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Chapter Six Hundred – 600

It was far easier to hold onto his Abyssal Skein outside of the Dark Passage, even when Felix extended it across the entire company. Where before the ability squirmed from his control, now it merely felt as it always had: a cold, slithery sensation and then a slick film that rolled across his skin and against his teeth. Unpleasant, sure, but it had grown familiar. He pressed it outward, manipulating the threads of connection to his company so that each and every one was affected equally. He had grown adept at that too.

As Felix requested, the scouts remained close at hand, never straying further than twenty yards away. It wasn’t that Felix couldn’t keep them hidden at longer distanceshe could, so long as he had enough Mana and a proper connection to funnel his Skill acrossinstead, he feared for their safety. Hed faced the redcloaks too many times to underestimate them, even if Felix was personally stronger than any number of Paladins or Inquisitors. They were dangerous, especially in large numbers.

They followed the path worn by the fleeing townsfolk for an hour before they discovered their first hurdle. At some point there had been a small avalanche, and it had wiped out all traces of the townsfolk. There were no bodies, but their footprints and cart ruts had been swallowed up completely. Added to the small but consistent snowfall, the trail became far harder to traverse. As uneasy as it made him, Felix ordered the scouts out further to range ahead.

In the meantime, Felix forged ahead, shaping out their trail in his best impression of a snowplow. Living in Florida, he hadnt actually seen one of those before outside of the news, but he did his best. He angled his Will, shoving ice and snow to either side of them like the bow wave of a boat, trying his best not to put too much power into the shaping. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself, and not even Abyssal Skein could hide fifty-foot high waves of blasted snow.

His people followed behind him, weapons sheathed but close to hand. All had their senses pressed to the limits, hunting for the hint of crimson in the white alpine forests. Hunting for danger, in general, really.

There was little to be had, thankfully. Monsters were far off, hidden in dens for the winter or perhaps just waiting for nightfall, and there were no signs of anyone else either. The snow fell harder, filling the space between them with thick, clumpy gusts. Felix shaped it away, but it affected visibility anyway, acting like white noise to their senses. Where he could, Felix guided them through game trails and rocky ledges, where the natural outcroppings protected them from constantly having to trudge through the elements. More opportunities to move in stealth, and he would often drop his Rime Shaping entirely.

Several times, Felix spotted structures further into the mountains. They were distant things, occluded by weather and enough wards that even Felixs senses couldnt take in many details. It wasnt until they climbed a switchback trail that he got a better look at them, and then it was like a bucket of ice water down his spine.

Whats that? Pit asked, nuzzled against Felixs neck. He was like a molten ball of heat inside the fur-lined hood, but Pit had no desire to leave. LooksI dont like it.

Yeah. Me either.

A dozen miles away, half-veiled by bruised clouds and the oncoming storm, was a large, unearthly statue. It had been built into the side of a mountain, carved from it, but at a size that made it rival Elderthrones cliff. A statue of a Dwarven woman stuck out, standing tall on the mountain with a single hand upraised. In her hand was a sickle, silver and glittering with specks of black, with the open throat of its curve pointed straight at the sky. The woman herself was carved with strong features, eyes the color of onyx, and hair like a silver stream. She was squat and square in the Dwarven style, but her clothing was a strange mix of flowing cloth and rigid stone. As if she had been only half carved from the mountains face.

The Birth of Noctis, Tzfell said in a quiet voice. Goddess of the Night and mother of the seas.

She was a Dwarf? Felix asked.

That is what my people believe, yes. The little we know of the old gods indicated they could be viewed however they wished, but that their true forms were unknowable.

Felix let a sour smile twist his lips. He knew how unknowable they were, after all. They featured in his nightmares, whenever he decided to sleep. What is it? Is that the Clan Hold?

No. Just an artifact of an older time. The Dwarves are not monolithic, much as we pretend otherwise. Only some still worship the old gods, while others have abandoned them entirely to focus upon this world to the exclusion of all others. The Hinterlords, by and large, still worship in the old ways.

Hinterlords?

Felix sped up their pace. Now that they were on proper roads, his team could really open up, and soon they were all jogging at a decent clip down the Dwarven High Roads. His company didnt complain, and many of them relished the chance to exert themselves. Moving across uneven countryside was one thing, but this was smooth and free of outcroppings and roots. They made good time.

At least until they heard the shouting.

Felixs scouts returned almost at the same time he commanded the company to a halt. Lenat. Whats out there?

A battle, my Lord. A group of locals are fighting off a pack of River Trolls.

Describe the locals.

She did, and when she was finished Tzfell cut in. Those sound like Ironclads.

Pit shoved his head out of Felixs hood. Like the undead guys?

…Correct. They are the most common soldiers of the clans, used for defending the Clan Holds and the outlying towns. They are the ones that should have been at that town, helping to repair it and keeping the people safe.

Seems theyre tied up with Trolls, Harn said. How many?

Sixty Ironclads. Ten River Trolls, Lenat reported. The other two scouts nodded in confirmation.

Harn whistled appreciatively, and Tzfell cursed. Vess looked between them, lost as Felix. Explain, if you please.

Trolls are nasty, and it aint just cuz theyre big enough to punch above their Tier. Theyve got natural regeneration. A lot of it, Harn said.

A single River Troll is enough to call down a full company, at least fifty to a hundred warriors. Tzfell swallowed and Laur put a hand on her shoulder. She leaned into it. We need to help them.

Felix smiled. Of course we do. Harn, get everyone ready. Were going in hot.

Form up! Quick march into a battle! First Talon, prime yourselves!

Harns voice battered at Felixs Abyssal Skein, pushing the Skill to its limit, but Felix held it close. If the Trolls were as tough as Tzfell suggested, he needed them to remain unnoticed. Felix saw each of his friends readying their weapons and priming their Skills. They were ready to go.

He nodded to Lenat. Scouts, lead the way.

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