Path Of Lyssa Ch 04

Path of Lyssa

is being written as part of a novel-writing challenge over the month of November. Please expect poor editing!

Current word count:

39,585

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Chapter 4 - Heroes

The Dusk Ford was a tall pair of stone towers, one on either side of the mighty Dusk River. The bridge spanning the raging water's surface between the goliaths was an architectural marvel here in the Era of Shadow, though Claire's reading had told her that its construction had been just one of a number of such projects from that year. This had been during the Era of Magic, of course, when miracles had been commonplace and Oculus All-seeing had walked the earth. Erecting a wide, stone platform all the way across a river whose far bank was invisible save on the clearest of summer days hadn't been so impressive in those days.

The stone had persevered all throughout the Era of Mundanity, when humans gradually had lost their respect for the sacred and the arcane and placed their faith in the observable. And the bridge had been maintained rigorously throughout that time, mostly out of need. Crossing the Dusk and passing into the jagged mountains of the east necessitated the Dusk Ford's massive bridge, since sailing a boat across the choppy north-south flow was a risk few captains would choose to undertake. And going around would either require a trip into the icy peaks of the far north across the source of the river, or down to the southern coast and the endlessly flooding continental delta. Such was the case for Claire and her friends in the modern age, also. There were no boats left to ferry them across, and Charisse's unpredictable curse meant they didn't have the years required to go around. They had to take the bridge.

Claire lay on her belly at the top of the last hill before the great dip down to the water's edge. Around her, granite slabs of rock poked out of the soil like the vertebrae of ancient leviathans. These natural shields kept her form hidden from the tall western tower and the rheumy eyes of its inhabitants, whom she was currently spying on for the little party. The supernatural sight granted her by her endless, breathy prayer to Oculus kept her abreast of the ghoul's comings and goings. She also bore witness to the dark swishing of black cloaks through the fortress windows, the attire of the much more alive Dark Adherents who acted as castellans of the Dusk Ford in the Dark Lord's stead.

Passing across the bridge meant also passing through both sides of the structure. Each tower's structure was made up of three stone-walled courtyards that would all have to be navigated, leaving prospective invaders constantly out in the line of sight of the high windows at the river's edge. Each of the heavy wooden doors separating the courtyards were closely guarded by a full complement of undead soldiers that didn't need sleep or sustenance. And Claire had spotted three black cowls in the western tower itself, living custodians who may have access to the Dark Lord's fearsome magic. Across the bridge, who could say? Claire and her friends would need to rush across the wide platform in full view of the eastern defences. Even Lyssa's newfound confidence in her enchantments would struggle with that challenge. Her voice needed to be heard for her command to be obeyed, and a shot with an arrow could take her down long before she could even see her attacker.

Claire narrowed her eyes as the misty, glowing shapes of the Dusk Ford's inhabitants moved about behind their walls in her empowered vision. There had to be a play here, but she could not see it. And with Lyssa bold as brass these past few days, Charisse his usual reckless self, it fell to her to find that play for them. Maybe if they waited for a change in the guard, the Ford's forces would be distracted enough to let three disguised heroes through to the lands beyond. Or maybe if they took the time to fashion a canoe out of the copse of trees at their backs, they might-...

A whisper of wind across the grass atop her hillock preceded cold steel against Claire's neck.

"Speak quietly an answer to my questions and nothing else," came a rich, resonant and masculine voice above her. "What is your name?"

"C-Claire," she managed. Lyssa's encounter with the bandit camp was still fresh in her mind, and the recollection caused Claire's prayerful focus to shatter. Why hadn't Oculus warned her someone was sneaking up behind her?

"Well then, Claire," said the man, savouring her name like a fine wine. "Whom do you serve?"

This was the decisive question. If a Dark Adherent was the one holding the blade at her throat, she would need to plea for the mercy of his Dark Lord. Otherwise... Otherwise, what? What other answer was there? Claire swallowed, her throat wobbling against the sharpness of her captor's weapon.

"Only my friends," she hissed. "My friends and... m-my god. Oculus All-seeing."

"Not the dark?" the man teased.

And Claire, manic with fear, found herself grinning. "Fuck the dark," she said.

And the sword's edge immediately came away from her skin. Claire let out a long sigh of relief as the man began to laugh in his musical, mahogany voice.

"Coarsely spoken, but I cannot help but agree!" he assured her. "Well met, Lady Claire! I am pleased to find an ally of the light in these dark lands!"

Curious by nature and unable to hold herself back, Claire rolled over onto her side and glanced down her body at the newcomer. And her breath caught in her lungs. Standing over her was easily the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. Gorgeous skin that was almost onyx black, tight curls of short dark hair that would be soft to the touch, an immaculate beard just barely grazing at his full lips. He had Charisse's broad shoulders, but a tight waist and long, lithe legs clad in tight silk that spoke of a honed athleticism. His waistcoat was a luxurious blend of red and blue stripes, audacious and magical compared to the dull tones of the usual garb of survivors of the Era of Shadow. And his blade was a curved scimitar of silver metal with a rounded sapphire worked into the pommel. A weapon fit for a hero of legend. And his smile! Claire briefly forgot to breathe in the incandescence of his lovely, boyish, handsome grin.

The swordsman extended a gloved hand for her, and she took it without a second thought. His skin was warm beneath the thick fabric, his grip unquestionably strong. He lifted her up to her feet as if she weighed nothing at all, in full defiance of the enemy stronghold now visible beyond the grassy rise.

"A-And you are?" she somehow managed around the pattering of her heart.

"My name is Delain," said the swordsman, bending into a courtly bow at his waist and pressing his lips to the back of Claire's hand, which he still held. His trim beard tickled her skin like a brush of silk. "I am at your service, my lady."

Claire found herself giggling absently. But through the haze of heat in her cheeks and the giddy spinning of her belly, the man's name broke through. A familiar name. She gasped.

"Delain of the Ten Cities?"

"The very same," he said with an achingly charming smile.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Holy shit," she said.

---

"Holy shit!" laughed Charisse, rocking back and forth on his seat at the edge of the fire with a silly, childlike grin. "I mean... holy shit!"

Delain chuckled, one hand demurely laid on his chest. "You do me honour, my lord..."

"Ch-Charisse!" he said at once. "Th-That's my name!"

"My Lord Charisse," Delain bowed from his seat. "My utmost pleasure to meet you."

Lyssa's ears pricked at the sound of snickering coming from deeper into the cave they were using as a shelter from the light rain outside. This fascinating Delain fellow seemed like a polite sort, but not all of his company shared his manners. Accompanying the handsome swordsman were four adventurers. A muscular woman with a thick, black bow across her lap, her face a maze of ritual tattoos. A slight girl with a wide-brimmed hat and a staff of gnarled yew leaning against her shoulder. And a pair of twins, both with Claire's red hair but braided into matching styles, and with a matching pair of clubs affixed at their belts. It was this pair who had thought to laugh at Charisse's feminine name. Not that Charisse had any idea he was the subject of ridicule.

And Lyssa had to admit, the gravity of Delain was undeniable. He was a superb specimen of masculine grace and strength. His dark eyes held that same bright intelligence that Lyssa recalled from Tabitha and Tomas, only magnified astronomically. When his eyes turned on her, and they appeared to be turning quite often, Lyssa felt as though she was all he could see. Delain looked up from his humble chuckling to catch eyes on her again, and Lyssa held his smile with one of her own.

"And might I have your name, my lady?" he asked her softly.

She grinned. "My friends call me Lyssa, sir. But you may call me whatever you desire."

The curve of his lips and the widening of his eyes as he breathed in her flirtation were magnificent, careful without appearing forced. He could not have looked so lovely even if he'd had time to prepare. From somewhere deeper in the cave, someone hissed out an impressed gasp at Lyssa's sultry words.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Sir Delain," she continued, running one hand idly across her chest as if brushing away a stray fibre. Her target obediently let his gaze trail along the swell of her chest, made all the more obvious by the alterations she'd made to the navy dress she'd taken from the bandit camp.

"Do I?" Delain replied with a coy smirk.

"All here appear to know you as a man of great fame, but I have lamentably suffered a loss of my memory of late. I would love to hear of your accolades for myself."

"Well," he said with a rich chuckle, "I do not normally partake of blowing my own horn."

"I'll do it!" Charisse butted in at once. He was leaning forward with his hands on his knees, his dark fringe framing a grin that reflected the dancing of the firelight. "Delain of the Ten Cities is a living legend, Lyssa! He single-handedly unseated the ten tyrants of the unaligned lands to the south and restored them to peace! He duelled the evil Carnelian Swordsman on the walls of Fort Tychus and rid him of his malevolent blade! He ended the carnage of the devil-drake at Goldfields by simply staring the beast down and willing it be gone!"

"That one was me, actually." This reedy voice came from beneath the wide-brimmed hat of the girl sitting by Delain's side. When the hat raised, Lyssa saw the blonde girl beneath smirking. "Delain was there, though. I can attest that he didn't wet himself on seeing that nasty brute of a dragon, so that's reasonably impressive."

The girl smiled for her companion to disarm her teasing, and Delain nodded with a mirthful chuckle. "Never let yourself believe that I could do well without your assistance or friendship, Ermengarde," he said.

"Naturally," she replied, then removed her hat so that she could fan herself with it. And Lyssa stared. Beneath the youthful curls of the girl's fair hair, her ears were long and pointed. Not human, then. Fascinating.

"My, my," Lyssa hummed, drawing Delain's attention back to her with a gentle touch at her own lips. "It seems I have missed a great deal in being ignorant of your deeds, Sir Delain. How heroic you are, I see a true hero before me! What draws you and your valiant company to these perilous lands?"

"That should be obvious, Lyssa," said Claire, and Lyssa turned on hearing her friend's sharp tone.

Claire was scowling. Beside her, Charisse had lost his exuberance entirely. He was now staring forlornly into the campfire's flames. Lyssa's lip twisted as she sought to determine whether it had been something she had said.

"I believe we're here for the same reason as you three," said Ermengarde with a shrug of her slim shoulders. "We're seeking the end of the Dark Lord."

"Which means you will be looking to cross the Dusk Ford," said Claire, nodding her head. "I would be interested in hearing what you proposed to do about that."

"And whether we can be of any aid," added Charisse.

Delain looked at once to his sharp-eared companion, who was stroking her chin thoughtfully.

"I have something of a scheme in mind," the girl said with a decisive nod. Her blonde curls bobbed playfully around the points of her ears. "You three must be competent fighters to make it this far. I imagine I can make use of you."

"You should listen carefully to Ermengarde's words," Delain said with a wide smile. "She shall never lead us astray."

"Goes without saying, Delain," the girl replied with a roll of her eyes, then addressed the camp. "You're the brains of this operation, is that right Claire? I can tell these things. Let us put our heads together."

"O-Oh, of course!" Claire joined the shorter girl in her rising with a hand on Charisse's shoulder for balance. She brushed down her skirt with a quick flurry of her hands. "It would be my pleasure, Ermengarde-

penka

!"

"Ooh, smart and polite!" Ermengarde remarked with a trilling laugh. "Not many humans remember the proper way to address an elven seer! And cute as a button, to boot! I think we are going to get on famously."

With Claire and Ermengarde stepping outside for their tactical discussion, the three of Delain's band dismissed to return to a conversation of their own, evidently some sort of evaluation of Lyssa and her friends, Lyssa was left with a choice. Around the campfire to her right, the handsome Delain. To her left, her friend Charisse, still staring glumly into the fires. Lyssa had the feeling that she owed him an apology, but she couldn't fathom why. In the end, that uncertainty made her mind up for her.

"In the meantime, Sir Delain," she said as she took her seat beside the tall swordsman, "I would hear more of your rigorous adventuring! Have you slain any fearsome beasts in your travels? I do so love hearing the tales of a man with a good grip on his weapon."

Delain's dark cheeks brightened with a charming spray of blush, and his smile was coy and pleasing. "For my Lady Lyssa, I could speak all day," he said.

The flames wafted in their direction as if blown by a sudden gust of wind. But the only thing on that side of the fire was a glowering Charisse.

---

"It's a simple plan, all things considered," began Ermengarde some two hours later, with the sun setting around the mouth of their cave shelter and the last of the rain dripping to a halt across the hills. "Simple enough that even the soft heads I see before me will grasp it."

Claire spotted Charisse's little wince and sent him an apologetic smile for Ermengarde's words. Between them, Ermengarde had used a white stick of chalk to draw out the rough shape of the Dusk Ford on the bare stone at the mouth of their cave. Charisse and the others stood on the far side of the drawing. Claire's dear friend had his arms folded stubbornly, his face wrought with petulant frustration. A couple of paces to his right, Lyssa was standing very close by Delain's side. Did she really not see what she was doing to the poor boy, Claire wondered. Calling Delain a 'true hero' as if that wasn't her pet name for Charisse, that had been a low blow. The rest of Delain's band were arrayed around the floor drawing. Their casual stances told Claire that they were well used to hearing Ermengarde's taunting and were capable of taking it in their stride. They weren't as overblown as Claire was, even after spending a couple of hours with the little elf. But she couldn't help it! Ermengarde was over eight centuries old! The things she must know! The things she no doubt took for granted!

Ermengarde had to prompt Claire with a tug on the sleeve of her dress, and she cleared her throat as she began.

"Our goal is to draw all of the Dark Legion forces from across both sides of the river to here, the second courtyard on the western side," she explained. As she did, one of Ermengarde's conjured lights bounced playfully toward the area of the map that she was speaking about. "At which point, Ermengarde can use an incantation to destroy all of them in one blast."

"Bang!" giggled the elf with a little theatrical spread of her hands.

"Delain and his forces will battle their way through the first courtyard to the entrance of the second, here," Claire continued, and her explanation was accompanied by a red mote of light moving through the illustration of the fortress. "Their intent will be to cause as much commotion as possible and draw the eye of the defensive forces."

"That should be no issue," said the handsome swordsman with an easy shrug of his wide shoulders. "The Dark Adherents know my name and face and should be quick to try and take a bite out of me."

"Isn't that awfully dangerous?" Charisse pointed out, frowning pensively. "There are more ghouls at Dusk Ford than we have warriors, some ten times over. And all throughout your invasion, you will be set upon by ranged fire and magic from the tower above!"

"Ah, what a splendid point," huffed Ermengarde, hands on her hips. "Thank you so much for pointing that out, Charisse. Truly, I would have missed such an obvious issue were it not for your timely interruption."

Charisse flushed angrily. It was Claire's turn to put a hand on Ermengarde's shoulder, reigning in her bite. The elf sighed.

"We've been through worse than this," she explained. "My countercharms can interrupt anything those mulish hacks from the Dark Legion can cast our way. And we have the best shot in the whole continent ready to provide reactionary fire. I'm not worried."

The woman with the longbow smirked with sly confidence at the back of the group.

"While this battle is taking place," said Claire, "the three of us will be making use of a side entrance here alongside the third courtyard. You may recall that we had been planning on using this route to sneak our way across the bridge before we met our new friends. The distraction will mean that the usual guards will be away from their posts, though we might have to tackle a couple of strays as quietly as we can. And then, we arrive here."

A blue light tinkled its way onto the map and landed on the bare stone at the western edge of the bridge.

"We have two objectives," Claire explained. "First, we open the gatehouse leading to the bridge itself. Then, we find the alarm bell, which ought to be nearby."

"Ding-ding, ding, ding-ding," sang Ermengarde. "The Dark Legion's signal for aid. It won't come as a surprise, if Delain's done his job of showing off in front of the Adherents. We'll have gotten the word out that someone impressive is making them look bad across the water. And that'll draw the ghouls from the eastern fortress across the bridge and into the second courtyard to aid their friends."

"We are not intending to head them off at the bridge?" Charisse asked.

"No, moron. Remember? You let them come to us, then we blow them up."

"R-Right," grumbled Charisse.

"Once the ghoul soldiers have joined their fellows, we will close the door behind them and seal them in. Delain's team can dispatch the whole legion in one swoop. The only forces left defending the bridge will be a few stragglers," Claire concluded with a decisive nod. "We can all cross the river together."

"Then onwards, to the Black Palace!" declared Delain, raising his fist in victorious gesture. "Together, we taste the blood of the Dark Lord!"

"Yes, yes," dismissed Ermengarde. But beneath her wide hat, she was grinning fondly.

"We begin at first light tomorrow," said Claire. "We should all find what rest we can in the meantime. A-And... that is all."

"That is all," agreed the elf.

"How exciting!" Lyssa said. She clapped her hands together with a beaming smile. "'Tis like something from a tale of myth! And we three, a part of the making of history!"