AA3 48 - Abnormal

Dirk and Benlen set about reinforcing the nearby patches of thearns and bringing some semblance of order to the battle while Verdan turned his attention to the Bonecaller.

The Darjee spellcaster had pulled back for the moment, but Verdan was under no illusion that it would last. It did, however, give him time to recover from the frenzied rate of casting he’d put himself through and to plan how to best protect the others.

The Bonecaster seemed to be a straightforward caster from what he’d seen so far, and in some ways, it worried him less than the protections on those large Thralls.

Stretching out with his Aether senses, Verdan hunted for any pockets of abyssal energy that he could sense.

The last of the Thralls bearing the bone charms had been brought down by the Kranjir, and Verdan could feel the tide turning against the remaining Darjee.

Reaching further afield, Verdan could sense what felt like the Bonecaller’s magic. It was outside the village once more, and it felt like there was another one with it.

Verdan grimaced in distaste as he tried to pin down exactly what was going on, but it felt like they were retreating. No new Darjee were entering the village either, so it seemed the loss of their magic-resistant Thralls had prompted them to pull away.

It was a wise move on their part, but it was nonetheless frustrating for Verdan as he doubted they would have the time or the ability to pursue them further.

Still, it did leave the remaining Darjee forces exposed and a sense of vicious satisfaction stirred in Verdan’s core as he picked out the single largest concentration of Darjee. “Grym thanr bel!”

-**-

With Verdan and the Witches providing close in support, the remaining Darjee had been dealt with quickly, the survivors fleeing quickly as the storms built overhead and lightning crashed down into them at the behest of Gwen.

As soon as the village was secure, Verdan changed his focus to aiding the wounded and got to work, spending Aether liberally to keep as many Kranjir alive as he could.

Despite his best efforts, three dozen Kranjir had been lost in the battle for the village, including both the fight on the inside and the attack from the forest.

At least two to three times that many Thralls and Darjee had been killed, but that didn’t take away the sting of loss and the grief in the survivors.

With Thralls on the loose, the decision was made to burn their dead to save their fallen comrades from being desecrated by the Gormagyr that seemed to be working with the Darjee.

The thought of that unholy alliance sent a shiver down Verdan’s spine, but there was no doubt in any of their minds that it was exactly what they’d stumbled upon.

The two makeshift structures Osran had gone to investigate had turned out to be holding pens. Each had held almost twenty villagers and travelers that had been captured by the Darjee, and though Verdan didn’t know the full details quite yet, he had a feeling that they were all once part of larger groups.

The shock of seeing two of their worst enemies working together had hit the Kranjir hard, even more so when they took the time to examine the bodies of those large Thralls.

The bone charms that had protected them were of clear Darjee make, but there had been a second type outside the village, which had been focused on toughening and protecting the Thralls that wore them. It was this second type that had been plaguing the scouts, and only the quick actions of the Pathfinder’s people to use their enchanted arrows had forestalled far worse casualties.

Nor was that the only unpleasant surprise they’d found when disposing of their dead foes. Several of the Thralls had borne metal weapons and implements that were either designed for them or the Thrall had been made in such a way to fit them.

Either of the options was problematic, though Verdan hadn’t really understood to what extent until Maeve explained that the Gormagyr didn’t use metal this way normally and that the Darjee had no skill with smithing weapons.

The pieces they’d recovered were well made and of good quality, which meant that either the Darjee had captured some weaponsmiths or there was a third group involved in this unlikely alliance.

Neither of those options was particularly palatable to either Verdan or the Kranjir, but the reality of the situation lay in the selection of items that they were bringing back to Dunkirn as evidence.

They were fortunate that the Darjee seemed to have pulled back after the attempted ambush, giving them time to see to their dead, gather the captives and leave.

Verdan had a feeling that his presence, as well as that of Kai and the Witches, had been as unwelcome a surprise for the Darjee as the Thralls had been for them. That looked like it would give them the time they needed to get back to Dunkirn, but the Darjee knew about him now.

Time would tell how they’d choose to answer the threat he posed.

-**-

Their return to Dunkirn was celebrated as a victory, especially with the rescue of the captives that they’d found, but Verdan knew better.

What he’d learned from the Kranjir was that the Gormagyr could create Thralls from any source of living creatures, and while they did have limits, any losses could be replaced in time.

To Verdan’s mind, that sounded like the twisted giants used their own stores of abyssal energy to create and maintain the foul abominations. Otherwise, they would simply keep making them and drown the Clans in waves of flesh-crafted horrors.

It felt like that should be an exploitable piece of information, but if it was, Verdan wasn’t sure exactly what benefit they could draw from it.

For now, though, it was enough to know that while they had destroyed many Thralls, in time, they would be replaced. Only the Darjee they had killed would be permanently lost.

In short, they were on a time limit if they wanted to act before new Thralls could be created.

Currently, he was making his way to a meeting with the Keeper and the Chosen to discuss just that and to decide on what their next steps would be.

Everyone who had accompanied him in his group was joining him this time. They would all have their own take on what happened, and more points of view would help them sort out how exactly they would respond.

-**-

“…and this is the situation as it stands,” Sebastian said as he finished laying out everything that had been discovered from the ill-fated mission to the village. “I believe I can safely say that none of this is in keeping with normal Darjee behaviour, and their seeming alliance with a Gormagyr is troubling in the extreme. Ciaran, your thoughts, if you would?”

“Thank you, Keeper,” Ciaran said as he stepped forward to capture their attention. “Our normal tactics for dealing with the Darjee are to whittle them down before the final assault. However, we do exactly the opposite with Gormagyr. Considering the situation we find ourselves in, I recommend the second approach.”

“Have we made any progress on locating their main camp?” Maeve asked thoughtfully. “Gormagyr keep their Thralls close, so it might well be in the area around that village.”

“Not as of yet,” Ciaran said with a subtle frown. “Pathfinder Galstar updated me on their progress this morning; it seems that despite their retreat after the battle at the village, their encirclement of Dunkirn remains in effect.”

“So we’re blind to whatever they’re doing,” Jarn said, folding his arms with a stormy expression.

“Unless we send out another force to try and clear them away, yes.” Ciaran paused before shaking his head slightly and continuing. “I don’t like it, but an option we have is to march out and try to bring some of them to battle, while the scouts slip past the net and seek out the camp.”

“That doesn’t cover how they’ll get back,” Verdan pointed out softly, meeting Ciaran’s gaze with his own.

“No, it doesn’t,” the Chosen replied, his words hanging in the air heavily for a few moments. “I don’t have any alternatives to offer, though, and I dislike the idea of completely ceding the initiative to the enemy.”

“I must admit that I dislike the idea as well,” Sebastian said, closing his eyes for a moment before looking over those assembled. “Time is against us, so in the absence of a better plan, we must move forward.”

“I can do it.” Macha’s voice was small and quiet in the room, almost lost beneath the heavy weight of what they were discussing.

“Macha?” Gwen questioned in surprise; one echoed by the rest of the room as the Bloodline Witch stepped forward and repeated herself, much louder this time.

“I can do it. I can find the camp. You don’t need to risk the scouts.”

“Witch Macha,” Sebastian said, stumbling over the form of address slightly. “Are you sure you can do this?”

“Yes,” Macha said, her eyes flashing as she lifted her chin, her shoulders rolling back as she stood straight against the weight of their attention. “Faethe and I can find it.”

A hurried knock on the door came before it was thrust open, and Padraig burst in with a worried expression. “Keeper, we have sightings of Thralls and Darjee in the tree line. It looks like they’re massing for an attack!”

“Very well, marshal our troops and reinforce the walls. We’ll proceed as we discussed previously,” Sebastian ordered in a voice that brooked no dissent. “Witch Macha, it seems our alternative must be placed on hold, so please, do what you can.”

Macha nodded firmly as she reached up with one hand to stroke the feathers of her familiar. “We’ll find it, Keeper. Just give us some time.”