The Second Front

Resting his back against the cart, Avii felt the same as he did before the assault on the prison two weeks prior. Anxious and on edge, he yet again watched as his captors assessed the situation beyond the ridge, discussing their next moves carefully. Ostave and Sebastian lay prone beside each other, peering through their spyglasses at what was said to be a distant combat zone. Though Avii had no idea exactly what they were seeing, the trails of smoke and dust rising from the earth gave him a sense of the destruction before them.

With a glance down the length of his armour, Avii inhaled a deep breath before tapping the arcanzcore. Eying the bright green colour of the runes, he confirmed that it was at maximum magical capacity. As he did this, the smell of smoke met his nostrils. The wafting acrid scent was tainted by the sharp, pungent odour that followed massive amounts of discharged magic. The warzone was still miles away, but he could smell it as though it were just over the hill. Never had such a powerful odour tainted his senses, not even during his time in the mines.

“Mule,” Ostave spoke from his prone position, suddenly drawing Avii’s attention. “To my side.”

“What’s the mule going to do?” Sebastian growled. “Carry your confusion, sire?”

“Leave him be. He’s from this realm after all. He may know what we’re looking at.”

Avii froze for a moment as Ostave's words sank in. Unsure if it had been a slip of the tongue or a purposeful mention of his humanity, the man waited for the correction to come. He watched as everyone directed their attention towards Ostave, who continued to look forward as though nothing were wrong. But at least one of those along the ridge would not let the comment slide.

“He?” Sebastian replied with a disgust lacing the word like a bitter venom. “Sire, you appear to have misspoken about the mule. It may have the parts of man, but it’s still a beast.”

“Don’t forget, Gynour, that that beast, as you call him, saved your ass in the woods. Saved all of our asses in those woods.”

“Last, I recall, Sire, I didn’t ask to be saved by some beast of burden.”

“And yet he did it anyway.” Ostave finished, turning his head towards the frozen Avii. “Mule, what’s the hold up? To my side!”

“Y-Yes, Sire,” Avii sputtered as he continued forward. “Right away.”

As he approached, Sebastian stood from the Knight’s side and glared Avii’s way. His gaze was cold, filled with hate and disgust at the mere presence of the mule, let alone the conversation that had just occurred. With a breath, he spat in the man’s direction before marching his way back down the hill and towards the carriage. But Avii ignored the gynour as he wrestled with the strange respect he had been given. While he did not believe Ostave to be a friend, the fact of the matter was that both he and Vivat had recently shown him a sliver of humanity. This made him question his standing in the group. Made him wonder what was going on with them that he may not be aware of.

Pushing that thought away, Avii crawled to his stomach before approaching Ostave’s side. From there, poking his head past the ridgeline, he looked out over the fields of golden grains that would have been nearly ready for a harvest. With a gentle gust, the wind blew overtop them, causing hollow straw to bow and recoil, casting the illusion of silvery waves rolling across the plain. And, just beyond the picturesque fields, out of clear sight, Avii could see the distant fight revealing itself as brief flashes of magical light and dense clouds of smoke.

“Take this,” Ostave spoke, handing Avii the glass he had seen the man use in his last observation. “And look ahead. Tell me what you see.”

Avii took a moment to inspect the lens before holding it up to his good eye. As he did, he watched small glyphs ignite around the edges of the glass, forcing the magic into the object and enhancing the image through it. In an instant, he could see the distant fighting as though it were just beneath the hill he rested upon.

Focusing on a particular segment of the smoke and dust, he set his gaze upon a long line of trenches layered three deep. Forms like ants rushed to-and-fro, shoring up defences before using weapons to sling bolts of magic into the distant haze. Stabilized siege weapons fired arcanzcore rounds into the clouds, striking distant foes that cast large, slender shadows. Before long, the defensive line began to split, as a boulder appeared through the veil of destruction, crushing a dozen or more with ease before rolling to a stop.

“What do you think it could be, mule?” Ostave asked, a genuine interest in his voice. “Some sort of beast native to your land?”

“Maldain had no such creatures before its fall,” Avii answered swiftly as he continued trying to get a good look at the monsters obfuscated by dust. “So, if it is, I know nothing of it.”

With a shift of the lens, Avii glanced down the long stretch of dug earth before reaching a heavy firefight. As bolts flew from Kovik weapons, piercing the clouded barrier, a torrent of flame returned their way. Like streams of gushing water, it washed over the line, quickly consuming those lucky enough to be directly before it. As for those just beyond the reach, they scattered like insects set ablaze. Their bodies alight as they fled, spreading hungry flames to anything it could catch before eventually collapsing.

Avii once again focused his sight on a single spot, hoping to catch a glimpse of the powerful combatant. But even as the monster approached the Kovik front, he could not make out its form. It moved slowly, the flames distorting the air around it, keeping it hidden from sight.

“There,” Avii remarked, handing the tool back to Ostave and pointing in the direction of the fight. “Whatever it is can wield magic. So, it is not simply a beast.”

“Hmm,” Ostave added, peering through the lens. “So, it would seem we have a second front with another magical force.”

“Another nation from beyond the sea?” Aindes asked the Knight from over Avii’s shoulder. “Or could it be possible there’s Kovik infighting? We know how delicate their governmental structure can be. We could be seeing a coup or rebellion.”

“It is possible. Though the latter is far more likely. From what the prisoners were saying, there had been a lot of discussion that the Kovika Republic was crumbling under the control of their Gilded King. We could be seeing a splinter faction fighting for control over Mount Maldain.”

“But who controls it now?”

“Impossible to tell at this distance. Regardless of who it is, Kovika holds what we seek.”

With that, Ostave lowered the lens and glanced to Avii. He inspected the man closely, eying his face before giving his body an investigatory glance. Finally drawing his attention back to the single eye, Ostave revealed a weakened smile.

“Very good, mule.” He spoke reassuringly. “I appreciate your input. Now tell me, are you good to keep moving? Or do you need more rest?”

Avii eyed the man suspiciously, his kindness and concern not going unnoticed. They had not been together long enough for there to be companionship, nor should he have been showing him sympathy. He was still a mule after all. This alone sent even more uncomfortable pangs of anxiety through his body as he retreated down the hill.

“No, Sire,” Avii replied before climbing back to his feet. “I am well enough to move and, in fact, recommend we do so to be clear of this place before dark.”

“Why’s that?” Ostave asked, gathering himself and following Avii’s moves. “Nervous about the line?”

At this, Avii shook his head. Though the man had not yet said it, he roughly knew where they were. It was not because he had travelled here before, or because he recognized a landmark. It was due to the trees that the soldiers had insisted he stop. They were gnarled and aged. The tips of the branches sharpened like needles and the leaves attached to them curled and cracked as though the cold winter had already arrived. The Maldainians had called them Hag Brambles, and wherever a thicket of them rested, an entrance was close.

“We are near a lair and should move.”

“A lair?” Vivat asked. “What type of lair?”

“Hers.” Avii hissed, turning his head back towards the darkening woods. “The Witch of the Caves.”

“I’ve never heard of a Witch of the Caves,” Ostave replied with a tilt of his head. “Is this some sort of mule thing?”

“Aye,” Avii nodded as he returned to the carriage and began to hook himself into it. “Maldain is covered in ancient lava tubes thought to once connect the farthest reaches of our land to the mountain itself. But you see, they are haunted by a creature so foul that just to step beyond the threshold of her cave warranted a sacrifice.”

“Sounds like mule folklore.” Aindes joined in. “Yours were a superstitious bunch.”

Avii nodded, not disagreeing. But he knew this story to be true, having experienced it firsthand once before. He had been but a young colt, fresh to his MULE and having spent less than a year in the mines. His supervisor, a mature man of his fifties, not much older than Avii was now, had been working with him in clearing Shaft Four. An arcanzcore charge had been laid and ultimately uncovered an adjoining cave system.

He could still remember the horrible sucking sound of air being drawn into the newly revealed passage. As though the earth had taken in a thirsty gulp of his surroundings before exhaling the putrid stench of decay. The man’s eyes grew wide in an instant as he turned to Avii, throwing him from the opening. To that day, he still remembered the cackles. The sinister laugh of an ancient evil, disturbed and demanding of an offering. And, by the time Avii crawled back to his feet, his mentor was gone, leaving only the laughs that echoed deep within the darkness.

“We may be,” Avii replied, taking hold of the bar he used to pull the carriage. “But I’d rather not rest long here regardless. I recommend we continue east until we find a break in these front lines for us to cross. By my estimate, the Mountain is still a week’s travel from here.”

With that, Ostave approached Avii and looked into his eye, investigating him closely. It appeared that he wanted to say something, looking to correct the mule or reprimand him. But again, he chose to let his temper settle before moving away. Boarding the carriage with the others, he called out to the missing Sebastian, who rejoined the group a moment later. Then, with all in attendance, Avii moved on, cutting east along the southern end of the Forest of Bones and towards the Sea of Regret.