AA3 58 - Implications

Despite every effort Verdan made, every ounce of Aether that he flung into healing spells, people died.

The Chosen had all survived, though Jarn would have died without Verdan’s aid. The Witches had come through almost entirely unscathed as well, and so had Dirk, to Verdan’s relief.

Kai had lost his arm, but Verdan had gotten there soon enough to save it. For the most part, anyway. The Sorcerer would be struggling to use it for a while, but eventually, full use would return.

Or at least, that was what Verdan hoped would be the case.

On the face of it, Verdan and his companions had come out all but unscathed, but they had all seen their share of dangerous situations.

Magnus’s left arm had been shattered by the tail of a Guzzgar while Verdan had been healing Kai, a blow he’d taken while shielding Beska and pushing her aside.

The creature had thought dead and ignored, but it had surged to life as the wounded were carried past it. Magnus and the Mhorgain thearns had taken it on, with Dirk supporting them.

Two of the Mhorgain thearns had been killed and several more injured in order to take down the creature, but they’d stopped it rampaging through a dozen or more of the wounded.

It was a bloody affair fighting monsters this way, and that was with enchanted weapons being spread throughout the force. True, many of them had run out of Aether by the end, but they’d made the difference while they lasted.

Truly, Verdan had nothing but respect for the courageous men and women who served as thearns and shieldguards. In many ways, Verdan saw in them the legacy of the imperial guards he’d served with.

They had the same tenacity, the same bloody-minded resolve to see the task done, no matter what they faced.

Over two hundred Kranjir had joined this assault, and almost a third of them were dead. Half of those still living were wounded, many of them badly enough that they would need to be kept here for the time being.

Verdan’s will was used up, his throat was bloody and raw, and he could cast no more spells. He’d saved many, but so many more were dead, and this was just from this battle.

No one knew how many villagers and country folk had been swept up by the Darjee and Gormagyr as they advanced. This unnatural alliance had cost the Kranjir dearly.

A detachment of the uninjured had gone back under the command of Osran, and they would bring the Keeper, fresh reinforcements, and wagons for the wounded back with them.

Ordinarily, there would be no need for the Keeper to see this, but if anything, things had only grown more complicated since they won.

The biggest issue for the Kranjir was the origin of the supplies the Gormagyr had been using. They’d been concerned when the Bone Thralls were equipped with metal weapons, but that concern had been about the Darjee or Gormagyr learning to become blacksmiths.

Now, looking at these crates and how they’d been damaged to prevent identification, that worry was now a best-case scenario.

The items they’d recovered were clearly of Kranjir make; the designs of both the supplies and their containers told them that much.

Osran seemed to be of the opinion that what they were seeing was the remnants of a convoy of materials that the Darjee or Gormagyr had intercepted.

Verdan wasn't sure exactly how that was meant to account for the clearly custom-made pieces of metalwork they’d found; no one could rightfully say those brutal pieces had been intended for any normal weapon.

Kai was of the same opinion as Verdan; these supplies had been given to the Darjee and Gormagyr.

Someone was betraying them all.

Verdan could tell that the rest of the Chosen knew it in their hearts, but they were hanging onto the slim hope that Osran offered as best they could.

When Sebastian arrived, Verdan would push them all to accept the truth, but for now, he left it alone.

The second complication they had was the prisoner pens they’d found on the far side of the Darjee settlement. Almost fifty Kranjir had been inside, living in filth and squalor.

The problem was that they were a mere fifth of the overall population.

Alongside the humans were around a hundred and fifty Fwyn and fifty Brecan.

Brecan were tall four armed humanoids with thick, rocky skin and angular bodies. They were a strong and powerful people with natural magics relating to earth, rock, metal and a host of other similar things.

Brecan were slow in everything they did, but they had been popular in the old Imperium for how reliable they were. Brecan were peaceful to a fault, but they were the finest workers you could find for anything to do with their field of expertise.

With so many Fwyn and Becan in one place, it was no wonder that the Darjee had been able to create this settlement. The angular stone buildings made much more sense now as well.

Much like they’d seen before, the pens were full of bone-laced cages, stopping the prisoners from doing much of anything. That was more of a consideration for the Fwyn and the Brecan, but it was applied to the humans as well.

Thankfully, the Kranjir who first reached the pens opened them without care for the species of those inside. Verdan supposed it was easy to see others as friends when you both suffered at the hands of another.

Still, the lack of a shared language made things difficult, and Verdan had been busy elsewhere, unaware of the encounter.

Thankfully, Ciaran was the Chosen to be called in for advice, and his decision was to give them food and water. Once done, he sent a runner for Verdan.

Exhausted from all his work, Verdan had managed enough of a conversation with the Fwyn to put them at ease. An easy task considering that they’d already heard of him.

It seemed that Gruthka had been spreading the word about him throughout the different Fwyn communities.

The Brecan had watched the whole conversation silently, but Verdan knew that they would likely follow along with whatever the Fwyn did for the moment.

Truthfully, Verdan was a little concerned about the Brecan. A healthy Brecan’s crystalline eyes were vivid and brightly coloured; it was one of their most striking features and an easy tell for when they were sick.

Not one of the prisoners was bright-eyed, and they seemed slow-moving, even by Brecan standards.

Verdan made sure to ask if they needed any healing, but the Fwyn spokesperson assured him they didn’t, so there wasn’t really much else Verdan could do. Not that he had the energy left to actually heal that many, but he felt obliged to ask.

With no immediate concerns, Verdan had left the Fwyn and Brecan to rest and recuperate, with a request that they watch for his messenger later.

Verdan had asked them to wait for Sebastian’s arrival in the hopes that the Fwyn or the Brecan might have witnessed something that they could use to better understand the situation.

Verdan would have to translate, but he was hoping that Sebastian had some questions for them that Verdan wouldn’t have thought of.

Other complications in managing their ongoing presence here were springing up, but Verdan decided to leave those to the Chosen. He’d done enough for the day; he needed some rest.

-**-

The camp that Macha had found for them was barely a half day from Dunkirn, far closer than anyone had ever expected the Darjee to be.

At the time, they’d questioned how that was possible, but with the discovery of the Fwyn and the Brecan, Verdan had a feeling that the Darjee had been moving steadily forward, bringing their camp right along with them.

It was a remarkably organised and planned out effort, one that favoured the Gormagyr’s ability to create Thralls and was another piece of evidence towards all this being far more than a simple raid.

In the short term, however, it meant that they were just far enough away that the Keeper would arrive in the morning. That meant they were camping here, but no one wanted to be camping right on top of the battlefield.

It had been early afternoon when Verdan finished his healing work, and he managed to catch a few hours of sleep against a tree before Barb woke him up.

“So, what’s going on?” Verdan asked raspily, rubbing his eyes and stretching out his back as he looked up at her.

“Chosen Macstan is calling a general meeting to discuss our plans regarding this settlement and our camp. He’s asked for you to attend,” Barb said, passing Verdan a flask of water as she spoke.

“Well, that’s not surprising, really,” Verdan said with a bitter laugh that came out as more of a croak. There hadn’t been much thought of what would come after the battle had been won, and what little planning they’d done was woefully inadequate against the realities they now faced. “When is it?”

“Half an hour. They’re making some campfires for warm rations at the moment, so it’ll be before then.”

“Got it,” Verdan said, getting to his feet and taking another swig of water before offering it back to Barb, who waved for him to keep it.

“I’ve got another; that one was just for you.”

“Thanks,” Verdan said gratefully, tucking the flask away before frowning slightly. “Who’s invited to this meeting?”

“You, Dirk, all the Chosen, Kai, Gwen, Captain Galstar and Pathfinder Galstar,” Barb said, rattling the names off easily.

“Hmm, looks like I need to make a stop first, then,” Verdan said, smiling slightly at Barb’s confused expression. “We’re going to be talking about camps, so we should make sure we involve the specialists we have on hand.”

“The Fwyn?” Barb guessed with a questioning tone.

“Not quite, though they’ll need to interpret for us,” Verdan said, his smile widening as he realised that Barb hadn’t laid eyes on one of the Brecan yet. “Why don’t you come along? It’ll be a good experience for you.”