‘Forging’ was perhaps the most effective weapon that the Outislanders turned against us during the Red Ship War. The technique for ‘Forging’ is still unknown to us, but the dreadful results are all too familiar to many. The name comes from the village of Forge, an iron-mining town that first suffered this horrendous attack. Red Ship raiders attacked in the night, killing or taking hostage most of the population. A ‘ransom note’ to Buckkeep Castle demanded gold, under the threat of releasing the hostages. This made no sense to then King Shrewd, who declined to pay. The Red Ship raiders lived up to their threat, releasing their apparently unharmed hostages and sailing off into the night.
But it swiftly became apparent that, by some arcane magic, the villagers were no longer themselves. Although they knew who they were and what families they belonged to, they no longer seemed to care. Morality and ethics had been stolen from them. They thought only of satisfying their own immediate wants, and did not hesitate to steal, murder and rape to do so. Some were ‘captured’ by their families and vain efforts were made to restore them to themselves. None ever recovered.
Forging was a tactic used repeatedly during the war. It had the effect of leaving a resident, hostile army on our soil, made up of our own loved ones, at no emotional or financial cost to Kebal Rawbread and his raiders. Killing the Forged ones was a demoralizing and dehumanizing task that fell to our own folk. The scars remain to this day. The town of Forge has never been rebuilt.
Fedwren’s History of the Red Ship War
I was in the first small boat that touched the shore of Aslevjal, along with the other guardsmen. Moments later, the boat carrying Chade and Dutiful, the Narcheska, Peottre and Arkon Bloodblade nosed into the sand. We stepped into the shallow water to seize the boat’s gunwales, and on the next rising wave, we ran it up onto the shore so that its passengers could step out onto dry sand. The whole time, I was aware of the Fool standing on the lip of the land that overlooked the beach, watching us. He was still, but the cold wind seemed to speak for him. It whipped his cloak and long golden hair with a snapping, muttering sound. He had abandoned the face powder that had lightened his skin, as well as the Jamaillian cosmetic touches that had branded him a foreigner. The rich brown of his skin over the sculpted bones of his face and his tawny mane made him a creature out of a tale. The stark black-and-white of his garb erased every trace of indolent Lord Golden. I wondered if anyone besides Chade and myself had identified him yet. I tried to exchange a look with him, but he stared through me. He spoke only when the Prince stepped out of the boat onto the shore. He swept him a bow.
‘I’ve hot tea waiting for you,’ he called down. His voice carried through the ceaseless hushing of the wind. That was all he said. Then he made a gesture toward his tent and turned his steps that way.
‘Do you know him? Who is that?’ Arkon Bloodblade demanded. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword.
‘I’ve known him for a long time,’ Chade replied heavily. ‘But how he came to be here, or why, I’ve no idea.’
The Prince was trying not to gape after him. He sent me a glance but I looked hastily at the ground.
Was that Lord Golden? It was a genuine question from Dutiful. The change in the man’s appearance was enough that he was uncertain.
No. Nor is it the Fool. But they are facets of whoever that is.
Stop being dramatic. This last from Chade, grumbled in annoyance to both of us. Aloud, he said, ‘He is no threat to us. I will deal with him. Guardsmen, remain here and assist with the unloading of the cargo. I want it all carried up above the tide-line, and well secured against damp.’
So neatly Chade banished me. He’d keep me separated from the Fool until he discovered what was going on. I thought of ignoring the order and following him up to the Fool’s tent. Then Riddle gave me a nudge. ‘Looks like you’d better be ready to help them.’
Thick was coming ashore in the boat with the Wit-coterie. He had a white-knuckled grip on the side of the boat and his eyes were clenched tightly shut. Web had a hand lightly on his shoulder, but Thick was hunched against his touch. I sighed and went to take charge of him. Another small boat was putting out from the ship, bearing the warriors of the Hetgurd.
Evening was falling before all the cargo was removed from the ship and canvas securely roped over it. I’d had a quick look at the small casks that Chade had loaded at the last minute. They were not brandy. One was leaking a powdery substance. With both dread and anticipation, I recognized Chade’s experimental powder for creating explosions. Was this why he had not more strenuously objected when the Hetgurd had deprived us of our manpower? How did he intend to use this stuff?
I pondered that as our temporary home took shape. Longwick was a good commander. He kept our small force, Wit-coterie and guardsmen alike, in steady motion. He chose a location on the highest clear ground the hill offered us, with a clear view of the surrounding area. Our tents were set up in tidy rows, a waste pit was dug and the beach scoured for driftwood. Water was fetched from an icy stream of snowmelt that flowed from the glacier and past our camp. Hest, the youngest guard at about twenty, was put on general watch and Drub, a grizzled warrior muscled like a bear, was given the cooking duties. Deft and Churry were told to sleep now to relieve Hest later. Riddle was assigned to be at the Prince’s convenience, shadowing him wherever he went. And as I expected, I was assigned to keep watch over the Prince’s man, Thick. The Wit-coterie members, nominally under Longwick’s command now, were given lesser chores about the camp before he let them disperse to explore the beach. It was a strange experience for some of them, I am sure, especially for a young noble like Civil, but to his credit the lad did his work willingly and ceded Longwick the respect his position demanded. Several times I saw him cast a disapproving gaze toward the Fool’s colourful tent, but he kept his reservations to himself. Chade and the Prince had accepted the Fool’s hospitality, along with the Narcheska, Peottre Blackwater and Arkon Bloodblade.