Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 42

The day began the same as any other. Breakfast marked the beginning, and work the progression. Almost a week of toil had achieved their goal of rudimentary, but extensive defenses, around the most significant settlements. Yet this day, one of the last of summer, would remain forever etched in the memories of the Erynyans, and the small, mixed group of races present in their lands.

Dathion first knew something was wrong from the behavior of the Elves. They were normally absent, and concerned with private musings, but today they became ever-present. The Shimmer Guard had been relaxed, but now they appeared vigilant, always in a state of unrest, moving, searching, their eyes turned east.

"What do you see?"

Dathion found the silence in response to his question offensive. There were so many questions for him, and so many expectations. How would the react if he never gave an answer? Or lied ...

"The attack comes today. Is that what you are not telling us?"

And there it was - a flicker of response from the Elves so well disguised, Dathion would not normally have caught it. Instinct made him look at Shanisha. Emotion never seemed to rustle the features of the monk. Shanisha's implacable calm washed over Dathion. He welcomed the company of his Soul Warden, though with just Shanisha and Ellishan as companions, he feared he would become the final member of a trio of mutes.

As if arriving on a soundless cue, Malithas and Salidon approached. They also appeared unsettled, doubtless privy to conversations deemed too important for the boys. Dathion caught the ends of words mumbled from Salidon to Malithas. He was certain it involved Swiftriders and their state of readiness.

From early in the morning, Dathion had seen supplies arriving from Cretia and Asillia. Large crates came, drawn by horse and cart, driven from the direction of the roads snaking along the edges of Palia. To Dathion, it was no coincidence the carts did not choose easier paths this side of the river - closer to the East. Young, strong men lifted the boxes down from the carts, splitting the tops with metal bars to lever free the lids. The contents were weapons and armor. Where the armor was concerned, boiled-leather hauberks and chainmail predominated. The options were lighter than the plate armor worn by knights - better suited to infantry not blessed with a horse to bear the weight.

Malithas examined the contents carefully, before extracting a suit of mail around Dathion's size.

"Dathion, wear this. Salidon, come and help me dress the boy. His squire stole a horse, then fled Cretia, and hasn't been seen in weeks."

While Dathion was being told where to put his arms, and to stop wriggling, he examined the boxes of weapons.

They consisted of swords and spears, along with bows and arrows, weapons for folk who expected a siege - to receive a charge and fight their foe from distance. Dathion prayed the humble folk of Erynya did not need to rely heavily on the swords.

Some of the Erynyans proved eager. They reached for bows and arrows, even before they had been pulled free from packing straw - testing the draw, then searching for targets to practice on. Shouts and harsh words from Swiftriders and Malithas cautioned them to save both ammunition and their energy. Dathion's heart dropped with the younger men, knowing the frustration of having their enthusiasm curbed, but also finding the deeper meaning contained in the warnings.

It was all but confirmed. The attack would come today.

Dathion reflected on his first real fight - his battle against the demons a short ride from the decimated Asillian village. He remembered the emotions that had warred within, before he had joined the battle without - a conflict of fear and trepidation, but also excitement and anticipation. Most of all, he had experienced an overwhelming sense of protectiveness, like he imagined a father felt for a son. His need to defend Ellishan and Jerodai had supplied the fuel for his actions. That was the liquor from which he had drawn strength. Was that fount personally his, or were the Erynyans drawing from the same source right now? Did all boys and men feel this way, when faced with a danger they chose to fight?