Theurgy: The Journey's Dawn (Book One)

Chapter 53 The Camp

The Battle of Mer'dith will prove to be a substantial victory for the Empire of Thiria in their war with the Frostland Kingdoms. A thousand two hundred soldiers were trapped in a small fort of the river, burdened by a savage enemy who would have cruelly weathered them down to their last man. It was only the arrival of a few knights, and their mercenaries of the Nautilus Omega did Fate favor them. They were celebrated, as the rest of their stay was inside the walls, with the soldiers who survived the gruesome bout. They brought out the best of wine and food, but unfortunately, they could not stay to participate in the festivities. Despite Hagroth pleading the participation, they were gathering horses and supplies to be on their way northeast. There, they will truly meet the battle they waited for.

"Please, I wish to be your host for these nights," Hagroth said to them. They were atop their horses, Lyse petting Mist on his neck. Most of everyone was ready to cross the bridge still in place from the crossing. Hopefully, a permanent one will be installed shortly. "While I am the sole commander of this post, I should thank you in some way for what you have done here, knights."

"There is no need for reward," Lyse told him. This was actually the first time he has uttered a word since they left the battlefield. Prior, Edlund wasn't able to get a word out of him. He was deathly quiet after what happened. But now, he seemed to be back to his composed and confident self. He preferred this disguise.

"Well, how about we send you on the right path?" he gestured across the river. "The scouts don't know much beyond those frozen hills, but if you keep close to the river and follow a road called the Kjorn pass. There hasn't been that much activity coming through there; your men will find the least resistance on whatever this expedition is."

"It is I who thank you now," Lyse said, then nodded to Moxie and the others. "Let's get going. We want to make our gains before nightfall."

"Yeah," Moxie said. Her arm was still in a sling, but at least she could feel the pain. Makyra promised to heal it more once she has the reserves. "Keep your eyes peeled, men."

He nodded back and together began to ride to cross the bridge. The ice that covered the surface had yet melted, but they didn't take the chance, funneling everyone across the bridge to ride along the road. The air was crisp this morn, and all bundled themselves in their coats and clothes to keep from the snow that pounded them. It was said that the winter became harsher for each Frostlander that died. If a hyperborean died, then a winter storm could be approaching. A superstition, retribution for their blood being shed, it was often said to be. The last time Lyse remembered such a storm was when he was young, possibly soon after his memories had been replaced and altered. The thought was still a bit troubling. But he does remember a particularly bad winter. The harvest had been well, though they yet had many other hands on the farm. They were practically trapped inside their homes, Wilbur or Celia taking the effort to get water from a well or care for the animals in the barn. He remembers that the Forest of Silence never did lose its leaves. It wasn't weird to him; he never knew of trees that ever lost their leaves. But travelers from distant lands would come to observe this supposed phenomenon. He was reminded of this looking at the dead trees around them. The white and grey streaked barks were covered in a layer of frost. Their branches naked and rattling against the wind. He was glad to of taken off his armor to be cleaned instead of wearing through this harsh beating.

The trail they followed was well enough worn, though the snow piling onto it sometimes obscured it, forcing them to keep a close eye out. Moxie guided them, using the various maps to move them onward. Though she often took wrong turns, and Makyra had to point them in the right direction on occasion. Makyra seemed most in her element, in fact. She didn't even wear that much clothing, leaving her arms bare to the elements while everyone else was buried in various attire. Thirian knights always seemed so acclimated to the weather; no doubt she had been trained further to cope with such things. She was a tracker, after all.