Marching

Estrild’s army left the camp before sunrise. The goblins had already said their goodbyes last evening, so it was an efficient muster once the horn was blown. They began at a decent pace for the short-legged species, bleeding into the forest along single-file footpaths.

At the front were the few who had the luxury of mounts, while to the back were the supply donkeys. These were few in number, and would only feed the army for a couple of nights. Also at the back was Farnus’s wagon, where he kept the crossbows and their ammunition.

The doctor had offered Mel a seat beside him on the wagon, but she had declined. Her anatomy made it difficult to sit on chairs with backs to them. Anyway, she was used to walking. She had always gone barefoot, but Estrild had convinced her to at least where the wraps. Later, she would come to regret this decision.

At first Mel had walked up front with the leaders, and she even managed to make some conversation with Estrild. She spoke a little about the apiary and her sisters, of which there had been 56. It was difficult to talk about sometimes, since she recognised them by scent and not name, but she managed to explain how she had come to associate the smell of her closest sibling to the stars. They had watched the sky together whenever they had the chance.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, she had realised that walking at the front would tire her too quickly. Slowly, she dropped back down the column. Her feet were well-calloused, and she was used to walking a good amount per day, so there was no problem for now. She let herself enjoy stepping through the woods alongside the goblins. They kind of smelled, but honestly so did she.

By the tracker’s estimates, 15 miles had been made by the time they stopped before a river for lunch. It was surprisingly good time. Though their strides were short, the goblins had great stamina. Mel sat and ate hard biscuits, while Estrild and Gruffudd talked a little about the Cerneish kingdom, and joked about some old rivalry the prince had with his sister (who was apparently as accomplished a spear-holder as he was, despite the King wishing she took a more traditional life).

Fording the river took little time. Mel offered to help push the cart along the smooth riverbed pebbles, and stayed with the crossbowmen once they were back moving. Groups rotated to push down any stout plants in the carriage’s way, or help it through difficult terrain. Since Farvus was the only one Mel had to talk to, they inevitably slid into conversation.

She asked, “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s it like at university? Do you learn to write there? Or is it where they make crossbows or other evil weapons.”

“Evil indeed, to those on the wrong end!”, Farvus laughed, touching one of his crossbows. “University is different from school, my lady. Learned men study things on their own, or are guided like apprentices by masters in their field. Unfortunately, my university, that of Flemnium, did not provide doctorates in engineering. I got mine in Astronomy!”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“It’s the study of the the sky. Our Heaven system, other planets, and the stars beyond.”

Mel beamed. “Oh, I love the sky! I’ve spent so long looking up at Heaven, Rebirth and Hell, when it is visible. Seeing it all calms my mind. The power of Heaven unmoving, and the sun racing around it all…”

“Dear, I’m afraid to tell you that the sun does not move; it is Heaven which moves around the sun.”

Mel wrinkled her forehead. “But, Earth and Heaven are both in fixed places, since Heaven never moves from its place in the sky.”

Her feet were starting to hurt a little from the walking, but she could easily distract herself through conversation. Farnus sat at about her head-height, meaning speaking wasn’t awkward at all.

Farvus shook his head. “Do they teach you this gobbledygook in the West? Well, they teach the same in the East and the South, even though caelocentrism had been disproven for about as long as we’ve been without Elves… No, lady, Heaven orbits the sun, and we orbit Heaven.”

“They didn’t teach me anything. This is what my mother told me, and she’s a hundred years old”, Mel protested, though she knew Farvus must be right. “What is an 'orbit', anyway?”

Farvus coughed, before explaining: “So, every planet and moon has air. But if you climb a mountain, the air gets thinner. Once you are high up enough, there must be no air at all. This lets the fundamental forces of the planets act against each other without anything to slow them down. It’s like, I don’t know - weights on a canvas.”

“The smaller weights will follow the depression of the bigger ones, and curve around. In the case of the solar system, there is no friction to slow the balls down, so the balls follow the depression forever. Our planet is a tiny ball which goes around a the bigger ball of Heaven, which goes around the big ball of the Sun. This is what is happening on an astronomical scale every day. We call this gravity.”

Mel frowned. “That doesn’t make much sense. It’s not intuitive at all.”

“I suppose not. But this is ancient knowledge. They try and suppress it, but all one has to do is apply mathematics to the stars, and the modern model is clear. It’s probably why every university still standing only teaches Theology and Magic. They do not allow natural science, philosophy, or real history beyond genealogies.”

“What about your university? Are they the exception?”, Mel asked.

Farvus sighed, leaning forward onto the frame where the reigns rested. “My university doesn’t exist anymore, dear. The New Empire sacked Flemnium when they conquered our Republic. All my esteemed colleagues, the best minds in the world, are probably working in silver mines right now, their naked bodies wasting away in those horrific pits. Well, the humans probably have it better, but all the goblins were killed or enslaved.”

Mel’s heart sank. The thought of a place of education accessible to people like her had seemed like a light of hope, at first (well, the university wouldn’t have allowed women anyway).

“I’m so sorry. That’s heartbreaking”, she said sincerely, putting a hand to her chest. “I understand why you are here to fight now.”

Farvus nodded, but it seemed he didn’t want to revisit bad memories. “Anyway, back to the solar system... I haven’t gotten to the really interesting bits: Earth’s unnaturally eccentric orbit, which by all models should have been corrected thousands of years ago, and the amazing regularity of comet transfers between the moons of Heaven and the different planets themselves… of which there are five others, by the way.”

Mel was rather engaged by his explanations, though she understood little of it. Soon the walking began to steal her attention, so Farvus promised to explain things better when they had time. He also offered to help with her literacy.

She managed to keep walking fine through the afternoon, but by dusk she really began to flag. Despite her thickly-calloused feet, painful blisters had formed and already gone dry. She had another biscuit, and let Farvus try to explain the auroras through his theory of Elvish magic.

It was light enough to navigate at night, especially since the forest had become thinner, but the army still slowed down. Mel was beyond talking or caring about their pace. By this point her feet were bloodied, and her ankles swollen. She couldn’t talk.

It was just one foot in front of the next. She passed some goblins who’d had an accident in the dark, but didn’t even think to stop and help them, such was her weariness. When she saw the lights of the Hold on a distant hill, she wondered if she was hallucinating.

Director Jared – The Hold.

The Director stood atop the highest tower in his castle, which rested atop the invincible granite of the tor, gazing through a magically-lensed eyeglass at the advancing army. He had already changed from his Guild robes to wool under-armour, so that it would only take a few minutes to strap into his harness if necessary.

“There’s less than what the people from the road claimed”, he said to his close friend standing behind him.

The white-haired wizard, named Michael, nodded. He had been Jared’s friend since childhood, though before the wizard had arrived here, they had not met in a decade. Both were of common birth, and had taken different paths to escaping torturous peasant life. Jared did now envy Michael a little, since the wizard looked no older than he had a decade ago, while the Director was already greying.

Michael was not yet a witch, but he would certainly become one, whether in a decade or ten. The only proof that he hadn’t attained it was the age lingering on his skin, and the lack of magic eyes. Jared knew his friend would outlive him by millennia. Such was the price of choosing the second path, that of mortal matters (certainly, Jared didn’t resent his job).

The wizard said, “My glass might not be exposing all of them. The trees could be getting in the way, and that witch is using magic to conceal herself – you can feel the frequency of stealth magic, if you are trained.”

Jared nodded. “Still, it’s nowhere near enough of a force to attack the castle, unless one of those idiot adventurers lets them in. They’ll disperse into the settled countryside and try to starve us out.”

He looked down to the town. They’d tried to muster the adventurers and organise them into some kind of military force, but those arrogant narcissists wouldn’t take orders unless they were hired. He’d almost shouted at them that even if the walls weren’t breached, prolonged supply raiding or a siege would necessitate resource discipline. At least they weren’t drinking tonight.

Cerne was what the Guild described as a ‘Low Level Zone’. It wasn’t meant to be dangerous. Basically, this is where the weaker adventurers would hang out to make their coin. Anyone of skill beyond a bog-standard mercenary, or any wizard who had finished their training and education, would be in greener pastures, like the orcish tribal lands still occupied by coalition forces in the North, or the Demon Lord’s Deadlands. So, maybe those weren’t exactly greener, but definitely more profitable.

Despite the assumed safety of his post, Jared was a professional, and had always planned for the possibility of an organised resistance against the Hold. He was to make sure the Guild’s money-making operations were preserved to the greatest extent as possible. Great amounts of grain were stored high in the castle, enough to feed 300 for months, long enough for knights from the Earldom to come to relieve them.

A lot was worrying him now, but atop everything else was the amount of settlers coming to the castle to hide. Some rider had told every hamlet in the newly settled lands about the army, and now they were all at his gate. He had already let about a hundred in, and knew he couldn’t keep the rest out, even if he didn’t want to open his doors with the enemy so close. It wasn’t even the mouths to feed that he was worried about, but the strain on the water and sewage. Disease was a threat.

He watched them amassed at the gates; more arrived by the minute, just in time before the Witch’s army would cut them off. Though Jared knew they were a tactical liability, he wasn’t a heartless highborn. He knew the terror they were feeling.

“Let them in, but quickly. I want the doors shut the moment the goblins are at that ridge.”

Michael nodded, and relayed the order down to a lieutenant at the gates. They opened, letting the refugees flood in. Jared’s eyes turned to the large slave camp, and he frowned.

He said, “You advised earlier to put the monsters to the sword, and though I disagreed then because of the loss of merchandise… Hmm, I’m just worried about that witch, what was her name again?”

“Estrild”, replied the wizard. “It’s good to be cautious. She claims a lot of things, including that she follows the ancient Witch-King. But, though she has proven strong in magic, she hasn’t yet shown any skill in command.”

“She must have some experience, or she wouldn’t be leading this”, Jared grumbled. “I want all the birds in the aviary out tonight. You might be able to sense a certain type of magic, but the night-shadows cast by the tors are long and pitch black, giving them opportunities to sneak up from the South or East.”

“All our birds are already out”, Michael reassured him. “Though the coverage isn’t perfect, it not far off.”

Jared nodded. “Good. That leaves us with the buried crossbows and that damned Inquisitor.”

“Keep them underground, for now”, advised Michael. “You haven’t seen those dogs at work. They’ll take your head for the wrong books, even. If they see newly turned soil and have a suspicion, they will rip the whole street up.”

Jared frowned further than he was already doing. He stared South, imagining he could see those temple bastards riding towards him.

“But what if the witch does attack tonight? We’ll be without our best weapons”, he sighed.

“I don’t see why she would choose to. She doesn’t know the adventurers are this disorganised”, Michael said. “Let’s wait until the Inquisitor runs into her, and hopefully they kill each other.”

Jarred nodded. He turned, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Maybe this is a stroke of luck. That Inquisitor was coming here to try and sabotage the Guild’s whole operation out here. He’ll run into that witch, and then… good riddance.”

Michael smiled. “And then, once we are relieved by the Earl's forces, adventurers will hear of the battle and flock here. There’ll be more funding as well. All we have to do is stay inside the Hold for a month or two, and we win. Thank Heaven the Witch-King built the town walls so thick.”

“To the Witch-King’s engineering!”, Jared exclaimed, and celebrated towards Heaven.