The Shining Wyrm

11.4

Today they were finally returning home.

Jewel still slept poorly, but she was invigorated in spite of it with the thought that this morning they were starting the march back to Rochford. It would be a short visit, and it would still be moving with the army initially until they split off after crossing the borders of Viznove.

The air still felt bad in this place.

The stones were grumpy when she noticed a wizard attempting sorcery on them. Although they were not unkind to her, the sense of the ill temper bothered her.

She was glad they would be leaving this angry land for home.

There was the trifling matter that Father and Jewel would not be staying in Rochford longer than a night.

First they needed to travel to Kaeketeh so that Thurzó could be reunited with his daughter and the final terms of the surrender and end of the war could be completed.

After all, the crime would be a proven lie if there had not in fact been a murder and on those grounds Count Thurzó was willing to accept the dishonor of declaring his accusations as false and refusing the accolades offered by the high king in rulership over the other counties it had entitled him too.

But leaving the battlefield and its surroundings was enough for Jewel just now.

Jewel was glad that the man, for how awfully he had overturned her life, had not in fact lost his daughter to some terrible fate by the Countess Bathory.

Father had not elucidated the full nature of the misunderstanding, only that the girl had apparently been taken as a criminal in Kaeketeh three years ago and rumor had eventually led the Count Thurzó to believe there had been a murder.

Jewel found her thoughts drifting to the carrion left in the battlefield, some of them reclaimed by the townsfolk or possibly their families. Others were swallowed down by the Viznove Gryphons, and the rest picked at by vultures and beasts of the wood.

So many dead for what might have been a coveting of her person by one and a case of misunderstanding by another?

It left her feeling as if everything about this was deeply wrong.

But no, Father had already assured her that she had been right and honorable in this war.

It was just her childish worry.

She was just being troubled over things that did not matter.

Like with the wheat harvests.

Jewel needed to focus, until they reached the first Village past the borders of Viznove they were still an army on the march, and there were duties for her.

With the battle won and the war, if not quite finished, at least postponed until next year, there was less need for scouting. But with her might shown in full to tens of thousands, there was also no longer a point to hold her back from the responsibilities she and the other fliers had.

On the relaxed, three-day march back to Viznove, it was finally Jewel’s turn to guard and assist in the forage.

A duty made all the more important for the losses their Gryphon Riders had suffered in the battle.

And though they had restocked their supply from the granaries of the fortress and buoyed the mood of the Levy, Footmen and Knights with treasures from those that had been kept within, forage was still a vital task on this march back.

There was still the never-ending hunger yawning in the beast that was the army.

Every man needed good supply on this march back and then packs enough of ration or coin to make his way home once the army dispersed in Viznove.

The Generals and Lords were adamant in this, although none saw the need to explain why.

It just was assumed that soldiers within allied borders without proper provisions for their way home was a disaster to avoid most ominously.

So Jewel flew differently than she had on the march to battle.

Instead of staying above the loose pack of a hundred mixed soldiers, she watched ahead and occasionally dipped low to correct their route towards the village she had spied for forage. One that had been avoided on their first march through these lands.

Her charges made their way along the sparse trails that tangled through the surrounding forest and along the wider road.

Among Jewel’s foragers were Knights, Footmen, a mounted lord from a Zekhedge demesne to supervise and assist, a captain of the footmen and a trailing gaggle of men and women who would assist in the gathering and securing of the foraged treasure and supply.

Some of the lords frowned upon the practice of having women amongst the foragers but Jewel’s particular lord seemed amiable to it.

It might have something to do with the captain’s wife being among them but Jewel was not entirely sure if it was this group or another that had been rumored amongst the army.

It would explain why the woman dressed in not-quite-noble finery, riding astride a charger, was talking animatedly to the captain while she led a pack mule loaded up with empty sacks and baskets.

The couple reminded Jewel of how some of the married peddlers that passed through Rochford would talk as they departed from their business in town, either laden with goods, coins or both on their departure.

They seemed in good spirits like those peddlers had been, and it lifted Jewels mood some.

So probably a wife and husband?

Whatever the case, Jewel was happy to simply be able to do something unambiguously productive and good after the turmoil the battle still left her in.

Their supplies were still tight on the return, a few of the Gryphon feed-goats were slaughtered in celebration but a dozen animals were hardly more than a bit of flavor for the thousands of men in the army.

So, forage.

Jewel had seen the village during scouting on their way in almost half a season ago, but it was not included in the first bit of forage.

Oh dear! Some of the men were drifting towards the wrong wood trail!

Filling her coils to near bursting with Wyrmflame, Jewel folded her wings tight and began to sink. Clenching hard to keep her weight strong enough for the dive but light enough she would be able to rise from the dip beneath the tree line after.

It was a rapid rush of foliage, leaves, and the shouted yelp of the wandering levy and footmen.

Her voice pitched just a bit louder than the rush of wind and leaves around her passing.

“Left Path, Sirs.”

Her duty done Jewel already was ascending out.

Smooth and gentle through the forest and then with a swelling in her chest and one quick half-stroke of her wings, Jewel was sailing back up and out through a gap in the branches. Once clear of the tree line her wings shot wide and she pushed her flame from them in the manner of the Gryphons.

It was not as strong or as wide, the wake she could manage was far shorter than even the youngest Gryphon whelp.

But wyrmflame reaching out a good half again her span past each wing finger was still more air to push against as she climbed.

And with the rest of her flame lightening her coils even more, it made her ascent almost as rapid as the more junior Gryphon Riders.

With the soldiers in that flank of the approach pulling back in line to make it to the village on time, Jewel nodded proudly.

Without need to dip in to correct anymore she held back as she flew. Staying distant whenever she might give the village a clear line of her.

Father had been adamant that before the men reached the village she should stay back. Then only once they were spotted and well past the edge of the wood she should make a few passes to announce them.

He recommended a similar call to that she had used in Kaeketeh. If not louder if she could manage to make sure to be heard by all.

Jewel was told it was better to lock the foreign villagers in fear then to risk the men having to chase them down and away.

There was mostly no concern that the scattered army that had rallied to Thurzó would be a risk, but just in case stragglers turned to banditry it was best for the foraging teams to not be drawn out and split up.

Ambushes could slay hundreds if allowed to snare their men or otherwise catch them distant from support.

Jewel’s duty in the air was to provide warning of just such surprises, as well as aid in humbling the foreigners enough they would part with the supply asked of them.

The smoke from hearths drifted into the air from houses just out of sight at her angle.

The forest below her was familiar and rich with the scent and sounds of Late Grain Turn.

It was peaceful and soothing to fly like such without the worry of battle or the sound of the dying.

On her seventh circuit of the forest borders of the village that peace was broken by the ungrateful screams of the peasants.

It brought back the phantom sense of weight that had lingered after the battle.

However, that was her cue.

Jewel climbed high and breathed deeply.

Filling her throat and lungs with air as she made her way to cross over the village center.

A glance showed that, but for the specific placements of wells, houses, temple and granaries it was much like Father’s own village in Rochford.

Same thatch, same simple works.

Same use of rough timbres on some and even cut on others.

Same work in the fields. Mostly the kind that was the very start of tasks that would be in full swing during Debt Season.

Jewel held her breath a moment, feeling her throat clench uncomfortably before she forced herself past it.

Like she had forced past her distress of the cries of the wheat.

It was the same here.

Jewel gave a call announcing herself and the forage.

Her voice echoed off the mountains, left stillness and silence beyond it.