so confident in the claim, the other two had little choice but to accept it. The message carried by this invisible speaker was something far less rudimentary to digest. It was not beyond belief to think ice could be made of a touch of cold to moisture lingering in the air or in full puddles along the ground, nor that another person might speak without voice to the plants themselves and call them to move to his will. Still, for some to use another’s heart to sway them to and fro and force upon them choices they would otherwise abhor seemed unreal. Yet, to have had such a trick worked on one’s self, it was easier to believe it nothing more than fantasy than a fact.
Even as he fought against the possibility that he might have been among the multitudes beguiled by the elk, Jaium was lifting an ax. Greshalin recognized the make; the long crescent-headed tool was a northern design meant for chopping and removing ice from frozen streams. It left to wondering if her uncle or someone at his behest had divested the wagons of the majority of their weapons. Though it was unlikely they would come into use, the chances of anything coming for the wagons that wasn’t of the vile blood was low; she could only hope they had kept some means of defense. As the Baylen began for the tent flap, knocking the sheath from the dagger-like end of the ax, Orathone held out a paw to halt him.
In no uncertain terms, the buck laid out the circumstances they found themselves in, “We can’t and won’t go after Imfay, not yet. For one reason or another, his ability doesn’t work on every last person he bumps into. I’ve felt the pull, but never enough to listen, so I’ll handle him. If we’re lucky, he doesn’t want the Legion to succeed. If he is aligned with us that much, we might make headway and have him work his magic on one of the higher-ranking officers.”
“To what end? You think they’ll turn back because one man says so?” Litheiuss answered, in tune with Jaium more than the wolf had thought.
Orathone shook his head, “If it can make even a temporary opening in the fight, then we will have the upper hand. As it stands, we don’t have the force in numbers, but I don’t think they have much on their side that can match the three of us.”
“What of the Shade?” Jaium questioned.
“The Shade?”
He met the buck’s gaze and let only a moment of hesitation hold them, “That creature that attacked him. It came to us when the Wyse was ill. If that thing wasn’t on the side of the Legion, then we’re contending with one to rival the Goredrinker.”
The revelation left every muzzle empty of words. Each one in the tent exchanged glances, attempting to find some answer that wasn’t forthcoming. Reluctantly, Orathone allowed his own mind to be known, “If we face another front to this war, it’s no different than what we already find ourselves standing against. If we can help it, we will fight through the days and find safety in the night among fire light. This creature, Imfay referred to it as Amirot, seems only to conduct itself in the darkest of depths. If we can thwart it, it will be by light and the day. A shame that fox of your lands is not about.”
“Tell it on Derius if ever you see him,” Jaium hissed before continuing out of the tent. Greshalin followed shortly behind, half unsure if he might go in search of Imfay, a little more than half worried her countrymen had given over their arms entirely to the Cubs. Jaium was no stranger to being followed and whirled on the woman instantly, “Priestess or not, I will not carry a shadow less I ask. What do you want?”
“That’s an ice ax.”
“Yeah, and it’ll do damn well in taking off a head.”
“Did my uncle leave all of our arms with you?”
“What?” Jaium scoffed, showing the first hint of humor he had in days, “No, he left a deal of them here, and when your wagons cut into the curtain of night, they abandoned more so the myters weren’t overburdened, but I’m sure they still have a good many spears.”
Relief rushed through Greshalin, and she pressed her paws down the sides of her head with a hefty sigh before permitting a faint smile at the rugged old wolf. The faint grin that had played across Jaium’s lips came to full prominence before he let an authentic chuckle flirt with his muzzle, “Your uncle, he’s a strange one, but he’s no fool, darlin’. In the old days, my days, I was nearer your age than my own; he was no less a kook but all the same sharp as an arrow.”
“Not just his wit?”
“Hardly. The beasts that ran your lot to Roya two score cycles ago weren’t worn away by my countrymen alone. Your uncle, for all his humor, is a braver man than most give credit, and a bit better than myself when it comes down to things,” the sentiment was meant to sustain itself as the Baylen whirled about and back on his path, but before he was another few paces off Greshalin was at his side.
She kept quiet, keeping an eye out for the elk or any of her company. Had she seen any of the Northern militia, she might have tried to keep Jaium from colliding with them. It wasn’t a sure thing how the Yerra’s power worked, only a vague understanding of what it was. If one of her own came face-to-face with Jaium, she couldn’t be confident that they wouldn’t make some demand of him that left her fellow bruised or worse than and laid across the earth. Fortune smiled upon them as Jaium came to a halt about the tents the bulk of his underlings sat about.
The collection of Cubs were slipping on the light armor knit of shren hides and reptilian scales. Further downriver, where the turncoat bucks likely ended up, the semi-aquatic beasts sported scales that could hardly be broken without applying immense heat first. From breastplate to grieve, the Cubs wore suits that sounded on par with what Orathone had said of their enemies. The archers boasted another procured article from the swamp-dwelling monsters, their venom. They had yet to tip their arrows with the vibrant blue-green honey of those predatory jaws, but each man carried a glass flask at their hip containing it or oil for combustion.
As they watched the Eastern kin put together their armaments and prepare for the Legion, no doubt cresting the far hill soon enough, Jaium remarked, “La’Roux, he doesn’t hear the cry of battle and feel the urge to draw forth the Goredrinker, not at first at least, and if he doesn’t he doesn’t show it. Your uncle, when it comes time for war and battle, looks to those who cannot lift a bow, adorn themselves with armor, or even stand watch over the gates. He is no coward because he sees there is more to be done than having his blade meet another.”
Greshalin hadn’t a single thought to match Jaium’s admonition. He hadn’t let a note of his otherwise sarcastic demeanor touch his words, which only perturbed the lynx all the more. She let his voice fade between them before resting her paw on his shoulder despite the height difference. The Baylen had no reaction to her but watched on more intently as the multitude of his warriors began to rise and fall into ranks at the middle of the camp. There was work to be done, and Gresh knew she had her own duties to fulfill, including wrangling her men back beneath her call, but she let slip a little more to the old wolf, “I’m sorry about all the troubles I’ve caused between you and Raz.”
“The boy’s like his father where it stands, but let’s hope he’s got that nerve where it counts.”
“I worry he’s more like my uncle.”
“He certainly isn’t what I’ve tried to train,” Jaium sighed, “Let’s hope whoever he’s twin to that he uses it well.”
The Baylen shuffled off to organize his fighters and order the young boys who had stuck close despite the exodus of camp followers to break down tents and other necessities. Even from afar, Gresh heard his first command. They would be ready for the line to break once the Legion had the means to cross. When they surged, the Cubs would serve as the buffer between attack and retreat. It pained Greshalin to know that even without the influence Imfay would have put on him, Jaium had his mind set on death in lieu of those who had come to them for protection.
The night was growing quickly to dawn, and Gresh was certain that come light, she would have to work all her spirits to force a break between the invading army and those she called friends. Though it might easier permit the Western horde to cross, she had plans for the river that would break their charge and cut their numbers. If it wasn’t enough to convince the Baylen or her own countrymen to retreat when the line was lost, then nothing would be.
That thought of the rising sun came almost instantly as an immense glow flitted into the periphery of her sight. To her side, Orathone examined and sheathed a dainty blade that emitted an unearthly glow that could have been a star hammered flat and set into hilt. He bobbed his head to her as he secured the Silver Talon to his belt. Soothing as a spring breeze, the buck remarked, “If that great shadow should come against us, perhaps this will do what that fox they speak of could. Its light is something old, something not even scholars in my homeland understood. Now, if only it would work against that one we call a friend.”
“What are we to do about Imfay?”
“Litheiuss is rounding up our forces. I will speak with the Yerra. In the meantime, you should gather your people together, and we’ll form up with the Baylen and his Cubs,” Orathone trailed off as the black plumes of flame began their ascent from behind the far hills to the west. He kept any perturbation from his expression while nodding, “The Legion, they are many and strong. Alone, even with all I might do, I could not stop them. Together, with or without Imfay, we might turn them back beside the river.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Someone must and someone will, else to the Lifeless Grounds with all of us.”
Trazor 
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