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Ravelin
Part 3
The following morning, Duncan’s unit set out. General Hawkwin saw them off at the pier, as did several of Valandov’s notables and politicians. The marshal needed no reminding about the importance of this mission, though they impressed it upon him anyway. He nodded and smiled, giving them what he hoped was enough assurance to calm their worries.
Jarren was absent, though Duncan was hardly surprised. They had said everything they needed to last night. He formed a mental picture of her and hung onto it for as long as he could. Long, dark hair framing a soft, oval face… almond-shaped eyes the color of oak… thin, inviting lips… In all their years together, she had never come to see him off on any of his missions and he preferred it that way. From this moment on, every moment and every thought had to be focussed on his duty.
After a quick inspection and a ceremony that was thankfully short, Hawkwin dismissed them to their ships. Within a half-hour, all nine galleasses were on their way.
The week went by slowly. With a platoon of troops, a full crew, and all the food and supplies necessary for the mission, each galleass was cramped. Praetorians who were accustomed to a daily regimen of training and patrol found themselves with little to do and no space to stretch out. Duncan’s officers did their best to keep the soldiers fresh and busy, but it proved impossible to stave off the tedium of sailing upriver for days on end.
When the thickness of the leafy forest started to give way to the alpines of the Alpas Mountains, everyone knew that their destination was near, and they all agreed that their last morning on the boats couldn’t come quickly enough. Duncan awoke before the rest of his troops and stared out at the shoreline in the distance from the aft deck of his galleass. Rather than dwelling on the coming mission, he found himself reflecting on the journey he had made along this very route five months ago. At the time, the first spring thaw was just underway. Now, in the foothills of the mountains, the first chills of autumn were just setting in.
Back then, Duncan remembered very dreary weather, but today, the river reflected the sky’s brightness. It was an uplifting feeling, and he sighed as he scanned the shoreline in the distance. Thinking back five months, Duncan remembered watching a faunn take a long drink from the river’s edge. He had been on wakeup call that morning, and he used the tranquillity as an excuse to wake the soldiery in person rather than with a bugle. This set the whole unit behind schedule by several minutes, and Duncan smiled as he recalled Marshal Wallace’s angry reaction.
Now Duncan was the marshal, and he concerned himself with different priorities. As far as he knew, he was the first Teivan to achieve a senior rank in any military force on Halcyon. As such, he succeeded best when he merged his military and Teivan training. He prepared himself to enter the forest in which he was raised and to guide his troops to victory. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, and his mind calmed. After a moment, he opened his eyes scanned the shoreline.
A flash of movement caught his attention and he turned to see Captain Eliss Blaine join him. She was Wallace’s first officer five months ago. Now, she was Duncan’s. In the short time she had served under him, she had proven herself to be a far more capable officer than Duncan had originally expected.
“Faraway thoughts?” she asked quietly.
Duncan rubbed the jagged scar on his cheek absently. “Not what you’d think,” he replied. “I was just reflecting on our last trip out here.”
“So was I.”
They leaned on the aft rail together in silence, as if observing a moment of remembrance for their fallen comrades. Out of an entire company of troops, barely a single platoon had survived. Duncan contemplated this. More than seven hundred Praetorians dead, and the survivors — every one of them — were with him on this mission.
As if sharing his thoughts, Blaine asked, “Sir, what do you expect to encounter on the road?”
The marshal continued to stare at the shoreline. “Remains of our old supply trains? Rotting corpses? No, I doubt it very much. Remember the reports we reviewed from our first march on Ravelin. Wallace’s scouts found a deserted fortress. No-one knows what grimals do with the dead, but they certainly don’t leave bodies lying around.”
Blaine nodded, then followed Duncan’s line of sight. “You seem to be looking for something.”
Her marshal smiled and cocked his head. “I suppose I am, in a way. It’s just past dawn. At this time, larger animals like the faunn usually drink their days’ fill before a quick feed.”
“And...?”
Duncan sighed and looked at her. “And there’s a curious absence of wildlife.”
Blaine looked back at the shoreline, but having grown up in a city all her life, she wasn’t sure what to look for. Sensing her confusion, Duncan supplied an answer.
“There could be grimal hunting bands prowling about, or a vulturn or some other predator looking for a last-minute kill. Or it might be nothing.”
“But if there are grimal hunters, won’t they see us?”
Duncan nodded. “Yep.”
Blaine looked curiously at him. “Doesn’t that concern you? If they know we’re coming, they’ll set their defenses.”
“Of course it concerns me, but there’s nothing we can do about it. As for their defenses, you’ve reviewed our strategy. They can’t rely on their traps this time. The advantage will be ours. In any event, by the time we debark and head out, they’ll know we’re here.”
“Let’s hope they’ve relaxed their guard after five months. Maybe they think we aren’t coming back.”
“I don’t think so. Grimals are smart — very smart. Ravelin wasn’t just some random outpost. They successfully overwhelmed a fully staffed fortress. No-one gives up that kind of investment without a fight.”
“Or two fights.”
“Indeed.”
Duncan looked upriver and saw the pier in the distance. He turned to Blaine. “It’s time. Wake the troops. It’s dry rations this morning and a quick debarkation. I want us marching south within the hour.”
Stay tuned for the next chapter…
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