Chapter 382: Campsite Ablaze

 

  Brom inspected the ashen logs that had been stacked atop one of several wagons. The wood was fresh, there was still plenty of moisture within. Not ideal. But that wasn’t his problem. His task was to ensure the ashen wood got to the Cairn Tribe. The Adder Tribe’s green mages would take it from there and ensure the timber would be suitable for the siege.

  Olivia walked up next to him and glanced at the logs, though she made no real show of studying the cargo. “I take it everything is in order?”

  “…Yes, I suppose so,” Brom said. He was reluctant to admit it to the drow captain, but her company of soldiers was quite proficient.

  “I never thought a bunch of Undergrowth soldiers would be able to serve as axemen,” Brom said. It was the closest he would come to paying a compliment to these drows.

  “And I never thought my men and I would be working with the valley tribes, let alone one as disheveled as you,” Olivia said.

  Brom chuckled wryly and stroked his scraggly beard. Perhaps there was more fire in these soft-bellied Undergrowthers than he thought.

  “I’ve always bent my focus and will towards the way of steel,” Brom patted the hefty hammer hanging on his back. “I never really had the time to care about pointless matters like appearances.” He stared pointedly at Olivia’s short and combed hair, “Clearly, we differ in that regard.”

  “I’d wager we differ in many regards, human.”

  “Mm,” Brom smiled, though there was no mirth in his eyes. “The logs seem healthy, no sign of rot. If your men keep cutting the trees at this rate we’ll have another six shipments finished by the end of the week.”

  “End of the week?!” Olivia’s composure broke, but she quickly smothered her features and resumed her callous expression. “Ahem, certainly we do not have to stay that long.”

  “I admire your faith in your men, but I’m fairly certain that if they try to complete the shipments any sooner they will die of exhaustion.”

  Olivia bit her lip with indecision, but she shook her head and made up her mind. “Then why don’t we just do five shipments instead? Surely one of the other camps can take up one last shipment.”

  Brom narrowed his eyes. “Those weren’t our orders. My orders were to oversee the logging camp of Undergrowth’s 42nd company and ensure they delivered 12 shipments of ashen wood. Your orders as captain of the 42nd company were to ensure your men did the job.”

  “...We are not in Glimmer Grove Forest, so perhaps you do not understand. My people don’t venture into these woods for good reason.”

  “Yes, I am aware of the stories about Vulture Woods.”

  “Then you understand why I do not wish to risk my men’s lives.”

  “We’ve been here for a week and we haven’t encountered any threats save for overly large rodents.”

  “That is because we are at the edge of the forest.”

  “So you’re saying we’re fine, then?”

  “No, I’m saying we are pushing our luck.”

  Brom stepped forward until their faces were mere inches apart, “Well, I’m saying we had fucking orders. So unless you wish to be executed for insubordination, I strongly suggest you make sure your men deliver those six shipments by the end of the week. But feel free to not listen. I hear your queen has her traitors impaled and put up for all to see. I’ve never seen a spear shoved up someone’s arse before, but I’m sure it’ll be quite the spectacle.”

  Olivia glared at him, “Someday when this war is over I am going to find you and kill you.”

  Brom chuckled, “When this war is over I reckon we’ll both already be dead.”

  A sudden wretched scream through the camp. Brom spun around, searching for the threat. Olivia didn’t draw her sword and instead raised her open palms. Her fingers glowed with a faint red light.

  She was a mage? He hadn’t known. He was beginning to regret his earlier words.

  Another scream rang out from the south of the camp.

  Brom grabbed his hammer and cursed, “Shit, we’re under attack—!”

  An explosion of flames smashed into a nearby wagon, sending them both careening to the ground.

  Orbs of flame continued to shower down over the camp, exploding in searing waves of magic and sparks.

  Brom groaned and looked around, disoriented. His ears rang and the world seemed to spin in a blur.

  Smoke was rising from several of the tents. The wagons were all ablaze, the centaurs tied to them had been caught in the explosions; the lucky ones had been scorched to death on impact. The rest galloped through the camp in a crazed outburst, screaming in agony as the flames melted their flesh.

  “With me! Shields up, shields up!” Olivia yelled.

  The captain was standing atop a crate, screaming rallying orders to her soldiers, while writing red arcane sigils into the air. The ward sigils flared to life and formed a magical barrier around her in a five-meter radius, protecting the few soldiers around her and Brom.

  Most of the surviving soldiers were running about in a panic, but as soon as they saw the ward barrier their eyes lit with hope and they sprinted towards their captain.

  Brom gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet. He found his hammer and hurried over to Olivia to cover her flank.

  “We can’t hold this position forever!” Brom yelled over the sounds of the bombardment. “We need to retreat!”

  Olivia nodded distractedly, her hands still moving with urgency. “We’ll head towards the hill and use them for cover—”

  A vine sprung out from the earth underneath her and wrapped around her leg. Olivia’s panicked scream was cut short as it dragged her into the dark forest. Her ward barrier broke apart, its sigils faded away, their creator no longer in their presence.

  The soldiers watched dumbstricken as their last hope disappeared into the darkness. They stumbled back and ran away from the forest’s tree line as quickly as they could. One by one their cries of fear died out and their bodies fell over in butchered pieces.

  Brom stood stock-still in shock. He hadn’t moved from where Olivia had been taken. He watched as something killed the fleeing soldiers in the dark. Then there was silence, painful, dreaded silence. Gone were the screams and cries of the drows, only the sound of splintering wood as it burned remained.

  His legs couldn’t stop shaking, but they refused to move. Memories of the massacre weeks ago flooded his mind. Brom held his hammer close to his chest in a white-knuckle grip and glanced about the ruined campsite anxiously.

  Then he saw it.

  From the ashen smoke, the monster emerged and stepped through crackling flames, but he did not burn. The flames curled around him as if welcoming its master in a deep bow. Oily shadows wrapped around his entire being like a silk cloak of the night sky. The firelight glimmered off the bright scarlet blood on his blade that seemed to be dripping with scarlet endlessly.

  Brom’s whole body trembled, but he swallowed hard and faced the horror. Then the monster turned towards him and hope died in Brom’s eyes as he stared into those cold pale eyes.

  The hammer slipped out of his fingers and he fell to his knees in despair. This was not an enemy he could fight. This was not a being who could die. This was death and it had found him.

 

~~~

 

  The smell of smoke and burned flesh filled her nostrils. Plum tried her best to not vomit as she wandered through the ruins of the campsite, though she could not hide the disgust on her face. She was grateful it was still dark, she didn’t want to imagine what this place would appear like under the light of dawn.

  A few fires still remained, mostly around the burning wagons and their ashen logs, or just ash now she supposed. The tents were gone now, only black scorched stains on the ground.

  The bodies…

  Plum wasn’t even sure if she could call them that anymore. What little remained of the soldiers’ bodies were either ash and bone or were so cut up or mangled that not a family member would have been able to discern which severed arm belonged to their loved one.

  And there it was, the thought she tried to push down. This was war, a war waged by a mad queen who didn’t care how many innocents died. Plum understood the grim truth; people died in war. She understood that for them to live their enemies would have to die. And yet, despite understanding all of this, she couldn’t escape the thought, no, the truth, that stared at her unashamedly.

  These people had families. They had loved ones.

  What would their deaths accomplish? If not another generation of hatred and bitterness that would no doubt birth more battles like this.

  “Plum, over here!” Tauri waved her over.

  The orc stood in a small grass clearing, the only green spot that remained amidst the scorched campsite.

  Her legs felt heavy like stone, but Plum dragged her feet forward anyway. As she walked past the burning wagons she noted Tauri wasn’t alone. Stryg sat on the one crate that hadn’t burned. He was covered in blood and ash from head to toe.

  Plum didn’t know what to say, but Stryg didn’t even bother looking up at her as she walked into the clearing, his focus was entirely on the pristine silver blade in his hands.

  “It’s a lot, I know. I’m still coming to grips with it myself,” Tauri smiled and placed a reassuring hand over Plum’s shoulder. “But, I’m glad you’re safe.”

  She returned the smile, albeit weakly. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

  “Not a scratch. I actually didn’t do much,” Tauri admitted. “Stryg dispatched the guards, then began bombarding them with powerful flame orbs. I supported him with my own flame magic while he finished off the rest of them.”

  “...So, they’re all dead?” Plum asked quietly.

  “Except those two,” Tauri inclined her head to the bodies lying on the ground.

  It was a drow and a human. They were both tied up with vines, Stryg’s green flora magic, no doubt.

  Tauri crouched next to the unconscious prisoners and tapped the drow’s armor. “You see how this one has a silver mark on her pauldron? She’s a captain. My best guess is that she is the leader of this camp.”

  “That’s why you let her live?” Plum asked.

  Stryg finally looked up from his sword and pointed the blade at the captured drow. “She is also a mage, a chromatic red at least.”

  “In any case, she’ll have some answers for us,” Tauri said.

  “And the other one? He’s not wearing any kind of formal armor,” Plum noted.

  “He smelled different from the rest. I don’t think he’s with them. I knocked him unconscious for now,” Stryg said.

  “We were hoping you could help us,” Tauri said.

  Plum frowned, “What?”

  “Stryg may be a prime mage but his mind magic isn’t nearly as refined as yours,” Tauri said.

  “I was busy mastering the other spell forms,” Stryg said defensively.

  “We need you to find out what they're hiding, Plum,” Tauri said.

  Plum stared pitifully at the poor unlucky bastards lying unconscious. She sighed.