Chapter 525: Cold Tracks
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Chapter 525: Cold Tracks
Cold Tracks
It began to snow the next day as if the Stars themselves found it amusing how Martel had chosen to give up his source of heating. After a cold morning practising against Eleanor, he went alone to the river and found a large stone along with two small ones, and an afternoon of enchantment ensued. Once done, he brought it all to the infirmary; if winter was about to become harsher, Martel could guess a single heating stone would not suffice. Once back in his own tent, he boiled some water and brewed tea for himself with a few mustard seeds, gaining what warmth that could provide, before settling in for another cold night.New novel chapters are published on
***
His limbs feeling cold and stiff, Martel did not look forward to sparring when he woke to the sound of the morning bell. As he got dressed and dragged himself outside, wearing his chain shirt and everything, he wondered if Eleanor could be persuaded to skip this morning.
As she left her own tent, she gave him a quick glance. "We are not training today, if that is what you are waiting for."
"We're not?"
"Today is Pelday. We have patrol."
Martel's shoulders slumped. He got his wish, but not in the way he wanted. The Stars were definitely mocking him. "Let's just eat."
***
The soldiers on the patrol were not the same from last time; presumably, their schedule differed from his and Eleanor's, and they would probably be going out with a new group every time.
The route chosen by the princeps was different as well. They went straight east, into the forested hills now covered by a blanket of snow. It all looked serene with nary a bird or beast disturbing the landscape; it reminded Martel of paintings he had seen in the palaces back in Morcaster. The only sound to be heard came from their boots, crunching against the snow with each step.
***
Walking in the back, Martel was the last to see why the others had suddenly stopped walking. As they crowded around something on the ground, Martel pushed forward to join them.
Sets of tracks across the otherwise pristine snow.
"Three of them, by the look of it," one soldier remarked.
"Could it be yesterday's patrol? It had already snowed by then."
"They wouldn't separate out here, letting three boys go alone." The princeps, bending down, shook his head. "These are Khivan footprints."
"Locals or soldiers?" Eleanor asked.
"No locals still around these parts, sir," came the reply. "But what do we do? Investigate?"
Martel looked in the direction that the prints led. The path sloped down, in between hills. Ahead, the land was otherwise barren; they had just left the treeline some hundred paces behind them.
"This has a bad smell," the princeps remarked, but he gave no orders, looking at the mageknight instead.
Eleanor slowly nodded. "Open land, lower terrain. Those tracks lead nowhere good. We pull back and stay within the treeline follow along it to see if we spot anything else, but stay within cover."
The question was directed at Martel, who crawled through the line of soldiers to avoid their heat interfering with his senses. Once clear, he let his magic sweep out. "Nothing," he replied. "It doesn't look like they followed."
"How can you know?" asked a soldier. "They could just be hiding, or sneaking up on us from another angle!"
Martel gave him a hard glare. "They can't hide from me. There's nobody close to our position. We're safe."
"If the mage says so, that's how it is," the princeps interjected. "But what do we do now?" He looked at a legionary who had been shot; the fabric and metal rings of his sleeve were torn to shreds.
"Back to camp," Eleanor decided. "Too much of a risk to stay here and with nothing to be gained." She looked at Martel. "Lead the way. Straight west."
He glanced up at the sky. The sun was approaching the horizon, darkening their surroundings, but at least it made it easy to know the direction. Keeping the setting sun straight ahead, Martel began the journey back with the patrol behind him, Eleanor bringing up the rear.
***
They reached the camp without incident, and Martel finally breathed easily as they passed the gate. The guards gave them questioning glances, seeing the damaged shields and the one legionary pressing a hand to his arm; they had bound his wound, but he had begun shivering.
"Take him to the infirmary. I will report to the legion prefect," Eleanor decided, and the princeps saluted before leading his wounded comrade away.
"I'll go with you," Martel told her, just in case he could be helpful.
They made their way through the camp, and Martel felt his emotions slowly settle. Although the ambush had happened hours ago, and he was accustomed to such dangers, it had been an unsettling journey back home; even with his magic, he found it hard to shake his fear of Khivans hiding behind every tree they passed. He began to understand why nobody wanted a posting in the Tenth.
"Sir Chasseur, we return from patrol," Eleanor called out as they stood by the legion prefect's tent.
"Enter."
She sat in the middle of her small domicile, eating bread and pieces of fish from a plate. "Anything to report?" She placed her food on the small table in front of her.
"Yes, sir. The enemy attempted an ambush approximately ten miles east of here."
"Casualties?"
"None. One soldier lightly wounded, that is all."
"Number of enemies?"
"Hard to say." Eleanor glanced at Martel, who would have the best impression.
"Five to ten engaged us," he explained. "If there were more, they weren't close enough for me to notice."
Sir Lara nodded to herself. "Very well. Just another skirmish, in that case. Dismissed."
The two mages saluted and left. "Well, we have had our first taste of the enemy. It could be worse, though I despise how they stay at range," Eleanor considered.
Martel felt too worn to think of a witty remark. This had been their second patrol out of hundreds to come; he hoped this encounter had been a rare occurrence, but he suspected otherwise, given the weary state of the Tenth's legionaries. "I'm going to rest."
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Chapter 525: Cold Tracks
Cold Tracks
It began to snow the next day as if the Stars themselves found it amusing how Martel had chosen to give up his source of heating. After a cold morning practising against Eleanor, he went alone to the river and found a large stone along with two small ones, and an afternoon of enchantment ensued. Once done, he brought it all to the infirmary; if winter was about to become harsher, Martel could guess a single heating stone would not suffice. Once back in his own tent, he boiled some water and brewed tea for himself with a few mustard seeds, gaining what warmth that could provide, before settling in for another cold night.New novel chapters are published on
***
His limbs feeling cold and stiff, Martel did not look forward to sparring when he woke to the sound of the morning bell. As he got dressed and dragged himself outside, wearing his chain shirt and everything, he wondered if Eleanor could be persuaded to skip this morning.
As she left her own tent, she gave him a quick glance. "We are not training today, if that is what you are waiting for."
"We're not?"
"Today is Pelday. We have patrol."
Martel's shoulders slumped. He got his wish, but not in the way he wanted. The Stars were definitely mocking him. "Let's just eat."
***
The soldiers on the patrol were not the same from last time; presumably, their schedule differed from his and Eleanor's, and they would probably be going out with a new group every time.
The route chosen by the princeps was different as well. They went straight east, into the forested hills now covered by a blanket of snow. It all looked serene with nary a bird or beast disturbing the landscape; it reminded Martel of paintings he had seen in the palaces back in Morcaster. The only sound to be heard came from their boots, crunching against the snow with each step.
***
Walking in the back, Martel was the last to see why the others had suddenly stopped walking. As they crowded around something on the ground, Martel pushed forward to join them.
Sets of tracks across the otherwise pristine snow.
"Three of them, by the look of it," one soldier remarked.
"Could it be yesterday's patrol? It had already snowed by then."
"They wouldn't separate out here, letting three boys go alone." The princeps, bending down, shook his head. "These are Khivan footprints."
"Locals or soldiers?" Eleanor asked.
"No locals still around these parts, sir," came the reply. "But what do we do? Investigate?"
Martel looked in the direction that the prints led. The path sloped down, in between hills. Ahead, the land was otherwise barren; they had just left the treeline some hundred paces behind them.
"This has a bad smell," the princeps remarked, but he gave no orders, looking at the mageknight instead.
Eleanor slowly nodded. "Open land, lower terrain. Those tracks lead nowhere good. We pull back and stay within the treeline follow along it to see if we spot anything else, but stay within cover."
The question was directed at Martel, who crawled through the line of soldiers to avoid their heat interfering with his senses. Once clear, he let his magic sweep out. "Nothing," he replied. "It doesn't look like they followed."
"How can you know?" asked a soldier. "They could just be hiding, or sneaking up on us from another angle!"
Martel gave him a hard glare. "They can't hide from me. There's nobody close to our position. We're safe."
"If the mage says so, that's how it is," the princeps interjected. "But what do we do now?" He looked at a legionary who had been shot; the fabric and metal rings of his sleeve were torn to shreds.
"Back to camp," Eleanor decided. "Too much of a risk to stay here and with nothing to be gained." She looked at Martel. "Lead the way. Straight west."
He glanced up at the sky. The sun was approaching the horizon, darkening their surroundings, but at least it made it easy to know the direction. Keeping the setting sun straight ahead, Martel began the journey back with the patrol behind him, Eleanor bringing up the rear.
***
They reached the camp without incident, and Martel finally breathed easily as they passed the gate. The guards gave them questioning glances, seeing the damaged shields and the one legionary pressing a hand to his arm; they had bound his wound, but he had begun shivering.
"Take him to the infirmary. I will report to the legion prefect," Eleanor decided, and the princeps saluted before leading his wounded comrade away.
"I'll go with you," Martel told her, just in case he could be helpful.
They made their way through the camp, and Martel felt his emotions slowly settle. Although the ambush had happened hours ago, and he was accustomed to such dangers, it had been an unsettling journey back home; even with his magic, he found it hard to shake his fear of Khivans hiding behind every tree they passed. He began to understand why nobody wanted a posting in the Tenth.
"Sir Chasseur, we return from patrol," Eleanor called out as they stood by the legion prefect's tent.
"Enter."
She sat in the middle of her small domicile, eating bread and pieces of fish from a plate. "Anything to report?" She placed her food on the small table in front of her.
"Yes, sir. The enemy attempted an ambush approximately ten miles east of here."
"Casualties?"
"None. One soldier lightly wounded, that is all."
"Number of enemies?"
"Hard to say." Eleanor glanced at Martel, who would have the best impression.
"Five to ten engaged us," he explained. "If there were more, they weren't close enough for me to notice."
Sir Lara nodded to herself. "Very well. Just another skirmish, in that case. Dismissed."
The two mages saluted and left. "Well, we have had our first taste of the enemy. It could be worse, though I despise how they stay at range," Eleanor considered.
Martel felt too worn to think of a witty remark. This had been their second patrol out of hundreds to come; he hoped this encounter had been a rare occurrence, but he suspected otherwise, given the weary state of the Tenth's legionaries. "I'm going to rest."
Chapter 525: Cold TracksCold TracksIt began to snow the next day as if the Stars themselves found it amusing how Martel had chosen to give up his source of heating. After a cold morning practising against Eleanor, he went alone to the river and found a large stone along with two small ones, and an afternoon of enchantment ensued. Once done, he brought it all to the infirmary; if winter was about to become harsher, Martel could guess a single heating stone would not suffice. Once back in his own tent, he boiled some water and brewed tea for himself with a few mustard seeds, gaining what warmth that could provide, before settling in for another cold night.New novel chapters are published on***His limbs feeling cold and stiff, Martel did not look forward to sparring when he woke to the sound of the morning bell. As he got dressed and dragged himself outside, wearing his chain shirt and everything, he wondered if Eleanor could be persuaded to skip this morning.As she left her own tent, she gave him a quick glance. "We are not training today, if that is what you are waiting for.""We're not?""Today is Pelday. We have patrol."Martel's shoulders slumped. He got his wish, but not in the way he wanted. The Stars were definitely mocking him. "Let's just eat."***The soldiers on the patrol were not the same from last time; presumably, their schedule differed from his and Eleanor's, and they would probably be going out with a new group every time.The route chosen by the princeps was different as well. They went straight east, into the forested hills now covered by a blanket of snow. It all looked serene with nary a bird or beast disturbing the landscape; it reminded Martel of paintings he had seen in the palaces back in Morcaster. The only sound to be heard came from their boots, crunching against the snow with each step.***Walking in the back, Martel was the last to see why the others had suddenly stopped walking. As they crowded around something on the ground, Martel pushed forward to join them.Sets of tracks across the otherwise pristine snow."Three of them, by the look of it," one soldier remarked."Could it be yesterday's patrol? It had already snowed by then.""They wouldn't separate out here, letting three boys go alone." The princeps, bending down, shook his head. "These are Khivan footprints.""Locals or soldiers?" Eleanor asked."No locals still around these parts, sir," came the reply. "But what do we do? Investigate?"Martel looked in the direction that the prints led. The path sloped down, in between hills. Ahead, the land was otherwise barren; they had just left the treeline some hundred paces behind them."This has a bad smell," the princeps remarked, but he gave no orders, looking at the mageknight instead.Eleanor slowly nodded. "Open land, lower terrain. Those tracks lead nowhere good. We pull back and stay within the treeline follow along it to see if we spot anything else, but stay within cover."The question was directed at Martel, who crawled through the line of soldiers to avoid their heat interfering with his senses. Once clear, he let his magic sweep out. "Nothing," he replied. "It doesn't look like they followed.""How can you know?" asked a soldier. "They could just be hiding, or sneaking up on us from another angle!"Martel gave him a hard glare. "They can't hide from me. There's nobody close to our position. We're safe.""If the mage says so, that's how it is," the princeps interjected. "But what do we do now?" He looked at a legionary who had been shot; the fabric and metal rings of his sleeve were torn to shreds."Back to camp," Eleanor decided. "Too much of a risk to stay here and with nothing to be gained." She looked at Martel. "Lead the way. Straight west."He glanced up at the sky. The sun was approaching the horizon, darkening their surroundings, but at least it made it easy to know the direction. Keeping the setting sun straight ahead, Martel began the journey back with the patrol behind him, Eleanor bringing up the rear.***They reached the camp without incident, and Martel finally breathed easily as they passed the gate. The guards gave them questioning glances, seeing the damaged shields and the one legionary pressing a hand to his arm; they had bound his wound, but he had begun shivering."Take him to the infirmary. I will report to the legion prefect," Eleanor decided, and the princeps saluted before leading his wounded comrade away."I'll go with you," Martel told her, just in case he could be helpful.They made their way through the camp, and Martel felt his emotions slowly settle. Although the ambush had happened hours ago, and he was accustomed to such dangers, it had been an unsettling journey back home; even with his magic, he found it hard to shake his fear of Khivans hiding behind every tree they passed. He began to understand why nobody wanted a posting in the Tenth."Sir Chasseur, we return from patrol," Eleanor called out as they stood by the legion prefect's tent."Enter."She sat in the middle of her small domicile, eating bread and pieces of fish from a plate. "Anything to report?" She placed her food on the small table in front of her."Yes, sir. The enemy attempted an ambush approximately ten miles east of here.""Casualties?""None. One soldier lightly wounded, that is all.""Number of enemies?""Hard to say." Eleanor glanced at Martel, who would have the best impression."Five to ten engaged us," he explained. "If there were more, they weren't close enough for me to notice."Sir Lara nodded to herself. "Very well. Just another skirmish, in that case. Dismissed."The two mages saluted and left. "Well, we have had our first taste of the enemy. It could be worse, though I despise how they stay at range," Eleanor considered.Martel felt too worn to think of a witty remark. This had been their second patrol out of hundreds to come; he hoped this encounter had been a rare occurrence, but he suspected otherwise, given the weary state of the Tenth's legionaries. "I'm going to rest."
