His first weeks in Valen felt a lifetime away, as if they’d happened to someone else and not him. He did not want to think much on the rest.
The cave. The ratmen…
He’d killed several beastmen before the sun had risen and Tallah had left. These had climbed the walls like cockroaches and been cut down. He and Arin had been tasked with patrolling the lower bastions, part of a force aimed at keeping the monsters from reaching the higher landings.
Some of those daemons had rat features and stank worse than Vergil remembered the creatures. Horvath had pointed out they weren’t the same kind of monster. Ratmen and rat-like daemons bore little resemblance to one another aside from their physical features. They fought differently. Did not speak. Had no structure.
Still, it had felt good to wet his new sword on their blood. The more he swung Promise, the more comfortable he felt doing so. Its grip fit his hand. He’d earned the weapon on his own. And he’d bathed it in the blood of monsters.
Life, for a short moment, felt good. Even the ache in his back and shoulders felt good, earned through effort and blood spilling. Part of him worried at where the appetite for blood would lead, but was ignored.
Arin came to stand next to him on the wall, also staring out into the Cauldron.
“Heard you had sharp eyes,” the soldier said.
“Something like that.” Vergil nodded, not pulling his gaze away from the still thawing vista.
Tallah was somewhere towards the east, inside the ravine, past the forest. Snow sloughed off the tallest trees there. It made small rainbows in the light.
“Searching for Cinder’s path?” Arin took off his helmet and dabbed sweat off his brow. He’d been carrying messages across the many bastions that lined the Rock’s walls, bent to the task since first light. Vilfor rode him and the others hard.
“Yep.” Vergil blew out his cheeks and let out a thick plume of white vapour. “Fool’s hope, I know. I can’t help but worry.”
Arin laughed and elbowed Vergil lightly in the ribs. “I don’t think she’s the one you ought to be worried for. If anyone can make the crossing, it’s Cinder. She’s a living legend.”
That, Tallah was. But Vergil had seen her at the ends of her strength and knew her to be as human as he or Arin. She had a plan for this mission—and he’d seen her handing off the second shard to Sil earlier—but still, he couldn’t help but worry. She might’ve had some down time recently, but he doubted the sorceress was anywhere near her full strength anymore. She’d not been allowed in the fight for two nights but had that even been enough to replenish her strength entirely?
If he’d known of the scouting force heading into the forest, he would’ve offered to join as well, go and see what sort of monsters roamed the daylight.
“Not really talkative today, I take it?” Arin said, back leaning against the same parapet.
Vergil shook out of his reverie and turned to the soldier. “Sorry. Just worried. I can’t help but expect something terrible to happen. It’s like it’s in the air.”
The night’s assault had been too light. Too easy. He’d barely fought and the soldiers had barely bled. Whenever things worked out so well, he was certain something, somewhere brewed. It was never nice.
His plan and Tallah had worked well in Valen until the prince showed up.
They’d crossed the chasm in the Crags fine, until the earthquake nearly sent them plummeting to their deaths.
Exploring Grefe had gone reasonably easy, until the spiders ambushed them.
Maybe it was the combined influence of Horvath and Tallah, but he was beginning to see threats in every corner and shadow.
“Are you done with your missions?” he asked Arin, more to distract himself.
“Aye. Delivered all missives. Got none back. I’m scheduled to go and rest now but can’t say I’m tired enough to do so.”
They turned and walked off together, following the line of the wall towards the stairs. The Cauldron was quiet. The Rock, not so much. Men called out the repairs that were still underway and the siege equipment being serviced. Soldiers were out near the walls, burning corpses and building fresh pyres for the night. It was as busy as Grefe after Erisa’s death.
The thought had him wondering where Luna had gotten to. The spider hadn’t returned for quite some time, busy as it was exploring the gargantuan fortress. He only hoped it hadn’t gotten itself into some trouble, but was reasonably certain that sight of it would stir enough of a bother that he’d hear of it.
“I’m heading into the ward to see if Sil needs anything. Won’t say no to having company,” he ventured toward Arin. “Join me? They have decent coffee.”
Arin shuddered. “Vergil, I’d rather pick up dung, soak it in water, and drink the resulting mixture, than risk another taste of the healers’ brew. I had it once. Felt I was dying for two days after. Couldn’t sleep for three.”
Vergil laughed as they descended. They had to wait on the first landing for a group carrying weapons to head up.
“I don’t think it’s quite that bad,” he said. “Sil has this tonic that’s far, far worse than the coffee. You wouldn’t believe the things she added to it. Kept us upright and marching for three days straight.”
“She’d better not show it to Kor or to Commander Vilfor. I wouldn’t put it past them to have us on rotation for two days straight if we could.”
The Rock was alive and it was vital. The attack inside the city had come and gone. The attacks on the walls washed off them harmlessly. There was cheer in the air, faith that the tide could turn now.
Funny how that works. He was still getting used to the strange optimism of the place. They’d been a step away from total disaster before, but a couple of victories had been enough to bolster morale and improve everyone’s disposition. He even saw some of the adventurers working down there, applying their skills to help prepare for the next push.
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One of the men in the courts, he was certain, was Cram, Licia’s companion. The bald man was halfway out of armour and hammered nails into some wooden assembly. They were building fresh siege engines, ready to chuck more stones out and over the wall.
Word had spread of Tallah’s mission. As they approached the soldiers in the courtyard, Vergil caught snippets of conversation.
“—going to unite the Rock and Anvil. Finally, a workable plan.”
“More men, more mouths to feed—”
“More hands to bear arms you mean. We can break their backs!”
“Tunnels still sealed. How will we get there or them here? Fool’s quest.”
“Tunnels got blown when the distillery exploded. No way out but the ravine, and that’s been sealed.”
“Healers got a break. Haven’t lost a soul recently.”
“Damin died.”
“Damin was an idiot. He fell on his own blade—”
Cautious optimism mingled together with a pragmatic attitude towards survival and various other anecdotes of living at the Rock. Resting soldiers spoke of Cinder’s old exploits. Vergil stopped Arin and they eavesdropped for a time.
“Heard she’s earned the moniker after what she done on her first mission here,” a grizzled old bear of a man said to his companions. They were busy oiling crossbows. “Heards it from Vilfor’s old commander. Cinder came with the rest. There was a bad infestation that thaw. She didn’t want to go out and fight openly. Had men digging holes and trenches. Filled them up with kindling and night’s blood.” He chuckled to himself. “She blew them to smithereens on that night. Killed scores with a single fireball. Dirty tactic, but worked.”
Vergil smiled. It sounded like Tallah alright, though these days she preferred a more head-first approach most of the time. They moved on as other men picked up the storyteller’s role.
They found Sil hunched over her alembics and other assorted glass apparatus, carefully measuring some fine powder on a mechanical scale. She scooped it up and added it to a boiling clear solution. It immediately turned ruby red, a bit like blood. She used a pair of metal tongues to removed the glass vial off the flame and set it aside. The scary girl from before—Vergil struggled remembering her name—was next to the healer, taking notes. She had a whole array of glass tubes next to her, together with stoppers.
“After it cools, pour exactly ten drops in each vial. It should be sufficient for an adult. Top off with the alcohol mixture and let set it on the flame again until it turns orange.” She thought for a time while she waited for the girl to finish writing. “If you ever brew this for a child, use as many drops as summers the child’s lived. More and it can send the patient into fits. Nothing fatal, but kids can bite their tongues off.”
She noticed them in the doorway when she turned.
“Unless one of you is wounded, I’d rather you don’t take up space for nothing,” she said, crisply.
Both Vergil and Arin got out of her way as she swept out and into the triage ward, checking on those that hadn’t received the goddess’s blessing. Vergil trailed after her as she stopped to talk to the sick and hurt. Unlike on other days, more healers were now free to work on the less severe cases.
While the treat still loomed, only those in the worst condition could receive the goddess’s healing or any of the accelerants.
Vergil felt slightly ashamed of himself for how many of those he’d wasted in Valen.
“I just came to see if you need anything, Sil,” Vergil said. Arin remained behind in the outer hallway, taking the warning to heart. “Also, I need some coffee.”
“Bucket’s past the alchemy tables. Grab a mug. Dip it in. Get out.”
“Do you know anything about Tallah?” he tried. Sil wore the shard in a small bag tied around her neck. He could see its cord. “Did she contact you?”
“Shards don’t work that way, boy.” She checked the pulse on a wounded woman, then inspected the bandages on her arm. “I have draughts in my thigh pouch if she does return and is wounded. All is in hand. Go and see to your own duties.”
“I don’t… have any,” he said. “Everyone’s busy. Nobody needs my help.”
“Then go rest. Drink with that elendine or something. Don’t hover about.”
He didn’t want to go down into the city proper, not if Tallah could somehow return at any moment. Watching the Cauldron got him antsy. Going to drink would make his anxiety spike. He had a bad feeling but didn’t know how exactly to articulate it.
“Can I help you with anything?” he asked as Sil moved on from the wounded soldier to a wounded civilian. He’d lost an eye somehow and his face was swollen.
“Get out of my ward and out of my hair. I don’t need anything.”
When she walked, her new mace swung on her hip and it was easy to imagine her drawing it out and using it on him.
“Can we talk then?” he insisted. “About the other day? When you got wounded? I’m worried about you.” Her scars were still bright pink on her arm, the skin bunched together, like fabric not settling right. He saw how she struggled to make a fist sometimes.
Sil finally relented, slowed, and gave him a more patient answer. “Look, Vergil, I’m as anxious as you are. But you being here and bothering me is not going to help Tallah on her mission. You’re just making me antsy and I don’t like it.” She made a shooing motion and added her disquieting smile into the mix. “Go and drink your coffee, find a place to sit down and be quiet, and just wait. That’s all we can do.” She ignored the rest of his questions.
? Grab the wee lass wi’h ‘he scary eye.
? She’d go fer a tumble, I bets.
? Or that elend whelp down below!
Vergil blinked away the dwarf’s less-than-subtle ideas and nodded slowly. He wouldn’t leave things like this for long. A shadow had laid on Sil ever since she’d killed Erisa and she wasn’t speaking either to him or Tallah. But trying to wring more out of her here wasn’t likely to lead to anything but a mace to the ribs.
He found Arin waiting for him in the antechamber, two tin mugs in hand filled to the brim with the suspiciously-produced coffee. Vergil took one of the mugs and they stepped outside and away from the medical ward.
“I might be wired wrong,” he mused as they walked.
“I don’t know how you can be… wired,” Arin said, carefully. “Never heard that one.”
“Something from where I am. I have a moment to relax, when nothing’s happening, and instead of resting, I’m pacing and fretting. What’s wrong with me?”
Arin didn’t answer. Instead, he put his arm around Vergil’s shoulder and guided him away from the main road leading down into the city.
“Arin of Lorrat’s House!” a shrill voice called behind them. They stopped and turned. The scary girl was in the ward’s doorway, hard eyes pinning them from beneath a scowl that would make even Tallah proud. “You don’t bring back those mugs, and clean, I will personally make you eat them. Do you understand?”
Both Vergil and Arin looked at their mugs then back at the girl. They nodded gravely and she disappeared back inside with a huff.
“She is scarier than Sil,” Vergil finally said. Then he noticed that they were standing in the middle of the mud path, with people streaming past, forced to avoid them. “Where are we going?”
“Come, I’ll show you,” Arin said. His voice shook as he took a sip of the coffee. “She’s sewn me back together several times. She’s really nice once you get past the thorns.”
“Cactus flower and all that?”
“I’ve never heard of a cactus,” Arin said. “But Adella’s really nice when she’s not on duty. Likes beer. Tells lovely faer stories. She just doesn’t have a lot of patience, is all.”
? Another one wi’h no balls t’ do th’ deed.
? Chosen friends as soft as ye.
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