CLEO – Ashenshore

  Commander Magnus’ headquarters was in Ashenshore proper, among dozens of large, blocky, military-looking buildings of dark stone, with no windows on the ground floors. The whole cluster gave Cleo the impression of no-waste functionality, and they stood in stark contrast to the other buildings they passed which had brightly colored window frames and doors, with quite a few of them displaying flower speckled potted plants along the street and no shortage of embroidered curtains. It was easy to see which area was populated by regular civilians, and which area wasn’t.

  People on the streets gave room for the legionnaires escorting them to pass, but not fearfully, which allayed some of Cleo’s concerns. From the few scowls she saw, not everyone was happy to move aside for their troupe, but there was no open animosity.

  She was sure this commander only wanted information about the creature and the attack in order to better defend the towns and outlying farms, so all she had to do was keep her head down and let the arrogant siblings take the credit. Then, she could rejoin Rivett and his caravan and resume her journey to Lethanas.

  The press of the streets and the overabundance of legionnaires grated on her nerves after her relatively leisurely period in the wagon train, where she had a lot of time to herself. After the slaughter of Mossfell, the frantic rush to Ashenshore, and the harrowing fight with the creature, Cleo needed somewhere to sit and think without people around her. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, as did her legs and back, and the rash on her cheeks continued to itch and be annoying.

  As they approached the squat, dark, military buildings, there were more and more legionnaires patrolling the streets, marching to somewhere and back, and manning fortified outposts as if they expected an invasion sometime soon. Sunlight glinted off their spear-tips and helmets, and all the men and women had a certain hardness about them—in body, bearing and expression—that told of long days drilling with weapons, and mental and physical exertion. There were also dozens of other industrious buildings they passed, from blacksmiths and general stores, to leatherworkers and armor-smiths. The chime of hammer on steel was constant, and Cleo wondered why so many legionnaires were in this one town.

  She spotted a shop with a colorful card depicted on the sign out front, but when she paused, and before she could even think of asking if she could enter the store, the legionnaire behind her gave her a shove in the back and a stern, “keep walking”.

  Cleo suppressed a scowl and the flippant comment that sprang to her mind, vowing to play timid just to get this over with.

  They came to a halt in front of a stone building significantly larger than the rest, on one side of a massive square where off-duty legionnaires congregated on the other three sides, all talking and joking and laughing and dicing, while they drank from tankards and ate sliced bread and cheese and dried fruits and nuts. Cleo's stomach grumbled, and she realized she had no idea when she’d last eaten. Usually, she had to force herself to eat, but since coming here her appetite had considerably improved. Maybe it was the forced exercise and the stress… Her body still ached, and she wished she could take another half lozenge, but to do so in front of everyone made her uneasy for reasons she couldn’t describe. Maybe she would be showing weakness in front of these men and strong women, and they would deride her for it. Or maybe she was being stubborn and should just take a dose.

  In the distance she could still hear the blacksmith’s hammers pounding steel, and the constant ringing sound made her uneasy and tense.

  Breathe, Cleo. This will be easy.

  Around her, the legionnaires fell silent, with Neridur and Aldrikur giving each other uneasy glances, and Cleo found her gaze drawn to the huge gray-skinned man exiting the open doorway, as he stood in front of them. Like the officers, he wore metal-banded armor, but also a scarlet cape which hung down to the back of his knees, and a mane of unruly silver hair.

  He was one of the largest men Cleo had ever seen, and had to be at least two heads taller than her and weigh a few times more. His silvery-gray eyes surveyed them all with a shrewd intensity, sweeping over them, and Cleo felt herself wither at the force of it. There was no doubt in her mind that he was carded.

  “Officers, prepare to report,” he commanded. “Legionnaires are dismissed. And you civilians… I assume you’re here for questioning about Mossfell and the subsequent attack.” He turned away from them and strode back into the building.

  “You heard the Commander,” yelled one officer. “You maggots get to your barracks, and the carded civilians will follow me.”

  Deep inside the stark, stone building, the Commander’s room was dominated by a blackened wood desk and a thick blue rug. In one corner, glowing orange coals smoldered in a metal brazier, casting a warm, radiant light. A ceramic jug was set to warm on a metal tray attached to the brazier’s side. On a side table, a pewter tray held bowls of nuts and rolled slices of cured meats, along with dates and… cookies? Cleo’s stomach rumbled again, and her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment.

  Also in the Commander’s room stood Rivett, the caravan leader, Neridur and Aldrikur, and, surprisingly, the researchers she’d never had the chance to meet with before. The fit looking man with dirty-blond hair was almost as tall as the Commander, and his companions—both dressed in their black pants and hip-length leather coats—stood in one corner of the room, watching everyone else like they were animals that could bite at any moment. They’d already been in the room when Cleo and the others had arrived, which in itself was strange enough to make her take notice—why had they been here first, and not been collected like the rest of them? The researchers looked at ease in the Commander's office, not at all worried and stressed like she was. Of Zane there was no sign, and she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved about this or not.

  Cleo felt like a fish out of water and wished this meeting would soon be over. Maybe Ashenshore had bookshops? She could begin to educate herself and perhaps visit the card shop she’d seen as well. Though she wouldn’t be able to buy another card until she liquidated her jewelry and maybe some of the orichalcum beads.

  “Miss?” someone said loudly, and Cleo realized she’d been staring at the snacks. Heat flooded her face again, and she swallowed nervously.

  “Sorry,” Cleo said.

  “I’m Commander Magnus,” the immense man said as he settled himself into a sturdy chair behind the desk. Behind and to the side of him stood a smartly dressed attendant, who held an open book and a writing implement.

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  “If you’re hungry, help yourself.” Commander Magnus waved toward the snacks.

  “Thank you!” Cleo replied, and in a few steps was beside the table and scooped up a handful of nuts and one of the large dates, which looked like it was filled with chopped nuts and drizzled with honey. The cookie she would try later.

  Behind her, someone cleared their throat, and she turned to find everyone in the room looking at her, some with frowns, the egotistical siblings with sneers of contempt, while the blond-haired researcher wore an amused smile which he quickly hid behind a hand.

  “Sorry,” Cleo said again around a mouthful of the stuffed date, which was sticking to her teeth and sickly sweet. She already regretted taking one. “He did offer.”

  “Welcome to Ashenshore, which is under the auspices of the 13th Legion. I’m sorry you had to see what happened in Mossfell, a sight I’m sure would turn even a veteran’s stomach, and something I’ve never seen in all my years in the Imperial Legion. But you’re not here for that particular issue, which is now under investigation by the 13th, and I’m sure will be resolved to the Empire’s satisfaction in short order. What concerns me is the attack your caravan suffered between Mossfell and Ashenshore. Rivett, we’ve crossed paths a few times before; let’s get straight to it and tell me what happened.”

  Rivett’s mouth twisted, and he looked like he was about to throw up. “Commander… I’m not sure. We were—”

  “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

  “I mean, we were making haste away from Mossfell, with good reason, mind you. We had no idea if whatever had slaughtered the good townsfolk—”

  “And my legionnaires. Fine men and women who dedicated their lives to serving the Empire. We can ill afford to lose anyone, and to lose an entire squad is a blow no one saw coming. The Gravelands is usually peaceful, except for the occasional overzealous dungeon delver or cultists attempting to free the prisoners.”

  It sounded like Commander Magnus didn’t care too much for the townsfolk of Mossfell and was more concerned for his legionnaires…

  “Er, yes, and the legionnaires, whether it—or a horde of them—was still in the vicinity. And we only had a few carded in the caravan in case of bandits or scavs.”

  “Who are these others here, I presume?”

  “Yes. There’s Neridur the Witch Healer, and her brother the Dark-iron Duelist.”

  Both the siblings nodded at Rivett and then smiled at Commander Magnus. Neridur took a step forward. “If you’ll allow me—”

  “I’m talking with Rivett at the moment,” snapped Magnus. “You’ll get your turn soon enough.”

  Neridur grimaced and bobbed her head, taking a step back. “Of course, Commander, of course.”

  “Go ahead, Rivett.”

  “As I was saying, we were rushing to Ashenshore, just to be on the safe side, and then Cleo here stripped us of her auras. That was the first sign there was trouble. Oh, she’s an Aura Mage. They, Cleo and Neridur and Aldrikur, were the rearguard, and the rest of us were at the front. We were close to Ashenshore, so I had to make the hard decision to keep going. I had the rest of the wagons and merchants to worry about.”

  Commander Magnus only grunted before he turned his piercing eyes onto Cleo. “You excluded Rivett, and I assume a few others—” he looked to Rivett, who nodded, “—from your auras. You had good reason to?”

  Cleo avoided looking at the siblings, who she could see from the corner of her eye were glaring at her. Well, she wasn’t going to steal their thunder. Not because they intimidated her, but because she didn’t want to be noticed by the Commander, who might scrutinize her further. “I did. But let me start by saying that Aldrikur noticed something was wrong before I did. He motioned for us to stop, and then there was an icy wind and the trees started exploding.”

  Magnus frowned. “Surely you mean they bent or splintered?”

  “I know what I mean,” Cleo said before she could stop herself. “They suddenly exploded and showered us with chunks of wood. My Energy Shield protected us from harm, and then—”

  “One second, young lady. You’re an Aura Mage with an Energy Shield?”

  Cleo nodded. “Yes.” There was no reason to mention her curse skill or anything else she was capable of yet. The less she gave away, the better.

  “And you were able to protect not only yourself but two others from exploding trees?”

  “Not exactly. We weren’t close to the explosions, but chunks of wood rained down on us.”

  “I see. Continue, please.”

  Cleo swallowed nervously and wanted to wipe her sweaty palms on her trousers, but one was full of nuts and the other had sticky fingers. “Then the plains-elks and ovis bolted in fear and the wagons careened away up the road, as a… being emerged from the wreckage of the trees.”

  “A being? I heard it was a creature of some sort. A Scourgeling.”

  “I… don’t have much experience with Scourgelings,” Cleo said. “But I think creature implies a lesser intelligence, and this being, it seemed to have a semblance of intellect. It wasn’t mindless, and I don’t think it was undead. When it attacked, I pulled my shield from everyone except us three, in order to strengthen it.” She took a breath, glancing at the attendant behind Magnus, who was furiously scribbling in his book. “Maybe Neridur or her brother could explain this better. They have more experience than I do.”

  “Yes, thank you, Cleo,” Neridur said with an insincere smile. “It is our greater experience that allows us to tell you that Cleo is completely wrong. The creature was definitely undead. And it certainly showed no signs of intelligence, quite the opposite. It attacked us without reason, and fled when Aldrikur fought it to a standstill, blade to blade.”

  Commander Magnus raised an eyebrow at Cleo before turning to Neridur. “What did the being look like?”

  “Skinny. With steel armor.”

  Cleo opened her mouth to interrupt and correct Neridur before closing it quickly. She was sure it wasn’t steel, but a type of silvery metal she’d never seen before. How the Witch Healer could have missed this detail puzzled Cleo, though was this relevant enough to interject? Possibly… she’d have to work it into the conversation later at some point.

  “The creature had a gray mask and black eyes,” continued Neridur, “and wielded two swords as quick as lightning. If not for Aldrikur, and my healing of course, the thing would have slaughtered the rest of the caravan.”

  “Of course,” Magnus repeated with a tight smile.

  “The creature and Aldrikur fought back and forth, a truly heroic contest, before the thing’s fear overcame it and it fled. It opened a portal to somewhere and disappeared into it. Aldrikur was about to leap inside to give pursuit, but the opening slammed shut.”

  Beside Neridur, her brother nodded his head in agreement. Cleo clenched her jaw and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The siblings were laying it on too thick, and it didn’t take a genius to see that they had embellished their story.

  But at the mention of the portal, Magnus and his attendant, who had suddenly stopped writing, exchanged a weighty glance. The Commander stood and gave a nod to Neridur.

  “The Imperial Legion thanks you for your heroic efforts. I’ll see to it that you’re suitably rewarded for your bravery.”

  Neridur grinned obsequiously, not realizing she was rubbing her hands together, which rather spoiled the approach she was going for. The Witch Healer bowed her head to Magnus.

  “Thank you, Commander. If you’re ever in need of reliable adventurers to look after a specific problem, do please keep us in mind. And perhaps, if it’s not too much to ask for, you could spread the word to the other Legions?”

  “I’ll make sure to do that,” Magnus said. “Now, you and your brother are excused. I’m sure you’re tired and want to freshen up and rest. Rivett, you may leave as well. I have a few minor questions for Cleo, here, and then I have other important work to get back to.”

  Rivett and the siblings shuffled out through the doorway, and Cleo shuffled on her feet. Remembering she had a handful of nuts, she shoved half of them in her mouth, and while everyone watched the trio leave, she pocketed a few of the cookies.

  Magus ordered the door closed, and as one officer obliged, he turned to his attendant. “Dalvin, mark those two down as untrustworthy, but give them a florin anyway so they’re none the wiser.”

  The attendant, Dalvin, nodded.

  Commander Magnus let out a heavy sigh, and then once again pinned Cleo with his intense eyes.

  “Now, Cleo, why don’t you tell us what really happened?”

  Frak.