Chapter 9 – Part 7

“Damn cold,” growled the shifter, hefting his shortbow. He might have been as tall as his human companion, but he walked hunched over, gritting his teeth. “Sun not better than a candle! Damn!”

“Still got to walk the perimeter,” said the shifter’s companion. He was a human male in studded leather armor who carried a sword at his hip and a crossbow in his hands. “We’re done in another half-hour, we can get coffee and sit by the fire.”

“Feh!” spat the shifter. “Why the night watch not over once it ain’t night? Damn!”

“For a guy with a fur coat you sure complain about the damp a lot,” chuckled the human. “My gloves are wearing out, and my fingers are going numb, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

“My hair gets wetter than yours, nor warmer,” snorted the shifter. “It paused to spit a phlegm ball into the bushes as the walked around the great camp. Some ten thousand or so soldiers were stationed just southwest of Varna, off the road, and supposedly hidden by the trees. The Reachers rarely congregated in numbers this large, to keep Aundair from hitting them with area affect spells, but now was different. The army had been first assembled to relieve Varna, expecting it to be besieged at best, overrun at worst. But the Aundairian advance had been stymied, and now the army hid under trees, hoping that their druids had convinced the many creatures of the forest to keep them hidden, or at least keep the firmer details from being found.

Rumors ran wild in the camp. Some said they were to invade Aundair, some said they were to be sent home, others said that they were to turn on their Brelish allies. The human suspected that the generals didn’t know what to do. They’d not expected the Aundairian advance to falter.

But he was alive, if wretched cold, so he wasn’t going to complain. And there were worse duties than a simple perimeter guard.

“Stop!” hissed the shifter, grabbing his companion with an uncomfortable strength as his teeth grew magically long. A moment later the human heard it too. A humming, almost like music. A smell of freshly unfolding leaves.

The underbrush shimmered, and green light, comforting somehow in its hue, came into being and then became three figures. Within a heartbeat, the magical display faded, and three figures stood not twenty feet from the two guards. One was an older human woman, a wooden circlet on her head. Standing beside her on her right was a large, heavily muscled panther with too-intelligent eyes. To her right was a goblin in sharp leather, carrying a drawn shortbow.

“Halt!” gulped the human guard, fumbling for his sword. His shifter partner drew a pair of scimitars while keeping his fangs bared. The display made the panther bare its fangs as well, and the human didn’t want to calculate the odds on who would win a biting contest.

“We mean you no harm,” he woman said, her voice sweet and comforting. “I am Pienna, of the Gatekeeper sect, and I have come a long way. I take it we are west of Varna?”

The human looked at the shifter, and after a moment they nodded to one another. The shifter’s teeth shrank and he put his weapons back in their sheath. The human let go of his sword hilt. In response, the panther relaxed, and the goblin put his bow and arrow away. “Um, Miss Pienna, you’ve – uh, whatever you did – you’re on the edge of the largest army encamped in the Reaches.”

“Pienna?” sniffed the shifter. He cocked his head to one side. “This name I know.”

“I have fought for the Eldeen before,” the woman stated. “Though the Gatekeepers are neutral, I have defended myself and my companions when attacked.”

“You, um, won’t mind coming to see our commanding officer, will you?” the human asked. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to force her if she said no.

“I would love to, dear boy,” she said. “I need to get a lay of the land in any event, and you may have comrades in need of healing.”

“And we won’t say no to breakfast, oh no,” said the goblin. He grinned, showing many teeth. “Missy here is hungry.”

The human took a look at the size of the cat and nodded.