Young Flame

Once passing far from the main body of the army, I continue to move parallel to a long string of wagons. None of those I see around the wagons look like formal soldiers, unlike the ones I passed earlier. Sure, many of them hold the same wooden club-like thing many in the army carry, but at most these are guards and not the colourfully adorned warriors marching ahead of them.

I assume many of the wagons are supplies to support such a large army, but it is quite a shock to see that there seem to be more men along their supplies than in the actual army.

I know nothing about the albanics, so I might be mistaken, but there is a clear difference between the quality of clothing these ‘guards’ wear compared to the soldiers now far behind me. Do they consider soldiers more important than others? I guess it makes sense; they are the ones who will be fighting. Do they not expect the guards to fight?

I keep my distance until I walk long past the last wagons. With nobody around to spot me, I follow close to the path the army left behind. The ground is in a pretty horrid state after being trampled by thousands of boots and wheels. The grass is gone, and the soil is hard. I keep off the newly made road so I can remain hidden if need be.

I continue following the path until afternoon the next day, when a stone structure appears at its end. While the colour is similar to the buildings in New Vetus, the architecture is far different. The walls are bare and the structure bulges outwards near the top, leaving an overhanging section of stone above the outer walls.

I approach, remaining hidden in the long grass and discover that the stonework itself is shoddy and rugged. Ursu stone was smooth and square at all points, but the stone used in this structure looks slapped together haphazardly.

The building is tall, but it’s nowhere near the height most structures in the centre of New Vetus cities reach. A large opening at the front of the structure leads into an open-air courtyard. So the wide structure isn’t a building, but more of a wall? There are a few small structures, like wooden huts, within the wider stone wall. The area isn’t that big. You could probably walk from one end to the other in under a minute.

Three guards sit at the entrance and I can occasionally see others — each carrying the same clubs as those in the army not long past — peeking over the top of the wall. Is there a reason they used such things rather than normal spears, axes or other bladed weapons? Does it cost too much for them to outfit that many people with proper weapons?

They will be fighting the far more physically capable ursu. I feel bad knowing what they’ll go up against, even if the ursu are struggling against another army on another front, I can’t imagine them losing.

Not wanting to have a confrontation with armed strangers, no matter how useless their weapons may seem, I move to skirt around the fort.

It doesn’t take me long to realise that might be impossible. I sit crouching within the grass at the top of a hill and look down at the incredible volume of flowing water meandering between the hills.

So… This must be a river.

I let out an involuntary laugh, shivering a little. Of course it’s not that easy. The river flows right up behind the fort. At least now I know why it’s there. Moving further around the side of the fort confirms it. A bridge at the back of the fort connects to a similar but smaller fort on the other side of the river.

I can either follow the river west and hope it turns northerly into Zadok, or I can try to find my way through the fort. Really, it’s a toss-up between safety and speed.

At first glance, following the river looks safer. I wouldn’t need to risk interacting with the guards at the fort. But moving away from a direct path into Zadok is a risk on its own. What if I run into another monster like that hiding under the root forest? I don’t know what dangers are in the area and, unlike the terrors of the desert, I don’t know how to avoid them.

I think the only thing that might help is that I am obviously not an ursu, so I doubt they would be immediately hostile. It will be up to whether or not they believe I’m an albanic. Of course, it’s possible they won’t care even if they know I’m an áed, but I feel like that is too much of a risk to hope for.

If I am to go through the fort, I will need a plan. Either I come up with a story to tell the guards or I try to sneak through.

A glance up at the looming stone wall immediately discounts the possibility of scaling them. Maybe I can hide in a wagon as it passes the front gate, but considering the only ones who might come this way would be the army suppliers, that might be too hard.

Okay, okay. So, do I risk wasting weeks following the river and possibly getting lost in unknown territory or do I risk the guard’s reaction to find myself a secure route into Zadok?

Eh. What’s the worst thing they’ll do to me?

…

Maybe I should prepare just in case. Worst-case scenario; I’ll run after surprising them with my fire and hide in the grass. If they still chase me, well, grass is pretty flammable, right?

❖❖❖

I pull the hood of Leal’s jacket over my head to cover as much of my now dirt bathed hair as possible and step out of the grass. I walked further down the path before, so I didn’t just pop out of nowhere from the guard’s perspective. They kept the grass rather short around the fort, but I didn’t want to give them a reason to think I was hiding.

Walking up to the gate, I struggle not to fidget with the sleeves of Leal’s jacket. When one of the guards finally notices me, he nudges the guard closest to him and calls for another. My presence obviously surprises the three of them, but they are patient enough to wait. A much better reaction than the hostility I had been worriedly expecting.

Approaching the three, I can feel the heavy stares. The guards at the gate weren’t the only ones watching my approach; I can see many eyes on the top of the wall watching from above.

“What are you doing all the way out here, kid?” one man asks as I stop in front of him. I make sure to keep out of swinging range of the club he holds loosely against his shoulder.

“Uh, um… I,” I stammer, stumbling over my words as I try to get my lie out.

What is wrong with me? These men are nowhere near as intimidating as the average ursu. I need to pull myself together. I clamp down on the nervousness and the what-if scenarios that pop up and push on with my story.

“The ursu killed mum. I ran away.” Inwardly, I cringe at how bad it comes out. I’d always been told I was a bad liar back in the tribe, but I had hoped I’d gotten better since.

Nervously, I tug at the neck of the jacket, which must have been the wrong thing to do as two of the guards twist their face in disgust at me. The other visibly winces, looking between me and his two comrades.

I quickly tug my hood tight over my head again, noticing where they were looking. It was obvious that my hair had given that reaction. I thought the dirt would be enough to cover the blue tinge in my hair. Did I not put in enough? Is it really impossible to blend in with the albanic with my hair? I back up, ready to bolt at the first sign their disgust morphs to aggression. I’ve already dealt with the hostility of ursu against outsiders and I don’t want to repeat that.

“Ahem, I think I should probably take care of this.” The guard that isn’t obviously disgusted by my presence quickly announces, getting two grunts of confirmation from his fellow guards, who do their utmost to keep their attention away from me.

“If you’ll come with me, young miss,” he says, then turns on his heel and leads me toward a structure extending from the side of the wall.

He brings me to a rather bare room with nothing but a table with a few chairs. He gestures toward the chair opposite the table and takes one himself. I sit carefully, trying to watch him and my surroundings for any sudden movements.

“So, I need to start off. Have you ever been to Zadok before?” he asks.

Okay, get your story straight Solvei, don’t stuff this up again.

“No, I lived with Mum in Morne. In New Vetus.” I hadn’t seen them much, but I know there is a community of non-ursu in New Vetus. Well, there had been until the war turned for the worse. I don’t know what happened to them after.

“How did you travel here from Morne?” the man asks, setting his club against the edge of the table. I notice a metal tube encased in the wood. Did that make it stronger than a normal club?

“I came through the forest. There were lots of roots I had to climb through.” That seems to get a reaction out of him. He raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes.

“And who did you travel through the Wailing Woodland with?” Wailing woodland? What a silly name. Well, it is better than root forest, I guess.

“I was alone.” The man furrows his brow and mutters something under his breath. He shakes his head before looking at me again.

“What’s your name?”

“Solvei, what’s yours?” the man’s lips twitched upwards at the corners, he seems to find something funny.

“I’m Finnigan, or Finn, if you prefer.” He smiles before moving on. “And your surname?”

“Surname?” I’m unfamiliar with the term.

“Yeah, you know? Your family name?”

“Oh! Vatra.” That’s what our tribe called ourselves.

“Solvei Vatra.” Finn writes on a piece of paper. “How old are you?”

“Eleven… I think.”

Finn looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “You think?”

I nod. I’m not really sure how long I was in the Morne furnace for.

He just shakes his head at my response. “Okay, do you remember living anywhere else before Morne in New Vetus?”

Not trusting my voice to lie convincingly at the moment, I just shake my head.

Finn sighs before moving on. “Now Solvei, did your mother ever tell you of the importance of hair colour?”

I hope I’m not meant to know. I just shake my head in answer.

“Hmm, I’m not too surprised, honestly. Look Solvei, in Zadok it is mostly believed that the whiter one’s hair, the purer they are and the more noble blood they have. Most people use it as a measure of your worth, usually allowing those of pure hair the most privileged positions. I should warn you, your hair is… darker than any other I’ve seen. Life in Zadok is going to be hard. If I was in your position, I’d try to get out. There are many small countries north that do not have albanic majority that you may live well in. But whatever you do, do not travel east.”

Well, that doesn’t sound great. Maybe I should have gone searching for the Agglomerate after all.

“Why?” I ask, wanting to know what I should be fearful of if I have to go east.

“The Theocracy borders our country in that direction. While I dislike some traditions of my country, it is far better than the way The Theocracy does things. Those of The Theocracy execute any with impure hair. They believe only shades of white are given Belobog’s protection. Any with shades of grey are foolishly believed to be the servants of Chernobog.” Finn stands up from his chair and moves around the table, coming to a crouch in front of me.

“I don’t want to see such a young girl like yourself hurt over stupid beliefs. Cover yourself whenever you can and keep yourself safe.” Leaning forward, he pulled the hood further over my head and tied the string at the neck tight.

“Thank you, Finn,”

He gives me a sad smile in return. I don’t trust the man one bit, but it doesn’t seem like he is lying.

“I’ll organise for you to travel with the army suppliers back to Serron. For now, just rest here. There’s some food and water in the room down the hall.” He says before leaving the building.

Well, it seems I won’t be able to fit in as well as I had hoped. Should I just give up? No, I can’t just stop moving because it seems hard. I have to do this now. I told myself I would, and I’ll hold myself to it until it becomes dangerous. Plus, I don’t know how easy it’ll be to leave now that I’m already within the fort. Would they stop me if I try to run?

If there are more albanic like Finn in Zadok, then I should be fine right. One out of three isn’t terrible. I’ll need to be careful of the other two and I can’t trust any of the three, but if I keep moving, everything should work out.

❖❖❖

The next day, Finn takes me to the group I will travel with for the next few days. With me following close behind Finn, we approach a rather chubby looking man who is watching over several wagons and albanics moving about. The wagons look rather empty, and most people are just talking amongst themselves, so it doesn’t really look like they are too busy.

“Gavin, good morning,” Finn calls.

The chubby man turns to us before returning his greeting.

“Mornin’ Finn. Is this the one you mentioned?” he asks, glancing towards me.

I call him chubby, but that’s compared to the surrounding albanic. Any ursu would have more width than him, assuming you can find one small enough to make a fair comparison. Even Leal is bulkier.

“Hello, I’m Solvei.” I introduce myself.

“Yes, I want to make sure she is safe, at least until you reach Kelton.”

“Yea, no problem. Just make sure to keep up.” Gavin says dismissively, turning to watch as the last preparations for their wagon caravan are complete. Many large animals I had seen with the army convoy were now being tied to each of the wagons. The strange beasts were more placid than any other creature I have seen before, easily allowing themselves to be strapped to the carts.

I feel like I use this comparison far too often, but they look like large dingoes. Wide body dingoes with soft white pelts.

I say goodbye to Finn, and he waves me off, walking back into the barracks I spent the night. I make my way to stand beside Gavin, but he pays me no mind, either ignoring me or not noticing as he yells at one of the younger men in the group for slacking off.

“All right you lot, it’s time to move. Don’t dilly dally any longer, we’re leaving.”

❖❖❖