This fool is through
The notes of many old epics floated through the cool night air as soldiers stamped their heavy boots in the mush, in time with the beats. Their coarse voices rose high, drunkenly belting out the lyrics, or any slurred sounds when they couldn’t remember how the songs went. Rest went fleetingly through the midnight hours and the Hydronian guard arose at dawn, stone faced and sober, like they hadn’t polished off a keg and a half in the previous night’s festivities. The guard quickly departed, refreshing various soldiers at each station around the Water Wall. I sang, played and did various tricks to distract the soldiers from the monotony of such an eventless guard. Rarely did any have stories of exciting assaults. The defensive capabilities of the Water Wall were so widespread that few had been brazen enough to even attempt to breach it. I noticed many young men, soldiers that had probably never seen a battle or killed a man with the shining pikes slung on their backs. No doubt even Hydronia’s invading army had more inexperienced men than veterans, and the most incompetent fighters were placed in the defensive guard. It will definitely play to Crystalys’s advantage when the battles began.
I quickly made friends with scar faced guard, named Haedron, doing special illusions for his amusement, even teaching him some simple tricks. He was the few men in the guard that never left at any station. Once the Captain of the High Guard, the personal defense to King Dumarkius himself, Haedron had since been replaced by younger more ambitious upstarts. Though he was unable to compete with some of the more determined recruits, Haedron’s knowledge of guard protocol made his presence invaluable. I continued casual conversation with him, subtly leading each talk back the Water Wall and the layout of the defenses. Any information garnered would be paramount in planning an attack on the Wall that has repelled every siege to ever come upon it. Nothing substantial ever came out of our chats, but I could tell I was gaining his trust, a useful lever to get the information that I so desperately needed.
“Haedron. That’s a Gaian name, correct?” I asked, looking the grizzled guardsman in his piercing eyes.
“Aye” Haedron nodded, “Pollo is as well. You tell me why you left the forests and I’ll tell you why I did.”
“The forests betrayed me,” I replied, gazing past him as my mind drifting in reverie, “A nation that does not care for its own doesn’t deserve my fealty. I swore never to be bound to any land, which is why I now wander them all.”
Haedron nodded in agreement, his scarred brow furrowing in thought, “I too felt trapped by those trees. If one is not of the Blood, one can only rise so far. After Faer’aen Dell, I heard word of Dumarkius’s upstart nation. I decided to leave and join his rebel band and ride his train to true glory. Sad truth is, once you’ve lost your youth, you’ve lost your use. I may return to Gaian lands, if nothing more than to put these weary bones to rest.”
We didn’t talk much for the final leg of the journey, though I went out the scouts in order to scrounge up some more hares. The soldiers were grateful for the supplement to their meager diet. As we ascended a small dirt hill near dusk, permanent dwellings were a welcome sight. The solid ground felt like a dream after sloughing through the mush that marked most of this blasted land. Clumsily dropping my rucksack on the ground, I quickly gathered any straggled dead wood and started a fire. I let out a sigh that had been building inside of me all day, as I lay in the dirt. Staring at the darkening sky as each twinkling star made its appearance, peeking through breaks in the ever angry cloud cover. Embers from the fire danced on a cool breeze, challenging the stars with their burnished brightness before fading cold into the night. What I wouldn’t give to be around an inn fire, catching up with old friends, instead of a spy in a hostile nation.
“I know that look, jester” Haedron remarked, squatting down beside me, “It’s the look of a man longing for clearer skies. None have it quite as dull as I though. The Eastern Front is the quietest in all Hydronia.”
“Exactly what does the Eastern Front look like?” I inquired, feigning disinterest.
Kneeling in the dust, he etched out a map with his belt knife. He pointed out the area where I had entered the Water Wall. He explained how each pair of towers was only a quick ride apart, so that if one section of the wall was attacked, reinforcements could quickly come to their aid.
“Why is this region sparser?” I asked, pointing a little south east of our current outpost.
“Icetalon Spires” Haedron explained, “The funnel the cold winds from the east all the way to the Water Wall. It’s by far the most unpleasant site to guard and also impossible to siege from. The peaks of those mountains are frozen solid year round and the surrounding slopes are so rocky, no large force could possibly pass through them.”
I smiled inwardly. This was golden! A frozen pass was a barrier for most, but advanced Crystalysian soldiers could easily mold the ice and snow into an adaptable road. When Haedron started going into long winded horror stories of guarding the rather frigid post by the Spires, I caught a flash out of the corner of my eye. Flicking a knife expertly from my wrist to my palm, I caught the reflection of the firelight bounce of a shining blade. Not enough to time to spring to my feet, I spun on the ground, bracing myself for an oncoming blow.
Lost in these thoughts that seem to rule my mind.