A day's ride brought us to the Valley well ahead of the forces that were on their way from Standing Stone. Mooring the dragons near the monument on the far west side, we took a moment to process everything that had happened. We were all in shock still; the weight of recent events finally caught up to us all at once, and it was more than a little difficult to take it all in.
Alverd collapsed at the base of a tree, leaning himself against it as he held his head in his hands. He let out a long, exasperated breath. "Damn it. Damn it all. Why couldn't he just listen?" As much as I wanted to go to him, he seemed like he needed time to be alone.
The image of the Encroacher surfaced in my mind. He's probably already wondering how he would even begin to fight a monster like that. How dangerous it could be for us. I would never ask him to make a sacrifice for us, no matter how heroic it might be. But then again, true knights never hesitate to make those sacrifices if it means saving a life.
There was little to do while we waited for the Steadfast. Without materials or tools, we weren't in a position to fortify the area or prepare for the Encroacher's arrival. Based on the numbers, it would take a full army two days marching at full speed to reach the Valley, and I wasn't sure if Kuro would get here any faster with the monster on his heels.
Exhaustion was eating away at all of us. We'd flown all through the night, unable to sleep on the backs of the dragons, nor did we dare to land for fear they'd take off without us. Our mounts were already passed out in the clearing nearby. Perhaps we can use them against the Encroacher. At this point, we can't rule out any weapon we have. My magic certainly won't be useful against him.
Alicia and I busied ourselves with making a rudimentary shelter. She was doing a far better job than I, her hands tying together sticks with the belts from the dragons' harnesses. Her concentration was solely on the task, likely to distract herself from thinking similar thoughts to my own. I guess when you've had training tuning out distractions, it comes in handy in situations like this. I wish I had such a skill.
The sun was still well over our heads, and the rumbling in my stomach told me that it had to be sometime in the early afternoon. Eternity above, we haven't even had time to eat anything. Everything has been so chaotic that I forgot about it. The equipment packs in the dragons' harnesses had some truly disgusting military rations, but we were spared from eating them thanks to the adventurers' pack Alverd kept on his person. His pack took up a sizable portion of his rucksack, but contained enough preserved food to feed him for three days, or in this instance, all of us for one. Salted meat sticks, trail mix, and some foraged berries tided us over while we looked for something more filling.
I'd completely forgotten about Monaco at first. She wasn't present when Alverd doled out the portions of his pack, and I assumed she'd run out on us again. Two hours later she returned dragging a large deer behind her, the ropes from her grappling hook wrapped around the carcass and a crossbow bolt lodged in its neck. She slumped to the ground near the center of the clearing and let her grumbling stomach speak for her.
"Cook," she growled through her clenched teeth. Normally I would resent being ordered around, but I'm too hungry to start something now. Unfortunately, culinary preparation was not one of the skills my uncle had taught me as part of my upbringing. My magic made it easy to provide a cooking fire, but it was Alverd who had to once again step up to save the day. He and Alicia skinned the deer before using some of her daggers to spear the meat. They handed me one, and I held it over the burning fire as the sun began to set.
We sat around the fire as the orange sky gave way to black. The fire provided warmth and light, and long after we had finished eating we still remained seated in front of it. Conversation didn't start until we had all had seconds. "Do you think Kuro is alright?" Alicia broached the topic we were all thinking. Nobody wanted to say what they really thought. Whatever was going through Kuro's mind, he apparently thought he could accomplish it on his own. I can't believe he sent us on ahead like this. Too many things about what happened weren't sitting well with me. Those dragons were just waiting outside, ready for our use. That was far too convenient. Did he do that? He couldn't have. Unless he did it before he went into the Imperial Palace.
My tired brain was surely playing tricks on me. Trying to remember the timeline isn't going to help me figure this out. Suffice to say Kuro is off doing something reckless. I'm too tired to figure this all out. My bones ache and my head is killing me. Riding a dragon was a new experience for me, completely different from riding a horse and nowhere near as easy.
A second hunk of venison washed down with water and some berries and I was ready to turn in for the night. Alicia volunteered to take the first watch. Two hours of sleep was a welcome distraction after everything that had transpired and I was asleep almost instantly after my head laid down on my bedroll. When she nudged me awake at my appointed watch time, she was just as quick to pass out on her own bedroll.
By that time, the stars were out and twinkling. They stretched across the sky like white paint flecked along a canvas. Without the lights of the big cities to obscure them, the stars gleamed in full force. Somewhere up there are entire worlds that once teemed with life. People who were able to live entirely different lives from the people of Selarune.
The scriptures claimed that each world gave rise to a different culture that developed along unique lines. Elves and beastmen were said to have migrated to Selarune after the War of the Five Kings, no longer able to survive on the desiccated remains of their own homeworlds. Some of those worlds had magic, while others had built incredible technology. Others progressed more slowly, choosing to revel in cultural renaissances that lasted for nearly a century.
I had told Alicia at least some of the things the scriptures had recorded during our trip to Blossom City as a way to pass the time. "When the war reached its worst stage, great ships were built to ferry the survivors to Selarune. They brought with them all the people, weapons and knowledge they could to make their final stand." When I described the steel beasts that bellowed fire, her eyes widened.
"I've seen things that sound like that in the badlands of Ishmar. There's an old battlefield far to the north of the Castle of Brimstone where the ground is so covered in toxins that nothing can grow there. Dragon riders flew over the field and scouts drew pictures of what they saw. They were metal carriages with long snouts. We never tried to salvage anything from that place. The old kings were afraid of the poison being brought back to the rest of our country." She sounded in awe of the steel beasts, although the mention of such an old memory caused her eyes to narrow.
"So what else happened in the War?" She asked.
"After the ships descended to Selarune, they broke. None of them were ever meant to sail more than once, so when they fell from the sky their occupants knew that they would never see their homes again. Eventually, the ships were torn apart to build new homes when the War ended." I could see depictions of the ships in the book I had read, long and sleek like blades cutting through the night. The artist had drawn them like shooting stars falling to earth. "When the other Kings came back to Selarune to end it all, the angels rallied everyone who was left under the Goddess' banner."
She looked pensive. "Did the scriptures say anything about how that battle went?"
I nodded. "Oh, sure. A lot of boring prose about epic heroism in the face of utter annihilation, but nothing that I'd call concrete detail. Even the artistic renditions of the Kings themselves are wildly outlandish." They hadn't resembled people, just horrific monsters that looked more like fever dreams than anything meant to invoke actual fear.
Reflecting on what I'd read, I was lost in my own thoughts with only the crackling of our small fire to accompany me. The Hand of the Usurper is mentioned in the texts as a weapon bestowed by the Goddess. It's described as a blade that can kill gods and demons but cannot be wielded by one who bears the mark of the divine. So that means a mere mortal had to take it up to fight the Kings. Yet there is little to no mention of who that mortal was.
As someone who was not particularly religious, I had never bothered to carry a copy of the scripture on me at all times. I'm regretting that now, but at least I have some of it locked away in my mind. Luckily I was a voracious reader. Recalling every scrap of information I could wasn't easy in my tired state, but enough details were prevalent enough that I could remember them. The three burdens placed upon mankind took the form of weapons meant to defeat the Kings. The Goddess specifically called them burdens because power should never be treated as a gift lest it become an entitlement.
The Hand of the Usurper was the blade that rent the bodies of the Kings asunder. The Staff of Farewells was power encapsulated within the potential of mortalkind. The Tree of a Thousand Branches was the means by which a single thread that led to the end of the War was found and grasped. Those are the words directly from the scripture and they're hopelessly obscure. I pressed my fingers against my eyes, feeling exhaustion amplify my already existing headache. I suppose looking for answers in the past isn't going to get me anywhere. If the people of the distant past had actual solutions for the Kings, we wouldn't be here now.
An eerie quiet descended upon the area and goosebumps erupted along my arms. A prickling sensation on my skin told me that the flow of magical energy had taken a sudden shift. My eyes were drawn to movement at the corner of my vision. Turning my head slowly, I beheld a ghost emerging from one of the grave markers in front of the Valley's entrance.
She was a scrawny thing, too young in my mind to be wearing armor that didn't fit her. A helmet hung loosely on a head too small to fill it, and the plate's leather straps couldn't keep the armor on her body taut even when cinched correctly. Yet her eyes burned with resolve. Her jaw was set in a grim scowl, and she gripped her spear with barely contained anger. Soon, other ghosts emanated from the ground, forming into ranks beside her.
The breath caught in my throat as I watched soldiers appear next. The remaining soldiers who had been left after days of holding the Valley against a superior force looked ragged and broken. Their armor showed signs of extensive damage. Yet they stood before the farmers with perfect discipline, straightening themselves to present the image of strength. Was it like that too on that final day? Putting on a facade to urge their dwindling forces to remain strong? The ghosts were silent as they went through their final briefing, locked into the circumstances that had created their haunting like performers going through a rehearsal.
As I watched the grim ceremony unfold, something clicked in the back of my tired mind. Oh Sheena, no. That's a bad idea. You know it is. Standing up, I picked up my staff and trudged over to where the ghosts were going through their motions. Yet, a bad idea might be better than having none at all.
When I drew closer, I sent out a wave of magic through my staff. Seeking the means to communicate with the ghosts required me to attune to the same magical frequency, in effect allowing me to "speak" the same language. Even so, ghosts are limited in their ability to reason outside what they knew before their deaths. Played correctly however, I can use that to my advantage. I only hope my acting skills are up to the task.
Taking in a deep breath, I steeled myself for what I was about to do. Locking onto their magical aura, I knew immediately when I was dialed in. One of the soldier ghosts turned to face me, and he fell to one knee and bowed his head. "An emissary from the Steadfast. I see and hear you, my lady. Has our message been received?"
Playing my role as a messenger will anchor me into the haunting. So long as I don't contradict what the ghosts know, I might be able to influence them. "The message has been received. The Steadfast will be here soon. One more day, and his forces will arrive." Perhaps it was a trick of the dim moonlight, but the peasants looked hopeful when I gave the news. "We must hold the Valley at all costs. The Steadfast has sent me to assist you."
One soldier ghost stepped in front of me. Her helmet bore a golden crescent shaped ornament that had been sheared on one side, likely from an enemy's blade. Most of her face was hidden behind a metal mask, but there was no mistaking that she was in charge when she spoke. "I do not wish to sound ungrateful, but what good can one extra pair of hands do?"
"Magic is my weapon. I wield it for the Steadfast, and against your foes." I showed the ghost a ball of ice, molding it in the palm of my left hand. "Together we shall await our enemy's advance into the Valley, and then I shall bring the full weight of my might against them." Goodness, I didn't think all that flowery language from my knight stories would come in handy. It seems to be working. "Have hope! This battle is not decided yet."
A murmur among the peasants told me that they were in awe of me. I wasn't sure if ghosts were capable of "seeing" me in the strictest sense; my manner of dress might have told a living person possessing their full faculties that I was a mage, but such cognition might be beyond that of the dead. The fact that they grasped what I was telling them was a good sign, though. Remember, I can't influence them to act outside their "story". This is their last night alive, and come morning they'll fight to the bitter end. So long as I remain inside the bounds of that narrative, I can rewrite it to a limited degree.
"The Steadfast needs you to bide your time. Let us lay a trap for our enemy. When they pass through the opening on this side, we shall hit them as they exit. Are you with me?" The soldiers saluted, fists pounding against their chests as they stood at full height. "Yes, ma'am!" The peasants attempted to do the same, albeit clumsily. Military bravado might not be my forte but I guess Alicia has rubbed off on me enough where I can try to talk tough.
How much the ghosts would retain was questionable, but I didn't need them to do anything outside what their final memories had ingrained in them. For now, I pull back the bowstring and wait to fire the arrow. When the Encroacher arrives, he'll have more than he bargained for waiting for him.
Whether it was part of the haunting or not, the ghosts went through the motions as they had on countless nights before. I retreated to the campsite and watched them from a distance. They tended to their weapons, meditated, or simply gathered in prayer for themselves and their fallen. Perhaps it was my imagination, but they looked less grim than before, like my intervention had subtly changed something.
Wishful thinking. It would take something beyond my power to free them from this torment. A haunting this old has become almost an integral part of this place. I doubt there's anything I could do for them. My eyes drooped and I rubbed my arm over them to try and stay awake. All I can do is pray that maybe they might find a little peace in fighting this one last battle.
My watch was meant to last three hours, and it was a struggle and a half to remain awake towards the end of it. There was a hypnotic quality to the movement of the ghosts and the cold night air that made me long for the warmth of my bedroll. Pulling my legs up to my chest, I wrapped my shawl tight around myself for some extra warmth. Nothing came out of the darkness to threaten me or my companions, but just to be safe I laid my staff within easy reach.
Off to my right, Monaco gave a snort and rolled over in her sleep, her arm flopping out towards the campfire. What a slovenly woman. Even asleep she has no decorum whatsoever. Gingerly I reached over to take hold of her sleeve so I could move her hand away from the fire and the errant sparks it threw off. As my fingers took hold, however, I spied something on her palm.
There was a bandage in need of replacement wrapped around her hand. What had been white and pristine was now dirty and torn, with a strange stain on it right over the center of the palm. At first I wondered if it was blood, but upon closer inspection the stain had a distinct shape. Carefully, I angled her hand so that the light from the fire fell upon it.
I was right. The shape was too deliberate to be a bloodstain, with lines clearly denoting that it had been placed there by design. Curiosity got the better of me; my fingers pulled at the bandage, removing it layer by layer. When the last of the layers fell away, I saw what had been hidden beneath.
A magical sigil was burned into Monaco's hand. Dark energy emanated from it, low and subtle enough that no mage would've noticed it unless they were looking for it specifically. I didn't recognize the rune, but the energy was suffused with enough negative power that I could guess what it was. A curse. How long has this been here?
Racking my brain for my knowledge on curses, I took a closer look. Placed on the hand, palm to be precise. Someone had to be close enough to touch her for that. I placed my web of magical detection on the curse mark to ascertain more. Wait. This power feels familiar. Where have I felt this distortion before?
Alicia wheezed in her sleep and rolled over, and the momentary distraction helped lurch my brain into making the connection. It almost has the same signature as the curse that Alicia had when we left the Valley. The effect and power is different, but it has traces of the same architect, like comparing two different art pieces by the same artist. There's no mistaking it.
But that would mean that some kind of foreign entity followed us out of the Valley. Ghosts don't have the power to do anything like this. So what did? A shiver ran up the length of my spine. How long has she had this mark? How many of her actions could've been attributed to this? More importantly, who stands to gain from having this leverage over her?
Monaco coughed, making me jump out of my skin. I want to say it might be that Guildmaster of hers, but unless she's a powerful enough mage to manage this then she can't be the culprit. The only other suspect would be a member of her crew, but they didn't seem magically adept at all. My tired brain whined that complicated mysteries were well out of its depth at the moment, and I was forced to let the matter drop.
Carefully wrapping the bandage around Monaco's hand, I placed her arm close to her body and shuffled over to the fire. I should let Alverd know. He might not be able to remove the curse, but he knows Monaco better than I. The thought of the two of them having shared history made me bite my lip in frustration, even if it was sordid. Well, if it comes to it I've no qualms about finding a ditch to leave her in. Ounce of prevention, pound of cure and all that.
When the last minutes of my watch passed, I went to Alverd's sleeping body and put my hand on his shoulder. Shaking him gently, I waited until his eyes fluttered open before I spoke. "Hello, Alverd. Did you sleep well, my knight?" I tried to give him a smile, but all I could manage was a lopsided smirk.
He had no trouble with his own, though. "Well enough, given everything. Are you alright? You look a little pale."
Glancing over my shoulder to see if Monaco was still asleep, I turned back to Alverd and lowered my voice. "It's about Monaco. She has a curse mark on her palm. Someone might be keeping closer tabs on her than we realized. I have a sneaking suspicion that she might still try to stab us in the back before this is said and done."
He let out a heavy sigh. "Alright, give me a second." He stretched his arms out, his metal armor creaking slightly as he shook off any residual fatigue. His eyes, however, flicked about as if looking for our hidden stalker. Looks like this isn't the first time he's had to deal with this. Maybe I could ask about some of the jobs he's taken as a mercenary when this is over. If I'm going to follow him around, I'm going to have to pick up those skills myself. When he was convinced that our observer wasn't near, he put his arms down and made eye contact with me.
"I don't think they're here, whoever they are. But just to be safe, tell me what you know." Then he motioned for me to lean in closer. I filled him in on everything I knew for certain and a few of my suspicions. When I was done, he crossed his arms. "So, what should we do?" I asked.
He fixed me with an intense stare. "For now, we do nothing. We can't tip our hand just yet. When the one watching Monaco makes their move, we'll be ready." He took my hand and squeezed it, and the surge of heat in my face felt like I was about to burst into flames.
"Get some sleep. We're going to have a busy couple of days."