[Fort Silence] Ironwood Forest

It had been a long day. Tarik’s back and arms were sore from the almost ceaseless labour he was exerting. His team had just finished felling one of the iron woods in the area and was heading back to the lumber village of Forest hill. Before such a task was done maybe once a month at most. Tarik shook his head at that concept, only once a month. Now ever since trade has picked up with the outside world his team was cutting down one of the great iron woods at least once a week. The pay was good sure, he was able to buy new clothes for his daughter and a new bed frame for the house. His back on the other hand, protested anyway. It was while massaging his back as he walked that his team and Tarik heard it. The almighty snapping of wood as loud as a crack of lighting, followed by a crash similar to that of a thunderous roar. Tarik and his teamed stopped, craning their necks trying to find where the sound came from.

“Is anyone else got a tree in the area?” Tarik asked one of his workmen, a younger man, sixteen and just starting to grow the great muscles of his trade.

“Nope, Balson’s team is to the north.” He replied, shaking his head.

“Then what the in The Place Beyond just felled a tree?” Tarik replied, readying his might axe. “Come on lads we gotta find out.” He pointed in the general direction of the sound.

Begrudgery the rest of his half a dozen team complied and readied their woodsmen axes. Although the Silent Militia had combed through these woods and cleared out any bandit camps, you never knew when a small band might slip through the roving patrols.

Spreading out into a straight line it took them just over 20 minutes to reach the location of the recently fallen tree. Tarik was marvelling at it, an old tree at that but still too young to fall under its own weight.

“Spread out” He commanded. “Look for tracks!”

He was inspecting what seemed to be burn marks at the base of the tree where it had snapped when he heard a cry behind him.

“Tarik!” one of his men yelled, feverishly. “Get over here quick!”

He turned and sprinted to where the man was yelling from, mounting a hilltop from where the tree’s roots resided he saw it.

“Shit.” Is all he could say.

Below him, in the arms of one of the lumberjacks was a woman. No older then eighteen, dressed all in white, stained in red and unconscious. A bolt or arrow protruding from her shoulder. The man cradling the girl, quickly ripping his shirt and bandaging the wound, she had lost a lot of blood, the forest floor around her sticky with it.

“Must have gotten shot by a bandit and ran off.” One of the others said trailing off, his face in shock.

“Quick, bundle her up, we gotta get her to the fort!” Tarik said loudly, snapping several of the men out of their shocked silence. “Boy” He turned to the youngest of them, the still athletic one. “Run ahead and get us a cart from the village, along with the herbalist and the fastest mules. We’ll meet you at the cross roads.”

The boy looked dumbfounded at him.

Tarik reached the boy and smacked him rough on the head. “Now boy, now!” Tarik yelled.

At that the young man nodded and sprinted back into the forest, dropping his axe.

“Quick, lets get back to the road. She’s lucky she’s so close to the place to begin with. He was about to head off when he saw a small orb on the ground next to the woman, which had obviously tumbled out of her hands.

“Take that too.” He pointed at the strange sphere, directing one of the lumberjacks to pick it up. “It might help tell us who she is.”

Bundled up in the now ragged cloth of the lumberjacks she was quickly transported to the forests edge. Where the boy as well as the mules pulling the cart he rode on were out of breath. In the back of the cart was the village herbalists, a older woman almost as old as the tree’s around them. She directed the girl to be laid down on the carts back and quickly began working on the wound as best she could.

“She’s lost a lot of blood” She stated “She needs proper care. You were right to get me.” She said, looking at Tarik now. “We need to get to the fort, as soon as possible. Get in.” She commanded him.

Without thinking, Tarik obliged. Once in the passanger seat at the front of the cart he turned to his compatriots. “Return home, I’ll come back when I can.” He turned to one of the men. “Give me that ball we found.”

One of them handed him the device. It was heavy and as big as his fist. That was all he could understand of it before the mules were commanded forward, hurdling as fast as they could to the Fort through the forest road.

“She’s beginning to come to.” Spoke the herbalist behind him, he turned to look back. The girl was indeed starting to move, groaning and instinctively grabber her wounded arm.

“Why hello sweety the herbalist said softly. Your in a safe place, we’re taking you to a place where you can heal.”

The cart was hurdling through the rough dirt and gravel road towards the fort. The young boy at the reigns only barely able to keep the mules under control as they turned quickly at sharp angles. Occasionally he would have to yell for people to move out of the way moments before passing them. Leading to many a passing traveler or peasant throwing themselves to the road side in desperation to get out of the oncoming storm.

“What did she say?” Asked Tarik, trying to both turn around in his seat in the front, as well as not get thrown from the cart in its desperate rush through the woods.

“Something about a garden.” Replied the old Herbalist mid-way through removing the roughly tied bandages of the lumberjack. Removing the bandages the herbalist tried to remove the underlying cloth as slowly and delicately as possible as the cart bumped and swayed on the path.

“We’re taking you to Fort Silence, it’s a nearby, uh..Fort.” Spoke Tarik to the girl as the herbalist was busy crushing some sort of leaves that she had retrieved from a satchel she carried and quickly grinding it into a paste. “Just a little way up now.”

“Now girl,” Spoke the herbalist rubbing the area surrounding the crossbow bolt with the paste, “This is going to sting.”

The cart by now reached the crossroads to the fort. The road here was smoother than the surrounding roads. Tt had only recently been placed in the last few weeks as the fort became more of a hub of activity in the area.

“We’re almost there.” Shouted the boy from the front, glad to be off the rough and windy roads and onto the straight and smooth recently laid gravel path.

After applying the herbal paste, the old very delicately held onto the crossbow bolt and snapped it in half, with now only the bottom half still implanted into the young woman’s arm.

“Pull it out!” Yelled Tarik to the herbalist.

“If we do that, we’ll kill her.” Replied the herbalist tersely.

“Young lady, do you remember how you got shot?” Spoke the herbalist, applying a clean bandage to her wound quickly and concisely.

The Fort was now starting to appear in the horizon through the great Ironwood trees. Mostly hidden within the mountainside itself, the odd turret or window could be seen poking out of the jagged edges of the mountain. A great cave mouth rapidly coming into view like a giant mouth ready to swallow them whole.

The boy was yelling now, not at traders, but armored militiamen, wielding plated armor and pikes that were walking down in formation to their patrol locations, or returning from them. The soldiers appearing both surprised, confused and hostile by the sudden and rapid arrival of the lumberyard cart. Once Tarik joined his louder voice in the boys warnings and alarms eventually a bell could be heard in the distance, signifying that someone at the fort had heard them.

“Wounded, I have wounded!” Yelled the boy as he barreled up the hills to the entrance to the cave mouth which served as the entrance to the fort as well.

The cart was now reaching the entrance of the Fort.

“Escape?” Exclaimed the Herbalist, Her eyes wide with surprise “You’re a slave girl?”

Tarik’s face darkened, his voice now low. “And they shot you for running.” He gripped the cart harder now, his knuckles turning white in the effort. “Damn slavers, we’ll burn them all.” He said low to himself.

The opposition from the guards becoming more coordinated now as their surprise and confusion was beginning to fade. Eventually one militiaman, a squad leader by the looks of his dyed red left shoulder plate, was brave enough to step in front of the cart, his long spear held tightly in his hands, pointed directly at the charging mules, causing the young boy to quickly slow down.

“What in the gods do you think you’re doing?” He bellowed at the young boy at the helm of the cart, now trying to desperately sooth the horses from trampling the guard.

Tarik turned now to the squad leader and bellowed back. “We found a slave girl shot by a bolt escaping her masters not far from here. She’s barely alive.”

“Slavers? Here? So close to the fort?” He said in shock and surprise. “How did they get so close?” He said to himself quietly. Moving quickly out of the way he spoke once more to the cart. “Our healer isn’t here right now, he’s out on a relief mission further north. “Corvus is here though, if you want to risk it.”

The young boy began to spur the mules on once more, past the guard.

“Corvus?!” Yelled Tarik back at the guard as he passed him. “How in the beyond is a witch doctor gonna help a bolt wound?”

“He knows his stuff” Spoke the guard, now behind them. “Even if he is a bit, strange.”

The cart was now back to its old pace, but it seemed the guard’s message was faster, the men ahead swiftly got out of their way. With several of them quickly heading down the path in patrol formation. It seemed the arrival of slavers this deep into the valley was of serious concern to the Militia.

As they rose to further up towards the mountain base proper, and the cave mouth becoming larger and larger, they noticed individuals waiting for their arrival. Two seemed to be medics from the militia, carrying a stretched between them, and a tall, thin man wearing what seemed to be an old, ragged and patched up medical coat, stained with time a dark brown shade.

“Welcome to Fort Silence!” spoke the thin man as they approached, and the cart slowed. His voice high and some what excited. He instructed the two medics to load the now lightly breathing girl into the stretcher. He inspected the girls wounds, tsked to himself and faced the herbalist. “We’ll take it from here Lorien, your care has been most adequate.”

The old woman nodded in reply, now storing what remained of her supplies back into her satchels. “Someone better pay for all that, I used up a lot of my stock for her.”

“Something will be arranged.” Spoke Corvus. “Now quickly move her inside, she will require, more advanced care.” Corvus said, somewhat excited at the challenge.

“I’m not leaving her with you.” Spoke Tarik, still in the passenger seat of the cart. “Your witching ways might kill her faster then the bolt would.”

The thin man turned to face his accuser as the girl was being moved to the stretcher by the two medics. “I can assure you, she will be healed of her injuries, you have my word.” He said quickly, annoyed at the interference.

“Not gonna happen.” Spoke Tarik in flat reply. “I’m going with her”

The witch doctor inspected the lumberjack for a moment as the young woman was being moved into the fort proper behind him.

“Very well, we may have need for you as it is. Come follow me.” Corvus spoke, turning on his heels and walking briskly into the fort.

“Stay here,” Tarik instructed the boy beside him and he quickly dismounted the cart. “Don’t leave until I do.” At that Tarik moved quickly after the doctor, and into the dark mouth of the fort.

The witch doctor was hard at work, mumbling to himself. The wounded girl had been placed on a gurney in the medical wing of the Fort, several meters underground. The room wasn’t that large, holding only half a dozen beds within its space. Luckily no one else was injured, making the young woman the only occupant. Most of the equipment here was bought from the Isran Empire. Most of it out of date, bought for a low price. Saws, vices and other such tools of the trade were hanging from a nearby wall clean but well worn. Corvus did not even appear to notice these. Instead he was focused on reading through a small, ragged and barely stitched together book.

Tarik was by the girls side and saw as the bolt began to glow. Although the rooms here were brightened by torch light, the faint green glow was unmistakable.

“The bolts glowing!” He exclaimed to the doctor, pointing.

Corvus looked up from his book and saw the faint green glow of the bolt.

“That won’t do, that won’t do at all.” He said calmly, closing the book and placing it to one side. He turned to look at Tarik. “I’m going to need your help in this. She’s lost too much blood and will die soon.”

“What?!” Tarik replied, shocked and surprised.

“I’m going to need yours.” Covus replied again calmly.

Tarik’s eyes widened, taken back by the request. “I will not take part in your witching ways, you pathetic cretin!” He said accusingly.

“You wanted to help; this is how your going to do it. Now give me your hand!” Corvus replied curtly. “Do you want to save her or not?”

Tarik looked down at the girl, who had once again gained consciousness. She looked so much like his daughter…

“Fine.” He said, outstretching his arm.

Corvus grabbed it quickly, dragging him over to the girl. Placing him on a nearby bed. Corvus kneeled in the gap between the two. He began to speak now, his words not in common tongue, instead he spoke in a language of full of harsh syllables and guttural tones. He was speaking the old tongue. Tarik realised, even his own grandparents only knew the odd phrase. Yet here he was speaking it like it was his first language!

The witch doctor pulled out a small knife. It was amazingly ornate. The handle of carved bone, Tarik did not want to guess what animal. The blade long, sharp and etched with runes. He made a cut up on the girl’s hand, deep and long. His chanting was getting faster now. He then cut both his own palms, again deep and long, blood seeping dark red from the wounds, mixing with the blood of the woman on the blade. The runes upon the blade were beginning to glow a bright orange glow now. He turned towards Tarik and dug his knife deep into his hand. Tarik yelled out in pain, trying to move his hand away. But the witch doctors grip was iron tight, not even the muscled axeman could move away. The chanting was even louder now, Corvus placed the blade upon the floor and firmly clasped both Tarik’s and the woman’s hand in each of his own. The dark red blood from their wounds mingling.

That was when Tarik began to feel weak. He could feel the blood leaving him. Corvus was still chanting, now the same phrase over and over. Tarik looked over to the young woman. Her ashen face was beginning to gain colour again. What ever the doctor was doing, it was working.

Tarik was getting even more weak now. His head began to droop, his mouth salivating, his stomach beginning to curl. Yet the doctor did not stop his chanting. If anything, he was getting louder, faster. Tarik’s vision began to darken. He tried to speak, but his tongue would not leave his mouth. Sounds began to become muffled. Until all he could hear was the guttural sounds of Corvus as he drained him of blood and slowly, Tarik did not even hear that. His eye lids began to feel heavy and eventually closed and darkness embraced him.

As the witch doctors magics continued, now with an unconscious Tarik slowly becoming paler and paler, the skin upon nines body began to gain its full lustre again. Not only that, it seemed that the tip of the bolt was beginning to rise out of her shoulder blade.

“Don’t move girl.” Said Corvus between gritted teeth, trying to keep her still. Veins appearing upon his forehead as he concentrated in his ritual. “Only a little longer now. This is going to be close.” Slowly the bolt rose even further, rising ever other second in pulses. Tarik’s breathing begun to sound faint, his skin now a deathly white.

“Almost there...” Mumbled the doctor. The bolt slid free of nines shoulder and clanged to the rocky floor. No bloody wound could be seen where the bolt had been, only clean skin was seen beneath her tatted clothing.

The doctor let out a gasp and let go of their hands, bending over in exhaustion. Taking a few deep breaths, he turned behind him to the collapsed lumber jack. He placed his trembling hands to Tarik’s giant neck and paused. Then moved his hand over the slowly rising chest of the man and paused again, eventually letting out a low grunt.

“That was close. Too close.” He said to the unconscious man between jagged breaths, leaning back and backing himself against a nearby wall. He patted the lumberjack on the chest. “If you had been a smaller man my boy. You would be dead.” After a few seconds of deep breaths. Corvus got up from the floor, groaning as he used the bedding as support as he rose. He turned to observe the girl, inspecting her now. “Come on girlie, help me put him on a gurney.” He instructed, massaging his back. “He’s going to wake up with one hell of an ache. “

Corvus looked down at the bolt, now glowing faintly and bent over to inspect it closely in Nines Hands. He stroked his chin for a moment, moved his head from side to side as he studied the tip of the blade.

“This isn’t some bandit bolt.” Corvus said, more to himself then to Nine. “Craftsmen’s too good. Not to mention the uh, glowing.”

He raised his head from the curious ammunition and inspected Nine more carefully. “What do you want to do with it?”

“Do with you?” Spoke Corvus quizzically. “I imagine you have no money, but I think the fort will pay for my services in this case. They pay quite well too.” He winked at her.

He turned and picked up the ritual knife off the floor, groaning as he bent over. He picked up the knife delicately and pulled a small handkerchief from one of his many pouches he wore under his coat and began to wipe it down. Turning back to face Nine. “I don’t think I’ve got many of those left in me.” He mumbled to himself as he cleaned the knife of blood, “Don’t remember that being so taxing. It was only a simple blood transfer.” He shook his head and sighed.

“You’re free to go if you wish young lady. I imagine the militia will want to have a word with you. You gave the whole fort a scare when you came in saying you’d been shot so close to the fort. Whole place is high strung as it is, what with the rumors of a counter attack filtering in. Kargth might even want to see you once he comes back from the relief mission.” He finished cleaning his tool, and deftly sheathed the dagger. “About that, that bolt.” He nodded his head to the now ash pile on the floor. “Is not something you see very often. No one near here can do such enchantment. What did you say your name was again?”

Corvus raised an eyebrow at Nine’s response. “Uh, very well uh, Nine. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I am Corvus Moloreth.” He gives a deep theatrical bow. “I like to call myself a doctor. Some like our friend here. “He jerks his head in the direction of the sleeping giant. “Would call me a witch. A title I do not like to use, but in some cases is apt as you probably saw before.”

As he was speaking, a young man not older then twenty sprinted into the small infirmary out of breath and grasping a large satchel bag full of medical supplies. “Where is she? I was told there was a girl shot by a bolt in the chest?” He said between gasps. “I ran ahead of the convoy as fast as I could.”

Corvus smirked and gave a small laugh. “This would be her my boy. Right as rain.”

The young doctor reached out to a nearby wall to steady himself between gasps of breath. “Can’t be, she was close to death. I was told so by the guards outside, left most of her blood on the wagon they told me.”

“Indeed she did.” Corvus said gravely. Turning to Nine once more. “Another minute and she would have died. Remind me to thank Lorien before she leaves.”

He turned back to the gasping doctor at the door, who was now starting to regain his strength. “Our friend here though, does need your attention.” He pointed at the resting Tarik. “Lost a lot of blood in a transfer. He’s stable but he’s going to be as weak as a small child when he wakes in a few hours.”

“Transfer?” The doctor said taking a final deep breath and walked past Corvus and Nine and to the sleeping man. “What do you mean trans..” Once closer, the doctor could see the slice mark on the sleeping man’s hand.

“Is that?!” he said in a mixture of surprise and indignation. He rounded on Corvus. “You’re Corvus aren’t you! You used your damn blood magic on him!”

“He’s alive, isn’t he? The girl is fine too no thanks to you.” Covrus responded, dryly.

“Get the hell out of my infirmary.” Yelled the doctor. Point at the door angrily. “Take the girl with you if she’s so healthy. Kargth will want to speak to both of you. He’s only an hour behind me.”

The witch doctor lightly grabbed the young womans arm and gently moving her towards the door. “We best get out of here my lady. Get you into some new clothes.”

“I’m going to write an official complaint about you Corvus. You’ve gone too far!” Spoke the doctor as they left the room.

Corvus shook his head as he left the room, sighing to himself. “As you might have realised. I’m sort of the man of last resort in these places.” Corvus said as he guided her through the tunnels beneath the keep. “I hope you don’t think less of me my dear.”

Although they were several meters underground, torches were spread evenly along the hallways and rooms, combined with the steady stream of bodies that were constantly brushing up against each other in the three-meter-wide corridors the air had a pleasant warmth to it. Corvus kept a light hold on the girl as he guided her upwards towards the requisition office. As she asked him who was Kargth he stopped and turned, apologising as he disturbed the light flow of traffic behind him.

“Kargth is the master of this place, the commander of the militia and lord of the valley. He’s a very powerful man.” Kargth said quietly. “If he is a man at all.” He added more to himself.

He directed her into a side room, what seemed to be a temporary storage room. Wood crates were stacked haphazardly inside, with hash sacks piled on top.

“Its best you hear it from me first rather then when you see him.” Corvus whispered, bending low to her head height, groaning as he did so. “Kargth is not human, not anymore. I don’t understand much about it and I’ve not had much face to face with him, but most in the militia know. Its kind of an open secret. He was found here. In this place.” He gestured to the room around him. “All alone. He never eats or drinks, never sleeps and never takes off his armour.” He scratched his chin. “I’m pretty sure he’s not even alive.” He mused. “Although, he’s not undead either. He’s somewhere in between.”