Chapter 51: Tales from the Dark (1/2)

The group plus the two owl-like Yries trudged even deeper into the heart of the mountain. It had been a full day since Viv had last seen the sky above her head. She had never been in a similar situation before and found it taxing. The unyielding walls of deep stone pressed all around her, both intractable and too fragile for her tastes. Only her magically-enhanced intellect brought her a measure of calm as she knew the way back with certainty.

Barring any collapse.

The passage they followed was more circular than square, and it only seldom crossed the odd, empty cavern. They were walking in a straight line. Sometimes, the younger Yries in front of them would turn to steal a glance in their direction.

Viv touched the comforting edge of her light stone, stuck snugly in one of her front pouches. All those other dumbasses could call light from their fingertips like a bunch of human firebugs, but she did not need them with that little trinket, even if things went to shit. The only thing she needed right now was answers to her questions. She angled towards Farren and whispered in his ear.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go with them? What if the main group is… not as friendly as you hoped?”

Farren stared with some surprise, before shaking his head.

“Ah, you are right to be cautious, of course, but Yries are not war-like people. They will only fight when backed into a corner.”

“The older one is wounded. You don’t send the wounded on errands unless you are desperate.”

“And so they need our help. You are giving the Yries human traits, lady Vvvvviviane.”

“Not bad.”

“Thank you. And as I said, Yries are not human. They will always try to negotiate for things first.”

“Alright, alright.”

Viv fell back and they kept going for only half an hour before their surroundings changed yet again. The tunnel widened, leading to a fortified wall manned by smaller Yries equipped with crossbows, all of them much more rudimentary than the one Viv had been shot with. They squawked when they spotted the group, but the old guy squawked louder and the bolt tips were thankfully aimed elsewhere. The humans and their guide navigated their way through stone spikes meant to slow larger creatures, and then through a magically-activated slab of stone. They entered a guard post. Viv noticed that the building itself was a simple wall raised from around by sorcerous means. Everything was rough-hewn. The guards looked nervous and wore the same thick leather armor as the guides. They had a talk with the old one.

Viv found the exchange quite interesting. The language of the Yries was made of short syllables spoken one by one, with a lot of guttural consonants. The word for greetings was probably Ook Nog Mok Yet. Unless that was a password or something. Another detail that she noticed was that the creatures moved their long, thin ears a lot when they talked. It was kind of amusing.

The exchange ended when the head guard blurted a few angry sentences and mimed raising his weapon in Lorn’s direction. Lorn slowly pivoted on his feet until his large chest faced the Yries, and Koro stepped up by his side. There was a very brief, very one-sided moment of intimidation until the expedition was wordlessly let through.

Viv passed a second door out of the outpost and whistled. The Yries were building a city.

In a large natural cavern, houses and buildings had been raised along the sheer walls in twisted and bulbous patterns. The stone was clearly the same, but it had been organically weaved or melded as if it were a plant. Mushrooms in warm shades provided the illumination, hanging in vases from everywhere and casting the entire city in a warm glow. Artificial columns peppered with windows rose in regular intervals with stairs climbing their side like spines from a shrub. The cavern centered on a small pond of deep blue water. The ground had an abundance of flower beds, but they were currently lying empty.

It was clear that something terrible and unexpected had happened. Somewhere to the left, a secluded place had crying people coming and going. As she watched, a shroud-covered body was dragged there followed by a wailing youngling. There were female Yries as well who were surprisingly much larger than their male counterparts. They led flocks of children, while men moved supplies and machine parts around with alacrity. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood.

The humans did not stop and nobody spared them more than a long glance, a testament to how exhausted those people were. Their guide led them through the entire city from end to end. On the way, they came across scenes of desolation. A hospital overflowing with patients, wounded stretched on the very ground. Wrecked equipment, including an impressive drill as large as a bus. There were even strange vehicles on wheels that looked like first generation tanks but had a drill in front. Viv marvelled at the sight of honest-to-god machinery but she could only regret the state they were in. Something with claws had peeled the plating like paper.

“By Neriad, what is going on here?” one of the guards whispered around them.

They found their answer when the land sloped up to a path to the surface. Viv had found the guard house decent, but this was on another level. Yries both young and old cluttered around a wall that blocked off the entire path, only a few rays of late afternoon light drifting through murder holes. There were enough crossbows here to stop a cavalry charge, and a few siege weapons as well. Viv recognized ballistae, though they looked cobbled together. Viv estimated that about two hundred armed Yries manned those defenses, and yet it clearly wasn’t enough. Parts of the walls had been breached and were even now being repaired by drained Yries in flowing brown robes. As she watched, one of them collapsed and was carried inward to a first aid station.

Standing in the middle of the squawking troop was the tallest Yries around. Most of the males she had seen were slightly smaller than humans, but this lad approached two meters, and he was covered by a squad of warriors wearing heavy-looking full plates. They were the only fighters using close-quarter weapons. The armor looked extremely heavy, except for their thin arms which were covered in shiny mail. The head Yries’ dark eyes narrowed when he spotted the humans, and he made an annoyed ‘come closer’ gesture. Farren and Lorn took the head of the formation and both armed groups stopped close to each other, not exactly lowering their guard.

The Yries addressed them in Baranese.

Farren took the lead in the conversation and Viv discovered that she could not follow. While Baranese was also heavily influenced by Harrakan, it was originally a separate culture and there were enough differences to confuse her. Instead, she inspected the fighters and realized that they looked hopeful.

It could only mean that they believed themselves utterly fucked before.

“Lady Bob?”

Lorn gestured for her to join the discussion and she obliged. The Yries inspected her and his ears quivered with… something. It was hard reading emotions just from those.

“This person is Gar-Gar, warchief of this Yries tribe,” Farren said.

“Yries have warchiefs?”

“Only during conflict, the rest of the time, they are ruled by… look, this isn’t the time for a lesson on Yries social hierarchies. He’s in charge. They were trying their luck in the mountains in search of a new settlement. It went pretty well for a while, but a week ago they pierced into a lonely valley to plant crops. That was a mistake. There are plenty of revenants making their slow way to the deadlands and some aberrants as well, and that much vitality in such a desolate place is a prize that attracts attention. An unknown creature has gathered every dead thing in a twenty-leagues radius and attacked them relentlessly ever since. They lost their previous leader and stone-weaver in the initial assault. She sacrificed herself to hold the entrance long enough for her people to get to safety.”

“And you want me to help with the defense?” Viv asked.

Farren smiled brightly

“I knew that I could count on you to at least entertain the idea. We are discussing options at the moment, I just wanted to know if you were up for it before mentioning you. I still want to find out exactly why they are here and what they intend to do.”

Viv turned again as the conversation continued. The guards had settled around and Arthur was clearly considering flying, but Viv could feel her distrust of the newcomers and she was smart enough to identify the crossbows as dangerous. Marruk was now the minority inside of the minority, and she could see Solfis’ calculating gaze taking in his surroundings. It was not long before Farren asked for her again.

“I have learnt more,” he whispered, “they were chased from Enoria. These are refugees.”

“Hold on, did you not say that they spoke Baranese.”

Farren growled with frustration.

“Listen, the Yries do not see borders as we do. For them we are, hmm, strange and unfamiliar. And warlike. And dishonest. Only those in positions of leadership make the effort to learn our tongue.”

She couldn’t really blame them.

“In any case,” he continued, “they were attacked by the Enorian King’s faction. One of his sons apparently wrecked their city to find valuables and tried to enslave them. That’s why they are here. They are also aware of iron deposits in the vicinity. I may be overstepping my bounds here by making an agreement, but I would not want to risk our lives without some guarantees. Neriad knows that we have already risked and sacrificed much.”

Well, one of them certainly had. Viv had gotten rich instead. Richer, in any case.

“What agreement did you have in mind?”

“We will help them hold the tide. They are doing their best but, well. Have you seen their arms? Yries are physically weaker than humans in this regard. That’s why they fight with machines. Do you want me to explain how efficient crossbows are when fighting a revenant tide?”

“Pretty fucking useless?”

“Quite so. We can make a significant difference, if we choose to do so. And… we probably will have to. Not you specifically. Us.”

Viv suddenly remembered that she was hanging out with a religious order of holy knights.

“You are honor-bond to save them?”

“Neriad holds every race in equal esteem and demands the same things from them, regardless of what some of those northern pricks insinuate. We cannot run while children die by the hundreds. There are almost three thousand Yries here, and only a tenth of that number are fighters.”

“Yries don’t have militia?”

“Apparently not,” Lorn said with a scowl of disapproval.

“Yes, well, it doesn’t matter now,” Farren argued, “what matters is that we will assist as part of an arrangement.”

“What arrangement?”

“The thing,” Farren said, positively giddy, “is that Yries are really good at metalworking.”

Viv tried to reconcile her idea of the brawny man with corded muscles she expected a smith to be with the barrel-chested thin-limbed creatures bumbling about. She failed.

“They use magic,” Farren added, seeing her disbelief.

“Right. I saw the… foreuses they had.”