Chapter 1: The Journey Begins
of Total Eclipse
Ever since my northern bastions fell to my other I have felt my resolve fading. I long for the days when your strength was beside me. When I was besieged on all sides by the darkness, but the light was bright within my walls. Now I gaze upon that light. Distant. Wavering. And myself alone, powerless to rekindle its warmth.
19 Bolgatide, 3811 AS
It was a hot day in Softor. Another hot day. Some clouds in the sky provided occasional shade, but most of the noncombatants in the caravan were wearing thin, loose, white garments not unlike those seen in the desert of Nenesvi. And then there were the Maidens. Artyom was simultaneously impressed, awed even, and worried about them. Even in the blazing heat they kept a perimeter around the caravan dressed in some of the most ornate plate armor he had seen. Of course, like any good host, he had asked if they needed anything else to keep them cool. He had seen veteran soldiers collapse while marching in less heat while wearing less armor. Whenever he asked, however, they simply patted their waterskins with a curt, "No." They didn't even pause their watch long enough to look at him. They were a tough lot. Certainly lived up to their reputation. And their fees. Then there were the horsemen who had shown up earlier this morning. Artyom still was not sure how he felt about them. Their captain, Captain Sab, seemed amiable enough, but they all shared a worn, long-harried look in their eyes. These men had seen battle, and they had seen loss. Supposedly they were in the employ of Durant. It was an easy enough story to believe, since he had been talking about recruiting soldiers. Still, healthy caution is a warranted offense. Especially in times like these. Audible cries of relief rang out as the caravan crested the most recent hill. Smoothstone river was now in sight, not two miles out from their position. Once they forded the river they were effectively in Twobridge. This meant an end to hiking for a couple days, but it also meant the beginning of the real journey. Artyom frowned to his right. There, looming far above the northern horizon, stretching many leagues to the east and west was the incredibly massive mountain range known as The Wall. Absentmindedly, he rubbed at the sun shaped tattoo on his palm. "Cirethoel light our path. It has been a long time since I entered those mountains. They seem even less welcoming they were before." Smiling, Artyom turned his gaze back to the road in front of him. It was certainly going to be an interesting journey. Soon, the wide, well-trodden dirt of the Bloodgold road was replaced by beautiful, mahogany boards. Occasional benches and small gardens lined the path, tended at regular intervals by men and women. They wore loose white shirts and pants with silver anvils emblasoned on the chest and hip, wide brimmed hats to protect from the harsh sunlight of the plains, and a silver, anvil necklace. These people were The Watch. Servats of Tiln tasked with upkeeping the roads near Twobridge's Outpost. Each one looked up as the caravan passed, studying the newcomers with practiced eyes. One of them met Artyom's gaze. He held it with a fond smile as he passed. He had always liked Tiln's people. Out of the corner of his eye Artyom could see some of the Maidens nodding to one of the watchers. She was a tall, strong woman, white haired with the gaze and poise of a soldier. The Watcher returned the gesture, and Artyom thought he saw the slightest hint of a tear. They walked in this fashion for another hour before arriving at the first of Twobridge's four bridges, an extension of the wide boardwalk. It was newer than the other bridges, built after the town was named. Supposedly it had been built in response to a trade mandate from Cir himself, but Artyom wondered about that. The Beastmen were not the types to do something because of another culture's mandate. Doubly so when that mandate involved their sacred roads. Once they had crossed the river, they followed the road up a small cliffside, through several acres of orchards and farmland, and into Twobridge. Surrounded by grassy hills and split from west to east by the Smoothstone river, the town of Twobridge was situated on and around several particularly large clusters of hills. Each such cluster of hills functioned as a separate district for the town. Tents in all shapes and sizes dotted the land here and, to the discerning or familiar, acted as informal markers of that district's function. Artyom wondered whether this was intentional or merely a consequence of the town's culture. Just ahead of them Artyom could see people walking between tents in the Temporary Market and Market Square. Hurrying to finish their work before the next sunrise, when they were required to exit the town. Twobridge had strict rules about how long outsiders were allowed to stay in town. The two markets were on opposing sides of the Smoothstone, their boarded courtyards joined by one of the namesakes of the town. A huge structure, the bridge looked as though it had been woven and shaped from trees along the bank, and in fact, legend held this to be the case. Smooth bark covered the basket-like weaves of flattened branches that made its floor. Its railings seemed to have been grown from tree trunks, each bend perfectly set in a beautiful, winding, swirling pattern. Leaves and flowers in full bloom hung on the outer and bottom edges of the bridge, beautiful to see, without impeeding progress along the bridge. This bridge, Artyom knew, was ancient, predating the Bloodgold Road itself if the legends were true. In this case, he felt they were. "Historian," One of the Maidens, a younger woman named Sarana had approached Artyom. "The Hounds have requested leave to take care of their horses. We have sent two of our own with them to assist and observe. I have just finished talking with the current Quartermaster and he says that First Caravan Crest will be available in approximately two hours. I took the liberty of reserving it for our own camp site. We have sent a small detail to begin securing the area and gathering information about who is currently in town. I myself will be accompanying you as you run your errands." Artyom smiled and nodded, "Wonderful. I will tell my colleagues to prepare as such." The maiden nodded and took up position slightly behind him and to his left. It had only been a few days, but Artyom was impressed with the Maidens. He had worked with quite a few mercenaries in his time, but only a few could even compare to the Iron Maidens. The next day passed in a hurried but uneventful blur. Last minute preparations, collection of field rations, water skins, and all manner of other items necessary for travel filled his time. When he was not shopping, or explaining to a colleague what was necessary for the trip, he studied his maps of Chedonc, planning their route to the Boltstone. On the evening of the second day he was joined by The Outsiders. A somewhat ragtag group of adventurers, they had proven themselves to be invaluable assets during the previous two weeks. The journey had not yet begun and they had already saved his life on multiple occasions. They were all skilled adventurers, his adventure consultants in a way. Artyom was glad to be reunited with them once again. They filed into his planning tent unceremoniously, escorted by two Maidens, who nodded to Artyom and exited. They were an interesting group, part of the reason Artyom had hired them in the first place. Once they had exchanged pleasantries, Durant spoke in his surprisingly amiable voice, "Have you finished your preparations for the journey through The Wall?" He was a paladin for one of the gnoll gods, Artyom was not very familiar with gnoll beliefs, and was far more noble than other gnolls that Artyom had met."Yes, at least for the most part." Artyom pulled a piece of paper from underneath one of his maps to show Durant. "These are a list of supplies that we have gathered thus far. Mostly rations and various conveniences, replacement wheels for the wagons and so on. Let me know if you know of anything else we might need."
Durant studied the list for a couple minutes before responding, "Winter equipment. We will need winter clothing. We talked to some of the rangers in town. They say that the pass is above the snowline and is effectively in a permanent state of winter."
"Ah, I did not realize that. Teller," Artyom beckoned to one of his aides, a short, lanky man with dark hair and blue eyes. Teller set down the manuscript he was reading.
"Yes sir, I will see to it." He retrieved a bag of silver pieces and exited the tent.
"So," Artyom continued, "Once that comes through we will be ready to set out. What about you, do you need some time to rest or resupply?"
This prompted several minutes' discussion during which Moshe, the group's ominously intelligent goblin, started poking through the stacks of papers, scrolls, and tomes piled around the tent. Once they had reached a decision, Eloria spoke up, "If it is possible we would like to spend another day in town. From what we understand, The Wall is a dangerous place and it would be useful to hire a guide and gather what information we can from the rangers here."
"Certainly. Because we are attempting to hire passage they will allow us to camp here for one more sunrise, using the following day to break camp and begin our journey." Artyom suppressed a grin at the well-hidden relief in their faces. As mercenaries, they were hired in part to be tough, but mercenaries are still people. The rest would do them good. With The Outsiders out for the evening, Artyom packed up some papers and settled down for a good night's sleep. The next day was another blur of route planning and logistics. By the time evening came they had managed to purchase extra rations for The Hounds. Durant had confirmed that he had hired them. This made Artyom much more comfortable around the worn horsemen. Durant was a good judge of character, and as a soldier he was well equipped, and practiced, at keeping other soldiers in line. That evening, as Artyom was studying his star maps, The Outsiders returned to discuss the route. They had spent the day gathering information. "The only guide in town who is willing to do trips through The Wall was hired a couple of days ago by some hobgoblins." Sibil, a human from the mysterious travelers who referred to themselves as The Clan, was explaining, "Talk around the town was that they were in a heated argument that ended up in a fight, but then the hobgoblins threw around enough money to eventually convince him to take the job." Silvertongue, Sibil's mute brother, was gesturing enthusiastically beside her, pantomiming some of the details that she was leaving out.
The others frowned at the news. After a thoughtful pause, Durant asked the question they were all thinking, "Did the hobgoblins have arcane tattoos on their body, like the one we fought on the wall in Kopastad?"
Sibil thought for a moment, but Silvertongue was already nodding. "Oh yeah, they said they had some strange markings on their faces like tattoos or something."
"Then it seems that time is of the essence in our journey." Durant responded.
"If that were not enough, I was talking with some of the local rangers about the passage through The Wall. They say that it is passable, but Durnton was the only one willing to do the trip because it is dangerous. And nobody knows exactly what the danger is because those who take the pass refuse to talk about their journey." There was another moment of thoughtful quiet.
"Well," Artyom said, "Rest up while you can. I fear the journey ahead of us is long, and it seems that our opposition is already ahead of us. Even if we cannot beat them to the Boltstone, we may be able to arrive soon enough to have a chance." The outsiders agreed and left the tent, chatting about strategies, games of Dragon Chess, and well timed pranks. Suddenly the tent felt very large and empty. With the help of his aides Artyom began packing his materials. They made quick work of the packing and waterproofing. This part was much simpler now than it used to be. In the past, each book, tome, and scroll required several minutes of careful wrapping, and sometimes individual waterproofing when he could not afford enough waterproof carrying cases. Gilberteth's Hydrophobosity and Gilberteth's Paperial Enclosure changed this entirely. Now the waterproofing was easy and cheap, requiring only a few seconds and some wax, and the papers wrapped themselves. Several hundred pounds of papers taken care of in less than an hour. Logan always had been a fan of convenience. Having packed away his various scholarly implements, Artyom dismissed his aides and performed his nightly ablutions. Alone in his large tent, surrounded by dusty tomes and copies of ancient scrolls, Artyom curled up on his cot and felt the lump in his chest. It pulsed off time with his heart beats, like an eerie echo. He rubbed his sun-tattooed palm once more, "You have seen me this far. You know you have my trust. All I ask is enough time to give them what they need." The sun began to glow once more, warming him. "Give me this and I will return once more to your side." Eventually, the glow faded to a golden shimmer, but Artyom was already asleep.
