IAmNotTheHero
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Chapter 28
🕑 Added 2021-04-16 07:22:50 +0000 UTCFlint didn’t need or want the village’s permission. Yet he sought Miss Lya’s council. The dogs stayed on the wall. Their howls carried much further ever since he improved their physiology with [Guide Growth]. If anything went wrong, they’d keep him in the know. Winona and Adam stayed in their camp while Twylip arranged their meeting.
It was close to mid-afternoon when Miss Lya hobbled up to the fort. It would’ve been much quicker for Flint to jog into Lea’s Slumber and back, but he didn’t want to ruffle feathers and attract unwanted attention yet. Flint needed Miss Lya’s help to break it to the villagers that the Iron Army were at their doorstep again, and wanted to come in. Given Mr Mayor and Percy’s unknown intentions, he wasn’t sure whether to tell her about the sword and magic pulse. He’d receive the blame for the occurrence. It was inevitable. However, the village needed to prepare for a probably fae army showing up at their door too.
When they sat down in the fort’s second floor, far from Percy’s prying ears, Flint’s heart was ready to burst out of his chest.
“Before we start, I’d like to thank you for sponsoring Twylip,” Miss Lya said. “Blood oath or not, it takes a lot of trust to hand over a skill stone to someone you’ve just met. I’m glad to hear Adam has found his drive too.” She beamed as she spoke about the pair. “That boy has more talent and a greater imagination than his father and brothers put together. For the longest time, I worried it would disappear down the bottle like with many of his generation, but you changed that. Good job, Flint.”
“Thank you.” Despite her kind words, Flint had to focus on his breathing to keep his heart rate under control. His temples felt like they wanted to crumple under the weight of his swelling brain. “Has Twylip told you about the matter at hand?”
“Which? Your high fae prisoner or the Iron Army at the gates?” Miss Lya’s smiles faded. “I don’t blame you for either, but I wish you’d have gotten rid of the fae. I have nothing against her kind, but you don’t have the stomach to hold her prisoner indefinitely or kill her. If you set her free, she’s only going to bring more trouble.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” Flint said. “Trouble might already be on its way.” Slow breathing no longer kept his heart rate under control as he broached the subject. He worried his one ally in Lea’s Slumber would turn against him. “When Twylip told me Percy and Mr Mayor were looking for Lea’s artifacts in the fort, I went up to investigate.”
“Go on,” Miss Lya said. Her shoulders slumped, and face hardened. Flint guessed the village elder foresaw what was coming next. “I’m afraid I found something at it sent out a pulse of magic. No fae have shown up at our door yet, but we’ve sighted a hill giant watching us a couple of times. It’s probably unforgivable, but I’d like your council, Miss Lya. My touch awakened Lea’s—”
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “Artifact is enough. The more I know, the more I have to lie. You awakened forgotten fae arcana, and you’re worried that the Wyld’s armies will show up at our doorstep.” Flint nodded. Miss Lya’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something about your life quest you haven’t told us, son?”
Flint looked between Miss Lya and Twylip hesitantly. There was no point in hiding it anymore. “Yes,” he answered. “I didn’t want to cause concern and the villagers to panic or go crazy looking, but my quest sent me here, so the next Champion of Equilibrium has time to grow.”
Miss Lya’s knees trembled, and Twylip had to jump to steady her. The young alchemist glared at Flint for a moment before focusing her attention on the older woman. When Flint stepped forward to help, both women waved him away. Twylip helped her to a bed, and Miss Lya groaned as she bent her knees before sitting down.
“That’s both good and dire news, Flint,” she said after taking a moment to herself. “I wish you would’ve told us this earlier, but understand this: it’s not your fault. If the Heartstone claims the next Champion will rise from the village, the war would’ve come to us sooner or later. Neither the fae nor the Iron Council want another Champion. An entity that can force them to do anything is a major threat to both sides. The stories say that when a Champion rises, they don’t know how to control their power. As a result, they too send pulses through the disk which brings armies to their door.”
“That’s reassuring,” Flint said, exhaling loudly. “At first, I thought Winona—the high fae—was exaggerating when she said that the magic would’ve raised curiosity all around the Gator Teeth Mountains and deep into the Verdant Plains. Now that the Iron Army is at our doorstep, I’m not sure anymore. What do you think I should do?”
“The Heartstones know better than I do, Flint. You’re the one with the life quest, and the final decision should be yours. However, Twylip tells me they have refuges in tow?”
“That’s what they claim. Only a trio of horsemen arrived at the gate, though. So, I don’t know for sure.”
“In that case, it’s for the best if you let them in. Not just to help the innocents hurt by this war, but also because you need allies. If the Wyld’s forces aren’t already on their way, they will be soon.” Miss Lya sighed, using her cane and Twylip’s help to stand back up. “I’m going to keep an eye out for this future champion. Likely, they haven’t awoken yet, but when they do, there will be no hiding it. The Iron Council might turn on you too, so if you do welcome the contingency, try to win their favour or prepare to cut them out if things go south.”
“Thank you, Miss Lya,” Flint said. He avoided human contact as much as possible, but the urge to hug the older woman overcame him. She appeared to read his mind, smiled, and waved him closer. Flint embraced Miss Lya, and for a moment, he felt genuinely safe.
“At the end of the day, dear, the decision is yours. Listen to the Heartstone and your instincts. It chose you for a reason.” The warmth he felt from Miss Lya was much like the feeling he got when Maya, and now Bjorn, pushed him down to the ground and graced his face with endless kisses.
Is this what it’s like to have a grandmother?
“I’m going to head back to the village now,” Miss Lya said, letting him go. “It might be a headache figuring out how to explain to Mr Mayor and the others, but I’ll keep quiet about the artifact and Champion for now. It will only cause panic.”
Miss Lya’s words appeared to have washed Twylips concerns and annoyance with him too. She shot him a smile before leaving. Dusk was approaching when Flint returned to the wall. A caravan of wagons and carts already filled the bottom of the slope. Flint spotted men cutting back the tall grass and erecting a perimeter, while others worked on starting campfires. He saw the elderly, women, and children among them too. They looked much like Ed: bags under their eyes and gaunt faces. Flint’s heart went out to them, and he found himself unsure.
Someone in the camp must’ve sighted him because a rider arrived not long after. Flint lied, telling them that the village council was meeting later in the evening and he’d have a decision for them in the morning. In reality, he needed some time to think.
Flint was sure he didn’t want the Iron Army’s help. They’d make a play at taking command of the fort, and he didn’t have the strength or manpower to stop them. Despite his status as a classer, Flint wasn’t a trained combatant. Twylip had arranged a fresh quiver of bolts for him, but it wouldn’t be enough against someone as decorated as the Colonel. The man probably had combat-focused skill stones at the same rank as his [Defensive Construction].
Even though Captain Ironheart was a coward, as the son of a Lord, he probably had powerful skill stones too. Similarly, the men and women in the contingency were likely in their second terms and strong. After all, as things got more heated, they’d need trainer soldiers to make the journey to Lea’s Slumber while picking up refugees. The rider returned to the camp, and Flint stayed on the wall watching them. He wished they hadn’t shown up with refugees too. If it were just Ed, turning them away would’ve been easy, but seeing the skinny children reminded him of the orphanage.
Once darkness fell, Adam and Winona joined him atop the walls with a bowl of warm stew. They were still working their way through the smoked venison, and it gave the dish a lovely, charred flavour. Adam seated himself on the parapets in the middle of the walls. His feet dangled over the edge while he ate. Meanwhile, Flint and Winona sat in the corner under the cliff’s shadow.
“How did you convince Adam to let you up here?” Flint asked. “He doesn’t seem like the kind to waiver.”
“I told him it might be last day among the living,” Winona answered nonchalantly. “This might be my final request and meal. I wanted to enjoy It with a nice view.”
“What makes you think I’m going to let them in? I have autonomy and freedom right now. If I let the Iron Army in, that’s likely to go away.”
“You will, though. I can tell from the look in your eyes, Flint. The thought of starving and traumatised refugees made the decision for you.” Winona sighed. “I don’t understand you honestly. You keep me as a prisoner but don’t treat me as one. Whatever happened in your life to make you want to be so nice? Is it your bond with dogs? Do you think you’re turning into one?”
Flint didn’t have any words to reassure her or explain himself. He neither know what to expect once morning came or truly understood her reasoning. She was right on both counts.
If it were just Ed, he’d have found the strength to turn them away. However the sight of children with sunken eyes and gaunt faces pulled at Flint’s heartstrings. He couldn’t leave them to the Verdant Plain’s mercy. Besides hill giants, several threats haunted the Gator Tooth Mountains and Verdant Plains. He’d been lucky to get through without incident.
As for being nice, Flint wasn’t sure himself. Perhaps there was some truth in her hypothesis. He had spent so much time around dogs, he’d turn as forgiving as one. That didn’t mean he’d kiss the hand that beat him. However, Flint doubted he’d have treated a human prisoner the same way. After all, Flint could feel Winona’s surface emotions. It was much weaker than what he sensed off dogs and pucks, but there was still something there. The fact that she had similar feelings about the war, influenced how he treated her.
Flint shook idle thoughts out of his head and focused on the camp below. Flint didn’t bother counting, but there were dozens of refugees and watching them left him feeling guilty for not letting them in straight away. A group their size would attract attention. Judging by their scared faces, it was likely they already had.
Even though the past day had left him tired, Flint struggled to find his appetite. Anxiety for the day to come had his stomach in knots. He watched the steam rising from the bowl instead while Winona smacked her lips and enjoyed the venison. The moon mage appeared sure it was her last day among the living and treated the stew as her final meal. She occasionally looked up at the plains and camp but then found another chunk of fatty meat and focused all her attention on it.
All of a sudden, she froze. When Winona hopped onto the parapets and toed the curving edge, he worried she would jump and kill herself. She didn’t, though. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the camp.
“Since when does the Iron Army trade in slaves?” She asked. “Isn’t that supposed to be above them?”
“What are you talking about?” Flint furrowed his brows, trying to see whatever she had spotted. “People accepted the Iron Council’s rule because they drove slavers out of the lands they controlled. It’s forbidden. Don’t the fae keep slaves—”
“Only the dark fae bend to such dark ways,” Winona replied through clenched teeth before pointing at a wagon on the far end of the camp. While most of them were empty with women, children, and the elderly sitting by the fire, the vehicle in question wasn’t.
Flint’s breath caught in his throat as he saw pucks, brownies and several individuals with long slanting ears. The wagon was full of fae. They looked worse off than the humans. Large intricate tattoos covered their chests and necks, much like the designs on Ed’s chest.
“The brands are fresh. All the women and children have them too. Those aren’t refugees, Flint.”
“They’re deserters,” Flint whispered. “They have to be. The Iron Army wouldn’t stand for the return of slavery. The only humans that practise it live beyond the northern wastes. The Vikings are the only ones that can survive the snow.”
Then as he scanned the group, he saw them. The men and women were much taller than residents of the Iron Lands. They wore their hair in long braids and didn’t have any marks besides scars on their mostly exposed skin.
“I see them.” Flint stood next to Winona. Maya and Bjorn whined, looking up at him as his flaring anger seeped through the empathic link. “The armour they wear doesn’t fit and hasn’t been polished in years.”
Ed’s muted reaction to seeing him after such a long time and horrid state suddenly made sense. They had turned him into a slave too. Colonel Smith and Captain Ironheart wanted to trick him and take control of the fort before turning it into a slaver camp. Flint had heard the Vikings had methods for finding tunnels and bridges between disks. Perhaps they knew of one nearby and wanted to use it to transport slaves. They were all criminals.
“What are you going to do, Flint?” Winona asked. “Are you going to turn them away? This probably has nothing to do with your life quest or the artifact.”
“No,” he answered. “We’re going to open the gates at sunrise and let them in.” He sat down on the parapets and dug into the stew. “Damn the life quest. I’m not getting the bastards get away with slavery.”
