Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Frontlines, Chapter 1 - Revelyn

Sir Revelyn Laurie couldn't recall a day that his thoughts hadn't lingered on Eloise Glass. In passing moments, he traced her lovely face in the crisscrossing branches of trees, saw the curve of her waist in coursing streams, or the tight curls of her hair in puffy clouds. They had written to each other often since he was stationed in northwest Ravenshade to assist in the efforts against Wyvern Rock's roving warlords. Neither ever had very much to report; Eloise spoke of her boredom as a castle guard and Revelyn could not detail the campaign for fear of their correspondence falling into enemy hands.

The fighting was ceaseless and casualties were constant. Revelyn longed for the day he could return to Port Shorishal and hold the woman he loved in his arms again.

He led a mixed unit of Iron Fen and Ravenshade soldiers. There were twenty-four of them all together. They had become a close squad, one that was skilled in special assignments, ambushes, and infiltrations. On this day, they navigated through the rocky passages in the basin of Old Eagle's Valley.

The valley was named for one of the first Free-Sylphs in Einalia; the first in his rookery to gain independence from their master, to enact free will. Locals called him Old Eagle. He was haggard and couldn't fly any longer, but he realized he had ambition. He climbed to the tallest mountain he could see that overlooked the valley. There, he built the settlement that would become known as Old Eagle's Nest. It had a lighthouse, a beacon for all Sylphs that flew south to Einalia. One day, when the colony was strong, Old Eagle disappeared and was never seen again.

Revelyn was not searching for Old Eagle, but for the warlord Altare. He was a formidable mage, like many warlords in Wyvern Rock. His men wielded swords of flame and long whips that were enchanted to trigger small explosions with every crack. No one knew what Altare looked like, only that his men wore his sigil: the silhouette of a man surrounded by a circle. The men were thought to be mindless servants risen through necromancy. Coalition soldiers reported seeing men they'd killed before return to the battlefield to fight again.

Altare was one of dozens of warlords who had claimed dominion over territory beyond the Ravenshade border. The courts of Wyvern Rock continued to deny any involvement with the land grab and yet the Queen of Wyvern Rock dispatched none of her own forces to quell them. Ravenshade sat at the precipice of a formal declaration of war against Wyvern Rock every passing day.

Revelyn spotted movement on the horizon. A Sylph called Ozellette had scouted ahead. She was pretty, snow white with golden eyes. She was especially nimble and great with a bow. Better than him, Revelyn had to admit. He had grown to enjoy her company, and counted her among his friends. Over the low brush, he saw her soaring back to him. It was smart to keep low; high-flying sylphs were easy targets to enemy archers.

She landed beside him softly, drawing the interest of their navigator, Tiberas, an elder man with a long braided beard. He was a mage as well, though not one of exceptional skill. Still, he was well studied and had the respect of his two assistants.

"There is smoke," Ozellette reported. "It drifts from the black hills near the largest mouth of the obsidian caverns."

"The caverns are ill-suited grounds for a camp," said Tiberas. "Between the seismic activity, the lava flow, and the mammoth centipedes, one couldn't sleep a moment for fear of death."

"Could the smoke not be from a wildfire?" asked Revelyn. It was a reasonable question; many brush fires had broken out since the fighting began.

Ozellette shook her head. "It was centralized," she said. "As if from a pyre."

"Perhaps Altare and his cabal have chosen an unlikely camp to deter our investigation," said Tiberas.

"Makes sense to me," Ozellette replied. "I have surveyed more likely sites in the valley and found nothing."