The House of Yeel

Chapter 11: Skirmish





Two weeks later, Jymoor emerged from her room at Legrach’s call. He wore a breastplate created from the shell of some giant crustacean. It made him look like a sea creature himself.

“Quickly,” he said. “Our enemies are scouting in force. They’ve been spotted approaching Ascara-home.”

“We’re going to leave the fortress?”

“If we act now, we can kill them before any more arrive,” Legrach said. “At least, that’s what Vot has told us. She has spies on the mainland.”

Jymoor thought about protesting. She hardly felt ready for a real battle, but on the other hand, it was a sign that Legrach didn’t think of her as a mere child. Unless he just wanted her to die and be rid of her.

Jymoor checked herself. She had two fenlar, her short sword, and the moon armor.

“I’m ready, then,” she said.

They walked through the stone corridors of the fortress. At each branch they picked up more warriors until Jymoor was part of a stream of men. They poured out into the main courtyard and formed ranks. Jymoor felt conspicuous in her armor, but her mind remained mostly on the prospect of doing battle. She flexed her hands nervously, feeling the strength of the moon armor there.

Another tall warrior, perhaps a leader, walked about between the ranks. The man also wore the chitinous armor made from some once-living creature. He yelled a few orders in a language Jymoor didn’t understand.

“What did he say?” asked Jymoor. “Why couldn’t I understand him?”

“In times of battle, we use our ancient language. It was the Ascaran’s language before Artaxiad enslaved us and taught us this language.”

“Now that Artaxiad is gone, I’m surprised you don’t always speak it.”

“Vot knows the language you speak. So we keep it for her. Also, we’ve become used to it over the generations. Our old language is not fully known to most of us anymore. To me, it’s just a fighting language, though I think we have some who can speak more of it.”

“I see. What did he want?”

“Our scouts will lead us to the enemy,” Legrach said. “When we’re ready, the horn will sound a single low note to signal our charge. And, of course, they’ll look out for the rest of our enemies, in case it’s a trap. If you hear the horn sound two high notes, that means run.”

Jymoor nodded. The leader motioned with his arm and bellowed another order. Everyone started to move forward toward the bridge. Jymoor gripped one of her fenlar and reviewed what little training she had over and over in her mind as they walked over the bridge and out among the rocks scattered over the landscape.

The march continued through the rugged landscape for another hour, but with her mystical energy reserve Jymoor barely felt it. Legrach didn’t seem to feel like talking, so Jymoor simply tried to stay calm and fit in.

Then a scout ran up to join the front of the army. Officers ran along the column to the front to speak with the scout and their leader. Then the officers ran back out to the fighters. One of them came up and spoke to Legrach’s group in the battle language.

“The plan has changed,” Legrach told her. “We’re setting up an ambush here. The scouts will skirmish with the enemy and lead them into this draw. Then we’ll attack them from three sides and wipe them out.”

Jymoor nodded. It certainly sounded favorable for her first battle.

Being on the ambushing side with a larger force should be relatively easy to survive.

The force from Ascara-home broke into three even groups. Jymoor went to the left flank with the warriors around her. They clambered over some smaller black rocks, then crouched in groups of ten or twenty between larger boulders that rose over her head. Jymoor was with a group toward the entrance, with a clear but narrow view of the approach.

She crouched there counting her breaths for an age. Then she shifted her feet carefully to dispel pins and needles in her leg.

At last she saw something in the approach.

A group of Ascaran scouts moved hastily through the site of the trap. They didn’t look at their fellows and didn’t turn around. They fled into the draw. Jymoor lost sight of them in her narrow view, but she assumed they must have moved through the draw and up its far side.

Jymoor finally caught sight of the enemy. It was a mass of huge blue humanoids. The creatures looked thick and strong. She saw armor of some black metal on most of them, though no set of armor seemed like any other. Some had massive shields, others helmets and bracers. Jymoor didn’t see any in full armor like herself. She felt a bit better, estimating she would always be able to find a spot to strike with the fenlar.

At least a dozen monstrous bird heads towered over the blue men. Even at a distance, Jymoor could make out the feathered crests and hooked beaks of the giant birds.

“What are those things? Huge birds?” she whispered.

“Hunting birds. Flightless. Watch their legs, they’re just as dangerous as the beak,” Legrach told her. “Do you still have your sword?”

“Yes.”

“If you fight one of the bird-things, use it. Your fenlar won’t hurt them.”

“The bird-things have no name?”

Legrach shook his head. “I have no name for them. They’re not of this world. But the Meridalae have brought them before. Now be silent.”

Jymoor watched. Her heart beat rapidly. She licked her dry lips and wondered again if she would survive the day.

The ambush worked. The Quan and their bird beasts moved into the sheltered area, trying to catch the fleeing scouts. Then a horn sounded and everyone was running forward.

Jymoor ran forward with them. Some moved faster than others over the rough terrain, descending upon the mass of enemies below. Jymoor found herself among the first few Ascarans to arrive. She faced the first blue warrior who turned toward her.

The creature bore a massive weapon, which, though only about four feet long, had a two-foot handle of heavy metal wrapped in leather that terminated in a curved two-foot blade as thick as a meat cleaver. Jymoor wondered for a split second if the blade could rip her arm off even through her armor. Then she simply reacted, thrusting her fenlar at the creature’s throat directly under its thick chin.

The stinger sunk into the folds of blue skin covering its neck. Then the heavy sword slashed out toward Jymoor’s head. Jymoor ducked. The great blade swung by her. Jymoor leaned into her fenlar with her enhanced strength, trying to push the creature back.

It finally seemed to react to the poison. The blue warrior grabbed at its throat with one hand and tried to swing the blade again with its other. Jymoor stepped forward inside the swing, blocking its arm with her elbow. She pushed again. The blue warrior toppled backward, still clutching at the fenlar.

Jymoor shoved it to the ground and stood over the vanquished foe. But there was no time to savor the flush of victory. Another enemy was already on top of her, its blade raised overhead. She managed to block its attack but toppled over, landing on her back.

The Quan above her lifted its huge black blade to cleave her in half. Jymoor uttered something unintelligible. As soon as the blade started to accelerate downward, she rolled to her right, away from the Quan’s weapon arm. She felt the ground rattle next to her helmet. It had been a close miss.

After her roll she scrabbled to her feet. She caught a glimpse of Legrach who stood nearby, watching. Her attacker struggled to retrieve its thick black blade that had lodged between two massive greenish stones. Jymoor drew her sword and thrust it in the Quan’s side. It grunted oddly, gave her a twisted grimace, then fell atop its brother.

Now it was Jymoor’s turn to struggle with her blade, which had stuck inside the enemy. She gave a great heave and finally got it back out, but she was off balance and fell backward onto the ground. She looked up at Legrach.

Legrach stood there, motionless. Then he offered her a hand up.

“You could have helped earlier!” she snapped.

“I wanted to see if you could handle it,” Legrach replied loudly, so his voice could be heard over the nearby clash of weapons. The battle raged mere steps away, so Jymoor only grunted in anger and hefted her sword. Her blade looked puny compared to the Quan’s broadswords, but felt substantial enough in her own hand. Though her sword was narrower and longer, she doubted she had the reach advantage over the Quan due to their size and long arms.

“Well, apparently I can handle it,” she said. “So why don’t you try yourself before they’re all dead?”

Surprised at her own venom, Jymoor strode forward to find another opponent. To her right, a huge bird creature had its beak clamped over an Ascaran’s head. At first she thought to chop it off at the neck, but it moved back, pulling the man with it, so instead she chopped at the bird’s foot. It pulled its foot away quickly, causing her to miss her mark.

Remembering Master Kasil’s advice, she skipped forward and thrust for the bird’s black-feathered chest. Her sword found its mark and sank in. The creature released its hold on the man and squalled so loudly Jymoor didn’t know whether to be exultant or scared of the wounded bird. This time, her weapon came out easily, accompanied by the sound of cracking ribs.

“Creatures with hollow bones don’t belong on the battlefield!” she cried.

What’s wrong with me? Jymoor wondered. I’m so good at this…too good.

The man she had saved was curled into a ball, holding his bleeding head in his hands. Jymoor grabbed one of his arms and dragged him back, retreating from the line. Since her fellow Ascarans were steadily advancing on the outnumbered Quan and their bird-things, it was easy enough to withdraw.

The man looked at her, holding his head.

“Thank you,” he said. “I thought myself dead for sure.”

“You would do the same for me,” Jymoor said, not at all certain of the statement.

“I will someday,” he agreed.

Jymoor turned to rejoin the battle, but she saw that the remnants of the Quan force were surrounded and falling rapidly. None of the blue humanoids was surrendering. The Ascarans pressed in and slaughtered them. Two or three of the tall birds managed to escape from the ring, leaping over warriors and running away at impressive speed. The things sensed defeat; rather than turn back and fight some more, they scampered off among the tall rocks that surrounded the draw.

Jymoor felt glad the battle was over. She’d tested herself and come out fine. Of course, the battle had been heavily in their favor, and she felt sure she’d been saved by the moon armor, not her own budding skill with fenlar and sword. Nevertheless, she had defended herself from grave danger.

No thanks to Legrach.

She couldn’t wait to relate the tale to Master Kasil. At the same time, she decided she would quit training with Legrach.





***





I’ve been switching between worlds so regularly now that I’ve almost forgotten what a wonder it is. I train with Kasil during the day and patrol the camp at night as we make our way back toward Riken. My guidance was necessary to get us through the mountain pass I took to get here. I may call it Gem Pass, as Yeel has extracted a dozen garnets from the rocky cliffsides, almost on a whim.

Jymoor paused in her writing, recalling the skirmish with the Quan. Yeel worked nearby in the kitchen of his house, gathering foodstuffs to take for a feast with Vot.

“You seem troubled,” Yeel said. “Are you trying to recall an event to persist? Could it be that even your amazing memory has failed?”

“No…but I am troubled. It’s Legrach. During the battle, he almost watched me die.”

“Did you confront him about it?”

“He only said he knew I could handle it. But it was a close thing. He wouldn’t have been able to save me in time.”

“There is sometimes an attitude held among warriors that fighters must prove themselves before it’s worth investing in them,” Yeel said. “I don’t subscribe to this approach myself, but to Legrach, it may have been a kind of test.”

“Or maybe he wanted me to die, since I’d rather be out there fighting instead of bringing him babies,” Jymoor said.

Yeel shook his head.

“That was simply about the role Vot plays. It is all Legrach knows about women. It barely impinges upon you personally.”

“Well in any case, I’ve decided to train exclusively with Kasil. I hope you understand.”

Jymoor was aware of her confident tone and the finality of her decision. Now she was telling the Great Yeel what she would do instead of taking his orders.

“I do understand, and I fully support your decision. However, Vot and I would ask that you be available for patrol under the green sky. The Meridalae are massing for an offensive on Ascara-home. If there’s another opportunity to make a raid, they may want your sword.”

“Very well.”

“I’ve formulated a plan which may work to save both worlds. You see, these battles are largely about concentration of strength and the element of surprise and angles of…well, my extensive studies have brought me to an idea. If the Riken army can help Vot survive the onslaught under the green sky, then I think I may be able to convince Vot to bring her Ascaran army here to fight the barbarians.”

Jymoor digested the idea for a moment. She had her doubts.

“Assuming you can get Vot and King Aruscetar of Riken to agree, it may be difficult to get whole armies through the portal. And the timing would have to be right. I don’t know which side is going to be attacked first. Finally, I don’t know how large the army is that is attacking Ascara-home, but the barbarian horde is so vast, Vot’s army may not suffice.”

“In each case, an army will be attacking a fortress,” said Yeel. “Imagine the precariousness of that attacking army, if it is attacked in turn from behind. They would be pinned with enemies on both sides. If the attack from behind is a surprise, then the situation would be grave for the besieger.”

“That’s a great plan. Our next challenge is one of diplomacy. We have to get Vot and King Aruscetar to work together. To trust each other.”

Yeel finished gathering the food and swung the bag over his shoulder. Jymoor thought it must be very heavy, but Yeel had otherworldly strength. She wondered silently if Yeel had an artifact, just like the moon armor, that fed him strength, or if it was intrinsic to a man so wise and powerful in magic.

“The best way to convince Vot is to first convince her helping Riken is in her own best interest. Then, I think a secondary thrust should revolve around telling her how the barbarians function. As nomadic peoples, they overload any environ they enter, denude it of resources, and move on. From what I have learned of Riken, your people live in one spot and augment its resources to support life in place. I think this will resonate with her own personal tastes. Vot values balance with all things. Therefore, we will formulate a two-pronged argument, which should convince her with both reason and emotion.”

“You’ve put much thought into this, Yeel. I’m glad to see you’re taking Riken’s plight so seriously. We’re forever in your debt.”

“Then I ask a favor: you must present the second prong of our argument. Persuade Vot that the Rikenese way is less destructive to nature than the invaders. Convince her that the barbarians’ strength does not come from superior balance. They’re more numerous because they’re not afraid to destroy nature, not because they’ve achieved more harmony with it.”

Jymoor nodded. They left the kitchen with Jymoor in the lead, showing Yeel the way back to the portal. Soon they emerged once again under the green sky, headed toward the bridge to Ascara-home.

They marched into the mighty fortress and found the dining chamber. Yeel went into the kitchen with his food. Jymoor stayed at the table and listened to Yeel’s long-winded preparation instructions filtering in from the other room. Finally, Yeel emerged and waited with her at the table.

An hour later the food was ready and Vot appeared with her upper cadre of warriors.

“I’m glad you’ve come back, Yeel,” Vot said. “We need you here to repel the assault of the Meridalae.”

“Of course I’ll help if I can, though there is the matter of the crisis in Riken as well. You know, you can have the assistance of their substantial army if you simply agree to aid them in turn. Trust me, taking these people as allies, though they are very different than your own, will secure your position here, even in the face of attack from the Meridalae.”

“I don’t want their help. I want your help, Yeel,” Vot said. “The two of us should be sufficient. Things will work themselves out in Riken without your interference.”

“He’s already promised my kingdom his assistance!” Jymoor said. “And we’re very grateful for it!”

“The barbarian migration? What can you really do to stop it? I’ve organized a defense here, and I have a dedicated army that understands what they’re up against. Riken is a crumbling empire on the verge of collapse. The migration will overcome them. It is as it should be.”

“The barbarians will burn and destroy everything in their path,” Jymoor said. “They eat all the food, hunt the game dry, even destroy the very grass underfoot with the trampling of a thousand boots. Then they must leave to go strip some other land of everything. Riken may be old, but at least we’ve learned to fish what we can without destroying whole populations. King Aruscetar rotates the hunting lands by establishing preserves to allow the game population to remain stable. We plant crops in our fields to sustain ourselves without having to move from place to place and overwhelm the land. To my point of view, that is how it should be. In fact, that is why we are losing to the barbarians. Because we live in balance with the land, not overwhelming it, we have fewer warriors than the horde that comes to destroy us.”

Jymoor decided to shut up. She’d calmly but firmly said everything Yeel had advised, now it was up to Vot. The queen ate in silence for a few moments, lost in thought.

“Perhaps I will speak with this man Aruscetar of Riken and see if an arrangement can be made to our mutual benefit,” she said at last. Jymoor relaxed. Of course, Yeel’s plan had worked. She should never have doubted it would.