Chapter 1 – Part 7

A corporal should not be the commanding officer of a unit, Carl thought to himself. He sat cross-legged on the grassy soil within the tent that served as the command center of the Brelish forces attached to this part of the Aundairian front. Lieutenant Fromlay had been the commander, but Fromlay had died early in the battle yesterday.

“Commander,” came the soft call from outside the tent. Carl knew the voice, even if the shadow cast by the central cookfire was vague.

“Come on in, Henry,” Carl sighed.

Henry entered carefully, his leather helmet in his hands. Like Carl, Henry was a human, and a member of the Brelish army sent to assist the Reachers against the Aundairians. Unlike Carl, who was in his mid-twenties, Henry was a prematurely white-haired man in his forties who had served in the army before Carl was born, then reenlisted after both of his children were killed in the line of duty. Technically Henry was a private, but everyone deferred to him. Even Fromlay, a half-elf who was two decades older than Henry, had listened to his advice.

“How are you holding up, sir?” Henry asked. The man’s crossbow was on his hip, next to a dagger. Henry’s sword had been shattered by spell energy, and the man had been working on fashioning himself a club.

Carl frowned at his own blade. He had been cleaning it and re-cleaning it, even though it was spotless. It gave him something to do. “Should I have spoken more at the service?” he asked Henry. “I said only a few words for the people that died. Barely mentioned Lieutenant Fromlay.”

“We’re guests here,” Henry sighed, sitting down on the forest floor next to the corporal. “And we aren’t wanted. The Reachers don’t like the fact that they need us.” He turned his head briefly to look out of the tent flap.

“They’ve bled more than us,” Carl sighed. “And that dwarf, that Chubat…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “We’d all be dead if not for him. The Aundairians placed triple the magical strength expected at this point on the line.”

“Yeah, that dwarf may have changed the course of the war,” Henry said. The older man stretched his hands, and let something fall into Carl’s lap while he did so. “Imagine that,” Henry said, slowly standing, his eyes slowly moving about to make sure no one had noticed what he’d done. “One dwarf with an axe and determination changing the course of the war.”

“A lot of time and effort went into training those wizards,” Carl agreed, his hand slowly covering what had been dropped. “Although I wonder why the Aundairians committed such magical strength here with larger battles taking place farther north and south.”

“For heads above ours, sir,” Henry shrugged. “I just figured I’d drop in and see how you’re doing is all.” He paused. “The men can’t see you uncertain, sir, we’re too far from home for that.”

“Sure, understood,” Carl said. His fingers were telling him that the thing in his lap was a forest flower, wrapped twice with grass strands. He tried to keep his voice normal. “Have a good night, Henry.”

“Good night, sir,” Henry said, leaving.

Carl waited a few minutes, playing at polishing his sword, and then he finally looked at the flower. It was what he thought it was. Three days ago Fromlay had told Carl that there would be a Dark Lantern in or near the camp. Carl had been surprised to discover that an agent of Brelish intelligence would be this far from home. Fromlay had told Carl that there was more than their seemed to be in this little piece of the front, and that should something happen to the Lieutenant, the Dark Lantern would contact Carl via one of two signals. The wrapped flower was one, and it was the more urgent of the two.

And the Dark Lantern had chosen to give it to Henry, and Fromlay had apparently told Henry what to do with it.

Carl waited longer, then slipped the flower into a pocket before rising. Sheathing his sword, he walked out into the night. He was no actor, and he didn’t think anyone would question his choosing to relieve himself in the middle of the night, but nonetheless he feigned a hitching of his trouser strings as he headed towards the woods.

“Don’t tssip on a fairy,” came a voice from behind a tree as Carl left the camp. The man whirled around, drawing his sword.

A woman stood with her back against the tree. Carl had not seen or heard any clue of her presence before she had spoken. She was a middle-aged human with a hard, lean body, a shaved scalp, and several visible scars. It took him a moment to place her. She was Jegala, a Reacher who had made it clear that she hated the Brelish.

Carl spoke only a few words of Sylvan, the sort that a soldier would know, and he knew what tssip meant. He also knew that Jegala was seeking to bait him.

“I would never show such disrespect to the fey or the other inhabitants of the Reaches,” Carl said carefully.

Jegala sneered. “I’m originally from Erlaskar,” she told him. “I left, came north across Lake Galifar. You know why?”

“No,” he said, although he could guess. Erlaskar had been the site of some pitched battles between the Eldeen Reaches and Breland two decades ago.

“You do know,” she said, reading his eyes. “Breland killed everyone I loved.” She glared at him for a moment before continuing. “Now, you know Ch’walla? Our highest officer? Who lost her legs?”

“I do.”

“She isn’t continuing as commander. She already picked a replacement. She’ll announce it in the morning. Guess who it will be?” The triumph in her voice was ugly, hateful, full of promise.

“I assume you,” he answered, as dread gripped him. He was no diplomat, and his men were outnumbered by almost ten to one. Should Jegala break the arrangement, it wouldn’t be the Aundairians that killed him.

“You assume right,” she told him. “And we are going to break camp and head northeast to Riverweep. And your people are not coming with us.”

“Our two nations have –”

“Nothing to do with this place here,” she informed him. “I’d order a full-bore attack on your blue uniforms, but we’ve lost enough in the past two days.”

“Not all of your people would join in your attack, and you’d lose your command,” he told her.

“That might be it, too,” she said. She turned and walked away from him. “Be careful in the forest,” she told him. “Be a shame if something happened to you.”

Carl watched her go, then headed into the forest.