IAmNotTheHero
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Chapter 43
🕑 Added 2021-04-25 10:56:51 +0000 UTCFlint heard Bjorn’s howling and the bloodhounds barks long before he reached the wall. They sounded excited and worried simultaneously. Due to his focus on the fort, Flint hadn’t made much progress with the new dogs. They appeared to follow Maya and Bjorn but still stayed an arm’s length from Flint. They were more responsive to his empathic pushes and pulls, though, and it pleased him.
Some progress is better than no progress.
The trio was crossing the lower Heartstone when Maya came running uphill to meet him. She didn’t greet him with her ears flat and tail wagging like usual. Instead, Maya appeared alert and tense. When Flint offered a head scratch, though, she didn’t reject it. Instead, she used the opportunity to transmit an image to Flint. Unlike the previous information exchanges, the process no longer hurt as long as he kept his eyes closed.
Due to Maya’s height, she registered the horses more than the riders, but there was no doubt about them being from the Iron Army. Sunlight danced off their armour, making it look like they were mages wielding its power. Flags displaying the anvil and hammer fluttered over their heads too. The decorations on them suggested the approaching company consisted of powerful soldiers. Perhaps high-ranking individuals too.
“This isn’t good,” Flint muttered, picking up the pace.
Ed had little trouble keeping up with Flint, but Jerome groaned. The young man carried a fair bit of pudge on his face and around his belly. He’d need to shape up soon if he intended to continue amongst the guards. He had [Two-Handed Weaponry] in his [Power Node], but his clumsiness concerned Flint. If a fight broke out, he worried Jerome would be amongst the first to die.
War wasn’t fair, though. A stray arrow or a freak accident during battle could claim the lives of people as dedicated as Ed or powerful as Winona. Flint strongly believed it was one such accident accompanied by opponents underestimating him that had helped him and Maya prevail so far.
If not for Maya’s speed, stealth, and intelligence, Winona and her party would’ve defeated Flint. Luck and surprise had played a significant role in his victory against Colonel Smith and the Vikings. Now that their numbers were increasing, such methods were no longer reliable. Flint had people to protect and watch over. He wasn’t naïve enough to think future altercations would end without casualties, but he hoped to minimise them as much as possible.
The fort’s entrance had transformed over the last week. When Ed wasn’t with Flint, he’d been visiting the front gate with the new builders. The fort’s carts stood lined up against one of the cliff sides, and stone stables sat opposite it. Two brownies and a teenaged girl had taken over their care, with Seven occasionally visiting them for guidance. The trio would take the horses down to the Verdant Plains’ edge for grazing and exercise regularly. Today, they stood nervously stroking the beasts they cared for.
Flint was pleased to find the other buildings in reasonably good shape too. As instructed, Ed had maintained the twisting roads. It made transporting food to the watch a chore but would be for the best if the outer walls ever fell. The tanner and her apprentice had set up shop in the area too. It made sense to skin and butcher beasts near the walls instead of dragging corpses all the way up to the fort.
Bjorn stopped his yapping when he saw Flint. Unlike Maya, he greeted Flint with his tail wagging. The snowdog wasn’t pleased with a simple head scratch, though. Flint had to give him a proper cuddle before moving on. The bloodhounds continued their baying and barking despite an empathic push to silence them.
“Quick!” Winona yelled from atop the wall. “They’re coming up the slope.”
Maya bounded after Flint as he ran up the stairs. Winona had her hood up, hiding her ears. A hand wave from her was enough to send all the pucks and brownies to the ground level. Only humans, changelings, and one other high fae remained atop the wall.
“Marksman nock your weapons,” Winona commanded. She glanced at the guards at ground level. “Weapons and spells at the ready. We don’t know how this is going to turn out, but it’s for the best if we stay prepared.”
Several ayes echoed through the guards. They appeared nervous but surer with their weapons than they’d been earlier in the week. Flint had heard the more experienced fighters—human and fae—had taken it upon themselves to train the others. Woodson Fort’s soldiers still appeared wary of racial differences but had made more progress than the people above.
When Jerome didn’t follow them up the stairs, Flint assumed the cowardly young man had run off to hide somewhere. Flint saw him in a more positive light when he returned carrying a crossbow. It was bulkier than what Flint used, and instead of a crank, had a simple lever for pulling the string back.
“Adam said he didn’t have the right materials to fix your old one, but we got this as a temporary replacement from the village,” Jerome said. “It isn’t double-stacked like your last one, but should pack more power and has greater range.”
“Thanks, Jerome.” Flint tested the wooden handle, drawing the string. Ed placed a quiver stuffed with bolts at his feet, and Flint loaded it. “It will do. Get in position now.”
The horsemen were halfway up the slope already. Maya’s image was accurate. The decorated and polished armour, the flags, and the gorgeous mounts suggested the riders weren’t people to be trifled with.
“Are those the Iron Inquisitors?” Ed asked, tightening his grip on the short spear.
“I wish I could tell you they weren’t,” Flint whispered. He loaded the crossbow and propped it up against the ramparts. He didn’t think it smart to address the approaching force with a weapon in hand. Flint glanced at Winona’s shadow-covered limbs. “I thought you were a moon mage.”
“I will be once the sun has disappeared over the disk’s edge and the moon is in the sky,” she replied. “My spells bend the shadows to my will during daytime.”
The horsemen slowed when Flint waved at them. They didn’t return the gesture, but the leading pair—a man and a woman—removed their helmets. He didn’t recognise either of them. It was for the best. The Building Division’s higher-ups claimed nothing good ever came of talking to an inquisitor, let alone befriending one. They were chosen by the Iron Church or Council and were an extension of their will.
When the leading woman raised a fist, the other horsemen slowed to a stop. She and her companion continued their ascent up the slope at a steady gallop. A long staff sat slung across her back. The male rider carried a long kite shield and mace with spiked phalanges. They wore the Iron Army’s signature swords on their belts too. It was a detail Colonel Smith had failed to enforce on the Vikings.
Despite [Keen Eye]’s ocular enhancements, Flint struggled to study the horsemen at the waiting horsemen. The sunlight reflecting off their polished armour was much too bright. Flint felt his hand itching for a weapon’s security as he saw the details on the approaching pair’s armour. Both of them were decorated and held at least a Colonel’s rank.
A soothing embrace through empathic touch helped him fight the urge. Flint almost burst out laughing when he realised Maya was pushing calming emotions on him the same way he did to her and Bjorn before. So, when the inquisitors finally arrived at the gate, he was ready for them.
“Ho, there!” The woman called. “I’m Inquisitor Bluelake of the Iron Council. This is Inquisitor Stark. We’d like to meet with whoever is in charge here.”
“I’m Flint Woodson, a former private of the Building Division, and now, the Woodson Fort’s master.” If not for Maya’s reassurance, Flint was sure a tremor would’ve found its way into his voice. “What brings the inquisitors to this far corner of the Verdant Plains.”
“Flint Woodson?” Bluelake and Stark glanced at one another. “We’ve heard rumours of you and your life quest. I wasn’t told this is where it brought you.” The stiffness in her shoulders melted away. Flint considered it odd, though. Nothing escaped the inquisitors. “Lord Ironheart put together a company of elite builders a little over a month ago. Your former commanding officers—Lord Ironheart’s son and Colonel Smith—were due to deliver them to the Evergreen Fort close to three weeks ago. They never arrived at their destination.”
Bluelake paused, looking at Flint expectantly, but he kept silent. She likely had her suspicions, and he wanted to hear her conclusions first.
“Their tracks led us from a hidden Viking encampment in the North and through a Verdant Lion territory. We lost their trail a couple of weeks ago until we spotted the signs of an encampment at the bottom of this pass. We were hoping you could enlighten us to where they are.”
“Below you,” Flint answered.
“What?” Bluelake and Stark asked in unison, furrowing their eyebrows.
“Colonel Smith and Captain Ironheart are buried at the bottom of this slope where your companions are waiting. It’s been a little over a week since they died, so if you dig, you might still be able to recognise their corpses. There should be several Viking remains there too.”
Bluelake’s gauntleted right hand curled into a fist. “Were you the ones that killed them?”
“Colonel Smith and Captain Ironheart? Yes. The Vikings and other soldiers? No. My friends helped in that department. Initially, I was planning on turning them away. However, when I saw they had seven wagons worth of people and two dozen children with slave brands on their chests, I couldn’t leave them be.”
“That’s a lie!” Stark exclaimed. “Colonel Smith was a decorated soldier, and Captain Ironheart is the first son of one of the most wealthy and powerful men on the disk. They have no need for alliances with slavers.”
“Show them, Ed,” Flint said.
After a moment’s hesitation, Ed slipped off his leather cuirass and hopped on the ramparts. The two inquisitors gasped when he showed them the brand. “I was a part of the elite building company Lord Ironheart assembled,” Ed said. “Colonel Smith sold the equipment, stones and materials to the Vikings. All the soldiers that refused to follow Colonel Smith’s orders were executed. My brothers struggled against the brand and were put down as well.”
“I’m having a hard time believing this,” Bluelake said.
“Is the brand not enough?” Flint asked.
“You could’ve placed the mark on him and then compelled the lad to lie to us.” Stark snarled. “No commanding officer of the Iron Army would ever join the Vikings or trade-in slaves! Especially not Colonel Smith. I served with the man, and he had honour.”
“The fae girl hiding her ears makes me doubt you as well,” Bluelake commented. “I demand you open the gates and let us in. We need to conduct a thorough investigation to verify your claims.”
“I’m afraid that’s not happening,” Flint replied. He waved at the other human men on the wall. All of them climbed onto the ramparts and showed their brands. Jerome foolishly did the same even though it wasn’t asked of him. “If you need further confirmation, you can dig up the graves at the bottom of the hill.”
“That’s not good enough!” Stark barked. “Not when you have one of the Wyld by your side! I know a high fae when I see one.”
“That’s because your old friend, Colonel Smith, didn’t just have human merchandise but fae too. I’ve liberated them, and they’re residents of my land now—”
“You have no land! Everything on this side of the border belongs to the Iron Disk! Just because you’re too far for the tax collectors to visit doesn’t make this a sovereign land!” Bluelake maintained a calm tone, unlike her male companion. “I won’t ask again. Let us in!”
“No,” Flint answered, his right hand curled around the crossbow’s stirrup. “Woodson Fort sides neither with the Wyld nor the Iron Army. The latter abandoned these lands when they pulled their defensive force away, abandoning Lea’s Slumber. We’re an independent existence now and refuse to take part in this war.”
“That’s treason,” Bluelake said. She pulled the staff off her back and raised it at Flint. “If you won’t open this gate willingly, I have no choice but to use force.”
As the pair retreated downhill, Stark drew a large iron-banded horn from under his cloak and blew into it. The horsemen below initiated their charge, and a myriad of lights flashed as dozens of abilities activated.
