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  Without mishap the trail eventually opened itself, the Biridians thinning in the wake of the river. The sound of rushing water played soothingly on the men and at first, they each simply splashed into a trench where the water pooled waist deep. The fresh white foam was remarkably cold and all the more refreshing because of it. Cid placed his armour at the bank and his chest immediately became pinkish in response to the warmth-pinching cold river. None of them cared though, quenching their first, filling their water skins and rinsing the dirt and blood from their bodies.

  They did not tarry or linger, the threat of danger not going to subside any time soon. They used the cloths from the packs to dry themselves and Brunick came up with the idea to use them as cloaks while running in order to dry them out as they moved. Dressed again the men kept to the stream, the water level quickly dwindling to ankle-depth the rest of the way up. In effect they were travelling away from the canyon now.

  Cid expected Brunick to question the plan every step of the way. The fact that he didn’t confirmed how weary they all were. It worried Cid though, Brunick was often the one to disregard rational fear and it was his defiant personality that kept men’s hopes up.

  Either way the water had been empowering, and the rest of the stream upwards accommodated a swift pace. It was crucial to keep to the water, as it eliminated both their tracks and their scent. The act had hazards of its own though. Wet boots and feet were a breeding ground for fungus and infection and Cid made a mental note to warn the men to dry their feet properly when the day was done.

  They were barely a hundred yards further when Girdo cut his foot on a sharp unseen rock in the river bedding, tearing right through his boot.

  They halted at Cid’s behest as Girdo removed the torn boot on the bank, painfully clutching his foot with wincing and curses. Alex, Brunick and Welce watched the perimeter, staring deep into the cavities of the forest for potential enemies. Cid took a look at the wound. Bandaging wasn’t going to help while travelling in the water, apart from that the pain would hamstring Girdo in any case. He looked at Lidayel.

  ‘I have no more healing scrolls Colonel, and I do not have the control I need to risk healing him normally,’ said Lidayel perceptively.

  ‘You must try,’ urged Cid, ‘if the Reavers catch a blood scent in the water then our endeavour will be for nothing.’

  Lidayel consented, knowing that debating the point would not help the cause, hunching as he hovered his hand over Girdo’s foot; there would be no time for fancy herbs or antiseptics.

  Lidayel became a mask of concentration, mumbling an incantation and Cid could not believe he was witnessing a Summoner struggling with a spell that a practiced mage could do effortlessly.

  Nonetheless his endeavour was fruitful, Girdo’s foot repairing itself under a soft rosy light radiating from Lidayel’s hand. It was a blotched healing effort this time to be sure, as the cut became a curious ridge of calluses as it sealed. Girdo was not going to complain though and could voice nothing but thanks as he slipped his tattered boot back on and testing his leg. He smiled in the absence of pain. ‘Perfect,’ he voiced, despite the deformity.

  Cid saw a faint look of personal satisfaction on Lidayel’s face.

  By Cid’s Command Alex took the lead again as they continued upstream.

  ‘Hey Summoner, why do have to sing nursery rhymes while healing? I mean, you weren’t using a scroll just now right?’ asked Brunick.

  Lidayel actually laughed. ‘The words itself are not magical. It is like I explained to Cid, magic is often about feeling. When a musician finds an inspirational a song in his head, he rushes to pen down the notes and words to preserve them. Our incantations work in the same way, the exact feeling needs to be replicated for the magic to work, especially in something as sensitive as healing. We are trained extensively to pair up the right feelings with certain gestures and words that come from the old tongue, so that when uttering them the feelings surfaces as it should. The words are a mental trick, a rhyme like you suggested, to put my arts through the right paces.’

  ‘Good to know, but what of magic that come from scrolls, like that eclipse you made?’ voiced Brunick.

  ‘You raise an important question. Some kinds of powerful spells are prepared beforehand and then bound with very specific rituals or incantations. From a tome or scroll a magician can read or enact the incantation. If successful someone like me can summon a spell through the vast Calophrite channels even if it was prepared thousands of miles away. Although it always takes some energy and control on the practitioners part proportionate to the magnitude of the spell.’

  ‘Guess there’s a lot more to it than what they’ve told us in the briefings,’ complained Brunick.

  ‘We spend many years studying and training Master Mason, do not berate yourself for not understanding all of it in a single exchange,’ said Lidayel.

  ‘You know Summoner, you practiced some pretty good control back there,’ praised Cid.

  Lidayel nodded. ‘It will come with time, for now I have to take it easy, burning down the forest by accident isn’t one of my intentions.’

  ‘It would be great finale though; us, cornered by a thousand Fallen and you Summoner lighting them up! And we’ll all go down together while forest burns to the ground!’ said Brunick in a bout of cynical humour.

  Hmm, Brunick is still vocal, guess I was worried for nothing.

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that Brunick,’ said Cid.

  With a mile behind them they abandoned the stream, turning on the south bank of the river again. They took a quick respite in the cover of some clustered bluegums, eating the last scraps of food from the packs. Cid had to force himself to stand up, the urge to just lie down for a minute becoming stronger. He knew the other men felt the same way.

  Again they mounted the Biridians and this time, having hopefully confused the Reavers, they could make a direct shot for the canyon. They gained that rhythm again, as though they were getting better at jumping through trees. It was only Alex who ever seemed to have a complete hang of it, but it was expected as he had been a scout and forester since childhood.

  They were making solid progress when Cid heard Brunick curse behind him -he was having the most trouble with this treetop path.

  ‘It’s only Cid who can come up with a plan where you find yourself backtracking all the way into enemy territory so that you can escape certain death!’ said Brunick, grunting as he made his jumps.

  Girdo and Welce laughed in response.

  Cid smiled quietly. There it is, I knew he was going to complain.

  At sunset they came to a halt as it was due time for a rest. It was clear for all that they could not continue moving. They settled in the bowl of a big Biridian and Cid watched as the men laid down, each of them asleep within an instant.

  Going to sleep hungry.

  Going to sleep on the knotted branches of a tree.

  Going to sleep with a murderous enemy on the search.

  Cid removed his own armour and weapons, precariously tying them to hang onto a branch to create more space for himself in the bowl.

  Traversing the Biridians had been even trickier than Cid had anticipated. Turns out nature didn’t coordinate Biridians to form a clear cut path for humans. Rather, they had to move in all directions, sometimes backtracking in order to find adjacent Biridians that were at eligible jumping distance. It was nerve wracking as well, making leaps from a tree to another, three dozen feet in the air with enemy patrols ignorantly passing by underneath. Of course these facts only caught up with you afterwards.

  Wrought with paranoia Cid almost forced himself to stay awake. Rather he lied on his back with his hands behind his head, his eyelids heavy. The Reavers could so easily track them down, climb the trees and kill them in their sleep.

  This was about as safe as they could get though and he could not afford not sleeping. Cid tried to press on, tried thinking about Lanston, about the army, about Elmira. Instead, his body took over and
threw him into slumber.

  Chapter 23

  Tidings

 

  Stelinger lingered, slowing down his horse so that eventually he became detached from the marching mammoth that was the Lanston army. Alongside him were Piatil and his personal mage, Reighler, disguised as a Sekhaimogist.

  They came to a complete halt as they were joined by a rider coming down the west side ramp. The rider was dressed in Lanston armour, but like the mage he wasn’t a man loyal to the Kingdom.

  ‘Report,’ said Stelinger.

  ‘Both companies are destroyed sir, but there is no sign of Cid’s body…’

  ‘Explain this,’ said Stelinger, his temper coming to a boil instantly.

  ‘Their scouts picked up early on the Fallen. Cid went to aid Olum like you expected him to. Only thing is, with the combined strength of the companies Cid was able halt the Fallen ambush and escape right past them. That eclipse in the sky didn’t help either.’

  ‘What was that thing, was it the Priests’ doing?’ asked Stelinger angrily.

  ‘No sir, apparently the Fallen cornered a Forgotten Summoner on some conclave assignment. His powers were still non-coherent so he ended up creating that eclipse, sucking the daylight right out of the sky. The Reavers caught up with the soldiers after they escaped of course - they killed most of the men, but Cid…’

  ‘What about Brunick?’ asked Stelinger.

  ‘No sign of him either Commander, but that doesn’t mean that they are alive.’

  Stelinger was fuming. Cracks were appearing in his plan. Already it was well known that Bennam was murdered. The assassin screwed up. And now Cid might still be alive as well…

  ‘Believe me, they’re still out there and are probably travelling with the Summoner now. Go back, tell the Priests to fan out and hunt down Cid and his men.’

  ‘I understand Commander, but what if Cid enters the canyon also? The Fallen can’t follow him then lest we force an unwanted encounter.’

  ‘We will kill him on sight as well; I’m going to assign the Rade’Remar hunter party to track along the forest border. Cid of House Rogana has just become a traitor to the Kingdom and an enemy of the Lanston army.

  The fake soldier saluted and made way, retracing his steps into the forest.

  Piatil gave Stelinger a cold look, one that did not hide discontent. ‘The men respect Cid, Stelinger. They will not be so easily convinced that he is a traitor.’

  ‘You are right on that, but it’ll help them to know that he was involved in Bennam’s murder,’ said Stelinger confidently, ‘send word to Lanston, warn them of Cid with all haste.’

  Chapter 24

  A Meeting Perchance

  Something was going on at the Sagril residence, something other than Elmira that is, causing a much greater stir than she could ever hope for, and putting a strain on Fredrere’s face that was good to see.

  A week later Elmira was once again waiting in Sagril’s lounge. She was fuming, so angry that she pictured herself strangling Fredrere. I wouldn’t get far though.

  Being angry however gave her the edge over grief. She had signed herself over to marriage just like she had promised. It was a done deal, there was no escape now. Fredrere however had shown reluctance in assembling a force to send after Cid. His first excuses had been dreamed up nicely: “it’s a warzone; I need clearance before I can send any men in.”

  He could have told me these little nuances before I signed the paper!

  Elmira though knew that he shouldn’t have had much trouble getting authorization from the Dauflon of Lanston.

  As it turned out he wasn’t really bothered about his end of the deal and she had come today to confront him over it. For now however Elmira was gripped with curiosity, the novelty of it tangling with her hotheadedness. Something else was definitely afoot here:

  Upon entering Elmira stumbled onto a scene of Fredrere arguing with well-dressed men right there in foyer, the confronters’ backs covered by uniform cloaks of a rustic maroon; grand, tall and warrior like, maybe even royalty if Elmira didn't know of better. Spotting her past the faces of his visitors Fredrere waved her into the lounge and took the discussion upstairs.

  Sounds like Fredrere’s in a spot of trouble, good for him, thought Elmira maliciously, wondering at the same time who those men were.

  It wasn’t a long wait before the men in the maroon cloaks came down again. Fredrere did not follow on the stairway and Elmira steeled herself to storm into his office if she needed to. Her idea was interrupted by these maroon cloaked men though, their attentions blocking her way.

  Face to face with them Elmira could not hide her surprise, the look of Fredrere’s nervous face suddenly understandable. There were five of these men, and on the chest of each of their tunics was a coat of arms that could belong to only one force in the Kingdom; the Rangers of the Conclave.

  What would they be doing here?

  They were well groomed, their tunics and leggings a fine cut in the place of the armours they reputedly wore in battle. Each of them did carry a sword though, the hilts and scabbards well visible at their waists.

  ‘Are you the lady Elmira of Merrigil?’ prodded the leader, a man with dark hair and a stern face.

  ‘I am,’ said Elmira faintly, a torrent of fears flooding her thoughts.

  What have I done?

  ‘My name is Olexion, First of the Rangers. Whatever business you have with Fredrere can wait. Please come with me, I suspect we have some equal interests to discuss,’ said the man formally.

  Without being disrespectful there was no question in the man’s tone. He was essentially ordering her.

  For a moment Elmira wanted to refuse, fearing the whole thing a ploy by Fredrere. Yet she felt the man had something important to say and allowed her to be led out of Sagril’s residence. Elmira had to admit that even in the most frustrating of circumstances that being escorted by a company of Rangers was a unique feeling, their dress ensuring that they were not mistaken as anything less than remarkable for even a single moment.

  ‘Do you know of a place where we can sit down in comfort and talk sensibly?’ asked Olexion.

  Elmira thought hard, still wishing to judge the men she walked with.

  ‘There is a coffee house just down the road, it is expensive though,’ said Elmira, looking up at the leader. Doing so, she felt her quest to maybe expose these men had little merit. They were, to her eyes, true Rangers, if only for the reason that they were giving Fredrere some grief just a moment ago.

  ‘That’ll be fine, money is not a problem,’ said the leader without a thought.

  Elmira usually attracted a healthy number of glances and today she did all the more so as the Kingdom's finest guardians escorted her into Ritter’s coffee shop. Elmira asked for a discreet table in one of the corners, rather than her usual spot in the open. Seated, their petite serving girl could hardly hide her nervousness when taking the five men’s orders.

  How do think I’m feeling girl? thought Elmira, as she sat among the warriors.

  It became immediately clear to Elmira that the leader Olexion was not a man to mince words. He didn’t even wait for their drinks to arrive to start talking. He was clear-cut and precise and the story he told was a great confession of conspiracy.

  ‘Do you know why we are here?’ asked Olexion.

  Elmira shook her head.

  ‘You are involved with Colonel Cid of Rogana, is that correct?’ said Olexion.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Elmira, not at all liking where this was going.

  ‘Then you knew Commander Bennam, or at least heard of him?’

  ‘Yes, I knew him personally,’ said Elmira, wondering if she was going to have to start lying at some point to protect Cid or herself from some imaginary prosecution that was taking post in her head.

  Olexion was silent for a while, looking at Elmira steely, making his judgment.

  What is it already!?

  He then elaborated: ‘My men and myself were assig
ned to investigate the recent death of Commander Bennam of Alon. We came from Asheva by flight, first securing the scene. There was little for us to investigate as far as the killer is concerned, but our pathologist took to the deceased and confirmed murder by poison.’

  He let the statement sink.

  ‘So he really was murdered…’ murmured Elmira, ‘will you be able to find the killer?’

  ‘From the little evidence we could procure it was a hopeless pursuit to begin with, nonetheless we’ve all but abandoned the chase and delegated that responsibility down to local authorities.’

  ‘Really? Why would you?’ asked Elmira.

  ‘Because, strange as this may sound, we found that identifying the killer was the least of our problems. As you might guess the sheer magnitude of Bennam’s death gave us incentive to have a closer look, especially into the old Commander’s records. I had expected to find some oddities, such was Bennam, but I was a bit thrown when I realized the Commander was utilizing every last ounce of his authority shortly before his death.’

  ‘Umm, sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but right now there are very few things I really care about, what is it that I-?’

  ‘The Lanston military has been compromised,’ stated Olexion quickly to get Elmira's attention, ‘there was a betrayal, and we are not sure what fate waits for the Lanston men deployed on Operation Biridian.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Elmira, wondering if the letter she got proclaiming Cid’s death had something to do with this. Could it have been right?

  ‘We got our first report from Commander Stelinger only recently. He stated that some of the soldiers turned traitor and sold out the army to the Fallen. He was adamant that these men would most likely have been connected to Bennam’s murder as well. According to the Commander your beloved, Colonel Cid, seems to be the centrepiece of this, travelling with likeminded companions and by the account a rogue Summoner as well,’ said Olexion.

  Elmira leaned forward, her eyes wide. ‘No! You don’t know Cid, the army is his entire life! He would never-’

  ‘I did not mean to imply any betrayal on his part, my lady,’ said Olexion.

  ‘What then?’ asked Elmira.