Discordant Note | TBATE

Toren Daen

I crouched on the roof of a building near the South Gate soon after the sun rose, listening intently to the sounds of early hustle and bustle. South Fiachra was the smallest district in the city: barely a few blocks stretching out from the southernmost gate. It was mainly home to a number of warehouses, shipping businesses, and boatyards. That made sense: the mighty Sehz River stretched from the borders of the Central Dominion, through Fiachra, skirted the edges of the Clarwood Forest, then opened into the sea. 

While most of Alacrya's major cities were connected by teleportation gates and tempus warps, sea access was still invaluable. Half of Alacrya's major population centers were directly on the coast, with Fiachra essentially acting as a coastal city with the Sehz River as transport. Many villages lined the sides of the Sehz, the running water acting as an artery for people living anywhere nearby.

South Fiachra was also where expeditions into the Clarwood Forest usually set out. The Joans were set to arrive any minute now.

I had mastered muffling my steps to a far better degree than when I started a couple of days ago. I was confident I made no sound with each of my footfalls. I was also wearing my Dusk getup: the mask and dark clothing helping me blend into the shadows of the rooftop overhang I crouched underneath.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the rattle of wooden wheels on cobblestone. Glancing over the wall, I spotted four uncovered carts being hauled by horse-like mana beasts. I said horse-like because I could just barely feel mana eddying around them: wind mana, if I was correct. They had a sort of greenish sheen across their coats and small horns curling backward from their skulls.

The men in the carts were garbed in standard battle attire: loose robes, some armor, and all had weapons. There were about two scores of people across all the carts. I could sense mana from about a third of them: the rest were outfitted in gear that was clearly lower quality. I frowned in confusion. There were two reasons I wouldn't be able to sense a mage's mana core: theirs was at a higher purity or they had no mana at all.

Before I could contemplate the implications anymore, one of the mages–a skinnier man with dark hair–turned toward the side, his gaze trained up nearly toward where I was. I ducked low, cutting off my line of sight. That one's senses were keener than the rest, something I would have to watch out for.

The carts had the sigil of Blood Joan stamped on them, though: I knew these were my targets.

After a few minutes, I peeked my head over once more. The carts had ferried out the main gate, following the road that ran alongside the Sehz River. As the tall Fiachran gates closed, I slowly lost sight of my quarry. But that didn't matter: I knew where they were going.

—

I hopped along the clarwood trees in the chill late-morning air, my steps making not a single sound as I swung and bounded from bough to bough. I dodged a branch draping white leaves, correcting my midair course with a slight push of telekinesis. I landed deftly on the next branch, several yards from the treeline. Strengthening my vision with mana, I could just see the Joan mages slowly disembarking from their carts. They milled about on the river road, gearing up for their trek through the forest.

I took special note of the small boxes a couple of the men carried: they were very ornately decorated and were carried by those with the strongest mana signatures. Each was colored black with red trim along the edges. There was something important in those boxes, but I didn't know what.

I watched from my perch as the men assumed a roughly circular formation. There were about forty of them, with the men and women I couldn't sense mana from on the outside. As they began to walk towards the forest, I pulled as much mana as I could into myself, masking my signature the best I could. The leaves of the clarwood trees–colored white this close to winter–didn't provide my dark clothing the best cover. I stuck closer to the trunks of the trees, hiding in the deeper shade they provided.

The trees were spaced farther apart this close to the edge of the forest, so the forty men had a relatively easy time so far. I sensed a few skaunters around the edges of my senses, but the rat-lizards had enough sense not to attack a heavily armed convoy. I watched from above, waiting for them to get farther ahead before I followed. After all, leaping from tree to tree wasn't subtle.

But neither was the convoy. They were loud, stamping through the forest with the rattle of weapons and armor. It wasn't difficult to trail them: they left trampled earth wherever they went. I wasn't a tracker by any means, but moving forty men and women stealthily was near impossible in their conditions.

One of the mages–the one with especially good senses who had nearly spotted me earlier–spoke to a woman with an ornate wand, gesturing to a nearby tree. Following the sentry's–for that was what he had to be–instructions, the woman took aim at a nearby tree. I watched as she sniped a barkskin grohd out of a tree from afar with a bullet of water. The long-tailed lizard tumbled from its perch, making no sound as it crashed to the ground.

Another reason to keep a bit of distance. I would probably have only one shot to do what I needed.

This continued on for several hours, and I noticed some of the men starting to flag. The convoy was keeping a brisk pace, and with the armor and gear each man had, no matter their wear, it had to be quite heavy.

Eventually, near mid-afternoon, a man near the center of the formation was forced to call a halt to the progress. I guessed he was the leader of this expedition considering his well-crafted armor and placement in the convoy. I watched some men drop in relief, massaging their legs and working feeling back into their limbs.

Taking quick note of the sentry, I was glad to realize he wasn't close to the leader. I edged closer on the treetops until I was nearly above the man. I couldn't strike yet; that would have to wait until nightfall. But I could learn more about these people by listening in.

The leader was a taller man with a full-face helmet and an ornate spear secured to his back. He was covered in sparse armor, but light enough to be able to trudge through the foliage that was yet to come.

I watched one of the mages–the woman who had been clearing barkskin grohds for the travelers–march up to the leader. With my ears enhanced by magic, I was able to eavesdrop on their conversation, even forty feet above them.

"Vaelum," the woman said in greeting, brushing a lock of chestnut brown hair out of her eyes. "Why are we stopping?" she asked, glancing at the weary men with obvious disdain. "Because they want to?"

"Meera," he said in reply. "I called a halt because the men need rest if they are to perform their duty. Joan invested a lot into this venture, so we won't let it fail."

Meera looked back at the huffing men. "Useless unads. Why does Blood Joan even make us bother with them? We should have an entire team of mages for this, not useless vritra-spurned."

The leader, Vaelum, pulled his teammate to the side, speaking in a whisper. I enhanced my ears even further, adding a bit of sound magic to try and amplify the noise for me even further. "Joan is having some tough times right now, Meera. They're being pressured by a few other Bloods harshly. This expedition? Instead of a full contingent of mages, we get these manaless men," he hissed. "They can't afford to lose any more mages, so these fools are going into the meat grinder instead."

I sucked in a breath, finally realizing why I couldn't sense mana from nearly two-thirds of the contingent. They simply weren't mages. How did they expect these men to survive at all? The depths of the Clarwood Forest nearly ate me alive, with its many dangers and traps. And the treetops were safer than the ground.

These men were going to die.

Meera sniffed. "There's not much else they can do. It's a waste of mana to defend them," she said dismissively. She ran a hand over one of the red-trimmed boxes that hung at her side. "You know we can't let the help rest long. These beastwards won't last long now that they've been removed from containment."

Vaelum shook his head. "They'll get a couple more minutes, then that's it. It's true beastwards won't last through the night, so we need to reach the nest before then," he shrugged. "But like it or not, we're stuck with the unads. We work with what we've got."

Their conversation shifted to more mundane topics afterward, but I felt my focus wavering. I leaned back against my tree, mind awhirl with what I had just heard. I had assumed the convoy would stop for a night before reaching the deeper forest. After all, if you wanted to tackle an acidbeam hornet nest, you'd better be well-rested. But something was making them hurry: something called a 'beastward.'

Probably whatever was in those ornate red-trimmed boxes.

But something even more significant was on my mind. Most of the people in this caravan were unads: unadorned. People with no mark, crest, emblem, or regalia. Non-mages.

They hadn't been attacked yet because of their numbers and the fact that the most dangerous mana beasts around here were barkskin grohds. Once they got closer to the interior, where the foliage would be up to their chests and they would have to fight and cut their way through every inch of land, these people would drop like flies.

My hand flexed, digging into the leather of my fingerless gloves. One thing that both Toren and I had in common was our desire to help people. Whether that was to be accepted or out of genuine selflessness, we both wanted to be of use to the people in our lives. That drive to help was what led Toren to work for the East Fiachra Healer's Guild. It was what pushed him to intervene when Duena was being beaten.

It was what drove me to help the Rats several days ago.

But in each of those situations, I had the power to help. But here, I couldn't end every mana beast that crossed this expedition's path. I couldn't cut away every bramble and bush blocking their way.

This also threw my other plans into question. My initial idea was to ambush the leader during the night and whittle information from him about Blood Joan's members, structure, interests, and more. I had thought the group would camp for a night before heading deeper into the forest: after all, they needed to keep their strengths up if they wanted to assault an acidbeam hornet's nest. But if they were going to just keep pushing, that option went out the window.

I thumped my head against the tree, dread and disgust pooling in my stomach.

—

I saw the edge far before any of the convoy did. There was an almost distinct border within the Clarwood Forest before it became the 'deep forest.' The clarwood trees began to get noticeably taller and thicker. The foliage sprouted from the ground like grasping hands, coiling upwards to reach the minuscule bits of sunlight the white-leafed canopy let through. The ambient sounds of the forest–birdsong, crickets chirping, the whoosh of wind through the branches–became deeper, almost aware of the difference. It was an ominous shift: once you crossed a particular line, you were in dangerous territory.

The leader, Vaelum if I remembered correctly, called a halt a short while before the crossover. I couldn't see much of his features behind his helmet, but he seemed determined and resolute. The clanking of armor and weapons slowly quieted as the two score men slowly shuffled to a stop.

"We're about to enter the deep forest!" Vaelum called, peering at the men and women around him. "We've had it easy so far. Skaunters, grohds, slipstream birds, and other weak mana beasts. Now we're going to be facing real danger," he said. I noticed many of the non-mages shuffling in place, clearly nervous. "We're going to be cutting a short path to the acidbeam hornet nest," he continued, ignoring the discomforted crowd. "And then we'll use the beastwards to knock out their nest without trouble. Simplicity itself."

He waited a moment, but nobody spoke up. The light was already starting to fail: partly because it was late afternoon, and partly because this part of the forest devoured light greedily. "Our numbers will safeguard us against most threats," he said. "Any others will be taken down by our mages. Are we clear?"

A few halfhearted 'ayes' and 'yes' rang through the crowd, tension clear in their manner and tone. Vaelum looked uncertain for a moment but banished it quickly.

The circular formation of men and women was forced into a narrower, longer line when they entered the forest. It was a brutal slog as the non-mages in front cut through plants, small trees, and shrubs. They had to fight for every inch they trekked, and several times a man was taken down by a hidden beast before the mages could rush to his aid.

I could only watch, guilt and anxiety suffusing my being as I crouched high above. I wasn't responsible for these men's deaths, I knew. Blood Joan was at fault for sending unadorned people into a mana beast-infested forest.

The men were getting more and more unnerved. The only light available now was conjured by handheld lighting artifacts, creating small pockets of luminescence. It was a small beacon of safety in a sea of danger.

I could almost smell the fear from where I was, many feet above. I had become numb to the darkness of the forest, but that was also because I avoided the ground at all costs. The canopy wasn't so crowded and claustrophobic, boxing you in and herding you towards inevitable doom.

Evidently, mana beasts could smell fear, too. A man got pulled into the darkness by the lash of something too quick to make out, a guttural yell tracing back into the deep green of the underbrush. His screams sent a ripple through everybody in the convoy, but when they suddenly cut off was when the nerves heightened.

The men were getting more and more nervous. So far, no mages had fallen, but I counted six dead among the unadorned. I clenched my teeth, flicking my gaze to the sentry, who was consulting a map hurriedly. He was huddled close to Meera, the water bullet caster, and directing the company every now and then. It seemed they knew where they were going, at least.

I heard something approaching swiftly from the trees, gliding towards the convoy in a smooth and steady dive. The near-silent whoosh of air made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I startled on my branch, tensing in anticipation. I turned towards the oncoming beast, already knowing what it was.

Several crow-like mana beasts were watching from far above, more landing around. They looked similar to the corvids of my past life, except they were as big as my torso with white feathers. And there were about a dozen of them, all staring down at the convoy with beady eyes. I knew these bastards: they would swoop down, picking up straggling prey from the forest's floor before hauling it into the canopy. From the Fiachran Bestiary, I knew they were called glintfeathers.

None of the mages were looking up, and the sentry was preoccupied with pointing out mana beasts on the ground. They were going to be ambushed. Badly.

Thinking quickly, I funneled mana into my dimension ring. I pulled out a sizable stone the size of a baseball. Angling myself on my branch, I lined up my shot, then threw with a healthy dose of telekinesis. My arm tingled slightly from the pushback.

The stone punched a bloody hole through one of the glintfeathers, staining its white feathers with splatters of red. It squawked weakly, then toppled off its branch. The other birds flapped in surprise, taken by surprise by one of their flock's sudden death.

The squawks–plus the fallen body of a white bird-like mana beast–alerted the mages on the ground that something was wrong in the trees. I pressed myself close to my clarwood tree as shouts and spellfire began to fly, the barrage of deadly mana projectiles gleaming in my senses as they barreled toward the birds in the canopy.

It wasn't long before most of the glintfeathers were dead. With their element of surprise gone, they stood very little chance against the mage's spells.

The attack rattled the expedition members even further. I watched them murmur and panic from afar, now shooting terrified eyes toward the treetops. The darkness sapped their courage; only the strength of the mages nearby bolstered their frayed nerves.

But now I had to trail even further behind. The convoy was watching the treeline intensely now, and more than once the sentry's attention strayed close to my position.

But when I heard Vaelum begin to speak again, I chanced a bit of a closer approach.

"Alright, men! We're almost done with this hellhole," he said, his voice audibly weary. Even if there hadn't been any mage casualties, the darkness of the forest was terrifying to those unaccustomed to it. "When we're done here, we get out, and we get paid. But the largest hurdle is still ahead." He paused, taking a deep breath. "A ways ahead is the acidbeam hornets' nest. That's our objective. Just for clarity, I'm going to go over the plan one last time."

And as Vaelum began to speak, I listened as intently as possible.