Valor: Chapter 3

            “I can’t say I’m fond of this, Elias.”

            “Hush,” came the other voice. “I’m giving you ten gold at the end of this, the least you can do is quit complaining.”

            The second elf merely frowned. “We’re not even near the northwestern edge of the swamp!”

            “I know,” Elias hissed. “We can’t go directly there, and you know why. Bloody orcs are hunting in that area, we’d be caught in a heartbeat.”

            “We can turn invisible Elias,” his comrade hissed. “They can’t kill what they can’t see.”

            “Their hounds could track us all night though, and didn’t I tell you to be silent Ildun?”

            Ildun sighed, pressing his head against the tree behind him, pushing the dark green cowl over his eyes, but sitting in the crook of a swamp tree, there wasn’t much to look at.

            Elias knew that as well, but he kept his eyes open. He had thought bringing a ranger such as Ildun along would be greatly beneficial, but it had been anything but. He was clearly used to dealing with far dumber game than orcs. He was a crack shot, Elias wouldn’t deny that, but he suffered from an overzealous sense of invincibility that he’d noticed in many of his kind.

            “You’re as flighty as a human,” Ildun grumbled, shifting the cowl from his eyes and glancing around. They were able to see fairly well in the swamp’s pre-dawn darkness, but that was relative to a human, who wouldn’t be able to see at all. As it was, Elias could make out where various shadows were, but he wouldn’t have been able to read a sign if it were but five feet away. What starlight filtered into the swamp was intermittent thanks to the thick foliage.

            Such comparisons to humans occurred to Elias often, and applied just as much. That Ildun was comparing him to them now was nothing new. “Good. The last thing this swamp needs is more elven bones.”

            This simply provoked an indignant mutter from Ildun. Elias smirked to himself, but continued scanning the nearby stagnant waters from above. “We may want to wait until daylight” Elias said after a moment’s thought. “The orcs will be less active then.”

            “You say that,” Ildun countered, “but we almost got caught by several orc patrols during the day.”

            Elias opened his mouth, and then closed it. It wasn’t something he’d forgotten, but he hadn’t truly made the connection. “That… is true. The swamp is dark enough, even during daylight, that the sun doesn’t bother them.”

            “Do the damned things ever sleep?” Ildun said, looking around. “Are we sure they aren’t undead, shambling around eternally?”

            Elias shivered. He’d been scouting these swamps for what felt like weeks now, and he’d run across some of the undead. “Trust me, I’d prefer the orcs.”

            “I’d prefer your comrades, human though they may be.” Ildun sighed, and gestured towards a sinuous ‘clearing’ of water, a stream snaking through the swamp. “I say we make our way through there. The water may hide our scent, should the orcs get too close, and it seems to lead to the northwest.”

            “We don’t know for how long, though,” Elias countered.

            “Who is the woodsman here?”

            Elias admitted that with his silence. Having spent more of his time in cities and studying magical books than he had in forests, he wasn’t as skilled a woodsman as many elves. It was the reason he had hired Ildun. Half of the time he had spent in the swamps of Taskurr had been simply trying to find his way back out, something he didn’t care to repeat.

            “Then let’s go,” Ildun said, beginning to climb down the tree. After a moment’s hesitation, Elias followed. He didn’t doubt Ildun’s experience, but the swamps of Taskurr were a violent place. Not only were their orcs and undead, but he could sense residual magic here and there, speaking to other beings lurking within. Ildun was older than Elias, perhaps by twenty years or so, but he’d spent much of that as a guard, not a ranger.

            In his own way, Elias felt them of equal experience, in their respective fields.

            They crouched down by the stream and moved swiftly but softly down its length. They kept low, in case of those watching, and never strayed far. Elias focused more on following Ildun’s path than anything else.

            Ildun held up a hand, and Elias froze. He felt his ears twitch slightly, and heard the sounds of movements, and the guttural speech of the orcs. Ildun pointed to the stream, and they moved into it, trying to wade in slowly, so as to not cause too much noise.

            The stream deepened in the middle, and then, taking deep breaths, they both dove under. The water was almost impossible to see through; even if it was clearer than the normal swamp water, it was still thick with silt. Elias closed his eyes and tried to follow Ildun by the feel of the water, occasionally feeling the muddy sides of the stream.

            After a minute or two, he finally moved towards the surface. He covered his mouth as he came up, so to better mask the instinctive gasp. Not a moment later, Ildun followed suit, though with a more practiced ascent.

            Once the sounds of their breathing and heartbeats faded from their ears, they listened to the sounds of the swamp. Elias could still hear the orcs, but they had passed them by, and were becoming more distant.

            “Good,” Ildun whispered, and they waded out of the water. Their clothing was drenched, but it would hardly be the first time since they had entered Taskurr.

            Several minutes more travel, and once the dawn sun peaked over the horizon, they tried to make the most of it, picking across the landscape with a bit more haste than they had been. Elias didn’t know about Ildun, but he was looking every direction he could. The feeling of danger was omnipresent, and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

            And then, both of them heard something that made them freeze. Steel striking steel, and sudden screaming.

            “What is that?” Ildun yelled, drawing his saber.

            Elias listened a moment longer. The yelling was in orcish… “Ukshya,” he said bitterly.

            “Ukshya” Ildun repeated, thinking for a moment. “… Undead?”

            Elias nodded, but then looked to his right. Yes… the sounds were coming closer. Ildun noticed too. Neither were too concerned with being quiet this time, instead just aiming to get into the water. They had come near what passed for a lake, and dove into it.

            Elias, curious, made for the tall grasses at the edges and poked his head out of the water, just enough to see and hear. He saw the orc hunting group, perhaps three strong men, all armed, but lightly armored. He then saw the undead. Completely denuded of flesh to the bone, but the iron armor, though rusted at the edges and worn, still hung to their frames. They outnumbered the orcs as well, at least two to one.

            The orcs were more or less retreating, though being orcs, they weren’t good at running away. It was more they continuously allowed themselves to be beaten back, trying to strike at a distance. The skeletons had no such reservations, charging forward mindlessly. If Elias felt a pang of kinship with the orcs, it was only because in regards to the undead, everyone who drew breath was a brother.

            Of course, in this case, they were brothers he didn’t exactly like. He looked around and saw Ildun nearby, also watching the spectacle. He thought he saw the same thoughts filtering through his eyes. Helping the orcs wouldn’t happen though. Their reward for such generosity would be a quick death. Better to let the two groups eliminate each other, or…

            He brought his mouth above the water’s surface. “We’d be no better off with one group than the other. I think we should break for the northwest. I think they’d be too busy fighting each other to go after both of us.”

            Ildun looked over to the skirmish. The orcs certainly had muscle and intelligence on their side, but the skeletons had persistence and the relative invulnerability of undeath. Ildun pulled himself up onto the bank, saying “let’s go” in a harsh whisper.

            Elias followed, pulling a cleaver-like dagger only a second behind Ildun pulled his saber. Neither wanted to get into a fight, but what one wanted wasn’t always what one got, and neither wanted to be caught unprepared.

            “I don’t think any are behind us!” Ildun said after a minute of running, pausing to catching his breath and look through the swamp. Elias followed suit. Both were in good shape, but Ildun was more used to prolonged activity than Elias was. Any rest he could get would be appreciated.

            Elias peered into the swamp. All Elves had an inherent connection to nature and, by extension, the arcane. As his arcane connection was stronger than Ildun’s, his senses, particularly his eyesight, were that much stronger.

            “No,” he said, and began to cast a spell. “I think there are…”

            His eyes glowed for a moment as the spell took effect, and sure enough, he could see the auras of evil and undeath pursuing them. Only a couple had turned to attack the elves, however…

            “Let’s keep going,” Elias said, urging them on.

            “How many?” Ildun asked, not hesitating to follow.

            “Two, perhaps three? This swamp’s too thick to tell.”

            Ildun did hesitate now. “Is that all? Surely we can handle them.”

            “Move, Ildun,” Elias said with as much authority as he could muster. “We have no idea if more will follow their brethren. The more distance, the better.”

Ildun, for a wonder, didn’t argue the point, and they continued on. Hopefully they would come out near Gustav’s camp. Because otherwise… well, the elves would tire eventually. The undead would not.

The last watch was shared between William and Gustav. Michael had ended up with the first watch, which he had shared with one of the workers, and Tresbos and another worker with the second.

William was tired, and found that he had somewhat less patience for Gustav right now than he would otherwise. He seemed to complain from the moment he woke up. “I’m not quite used to ‘roughing it’ either, Gus, but by the Light, you act as though the ground has offended you.”

“It’s offended my spine, certainly,” Gustav said, which prompted William to roll his eyes and get some space. He sipped out of a tin cup which had a chicory coffee within. It was somewhat bitter, but it would help him get started. He wasn’t fond of coffee, but he couldn’t afford himself the time he needed to properly wake, not if he was on watch. Gustav, meanwhile, was fussing over getting some tea made.

William shook his head. This would be a long trip if Gustav insisted on the comforts of ‘home.’ Perhaps he’d spent too much time at Aurosimmar’s academy, as it had transformed him into someone who had more in common with Michael’s family than either William or Michael.

He glanced to the right, hearing some kind of rustling. It wouldn’t be the first time, of course. Wildlife tended to explode from the swamp, usually a deer or two bounding across the fields to graze. Nothing had bothered them, at any rate.

His vision strained against the low morning light, but he thought… those weren’t deer. “Gus, can you make out what’s going on over there?” he called.

Gustav stood up and shuffled over, squinting. For reasons no one really understood, those with arcane powers seemed to see better in the dark than those without, and at a time like this, it was certainly useful.

“Why… God alive, that’s Elias! And another elf! Elias!” he called out, waving a hand.

The two elves, having been running out of the wood, turned, but didn’t slow down. They yelled something, but Gustav and William simply glanced at each other. Neither had understood it. “What?!” Gustav yelled back.

“What’s going on?” said a perturbed sounding Tresbos, who had clearly been woken by the commotion. Glancing back, William saw Michael and the rest of the camp stirring as well.

“It’s my Elven friend, and he’s… wait,” Gustav leaned forward. “They’re being pursued! That’s what they’re yelling about. Three figures just burst from the trees.”

“What are they?” Tresbos asked, irritation in his voice at being unable to see them clearly.

“I’m not sure, they wear a man’s armor, but they’re running…  oddly.”

William’s breath caught, and he clasped the cross from his necklace and said a quiet prayer. Within moments, his vision changed, the same warmth he spoke of to Gustav the previous day. When it finished, he saw what amounted to a bilious smoke rising from the pursuers, as if they were constantly burning. It was black, but seemed to glow with a sickly orange light against the fading darkness around them.

“They’re undead,” William said in a distant voice. He felt his heart quicken in his chest. He pulled his mace, released his cross, and charged forward.

“Will, wait!” Gustav called after him, but William was deaf to it. This was part of the reason he had come to this swamp.

He met with the Elves quickly, one of whom was panting by the time they stopped. The other ran a few more feet before stopping. “They’ve been following us for at least ten minutes,” the panting one said. “We’d hoped we would lose them, but…”

“The undead are tireless in their hatred of the living,” William said bluntly. He glanced back at the other one. “Are either of you hurt?”

“Knicks and scratches from the brush,” the fair-haired one, the one who seemed less tired, said. “Nothing of concern.”

“Good,” William said, and didn’t say anything else before the rattling skeletons before him closed in.

Gripping his mace in both hands, when the first skeleton closed with him he swung at the creature’s shoulder. The mace came down and knocked the arm completely off, staggering it. Before it could do anything else, he shoulder checked it, knocking it backwards into another one.

A third skeleton charged and swung its glaive, but the darker-haired elf caught the wooden shaft with his blade, a brutal looking cleaver that was different from any knife William had ever seen.

William took the opportunity to close in, getting low under the spear’s length and swinging his mace to crush the creature’s knee. It buckled, but did not break.

“Keep them busy!” he yelled, and with a growl the other elf broke in, swinging his saber at the skeleton’s torso. The unfortunate truth was the light, precise weapons of the elves were poor against the fleshless nature of these undead.

The other realized this, and put his blade away, pulling a quarterstaff from his back. William doubted it would do much damage in this case, but it would better occupy them than a saber.

William clutched his cross again, and yanked, causing the cord holding it to his neck to come undone. “By God and his divine light,” he began, and a white light started to emit from his eyes and mouth, “I cast thee to thy eternal rest! Begone!”

The last word seemed to explode from his mouth, a wave of light bursting from him. It enveloped the elves and undead both, and everything seemed to freeze for a moment, at least from William’s perspective, as the light clung to the undead. Then, they dissolved, rapidly crumbling into powdered bone, and their equipment fracturing and crumpling, as if it were paper suddenly exposed to flame.

The three breathed heavily. William’s heart was pounding in his ears. William, after a few moments, closed his eyes and brought the cross to his chest. Thank you, he thought silently.

“William! Elias!” Gustav yelled, finally catching up with William. Tresbos beat him by a few steps, holding his spear at the ready. “Are you alright?” Gustav asked, concern etched on his face.

“We’ll live Gus,” the dark-haired elf said, laughing slightly. He straightened his stance, and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Is this your friend, ah, William?”

“Does it matter?” the other elf asked, and stuck out a hand in William’s direction. “You helped us out there, friend. Ildun Naes, and you have my gratitude regardless of your name.”

The other elf, clearly Elias at this point, laughed. “Of course, forgive me.” He’d shake William’s hand next. “Elias Lyttler.”

Michael and another worker wandered over now, armed with sword and shovel respectively. Gustav quickly made the introductions, and was introduced himself to Ildun. William, admittedly, was only half there through the proceedings, and as Elias and Ildun filled Gustav in on what they’d found, he stepped away.

Michael followed rather quickly. “Are you alright, Will?” he asked, setting a hand on William’s shoulder.

William smiled, nodding and looking back. “I’m fine, Michael, it’s just… I’ve never felt that before.”

There was a beat before Michael understood what he meant, saying “oh, the, um, turning of the skeletons?”

“Somewhat.” William glanced down and away, not sure how to put his feelings into words. “For a brief moment, I felt their spirits. I felt the burdens they carried, and how time twisted them for evil.” He tilted his head upwards, and looked towards the rising sun. “They were… bound, and I freed them, Michael. Despite all else, I don’t think I realized that, under the rage and misery, the undead are still trapped souls.”

William didn’t blame Michael for the silence that followed. Michael, though devout, never felt God in the way William did… and William was realizing that there was more to those feelings than mere faith.

They had allowed the Elves a few hours of rest as the sun came up. Michael had expressed some concerns to Gustav that they would be too tired to be useful once they got into the swamp proper.

“It shouldn’t be much of a problem,” Gustav said, closing the book he’d been reading. “Elias has told me before that elves don’t need as much sleep as we do. I guess they occasionally go into some sort of hibernation trance every year or so, for a few days, but… they can control that. They should be fine within a few hours.”

It seemed alien to Michael, but it would probably help for future night watches, if the elves needed less sleep. “What do you think of the other one?” Michael asked quietly. “Ildun, I believe he said?”

“Hmm,” Gustav grumbled to himself, fingers idly tapping the book. “Elias says he’s a ranger he’s worked with, knows his way around a forest and what not. I feel like there’s something more there, but he’s not talking.”

“Something bad?” Michael asked, concern furrowing his brow. He didn’t like the idea of looking over his shoulder anymore than he had to.

“Bad?” Gustav repeated, and shook his head. “No, not bad. Will would’ve seen signs of evil on him when they were approaching, I asked him. I don’t doubt his intent, more hisss…” Gustav dragged the word out as he looked for the right word, “capability.”

Michael decided to change the subject, asking Gustav his opinion on the map. It wasn’t that he didn’t value Gustav’s opinion of Ildun, but he’d also noticed Gustav’s opinion on someone’s ‘capability’ seemed proportional to how magical they were. Michael was somewhat suspicious of both elves anyway (perhaps more of his upbringing clinging to him than he’d like), but Elias had been vouched for rather heavily by Gustav.

Ildun? Hmm.

The map was rather well made. It had a leather backing to help prevent water-damage, and even a small clasp to make sure it stayed rolled when it wasn’t needed. It was a bit large and cumbersome, more like a military planning map than that Michael had pictured in stories of pirates and treasure hunters, but it also was well-designed.

“Traveling the road would get us as close as we can as fast as possible,” Michael said, bringing his finger down the road.

“Didn’t Tresbos say the road looked washed out?”

Michael winced. He hadn’t thought of that, but tried to recover. “Yes, but I imagine the road will still be clearer and in better condition than much of the land around it. We certainly can’t bring the mules and horses into the thicker mire of the swamp.”

“True,” Gustav said, which Michael took as a small victory.

Tresbos had come over at hearing his name. He quipped in here, saying “I spoke briefly with Elven ranger, before they went to sleep, and asked about that… it’s much the same as the forests around Yewmark, sir.”

Michael frowned. Where was his head in all this? “Ah, yes… it’s clearer going, but we’ll be visible.”

“Aye,” Tresbos said with a nod, “and we’re expecting far worse than bandits and boars.”

Michael thought for a moment, studying the map. Perhaps if they really moved, they could reach the site of… he looked at the map, and frowned. “What was the name of the fort again?”

“Hmm?” Gustav looked at him quizzically, and then looked back to the map. As Michael had seen, there was no name listed.

“I’m not sure.” He’d reach into his robes, pulling out the letter Elias had sent him before, and skimmed over it. “Mmm… ah, here it is. The locals call it Tagen Rynns. If I’m right, it means something like ‘Gold Bottom’ in Elven, though with a, ah, negative twist?”

Michael gave an unsatisfied grunt. “So we don’t know what the fort was originally called?”

Gustav checked over the letter again. “Um, Elias didn’t say, at any rate. Does it matter?”

Michael frowned, and he saw Tresbos give him a hard look. Gustav and Tresbos seemed to get along like oil and water. He decided not to answer Gustav. “Perhaps Elias can shed some light on it when he awakens.”

He tried to get back to thinking about the actual plan. Though they could make it to ‘Goldbottom’ in one full day’s travel, it would mean traveling at night. From what the elves had said and shown, though, the swamps were far more active at night.

“It looks like there’s a small settlement here,” Michael said, tapping at a spot off the road dotted with small buildings. “I say we make for that, rest there for the night, and then leave for Goldbottom the next day.”

Despite their disagreements, both Gustav and Tresbos seemed concerned by that. Michael questioned that with a mere raise of an eyebrow. Tresbos cleared his throat and looked away, saying nothing. Gustav, of course, felt no compunctions towards silence. “The map is an amalgam of smaller maps, and somewhat old Michael. If mere error hasn’t made it somewhat off, time may have done the job for us.”

Michael frowned. “Of course I know that,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and casting a sour gaze over them both. “I’m not foolish. I understand we may find nothing but rotted swamps there, but it gives us a goal, and at least then we’d see whether the village stands or not.”

The two nodded, with Tresbos muttering a quick apology under his breath. Gustav, however, did not. Though Michael knew that Gustav had no reason to treat Michael any better than anyone else, he had just accused him of ignorance. But even with Michael’s glare resting on Gustav for a moment longer, Gustav simply nodded again, and walked away, opening his book again before he had even sat down.

Michael gave an exasperated sigh. “Get some rest Perry,” he said, glancing over at Tresbos. “I have a feeling this may be a long trip.”