Nythe (1)

A golden-orange light crested over the horizon bringing with it the dawn. And the players in the drama that was to be the Battle of Nythe had already taken to the stage.

Roy, Gray and Beau were stationed on the main road preparing to head toward the encampment Luvall had established. They would serve as decoys of a sort, for at least as long as they could make the ruse last, since reports of their defection had never made it back to camp.

While the trio played that role Sahaela would create a clinging mist to fall upon the encampment before investigating the remaining buildings while Midori and Rune waited for the signal of which ones—if any—held captives.

After that it would fall to Midori to free any captives they found while Rune dealt with the guards.

Yet while they in the dense brush at the edge of the Luvall encampment—concealed within the large and wide leaves of the bushes there—a pit of anxiety settled in Midori’s gut, a feeling like there was something they had missed.

But Rune’s comforting hand on hers soothed the swell of anxiety, she smiled at him before turning her eyes to their target.

“Is Luvall known to take prisoners?” She asked, tension of the silence having become near unbearable.

“Historically just women. But I suspect they’ve been using captured villagers as workers,” he pointed to a nearby longhouse that—by the look of the sawdust at the base—was only recently constructed.

“I hope so, we could use all the help we can get in the fight.”

And almost on cue Midori watched as the trio walked into the town feigning mild injuries indicative to having lost a battle. A pair of soldiers walked toward them exchanging a brief bit of conversation before standing aside and letting them through.

And unbeknownst to those soldiers, the Battle of Nythe had begun.

-----

Roy leaned heavily on Gray in feigned injury while the trio slowly approached the gate. Theatrics and trickery had never been his specialty but he seemed to sell it well enough for the guards to let them through.

“Not as difficult as you thought eh Roy?” Beau whispered with a barely visible smirk.

“Cut the snark,” Gray snapped. “Don’t let your guard down for a single second.”

They made their way to the medical tent taking note of the rather large expansion that had happened in such a short amount of time; an entire longhouse had been constructed with the beginnings of another already underway in addition to an array of hunting that was in the process of being tanned, dried, or eaten.

All built on the rubble of the half dozen domed earth homes that were destroyed in the city's taking.

“There’s no chance they’re moving this fast with just the soldiers we had.” Roy’s voice was heavy with a mixture of regret, guilt and anger.

“I agree, no doubt they’re using captives.” Gray said quietly while the man he was carrying let out a loud, theatrical groan.

Rune had struck Roy in the ribs before they parted, and though the injury was not serious it was already starting to bruise.

Moving across the encampment no longer came with the patriotic joy it had when they had been undergoing training, but the land they now walked was stained with innocent blood leaving grim patches of mud like pockmarks on the terrain.

The medical tent was where it was when they landed. A large grey canvas tent a stones throw from the port they arrived at, one of the few remnants of the city that had been here before them.

Roy wondered how long it had been there before their arrival, all the history erased in the span of half a day thanks to the twisted monster that Tarkus had unleashed on the defenceless populace. No, it was not just Tarkus’ pet to blame, he was just as guilty.

With the medical tent relatively empty Roy was deposited by Gray onto a cot before Beau began shouting for a medic; he was a much better actor than either of the other two.

“Don’t worry Roy, we’ll get you all sorted and then get back out and beat that Herald,” Beau said with a squeaky, voice that cracked in feigned panic.

A weary looking man trudged over to the trio, dark bags visible under heavily bloodshot eyes. He had clearly not slept well, or perhaps much at all, in several days.

“The trouble?” His voice was deep and raspy, he coughed quietly into his hand.

“I think my ribs are broken,” Roy lied while groaning loudly to try and sell the performance better.

Leaning in the doctor pulled up Roy’s shirt and examined the bruise that had begun forming there, pressing gently causing Roy to wince in fake pain.

“Hm, seems like only surface damage. Possibly a fracture, but I doubt it.”

“Huh,” Roy said as if surprised by the development. “I guess that Herald was weaker than I thought, or maybe I’m just made of sturdier stuff?” He chuckled lightly while sitting up slowly.

“A Herald, you say?” A sudden voice from the back of the cent sent a chill through Roy’s spine, as a figure in heavy looking spiked charcoal armour stepped from behind the curtain that had been shielding him from view.

“Tell me more about this attack.”

-----

Sahaela had given the signal, only one of the buildings had hostages held within and so Midori and Rune set out for their part of the operation.

The conjured mist clung to the ground like a pesky spiderweb, masking their movement until it was too late.

Taking out the guards was simple enough since the original four guarding the captives had been reduced to simple a duo, the other two heading toward a slate coloured tent near the port as some commotion happened there. She hoped that everything was okay with the three playing decoy.

Rune moved with such speed that he was behind them before they could even register his presence, and with similar speed grabbed their heads smacking them both together with an almost comedic bonk sound.

Creeping up behind him Midori grabbed one of the guards and helped drag them inside.

The heavy smell of grain, honey and the yeasty scent of fermentation in the air and looking around was not hard to see why. Over a dozen clay pots were stacked on a sturdy wooden shelf against the wall furthest from the door; and inside she suspected was the delicious but deadly bubble juice that rendered her incapacitated after a few glasses.

And in the middle of the room tied in a circle to the central pillar were a small group—no more than eight—of darker skinned individuals whose garb Midori recognized as similar to those of the Yanara villagers.

She approached them and they recoiled, as much as they could with their hands and feet so tightly bound. Momentarily hesitating she swallowed the worry in her throat and spoke the word Rune had taught her the night before.

“Kōkua.”

Rune had said it meant help in their language, and she was thankful they seemed to relax ever so slightly though still eyed her suspiciously.

Closing her eyes she took a breath and imagined a blade of water forming in her hand, imagining painting it on the canvas in heavy oils. As she did the water of the air began to coalesce into a razor sharp blade of water, which she used to swiftly cleave through the bindings.

The villagers stood quickly yet kept their distance, but as Rune appeared in the doorway their demeanour relaxed far more and a few seemed to even smile. They spoke in their native language—a language Midori realized she would need to learn if she truly planned to stay—and after a few moments Rune turned to her with a wide smile.

“They are grateful for your help, and those who can will fight with us but only two have the strength.”

Rune pointed to two large men with wide frames and broad shoulders that were adorned with various intricate looking tattoos.

“Okay then,” she said with a grin. “Time for phase two.”