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The Foolhardies - Chapter 39

Published at 4th of December 2019 07:37:55 PM


Chapter 39

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Making up with my friends was the best feeling in the world. Too bad fate couldn't give me even one day to enjoy this natural high. The night after Ty, Arah, and I roleplayed the most famous line from the Three Musketeers, I learned that the war that was coming had already arrived.

As soon as I dropped into the Fayne, Luca clued me in on the big news circling the barracks of Fort Darah.

"A hundred-thousand-strong army just left Spellweave River Valley... It'll enter the Calmlands in a week. They'll take another seven days to reach the western side," Luca frowned. "You were right..."

"Did you really doubt what Aura and I told the higher-ups?" I asked him.

That's when I noticed his hands shaking.

"No..." he whispered. "But I was kind of hoping you were exaggerating... a hundred thousand just feels unreal."

I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"Luca, if we're serious about becoming the clan's heroes then this kind of war is exactly what we need..." I reasoned.

"I-I know..." he answered, his eyes downcast.

I squeezed his shoulder again. "Why do we fight, Luca?"

Luca's shoulders slumped when he answered, "So we can earn a wish from the clan leader... so we can go home."

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"Don't worry... we'll survive..." I slapped his shoulder lightly before I pulled my hand away as I didn't want him to notice that my own hand was shaking. "I'll figure it out. I'll find the best opportunity for us to make a splash while making sure we stay alive."

Luca nodded wordlessly. He clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking. I did the same but in a more subtle way as I'd clasped my hands behind me.

Sometimes I forgot that Luca was younger than me. He did kick butt often enough for me to believe he was made of sterner stuff. Tonight, however, he was just fourteen-year-old Luca, a kid who'd experienced too much pain and sorrow.

I heard the rustling of leaves in the wind, and I glanced up and saw the wooden stairs wrapped around the giant sequoia-type tree that led up to the platform housing the Foolhardies' barracks creak as heavy footsteps stomped down them.

A minute later, Edo came into view. Behind him walked a light-footed Aura. They made their way down to the redwood platform Luca and I hung out in.

Our platform was located a little below the halfway point of the tree's fifty-foot height. It hugged the tree's side like a really weird flat branch with wooden railings carved in life-like leaf patterns that really showed off how elven architecture tended to look like it was naturally formed from its surroundings. A redwood bridge with walls of geometric patterns and wooden awnings connected to another platform hanging onto a second giant sequoia. This platform was also connected to a third tree's platform further away, and that platform also connected to another tree, and so on.


Essentially, Fort Darah was a gigantic tree fort that rested on the limbs of dozens of gigantic redwoods in a forest only a day's travel from the western entrance of the Calmlands.

Aura walked over to me and showed me an obsidian orb wrapped in her hand. It was half the size of a regular basketball.

"Whoa... did you get me an anchor?" I asked.

Aura nodded. "Complements of Great General Darah... she says all hundred-man commanders are provided one right before the start of a large conflict."

I took the orb from her and hefted it in my hand. It was cold to touch and almost as light as a feather—as if it would fly away if I didn't grip it tightly enough.

"It's like a balloon," I observed.

"It won't be for long," Aura offered me a needle. "Prick your hand on this and drop your blood onto the anchor's surface."

It sounded pretty morbid but I did as she asked. There was a lingering sting after I pierced my left hand's forefinger with the needle. A bead of blood trailed down the wound and onto my palm which I rubbed onto the orb.

Immediately afterward, the anchor increased in weight until it felt like I was holding onto a bowling ball which I nearly dropped in surprised.

"Dean... careful," Luca admonished.

"I'll take it," Edo impatiently gestured for me to give up the orb with the twirl of his fingers. "Wimp."

There was a grin growing on his face when he said this, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say Edo was finally warming up to me.

He took the orb from my hands like it weighed nothing on the wide palm of his own hand. Then he dropped it into the bag of holding we'd gotten from Kallista.

It left me wondering loudly what would happen if I appeared inside the bag's dimensional space.

Edo responded with, "I'll be sure to take it out before sundown, boss."

Somehow, I wasn't convinced as I felt no sincerity in the way he called me boss.

"Now we can march without worrying about leaving you behind," Aura explained happily. "So... shall we get to training? There's a war to prepare for."

Aura's enthusiasm didn't spread to the rest of us. The depressing atmosphere was even more apparent with the rest of the unit who had all heard about the threat heading our way. Qwipps, in particular, was shameless in his whining.

"That's what I get for fighting alongside a human... death and more death," he sighed.

Thom, who was standing beside him, tried comforting him with, "Well, if we are overwhelmed by the enemy, chances are they'll want to kill our commander first," he winked at me as he said this, "so you'll have time to flee while they dismember him limb from limb, Daggerby."

Qwipps seemed to brighten up at this thought which annoyed Varda who had been standing in front of them. She punched him in the gut for earning her displeasure.

"Sorry, Commander," Varda said brightly when she glanced back at me. "I'll whip this lousy pixie into shape for you."

Seeing Qwipps double over in pain caused by the punch of someone a third his size was a happy memory for me, almost as much as my time with my friends back on Mudgard. In fact, it was the memory I chose to replay in my mind's eye while I stood at attention behind Commander thors outside the Patriarch's Hall five days later.

Thors, who was standing behind Great General Varda like he usually did, glanced back at me so we could continue our conversation from the extremely long centaur ride back to the seat of the Trickster Pavilion's power, The city of Shärleden, well hidden in the foothills of the Bloodsword Mountain.

"So they forgave you after you told them the truth?" he asked.

I beamed at him. "Yeah... it was as easy as you said it would be."

Thors and I traded side slaps from behind Darah who was irked by having to wait outside the great hall. She had to be announced first before she could go in, and this was taking a while.

Darah looked over to me and Thors.

"You two are getting too chummy," she reproached us. "Dean, fix your collar."

I fixed the collar of my sleeveless leather coat. Underneath it, I wore a new steel chainmail shirt. It gleamed with a blue steel tone that matched the electrum breastplate over my chest.

"Sorry, ma'am," I said without adding in any honorifics.

In the last two months of training directly under her, I'd learned to be less formal with the great general who always seemed to enjoy making me work harder than most. She explained it was to help me grow into a fine leader but I think a part of her just liked watching me suffer.

"See, Roger?" she gave him an incensed look. "Give the boy a carrot and it's like he's forgotten the feel of the whip... whatever shall I do with such a cheeky subordinate?"

"Didn't you bring me along to spy on your rivals for you?" I reminded her.

Darah glanced sideways to ensure none of the elven attendants were listening in on us. Once she was certain everyone was minding their own business—as if anyone had the courage to spy on such a dominating presence like hers—she gestured for me to come closer with her hand.

"You aren't here to spy, you're here to observe, Dean," Darah explained. "I want you to see first hand the wall you seek to smash through in your insistence to assist my niece."

"Wait... are you saying that there are people here who don't want us to succeed?" I asked.

It made sense if the Fayne was anything like Mudgard's politics where everything and anyone was up for sale. But I thought better of fairies. Stupid me.

Darah nodded. "The allure of power can be very tempting... very dangerous for those unfit to wield it. This will be your opportunity to watch and listen."

Darah placed her hands on her hips.

"If you learn to use your brain for more than your usual witlessness then perhaps you'll even learn something," she laughed. "What do you think, Roger?"

Commander Thors glanced over to the wooden double doors with their geometric leaf patterns. "He'll have his work cut out for him. There are a lot of tricksters behind those doors."

"Indeed," Darah instinctively wrapped her hand around her golden sword hilt. She spared me one final glance. "Remember, Dean. To many of the fools inside this hall, you are an outsider. They will not care that you are present. This gives you power over them. Use it wisely."

I nodded thoughtfully. Darah was giving me a chance to catch a glimpse at the internal politics of the clan I served. I wouldn't let it go to waste.

"It's time," Thors said, nodding over to the attendant who was gazing nervously at the she-elf Great General.

The massive oak double doors swung outward slowly, and the hall within came into view.

"Marshall of the East, Great General Darah, enters," the attendant announced.




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