Quill
patreon
590. Among the Reeds
🕑 Added 2024-03-01 08:00:07 +0000 UTCWhile Martel had his misgivings about the mission they have received, he could think of one positive: he and Eleanor would be on their own. Granted, it would only be until they returned, and it did entail them journeying into territory overrun by Khivans, but at least he would have a few days without suffering unwanted company. He also toyed with the idea that perhaps, their return to camp could be delayed. Given the situation, it should not be hard to come up with an explanation. Whether Eleanor would agree to such an idea… He would find out when he broached the subject.
They left early in the morning, even before dawn. This soon after winter solstice, the days were too short for everything that required doing. Thus, in the dark and cold, they packed some supplies and equipment; leaving their tent and bulkier belongings behind, they marched out of camp.
The Khivans held the area southeast, with the wetlands directly east of the Thirteenth Legion. While the Asterians conducted their own patrols to push the enemy back, the travelling pair had to consider the risk of encountering bands of Khivan soldiers, especially the closer they came to the river. To lessen this, although it nearly doubled their journey, they set a course northeast into the marshes, keeping many miles between themselves and the Khivan encampment. With brown cloaks to make them less conspicuous, and Martel using his magical senses to search for nearby living creatures, they ventured into the wetlands.
***
Winter's cold helped their progress, as the terrain was frozen, and they did not have to worry about finding their step. Still, their extended route meant that as the sun set, they were still far from the river. They found a small patch of land where they could make camp for the night, such as it were. Fire was obviously out of the question, and Martel could not make a quick enchantment either to provide them with heat; it would melt the ice that covered everything, leaving their bed rolls on the ground soaked. All they could do was eat some dried rations and take turns keeping watch while the other slept.
The night passed without events, and they continue onwards in the direction of the twilight, heralding the direction of the sun's rise. Neither of them spoke as they walked, and Martel maintained his vigilance using his magical sense; still, he found himself almost enjoying it all. The quiet company of the person he cared about most, walking in the wild far from any signs of war or even other humans, and with a beautiful sunrise in the distance guiding them.
Once during their progress, Eleanor broke the silence as they sat between reads. "Fortune has been with us. I would have assumed we would meet at least one Khivan patrol before we reached the river."
"Well, we haven't reached it yet. Don't skin the bear before it's dead."
She raised an eyebrow with a faint smile playing at her lips. "I love your quaint little sayings from Nordmark. I do worry though that the absence of the enemy means they have moved their supply lines further south. Otherwise, it is strange we have yet to see any sign of them."
"I'm sure we'll see more than enough of them soon." They finished their sparse meal and continued.
***
Half the day had passed when they reached the river. They kept some distance to the bank, as getting close would make them visible, turning south to follow it until they might find their first target. Their progress became slow, as both were mindful that meeting Khivans was no longer a risk, but a certainty.
After another hour's march, Martel sensed it. In the distance ahead, through weeds and shrubs, the unmistakable heat of large creatures walking on two legs. He touched Eleanor on the shoulder, who knew what that signal meant. They both crouched low and carefully pushed forward, approaching the bank to get eyes on their enemy.
A hundred paces downstream, they saw a barrage of considerable size along with a smaller boat, both of them pulled onto the bank. While a handful of Khivan stood guard, the same number of soldiers was busy unloading supplies from the barge, moving them ashore, where others picked them up and placed them in the back of a cart.
Martel saw plenty of crates and sacks that he imagined contained food or other such basic supplies, but he also noticed barrels already placed in the cart; from what little he knew, that was how the Khivans stored their powder. Any kind of fire on them would cause the same reaction as during the raid he and Eleanor had conducted in the summer, beyond the outpost.
Eleanor turned to look at him, and he guessed she had made the same deduction. Rather than speak, she slowly formed the word 'how' with her lips.
Martel considered the situation. He could not reach out and simply ignite the barrels; distance, too much similar material in the vicinity, and the interference of humans made that impossible. Nor did he have any direct line of sight for a lightning bolt, assuming it would not lose power over such a distance. But he did have something else up his sleeve – or rather, in his belt.
He unclasped one pocket to pull out a fire pot. Inside the clay, a flammable liquid lay waiting, enchanted to explode once released. He made a throwing motion before offering the jar to Eleanor with a questioning expression. She accepted the pot, hefting it in her hand, and gave a nod. She looked at Martel, and he nodded as well in confirmation that she should proceed. Raising herself up to get into position, Eleanor hurled the fire pot with an empowered throw through the air. It landed exactly where it should, breaking as it struck the cart.
Nothing happened, except the entire Khivan band being alerted to something going on. Shouting in their own tongue, they all grabbed their weapons and scouted around, taking cover. Disappearing down between the reeds, Eleanor stared at Martel.
Praying he had done better work on the others, Martel took out another jar and offered it to her. With a doubtful look, she accepted the fire pot. This time, as she rose up, the Khivans spotted her. Several bullets flew through the air to strike her magical shield. Unfazed, she threw the jar as before, and it described a beautiful arc to land in the back of the cart. This time, as the clay broke, fire burst out in every direction.
Both the wizards dove back into hiding, knowing it was only a matter of time. They waited a few moments before a loud explosion tore through the area. Pieces of wood flew past them, and as Martel dared to look up, he saw bodies torn apart, including the horse that had been harnessed to the cart. But there was no time to consider the scenery or feel ill; they had to finish the fight while the last few Khivans were in disarray. Already, Eleanor rose from their spot, drawing her sword as she rushed forward.
Two shots rang out, both failing to make an impact thanks to her magical shield. Eleanor reached the nearest enemy, slicing him open; Martel unleashed his fire bolts on the other. However, the aftermath of the fiery explosion still affected him, and he could not rely on his ability to sense heat; his spells missed their mark. Fearful that he had failed Eleanor, he began to run forward to close the distance and ensure his next spell landed; it proved unnecessary as Eleanor sprinted across the small clearing to strike the other Khivan down. The fight was over.
***
Martel walked along the edge of the small battlefield, using his magical sense to ensure nobody lurked in the surrounding reeds. Eleanor, meanwhile, did her customary destruction of any weapons. "Not a lot here," she remarked. "Not enough to supply a whole army. They must have other crossing points down the river."
"Probably, but there's nothing we can do about that. We announced our presence rather spectacularly, and they'll be wondering why these fellows aren't returning to camp."
"I know. It just feels like we accomplished little for all our troubles."
"We accomplished as much as we could have expected," Martel claimed. "We should leave. Go north and get out of reach of any Khivan patrols coming to hunt us down." And maybe he could persuade Eleanor that once they were safe, they should take their time making their way back to the camp of the Thirteen.
"Wait. Did you hear that?" Eleanor looked around. "It sounds like thunder in the distance, but the sky is clear…" She whipped her head around to look at Martel, as they both realised what it meant.
"Cannon fire," Martel mumbled. A battle was taking place.
Eleanor looked towards the west. "It is coming from this direction. The Khivans are fighting the Thirteenth."
~
Finally got some use out of lugging those fire pots around. Martel's character sheet (items lost, 2x fire pots).
