Thornwall Escort

Hired by House Vordon to escort a caravan of supplies to Thornwall Outpost, Vis, Evi, Thora, and Ley joined Mira and a small contingent of house guards on the dangerous mountain trail. The journey was expected to take 5 days, with a stop at a small waystation halfway along the route. There was danger expected, with a sizable cargo load attracting bandits, and the usual environmental hazards of the mountains, but they were prepared. So they thought.

The first two days passed uneventfully, with only minor skirmishes with wildlife and rough weather. The guards were competent, and the caravan made good time. Vis entertained the caravan and his companions alike with his songs. Evi was bored, simply following a well-known path, seeking nothing over the horizon. Thora kept to herself, sharpening her weapons and meditating. Ley was nervous, constantly scanning the treeline for threats.

On the third day, the Fates played their hand. As they neared a narrow pass, they were ambushed by a band of gith raiders, larger and more organized than expected. Thora, happy to finally be in her element, fought with abandon, leaving the semi-organized battle lines to challenge opponents one-on-one. Torn between defending the caravan and aiding Thora, Vis listened to his heart, and surged after her, bidding the others to hold the line. Mounted, and wielding ranged weapons, the gith were neither inclined to join Thora's duels nor poorly trained enough not to see the opportunity presented by her distraction. They feigned weakness, drawing her further and further from the caravan, until she was isolated. Encircling her, they peppered her with arrows and spears, and neither her strength nor her axe was of much use.

Vis cannot command the wind, nor break obsidian with his word. There was no epic stand, one against a dozen. He stayed in shadow, watching her fall, and whispered his words. Her eye contacted his, and seemed to beg for salvation, judging him for his cowardice. But in that connection, his magic found purchase. Her heart stopped beating, and, reasonably, the attackers assumed she was defeated. They moved on to the caravan, eager for plunder, missing the hidden rogue beyond the dune crest.

At her side, he let his own blood, and let it spill into her wounds. Through his blood, he transferred his vitality, draining all he could spare into her broken form. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gasped for breath, coughing up blood. He urged her to remain quiet, and perhaps her brush with death--or the presence of blood in her windpipe--bade her to yield to his wisdom. Still, they knew they were urgently needed.

As the caravan's battle lines began to buckle, the sun over the sandy crest silhouetted Vis and Thora. She shouted, a bellow greater than life, a challenge in the old giant toungue. The gith looked back in disbelief, this revenant rising from certain death to avenge herself. And their morale fluttered. At her mere charge, they broke ranks, relieving pressure on the shield wall. A blast of wind from Ley's magic blinded their mounts, and they began to scatter. Between the blinding and the disorganized movement, they became vulnerable to close-in weapons, and Vis and Thora could finally shine.

His blade was quick, and sought the most efficient purchase. Well did he know the crodlu, and its strengths and weaknesses. Those long legs are great for movement, but poor at resisting obsidian's cutting edge. A single tendon in each leg meant the difference between race-winning speed and total immobility.

As for Thora, her pure stature made the mounts an afterthought. She bore down on her enemies, pulled them right off their mounts, and cleft their bones in twain before they could strike the ground. Her main strength was unmatched, and no armor or shield could stop her.

As the enemy routed, Vis had just enough energy to crack a smile, before passing out from blood loss.

After many bouts of partial consciousness, he finally came to in one of the covered wagons. The cargo beneath him made a poor bed, but at least it was out of the sun. Ley was tending to him, having correctly ascertained that he hadn't suffered nearly enough trauma in battle to explain his condition, but rather had been drained of life energy itself. Since none but she were even known to have any magic, she'd deduced--accurately--that his injury was self-inflicted, and that he possessed the gift of Blood Magic.

He honestly hadn't known it would work. He knew the sacred words, the ancient signs, and all of the fundamental philosophies of Keshem, but had never attempted such an overt working in the heat of battle. It was a risky gambit, but one he was willing to take to save a comrade. She explained that, according to her faith, such magic was a sacred gift, granted by Sharazh in the long-forgotten times of the Green Age, and not to be taken lightly. He agreed, and vowed to be more careful in the future.

No greater threat emerged during the trip, and they made it to Thornwall Outpost in good time. The gith presence in the area was reported to the outpost commander, who promised to send patrols to root them out. Mira was grateful for their service, and paid them well for their troubles. There was still a return trip to be made, but Vis was content to accept an offer of rest and respite at the outpost before making the journey back to Tyr.