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The Butterfly Sorceress, a serial novel
Jimor:
Whoa, the thread views since the last post were just over 300, while the average previously had been a pretty consistent 40-60. Not sure what may have caused the surge, it's probably just some weird anomaly, but if somebody has mentioned this elsewhere, thank you! More readers is always good. :-) Anyway, on to the next part, which I have to admit is one of my personal favorites.
Chapter 4, Part 4
Belsira sat under a tree on the edge of camp and watched Portik run his men
through their daily drills. She didn't have to participate today, just work to
prepare herself mentally for the battle to come.
There was a fire in Portik's actions now. Ever since he saw Misha off on the
supply wagons returning to Gelfont, his demeanor was even more serious and cold
than before, his demand for perfection from his men even more profound. Yet
still he rarely let a glimpse of emotion escape where Belsira could detect it.
She worried that keeping his emotions in like that may hurt him later. She knew
all too well how important it was for her to acknowledge her own emotions so
that she could drain any excess into her worry stone or use it in some task.
She also worried that perhaps if emotions did come boiling to the surface of
Portik's demeanor, they'd be negative ones: hatred, anger, bloodlust. She just
couldn't imagine him with that kind of aura or personality. Nobody that could
care so much about what happened to Misha should have to live that way.
She also worried about the rest of the legion, they were too ready to get into
this battle. She dreaded the specter of the bloodlust that they could arouse
when the time came.
Most of all she worried about herself. She felt the very same feelings of
revenge and justice for this massacre as anybody else in the legion. She could
taste the power coursing through her, then toward the enemy, she lusted for the
chance to strike back at them for what they had done.
And that scared her. Had she changed so much already? Is she the same person
that Hylian raised to respect and support all life? Now that she was a soldier,
could she ever go back to just being Belsira?
She stood up, walked towards the town. The legion's men had finished searching
the rubble, found no more survivors, and too many bodies. Misha had done far
more than anybody could expect, and had identified as many of the people as
possible. Some she didn't know well enough, though, and some were disfigured
far beyond anybody's ability to identify. Final tally was three hundred and
thirty-two dead, with eighty-seven unknown as to who they were.
They were buried now on a small rise just north of the town center. Belsira
walked through Hidelway-no-more, then up the rise to stand among the dead.
Bare mounds of earth lay in neat rows and columns along the hillside. Dry
summer grass lay trampled between them from the soldiers who dug the graves,
then filled them again after giving rest to the victims of the massacre.
Too much lost potential here, too many dreams left unfulfilled.
Belsira left the graveyard, wandered back into the village again. She wished
she knew what she was looking for. There didn't seem to be any purpose to her
movements, just a way to relieve pent energy. She saw Portik again, so approached.
"How are you doing, Portik?"
He looked up from the inventory he was doing of supplies. "Hmmm? Fine,
Belsira, fine."
"Do you think Misha will be all right?"
"I think so. I doubt that the enemy has gotten around behind us yet. We'll
need to find them fast, though, or it could become a real possibility."
"No, I mean will she be all right in the long run?"
He stood silently, contemplating her question. "I don't know. I don't know
anything about the woman she's become since I last saw her. But knowing the
girl I knew then, and knowing her parents and the way they would have brought
her up, I'm hopeful."
He didn't sound convinced, but there wasn't much Belsira could say not knowing
more than she did.
Portik checked off the inventory from the wagon, moved to the next one. "I also
told her how she could contact me through Legion Headquarters in Lethem if she
should ever need any help when the war is over."
Belsira never ceased to wonder at the hidden assumption that everybody seemed to
have that not only would they win the war, but that each person would himself
make it through fine and then be able to pick up life where they had left it before.
Was she any different? She daydreamed often of getting back to the cabin with
Hylian and continuing as if none of this had happened. And try as she might,
she couldn't imagine what would be different if they both were able to return.
"Portik, there's also something else I'd like to talk to you about."
He turned to her. "Yes?"
"I'm not sure what's wrong, but I've been very uncomfortable about our situation
over the last day."
"Understandable. We came across an example of great atrocity. Everybody is
uncomfortable about that."
"I know, and that's part of the problem I think. All the soldiers are walking
around, anger in their hearts, pacing like cats, and so eager for the revenge it
scares me."
"What else would you expect? You saw the same things the rest of us did. Do
you think we should just let it go as an unfortunate consequence of war? Even
among the great evils that always exist in times of conflict, this is beyond the
bounds of acceptability."
"I know Portik. I want to get the bastards as much as anybody, but there's
something in the air that I don't like. If we hunt them down out of pure
hatred, how much of them do we then take into our hearts? It's an obsession,
and we're losing something important because of it. I just wish I knew what
that was so I could explain better."
"I think I understand what you are trying to say, Bel. Unfortunately, I don't
know what to do about it. Should we ask the men not to hate the enemy for what
they've done? As much as I'd rather have them tackle the battle with a clear
mind and soul, we can't tell people how to feel. And frankly, the charged
emotions will give you much more to work with your talent."
"I know, it's just that right now, I don't feel as if I know any of these
people. I can't help see what's inside them, and even though I know that they
really aren't as hateful as they appear, it still bothers me."
Just then, they heard a commotion over towards Kirtok's command tent. One of
the scouts came riding back at full speed, hopped off his horse, then ran into
the tent. Portik and Belsira looked at each other, then rushed over to see what
was happening.
As they entered, the scout, General Kirtok, and his aides, were looking at a map
on Kirtok's table.
"I found them just east of Randen, marching along the south loop road here," the
scout said, pointing at a place south of the legion's present position.
"Did you get a count and makeup of their forces?"
"Yes, Sir. Approximately three thousand infantry, only about 200 horse, plus
supply train."
"That must be the main element in this area. Most likely at least one battle
talent with a force that size." Kirtok looked up at Belsira. This was it --
the test she dreaded most.
Kirtok looked again at the map. "It will take them approximately three days to
travel the rest of that road and come out back on the main road here behind us.
We can go back to the junction in less than two.
"Loric, make sure we have a good rotating schedule of scouts to shadow their
movements. I don't think they can take any other route through that terrain,
but I don't want to be surprised by anything they do."
Kirtok turned to another aide. "Call the legion in and let's break camp, I want
to be on the march in less than an hour."
"Yes, Sir."
Belsira saw that everything was now coming to a head, but she still felt
uncomfortable with what was about to happen. Perhaps she had a way to change that.
"General, could I have you assemble the legion at the cemetery before we go?"
Kirtok glanced askew at Belsira, but nodded his assent. "Loric, pass the word,
legion to assemble at the cemetery."
"Yes, Sir."
"What do you have in mind?" he asked.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I think it's important."
Kirtok shrugged, then started walking toward the hill. Belsira hurried to catch up.
What had she gotten herself into? What if her plan failed? It was very
possible she could lose a great deal of confidence that the legion, or Kirtok,
had in her. She was committed now, though, no choice but to try.
She reached the cemetery just before the crowd of the legion reached there.
"Loric, ask them to gather just below the graves here, they don't need to be in
formation, though, I just want to talk to them."
"Yes, Lady Belsira."
While he barked the orders for the men to gather, she walked again among the
graves, tried to gain a sense of the place, the people who were now buried here.
People just like the ones she knew in Aberley or Crossley; people she could
know and understand, people she could see as they lived their lives, laughing
with the joys of everyday life.
When she reached the center of the cemetery, she turned around to face the legion.
Seven thousand faces looked at her, expecting something from her now, not from
Kirtok or one of the other officers. They also faced her with a sea of red
anger and even black hatred.
She knew it wasn't directed at her, but at the enemy, but it still disturbed
her, and this wasn't what she needed at all.
"Gentlemen."
Her voice cracked with the effort to be understood even to the back of the
crowd. How was she going to do this with what suddenly felt like a little
girl's voice? She didn't have the power or resonance of Kirtok or Portik, nor
any of their leadership charisma. Too late to back out now, though, so she
ploughed forward, cleared her throat, and tired again.
"Gentlemen. I need your joy for a moment."
Better, she was sure they all heard her now. Didn't help them comprehend her
yet, but she still needed to explain.
"I want to do something for the people of Hidelway, and I need your help. But
to do what I have in mind, I need your joy, not your anger at the injustice done
here."
Still a lot of confusion in the ranks, and even from Kirtok and Portik watching
from the side.
"I need you to think of home, of your loved ones and how much they mean to you.
Because all of these people had the same -- loved ones who made them happy, and
whom they could make happy in return.
"I want you all to think of those happy times, remember them and let them into
your heart right now. Remember the joy of children at play, remember the
feeling of somebody you care for held tightly in your arms."
The red faded, and a slight tint of blue started to arise as some of the men
followed her directions, allowed themselves to feel what she described. But
still not enough for what she wanted.
"What's the single most joyous moment of your lives, one that you would repeat
in an instant, one with no regrets, no looking back. Maybe it's holding your
child for the first time, or meeting your true love, or a beautiful Spring day
where the sky is so blue you think you can fall into it. I need you to find
that moment in time when you were as close to perfection as you could ever imagine."
More blue now, less red, though still not a complete conversion. She'd have to
try now, or she might lose the moment as the minds of the men wandered.
She closed her eyes, took two deep breaths, then concentrated on the blue,
leaving the red, the dark, aside. She pulled the joy into her, slowly and
steadily, not wanting to take it all away from those that had followed her
instruction.
Belsira drew it into herself, gathered it, then let it spread around her. She
let flow the joy and happiness into the ground around the sorrowful bare graves,
let the power reach the roots and stems of the grasses and flowers of the field.
She guided the growth outward, upward. She opened her eyes and saw green where
there was once brown and yellow.
The men saw too, and finally understood. Their joy grew, became more solid as
the anger and bitterness faded into the background. They were witnessing a
miracle, and knew it.
Now Belsira was able to tap into an even greater flow of power, to give that
power to the growth around her. She brought water from beneath the soil to
nourish the growth, guided the nutrients from soil to root to stem. Not that
she had to consciously direct this action for every blade of grass, but that her
understanding of plants taught to her by Hylian came to the forefront, as
instinctual as breathing.
The growth spread across the earth of the graves, sent down roots to grab hold
of the bare ground. Flowers began to blossom and bloom around her feet, and the
surge of joy from the men in the legion made it even easier to add more to the
growth.
But there was a limit to what they could give, and she didn't want to use it all
anyway. She looked around at the graveyard turned garden, saw that with the
help of the Fourth Legion, she had brought at least one taste of beauty to this
tragedy. She only wished that she had thought of this before Misha had left.
Still, she had accomplished what she had hoped, and now it was time to leave.
She shut down the flow of power through her, left the men with the gift of joy
in their hearts instead of anger, hatred and bitterness. She walked down the
hill toward Kirtok and Portik.
Both men were stunned into silence as she approached. Portik's face showed deep
gratitude for what she had done. Kirtok looked both puzzled and impressed.
"General, I believe the legion is ready to march now."
Jimor:
Chapter 4, Part 5
Belsira looked up the hill at the enemy position. The legion had chased them
down, so they had retreated to high ground, and had dug in. Now she and the
rest of Mardya's Fourth Legion faced a bristling mass of three thousand men
prepared and waiting for the attack.
Kirtok had ruled out a siege to starve them out, they could very well have two
or three weeks worth of food. There was no way he could afford to have the
legion tied to this one location when there could be other considerable enemy
forces roaming around the region. That they were willing to hole up actually
gave a strong hint that they were actually expecting help to arrive sometime soon.
So the legion had to attack, and Belsira had to face another talent in anger for
the first time in her life.
Unfortunately, tactics were limited by her ability to provide protection to the
troops -- it was too difficult for her to split her attention enough to shield
widely spaced groups. They'd have to assault the enemy position from a single
direction.
Belsira's primary task would be defensive. The legion had superior numbers, so
should be able to triumph as long as the opposing talent couldn't interfere.
"Are you ready?" Kirtok asked as they both sat on their horses at the foot of
the hill.
She nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be, General."
That appeared to be enough for him. He signaled the legion to move forward.
Belsira drew some of their energy, then formed a protective barrier around the
mass of men as they moved methodically up the hill. Soon after, she could
detect the gray aura of the shielding the opposing talent placed around his own
forces.
She followed the legion up the hill, along with her guards in formation around
her, and Kirtok with his guards, all on horseback. They needed to stay close
enough for him to give orders and for her to maintain the shielding.
The enemy had constructed a low earthen wall festooned with wooden spikes around
their position, extending in a semicircle around them extending outward from a
small bluff behind them. The terrain behind them was far too rough to get
enough men through it to attack the position, and sending anybody around the
backside would make them vulnerable anyway.
As the legion got closer, Belsira saw several arrows fly from behind the
battlements of the enemy position. Nothing she could do about the bows or
archers, but as the arrows left the protection of their shielding and approached
hers, she sent a puff of energy to weaken their structure and blow them off
course so they couldn't harm anybody. Still, they kept up a slow, but steady
barrage, probably just to keep her occupied with the task of deflecting them.
Finally, the legion came within shouting distance, and that's exactly what they
did. Shouted.
With a tremendous roar, the ran up to meet the barrier they'd have to breach.
Belsira followed along behind them, extended her shield up against the shield of
the other talent, felt the resistance where they met between the two walls of
men and flesh.
The soldiers of the legion crashed against the spikes in the earthen berm and
against the pikes of the waiting foe. Fear and anger, hate and anguish rose
from the massed aura giving Belsira a new source of power to draw from. She
strengthened the shielding, and felt the opposing shield strengthen in turn.
She watched the legion work to break through at the point, men falling on both
sides, their bodies piling onto the berm. There was nothing to do except watch
and hope that the legion's superior skill and numbers won out. But she could
see that the uphill struggle against the growing pile of bodies, while the enemy
could simply hack downward at the exposed legion soldiers trying to climb over
the barrier.
Perhaps there was something she could do. Belsira sent a burst of energy toward
the front edge of her shield bubble, weakened the cohesiveness of the soil piled
into the berm. A small slide formed in the middle of the barrier, carrying
soldiers both dead and alive down the hill several feet, but also opening a gap
that the charging men could now take advantage of.
They did, but the ones that made it through the narrow gap faced fierce
opposition -- far too much for a breakthrough. But the commotion at the center
of the line distracted the enemy enough where the rest of the line was starting
to come under the influence of her shield bubble. She applied more energy to
repeat the slide effect.
Unfortunately, the enemy was expecting it this time. When the soldiers of the
legion slipped backwards, the opponents rushed forward and chopped down the
front line before they could recover, and the line behind that rushed up to meet
the assault.
She hadn't anticipated that, but there was nothing she could do besides maintain
her shield around them as best she could while Kirtok ordered an adjustment in
the line to contain the counter thrust. She could sense his seething anger off
to the side of her, but she wasn't sure if it was directed at her, or just the
situation. No time to worry about it now, though.
With the line stabilized once again, Kirtok ordered a massing of forces on the
left flank. Belsira could see that the barrier wasn't quite as high on that
side, and the ground appeared to offer better footing for the soldiers. She
stretched the barrier to accommodate the new mass of men.
Just then, a commotion came from the right flank. The enemy had made a push,
driven a group from the legion beyond Belsira's protection. She tried extending
her barrier, but it was too late -- the opposing talent had sent a surge of
power to loosen and soften the soil of the hillside. The legionnaires lost
their footing and were mercilessly cut down by the pursuing enemy.
In an instant of inattention and carelessness, two hundred men lay dead.
Kirtok barked the orders to shore up his right flank so that the enemy sortie
couldn't crash into the unprotected side. Simultaneously, he gave the order for
the attack on the left flank. Belsira knew that striking at moments of flux and
chaos in the battle was the best way to throw the enemy off balance and gain an
advantage.
She didn't try anything fancy this time, just made sure that she swept her eyes
across the entire front, maintaining the even flow of energy from the massed
auras, and kept the shield solid and in place.
The thrust into the left flank was devastating to the enemy, it collapsed almost
immediately. The well-formed formation of the legion, alternating pikemen
protecting swordsmen, moved forward against the enemy position with efficiency
and precision.
Belsira watched the back ranks of the enemy position scramble to cover the
incursion in the flank.
Suddenly, a loud rumble pierced the already deafening clatter of battle. Huge
chunks of the bluff behind the enemy crashed down on both them and the
legionnaires behind the lines.
She hadn't been able to do the same because the opposing talent had put the
bluff within his shielding. She hadn't thought to add it to her zone of
influence as long as the enemy was still underneath it.
That was only the first surprise. The second was the mad rush of the enemy
soldiers out of their position and into the legions.
Formations totally broke down, and a mad melee of thousands of men ensued.
Hacking and slashing is all anybody could do now. The tide of battle reached
even the back reaches of the legion's position, and Portik and his men had to
tighten formation and protect Belsira from the conflict.
She already found her task difficult. There was plenty of emotional energy
being tossed around, but there was no defined boundary between her men and the
men on the other side. She could still detect he opponents shield beyond her
own, but it covered as many of her soldiers as his own, and vice versa.
She could perhaps drain the emotional will of enemy soldiers now within her
shield, but that kind of fine work was far too difficult in the seething mass.
All she could do was tap as much as she dared from everybody without taking away
their will to fight, then use the energy to continuously push the opposing
talent's field back from the whole confrontation.
She could see him now. He stood beside a small bush within the original
fortification. Beside him was another man in uniform, but she knew which one
was the talent and which one the general.
He was young, but not terribly so like her, perhaps thirty. Thin build, brown
hair to the shoulder, too far away for details, but he was passably good
looking. But he didn't stand like a soldier, didn't give off the same kind of air.
And he was staring directly at her.
Challenging. Daring her to a duel of wills.
That wasn't her task here today. She only had to make sure that general Kirtok
and his men could work unfettered by interference. So she continued with her
attempt to push his influence away from the battle.
He lashed out with pyrotechnics and other tricks on his side of the barrier. He
set the grass and shrubs on the hillside alight, but with the battle so well
joined, it affected both sides equally. Fortunately, there wasn't much fuel and
it was too low to the ground having been trampled so thoroughly, so the
conflagration, while spectacular, lasted only seconds, and did little more than
singe the leather and plate armor of the soldiers caught in it.
He had used a good portion of his available power on the show, however, and
Belsira was able to extend her bubble even further. The only ones still within
the other talent's protection was his own personal guards, and a few dozen other
soldiers still within the compound with their general.
She could also see that the battle was being won on the ground. The legion's
soldiers had managed to form up into smaller groups within the melee, and from
the well protected little units, could cut down the enemy almost at will.
Just then, Portik and ten of his men dismounted, formed up, and started forward
through the battle. They only paused long enough to eliminate any enemy
soldiers in their way, then marched on toward the original enemy position.
Portik called some of the other men to follow him.
With one eye on the battle and her control over the shield, Belsira watched as
Portik led his men up the hill across the berm, then on to fight the last of the
defenders still within the semi-circle of protection there. She tried to extend
her shield with them, but they passed beyond her protection and into the
influence of the other talent.
They were met by his guards, and those of the general's, but by now, Portik had
gathered half again as many men as they enemy had left in the compound.
Another vicious melee erupted as they met. A strange thing happened, though.
She could see the aura's of the men on both sides fade as the other talent
drained away their emotional energy. Slowly, their battle lost its intensity,
the soldiers became sluggish and unmotivated to fight.
Like her, his control wasn't fine enough to only do this to Portik's men, he had
to drain all within his control, and there was nobody left to take advantage of
the situation and slay the men of the Fourth Legion. But neither was there
anybody in the group up there to meet the challenge of the talent, his sword
held high in defiance of his enemies.
Belsira was finally able to extend her protection to this last group, but it was
too late, they all stood in stunned transfixion, unable to muster the will to
even lift their swords anymore. Completely drained.
No, there was still movement. One lone man walked through the maze of unwilling
combatants, marched right up to the opposing talent.
Even from this distance, Belsira could see the shock on the talent's face, the
surprised terror as he realized there was no way for him to stop this impossible
man from approaching.
He raised his sword, this time not in defiance, but defense. Belsira could
guess that his skills were no match for a trained warrior. She was right.
With one parry and a single thrust, Portik struck the man down.
The battle was over.
Jimor:
Chapter 5, Part 1
Belsira was going home.
After six years, here she was, riding beside Hylian in the wagon, heading for
Aberley. Hylian had said it was time, had sent the letter to Bel's parents
arranging the visit. She had also taken Belsira to the seamstress in Crossley
to pick out the fabric for a new dress. Once back at Hylian's cabin, Bel used
her talent, the joy of the occasion, to brighten the pale-blue cloth to a
crystal crispness that almost hurt her eyes to look at.
The day matched her mood -- early Spring, clear, bright. Blossoms and budding
leaves stretching from their Winter slumber lined the road, and songbirds
serenaded them on the journey.
Hylian, though, was strangely quiet, an occasional cluck to the horse, an
absentminded nod or grunt to Belsira's endless jabbering. Bel didn't mind,
nothing could dampen her joy. Six years of practice and she knew she could
control the wild talent that had so scared her parents when she was small.
She was still a bit worried about Tam, but time should have dulled the hurt
enough for them to make up.
Finally, Aberley appeared in the distance, settled up against the northern
hills. Belsira memorized every detail as they approached through the outlying
fruit orchards on the flat plain to the south of town. The road brought them
into the center of town and she recalled Fostler's shop and Arlock's mill to the
left, the glittering white town hall and grower's exchange to the right.
Hylian turned east past the inn and headed toward Bel's house on that edge of
town. As they approached, she turned to Belsira. "I'll be at the inn. Take as
long as you need, then when you're ready, we'll go back."
Bel wished that this could be a permanent homecoming, but she knew that there
was still much work left to her training and that she'd have to go back with
Hylian after the visit. "Thank you, Hylian. I'll let you know."
When they pulled up in front of the house, Bel's mother and father were waiting
outside for her. She lept down from the wagon and despite the clear nervousness
in both of her parents, rushed first into her father's arms, then her mother's
to give them huge hugs. She had forgotten how important simple human contact
like this was to her. Hylian was kind, but seldom demonstrative of her feelings.
As Bel cuddled under her mother's arm her father lifted her bags from the back
of the wagon. "Bye, Hylian. I'll drop by tomorrow to see you."
Hylian nodded, then shook the reins and pulled around to head back for town.
Bel's father carried the bags into the house and she followed with her mother.
"I'm so happy to be home with you. Hylian has been very good to me and she's
taught me a lot, but it still isn't the same as being here."
"It's good to see you too, honey," her mother said. Her voice still quavered
with the muddy green aura of fear and nervousness. It would take time to make
her comfortable, but Bel knew she'd have time to explain how she could control
her talent perfectly now -- they had nothing to fear from her.
When her father returned from dropping her bags in her room, she could see his
effort to suppress his own nervousness behind a crooked smile.
"You don't have to worry," she said and smiled back at him. "Hylian drilled
control of my talent into me so much I can't help but keep it contained."
That was the wrong thing to say for some reason, because his smile faded and
green fear flared around him. She dropped that subject and walked over to the
shelf by the front room's window. She spied a small clay sculpture of a horse,
beautifully toned with the natural earth of the material.
"This is very pretty."
Her mother came over and when she reached her hand out, Bel passed the horse to
her. "Yes, your father has been doing more finery work lately. He can get
pretty good prices from a travelling merchant who sells them in Lethem."
"That's wonderful." She wanted to examine more of the pieces on the shelf, but
the buzzing nervous energy of her mother beside her drove her away. "Where's Tam?"
"Uh, he's at Garmon's ranch helping clear brush from around the peach trees,"
her father answered. "He'll be home for supper, though."
"That's good, I'd like to see him."
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Bel's mother gathered the courage
to break it. "Bel honey, would you like to go in and freshen up after your
journey?"
"Yes, I think that would be best." She retreated from the room and went out back.
She couldn't help thinking that the tension inside was almost as oppressive as
the odor in the outhouse. She had forgotten how bad it could get since she or
Hylian were in the habit of speeding the decay process along back at the cabin
to keep the smell down. She had vowed not to use even a hint of talent during
her visit, though.
Before going back in, she filled a basin from the water cask by the back door
and then went to her room. She pulled her new dress from the bag, smoothed out
the wrinkles, then before putting it on, scrubbed the trail dust and sweat from
her body.
As she brushed the tangles out of her long hair, she noticed that her room was
just as she left it over six years ago. The little clay animals on the dresser
and shelf were still there, many of which she couldn't remember what they were
supposed to be.
And there next to the pillow was her old rag doll. She picked it up and hugged
the soft body close to hers. Why, oh why, she asked herself as a single tear
rolled down her cheek and disappeared into the doll's fabric.
Except for obviously being cleaned, everything was exactly the same. Were her
parents keeping it this way waiting for the day she'd come back? If so, why
were they so reluctant to accept her back?
She reminded herself that she had time to ease their fears, time to win back
their hearts, after all, even though they were her parents, they were
practically strangers after being apart for so long.
She finished brushing out her hair, clipped it back, then went back out with a
smile on her face.
Belsira found them in the kitchen, her father lighting the stove and her mother
preparing a roast and sweet potatoes. They seemed more relaxed with these tasks
to keep them busy.
"We have peaches for dessert, honey," said her mother. "Of course, with Tam
working in the orchard, Garmon has been giving him more preserves than coppers,
we've had peaches darned near every night for the last two weeks." For once the
smile on her faced was genuine, even through the residual green of fear that she
couldn't shake.
"That's all right, I like peaches."
"That's a pretty dress, Bel," her father noticed.
"Do you like it? I made it special for coming back."
Unfortunately, they could guess at what she meant by special and they closed in
on themselves again while they finished getting everything ready to put in the oven.
Bel needed to break the silence again. "It's a beautiful evening, why don't we
sit out on the back porch while we wait for supper?"
"Sure, honey."
Several times, Belsira tried to get the conversation started, but at any mention
of Hylian, or her training, or of any use of her talent, her parents would
retreat into silence and fear. Even the appearance of a few butterflies in the
field nearly sent her mother into a panic. Finally, the finished roast gave
them an excuse to escape her presence. It took every ounce of control she had
to hold back her tears of frustration.
As she waited and listened to the clatter of plates and dishes, she heard
another voice drifting out to her. Tam must be home, so she took a deep breath,
wiped away her sour expression and entered with the best smile she could muster.
When Tam looked up and saw her enter, the flare of red anger and black hate
coming from him struck her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her.
She didn't know how long it took her to choke out a "Hello, Tam" before quickly
sitting at her place.
Her parents took the places to either side of her trying to put physical
separation between them, but that just meant that Tam sat directly opposite her.
Supper was an absolute blur as she tried to choke down a few bites each of the
roast and sweet potatoes. It would have been delicious if she could have taken
a moment to taste them, but she was too busy fending off Tam's emotional assault
striking through the palpable fear emanating from her parents on either side of her.
When everybody had finished and her parents busied themselves with the dishes,
Belsira braced herself, checked to see that her worry stone was in place beneath
her dress, then stood up.
"Tam, I need to speak to you outside." It was a command, not a request, and he
rose to meet her challenge, though a tinge of green colored his contempt.
"Sure."
She ignored her parents as best she could and marched back out to the porch,
deep in twilight's shadow. When she was sure that he had followed, she turned
on him.
"Why! Why are you still angry with me after six years?"
Outwardly, he remained calm at her accusation. "What do you mean?"
"Don't give me that act. I can't read your mind, but I can damn well read your
emotions and don't you forget it. Not only are you still angry, you actually
hate me, and I want to know why!"
He nearly wilted under her verbal assault, but managed to hold his ground. "You
ask me why? You destroy my dog in front of my eyes over a little argument and
you ask me why?"
"I was a little girl, Tam. I had no control over my talent, I didn't know what
I was doing. Please, you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt Jarem...
or you."
"No, I suppose you didn't mean it. You just are what you are."
Belsira thought she had made a breakthrough, blinked, then understood it was
hopeless. In that single moment, she knew that all her hopes and dreams for
this day were pointless.
She went back inside, headed for her room, put what little she had taken out
back into her bags, then carried them into the main room.
"I'm sorry, I need to go now."
Her father's eyes never met hers as he nodded, while her mother simply stared at
her fidgeting hands in her lap. Neither stood, neither protested as she walked
out the front door and turned towards town.
With both hands full, she couldn't access her worry stone, so she just let the
tears and the emotions flow freely. At the moment she didn't care about
control, all of the discipline and care in the world hadn't helped her with her
family because behind it all still lay her talent, and that was all they could
see now. The little girl didn't exist to them anymore, and they didn't know
enough about the young woman she had become to care about getting to know her.
When she reached the inn, she saw that Hylian's wagon was out front, and her
horses still hitched. At just that moment, Hylian came out of the inn, Belsira
dropped her bags, and ran into her friend's arms, sobbing uncontrollably,
unashamedly.
"I'm so sorry, Bel. I hoped so much that I'd be wrong."
Hylian put Belsira's bags into the wagon alongside her own, and they climbed
onto the bench.
"Let's go home, Bel."
Jimor:
Chapter 5, Part 2
Another day and another march.
But this time there was something different in the way the Fourth Legion carried
itself. They were now battle hardened troops, and not just from a lopsided
ambush like the first skirmish. They had taken on another full legion, albeit a
bit smaller, and had crushed the enemy into nothing.
The same went for Belsira and her performance. Oh, there were flaws and errors,
and both Kirtok and Portik had let her know about every one, but there was a
change in how they talked to her just the same.
But the cost had been high. Seven hundred dead, four hundred wounded and on
their way home. Three of her guards among the dead, one among the wounded.
That left fifty-nine hundred men in the Fourth Legion.
And they had no idea how large the next force they'd meet would be. A legion of
ten, twelve thousand wasn't uncommon, especially if the stories about how many
men had been drafted by Tarsem and Cathia were true.
The one thing that had given Kirtok the most hope was how undisciplined the army
they had met had been. The unit cohesion had broken down almost immediately
under pressure, allowing for a tremendous three-to-one loss ratio. The Fourth
Legion was lucky to have as many men left as it did.
But Belsira couldn't forget the single image of Portik striking down her
counterpart in the opposing legion. The cold methodology of approaching a
talent, no emotion to lose or allowed to be used against him, then cutting the
man down, taking his life irrevocably.
In a way, it was far more frightening than the assassin that had come after her
with his dark hatred. At least in that case, there was a motivation, twisted as
it was.
What made Portik capable of walking up to a man he didn't know, apparently
didn't hate or even dislike, then slash the man's belly open with a sword.
She had up until then, seen Portik as a protector, not so much as a soldier.
She had no idea that part of his duty was to make sure that the other talent was
taken out of the battle. She also realized that there must be a counterpoint in
each of the armies she would face -- not a pleasant thought.
Right now, she wasn't comfortable riding with Portik and his men, so she hurried
her horse along and moved up the ranks until she was with the senior officers.
Loric saw her move up, turned to her.
"Good day, Lady Belsira. Anything I can do for you?"
"No, nothing of urgency, just looking for a variety of company."
Loric made no response.
"May I ask where you are from, Loric?"
"Certainly. I'm from Carrendon, in the western region of Mardya."
"Isn't that near the border with Tarsem?"
"Yes, just north of Fenwick, nestled against the hills there."
"Any family?"
"My wife, Meleth, and two boys, Lem and Kasic."
She tried to picture Loric with children in his arms, telling stories to them by
the fire. The image didn't fit. He was just so self-disciplined and efficient
as Kirtok's chief aide. But at least she had caught glimpses of him in a more
relaxed state, mostly around the other junior officers, playing stones or some
other game in the evenings in the officer's common tent.
He was also much more free with his emotions than Portik -- letting both anger
and happiness reign free whenever they occurred. So perhaps it wasn't a stretch
to imagine him as a proud papa, but like just about everybody Belsira came in
contact with now, she really only got a chance to see one single aspect of that
person day after day.
She made up her mind to try to get to know Loric better than she had so far.
"What are the hills like near your home? Around Aberley, they have a good
covering of oak and ash, but I'd hardly call it a forest there. Down near
Crossley where I lived with Hylian, the forest was quite thick, however."
"Not many trees above Correndon at all, really. The plains run right up and
over the foothills there, with only a few scattered scrub oak to break the
monotony. We have to bring in wood for building from outside the area. In
fact, we get a lot of it from this region here. It's cut, then floated down
river from here to the border with Tarsem, then onward up north to Fenwick and
Tregand."
Belsira looked at the extensive forest covering the hills and mountains to the
south and understood why this was such a rich source of timber for the rest of
Mardya. The Seldon River, just north and paralleling the east-to-west road they
were on was a natural highway for transporting the timber.
There was so much of her country that she had never seen, so many people she had
never known. It was just too bad that it took a war for her to experience all
of this, but there were still too many troubling thoughts in her mind to enjoy
even what she could see now.
"Loric, may I ask you what you think of Portik?"
"Portik?" Loric paused, surprised by the question, and clearly trying to frame
a proper answer. "He's a good man, a good soldier. There are few men that I'd
rather have beside me in battle."
Belsira sighed. Not the kind of insight she was looking for at the moment.
"I mean beyond Portik the soldier. What do you think of him as a person?"
Loric's aura showed his discomfort at the question, but to his credit he tried
to answer her anyway. "I don't know that much about him to be honest. I know
he's tough, yet fair with his men. There's no man more dedicated to excellence
except perhaps Kirtok, and even in that case I wouldn't bet either way.
"Why? Are you having problems with him?"
"No, nothing like that. Not at all, Loric. I'm... I'm just confused about a
few things at the moment." She looked within herself, tried to find the words,
the reasons for her unrest, struggled to articulate them.
"I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but Portik rarely displays an aura that a
talent like me can see. It's very unsettling to not be aware of the emotional
demeanor of a person when you're used to having that information most of the time."
Loric considered that for a moment. "You do realize that this is the very
reason most people feel uncomfortable around talents? It's very unsettling to
know that somebody has direct access to your deepest feelings, can know whether
you are being honest, not only to the outside world, but to yourself as well."
"I know, and that was one of the foremost lessons I received from Hylian. It's
not that I begrudge Portik for being able to hide his emotions so well, it's
just that I wonder if it's entirely healthy for him to do so. Doesn't he grow
weary of controlling himself like that all the time? Can he even let his
emotions run free?"
"That's not something I can answer, Bel. We are each who we are, and it is
really of no consequence how others perceive us. As long as he continues to
perform his duty, and unless you're telling me that I should worry about his
state of mind, it's none of my business."
"No. Nothing like that at all. Portik is so rock solid, I think he'd be the
last to have problems that would concern you or Kirtok. I know that's
contradictory to what I've just been saying, but it's not. I'm just trying to
figure out what's happening to everybody with this war.
"I've been isolated for most of my life, then all of a sudden, I'm thrown in
with thousands of strangers and told that their lives depend on me. No, not me,
my talent, a thing that I've all too often wished I'd never been cursed with."
Loric stared at her for a long minute, and Belsira wondered now why she was
burdening him with her problems. But where else did she have to go? She had to
work too closely with Portik on a day-to-day basis, and Kirtok was far too busy
and distracted with all of the minutia of running an entire legion to worry
about her too.
He was also standoffish in his demeanor anyway, so she didn't feel very
comfortable discussing things with him, even if it was legion business. She'd
much rather talk to Loric and see if he could take care of matters himself.
But now, such fears and hesitations to interact with Kirtok sounded small and
childish. A natural reaction given her background, but after these last two
battles, her childhood seemed to fall away from her, disappeared overnight.
There was no reason she shouldn't start dealing with Kirtok directly more often.
She didn't want to overemphasize her experience, but she knew now that she was
a vital component of the legion, and so should feel more open and comfortable
with it's leading officer.
"Loric, I don't mean to pry, but do you know what Kirtok thinks of me being the
battle talent for his legion?"
Again he paused before responding. She couldn't blame him with the wild swings
of subjects she threw at him.
"Well, Lady Belsira, understanding that he really doesn't talk much about people
under his command unless it's official business, I'd say he's come to regard you
as a positive asset to the legion."
"Meaning that wasn't always true?"
Loric blushed, both externally and internally.
"Don't worry, Loric, it wasn't exactly a secret that he was unsure of my
abilities, even right before our last battle. I couldn't blame him either, I
probably had more doubt than he did."
"If I may be blunt, it was more than just your abilities in doubt. We were very
concerned whether you could handle the rigors and emotional impact of full
battle. We knew from Samiel that you had little experience with even the normal
day-to-day setbacks of life. Large scale death is so traumatic for anybody
exposed to it for the first time."
Belsira nodded, thought about what Loric had said. Largely, it was true, but
there were episodes from her past that had prepared her for times like these,
even if she hadn't appreciated that fact at the time.
Loric continued. "It was very hard for Kirtok to hold back, allow you to grow
into your role at your own pace. He's so used to either having people with
experience step into the major roles, or sending newcomers down to be trained by
officers he trusts. He knew that Portik would perform well with teaching you
what you need to know militarily, but there was nobody available to teach you
how to use your talent properly once we left Lethem.
"Kirtok is not a man to feel comfortable around uncertainty. You wouldn't
believe the number of contingency plans we made in case you turned out to not be
able to perform your duties. And believe me, Bel, this wasn't because we didn't
trust you not to do your absolute best, but only because we couldn't afford to
believe that you'd perform as well as you have. There are too many lives at
stake here, and not just those in the legion here."
Beslira contemplated Loric's words, tried to absorb them. Is this what she had
wanted to learn when she had opened this conversation? Too late now, but it
felt strangely comforting to find out that they hadn't totally counted on her to
pull through for them.
"Thank you, Loric, for being so honest with me. You have no idea how much I
appreciate it." She smiled at him, then let her horse drop back so she could
drift back to her position next to Portik.
She had no idea how much she appreciated the honesty either. All she knew was
that she had even more to think about.
She had to understand about this war and her role in it.
Jimor:
Blahhh. Sorry everybody for the gap in the postings. I hit a snag in the writing of the last couple of chapters, and combined with a very hectic real life schedule, I fell off the horse for a bit. All the parts up through early chapter 7 are ready, I just need to make sure I keep posting. Anyway, on with the story!
Chapter 5, Part 3
Belsira sat at the table with the rest of the senior officers. Kirtok had the
map of the area spread on the table, and he stood over it, pointing to different
towns, different landmarks, asked the scouts for their reports.
The whole region had been disrupted by the enemy forces marching through it.
Whole towns lay empty or destroyed. The Seldon River valley was relatively
isolated from the rest of Mardya -- the Ytres Hills to the north cut them almost
completely off from the bulk of the kingdom. The only way to get here was
either the eastern pass that the Fourth legion had taken to get here, or from up
the river valley, and easy trip for Tarsem's forces to make.
There was also the possibility that they could get cut off from the south if
Cathia were to conquer Melwick and send forces over the Nerdran Pass. If that
happened, the Fourth Legion would be completely cut off from its supply line and
more important, its escape route if fortunes should turn against them.
But right now, Kirtok was worried about what was in front of him.
"No signs of any activity on the main road?"
"No, Sir," Willem, the lead scout, answered. "I traveled as far as I dare in
the open to try to see how far I could scout the main road. I didn't see
anything beyond what would have happened with the earlier incursions."
"Damn. I wish we could split the legion, I'd like to be able to cover both
sides of the valley as we sweep westward. But since that's not possible, we'll
have to find a different plan. Anybody have any ideas?"
Captain Bligard stepped forward. "I think we have to choose which route to take
and hope we can pick correctly. These minor roads on the shoulders of the
valley are likely routes for an invasion. They're capable of handling large
movements, even if they are a bit rough, and they afford some cover in the hills
if there's a confrontation."
"I agree," Loric said. "It also makes it possible to raid the towns on the
valley floor, coming at a direction that the citizens would be looking for.
Though, right now, there's very little left to raid, I still think the fact that
there's cover would make travel along the side roads the logical choice."
"But we can't split our force to cover both," added Captain Janthor. If we
stick to the main road, and maintain good scouting on these side roads, we
should be able to react no matter what side they travel on."
"What happens if they see us coming, duck into the hills, then wait for us to
pass?" Loric asked.
"We risk that happening if we choose one side over the other as well. There are
no guarantees." Janthor replied.
Loric studied the map some more. "Can we figure out which path they are more
likely to take?"
Kirtok looked more closely. "Hard to say. More targets on the northern path,
but more cover on the southern. It depends on what their mission is and how
large the force is."
"There's no reason then for them to take the northern route, there's nothing
left to plunder," Bligard said.
"So the southern road is a more likely choice," Kirtok said as he examined the
map from the legion's current position to the border with Tarsem. "That's the
path we'll take then. Besides, the option of cover is something we may have to
avail ourselves with if a force comes along that we can't handle alone. I want
a company on each of the other roads, though, I don't want any sized force to
slip through unnoticed. There's no sizable force between us and Lethem that
could stop them."
With the decision made, the officers discussed the implementation, so Belsira
moved to a corner of the tent and relaxed the best she could. Wasn't long at
all before a new commotion erupted -- one of the relay messengers arrived on
horseback outside, then after passing inspection of the guards, strode into the
tent handing over his packet to Kirtok.
Belsira could see by the mood of the young man that the news was bad.
"There's a packet from King Hartan from Lethem, and a packet of news from the
southern kingdoms routed through Gelfont," he said as he gratefully took a mug
of water from an attendant.
News from the capital was so little and so seldom, and even then, the legion was
so far away that by the time it reached here, it was two or three weeks out of
date. News from the northern kingdoms could be more than a month old.
Kirtok reached for the map pouch, pulled out the big one showing all the
kingdoms, and laid it out on the table. He took a handful of stones, then began
laying them on the map as he read the dispatch.
First he placed one near the southwest corner of Mardya to represent the Fourth,
then two more on the western border with Tarsem to represent the Third towards
the south and the Second a bit farther north. The First was up in the Kingdom
of Dorine to help them fight off the invasion of their land from Tarsem and
Provene. There was no telling where it actually was at this moment, however.
Finally, he placed a stone to represent the Fifth back in Lethem, at the center
of the vast, landlocked Kingdom of Mardya. Seen like this, Belsira realized how
absolutely futile it was to try to defend such a huge nation with only five
legions. Except for the fairly decent coverage on the western front, Mardya was
all but defenseless.
Then Kirtok started placing stones in other kingdoms.
Up in the northern Kingdom of Thantium on Mardya's northeast border, just beyond
the hills behind Belsira's home in Aberly, two small stones. "The Thantium
legions, with eight of twelve thousand men remaining, have had to abandon their
capital, and are falling back toward Mardya along the Than river valley." He
placed five stones within Thantium to represent the invading armies. "These are
primarily Provenian forces transported by ship along the northern coast and into
the Bay of Than. Total strength somewhere between fifteen and twenty thousand.
Unknown how many are tied up with occupation, otherwise they would be a real
threat to push south into Mardya."
He moved just to the west an placed three stones in Dorine, just within that
Kingdom's southern border with Mardya, marked with a line of hills, part of the
same chain that arches above the heart of Mardya. Right now, they were the only
thing guarding the pass through the hills and into the northern provinces,
including Belsira's home of Aberly. "Six thousand remaining from the initial
twelve."
And facing them were four more enemy legions. "Two from Tarsem, approximately
eight thousand remaining, and two legions from Provene, another five thousand.
If our Second Legion can join the fray, we probably can gain the upper hand here."
Now Kirtok read the southern dispatch, moved his attention to the desert kingdom
of Sontara at the south eastern extreme of the map. It didn't share a border
with Mardya, Melwick lay between them, basically encompassing the wide and rich
Volder River valley.
"Sontara's forces are nearly intact still, about seven thousand, but they've
taken to the desert and the hills, playing a hit-and-run game with the invading
Cathian legions. Three of them, the best we can tell, total force of twelve
thousand." He placed three stones in the main cities of Sontara, and spread
some pebbles in the wilderness.
"The other twenty-four thousand soldiers from Cathia are involved in heavy
fighting in Melwick. Reports are that Melwick's four small legions have lost
five of their orignal sixteen thousand men, but they've inflicted very heavy
casualties on the Cathians, possibly as many as ten thousand."
Kirtok placed some stones to represent both sides on the map. "Unfortunately,
they've pushed the Melwick forces back, so they now control the Markren pass
road between Mardya and Melwick."
Loric moved forward. "But that means that if they send a force over the pass,
they can cut off our supplies, not to mention any path of retreat we may need."
Captain Bligard joined the discussion. "We have no choice, we have to go back
and cover the pass. Not only for our own safety, but also to protect the main
road leading back to Lethem. The whole region would lay open for them if they
get there before us."
"We won't be going back, either to meet the enemy, nor in retreat," Kirtok said.
Bligard stared, almost stunned. "But we have no choice, if our supplies are
cut, we'll be too vulnerable!"
Before Kirtok could repeat his statement, Portik stepped forward. "Is that all
of the reports, General?"
"Yes, that's all that our messengers and scouts have been able to gather, at
least at the point in which these dispatches were sent."
Portik pointed to the map. "Except for these two small legions in Dorine, I
don't see any of Relath's own legions here."
Kirtok nodded. "Precisely. Our estimates are that he has gathered a total army
of sixty thousand men. That's from a total population of one hundred and eighty
thousand, while we have only raised thirty-eight thousand from a total of two
hundred and twenty thousand."
He pointed at the border between the two kingdoms. "But we haven't seen any
sign of them besides the forces that we've met up with, and the ones up north in
Dorine. That's no more than nine of the sixty thousand."
He looked around at his officers.
"So where are they?"
Nobody had an answer for the general, but even Belsira could figure it out.
They were waiting, safe within the borders of Tarsem while his allies from
Provene and Cathia carried the war to the north and south flanks of the allied
kingdoms. But what those fifty thousand plus troops were going to do, she
couldn't even hazard a guess.
Kirtok once again pointed at the map, at the long border between Mardya and
Tarsem, almost all of it along the Seldon River. Right in the middle, on the
east bank of the river, was a gaping hole in Mardya's natural defenses, a vast
plain that stretched from the western border to the eastern mountains. If
Relath could get an army free within that open space, he could run rampant
through the kingdom.
Fortunately, the Second and Third legions guarded that border. But they had
only a combined nineteen thousand under arms. If the First shifted down from
Dorine, they'd have just over thirty. Besira had already seen that Mardya's
forces were better trained, but she still didn't like those odds.
She watched as Kirtok again brought out the detailed map for this isolated
corner of Mardya, separated from the rest of the kingdom by the line of hills to
the north.
"We aren't going back because we're moving forward. The border down here is
unlikely to be guarded by any significant forces. If we can cross over, then we
can possibly cause enough of a diversion to distract a number of those hidden
troops to come southward.
"We'll continue to sweep for whatever forces have penetrated this region, but
we'll also keep moving towards Tarsem." He took paper and pen, and wrote a
dispatch of his own.
"Messenger, take this back to Lethem and whatever other forces you come across.
If at all possible, the Fourth Legion of Mardya is going to strike the enemy at
home."
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