“Yes, excellent. Keep in formation.” Ulfuric rumbled, as the weaselkin warriors in their heavy armour wheeled expertly, shields raised to block the falling volley of arrows from the weaselkin archers, while Tillyae led her musicians in a rousing chorus, boosting their strength and speed with their songs.
“Danaera, your mages missed an opportunity.” He called out to the leader of the weaselkin mages, who were firing off orbs of wind, though they were tuned down to merely hurt, rather than cause damage. “You need to be quicker at exploiting the gaps. And as for you…” he turned to the newcomers, weaselkin who had been spawned mysteriously from these… Barracks, he called them. “Fighting like that you will never stand up to the charge of a determined enemy. Very well. Enough!” Ulfuric roared, bringing the mock-battle to a halt.
“Tillyae, good work, just be sure to work on stamina for your musicians, if they falter due to tired hands and throats, then lacking your protections, the front-line will be vulnerable. Danaera, I know you are not the true leader of Prince Shaeraggo’s mages, but you now have command here, so you must be more decisive, lest your enemy take the initiative.” He continued to point out their faults and areas they could improve.
“And lastly…” the mob of Shaeula’s strange weaselkin formed up, armed and equipped with a variety of weapons from another mysterious building. The quality was below the standard his troops enjoyed, but Bjarki, that wily old dwarf, he was gradually creating facilities that would allow rapid creation of solid, high-quality basic arms and armour. When that was done, the problem would vanish. “Watch how the other units perform. You lack cohesion and responsiveness. Always keep the initiative. Even in sieges, letting the enemy dictate the pace and terms of an engagement is disastrous, to say nothing of on the open battlefield.” They listened to his lectures, then dispersed when he was done, returning to their training. Watching them go, he was once more struck with a deep melancholy. If not just weaselkin, but others could be brought into existence, could it be possible to… no! he crushed the thought ruthlessly, not prepared to entertain any hope this late.
As he turned away, ready to retreat down the hill to where he was lodging, he saw an old friend. The way he was walking was unusual though, carefree and upright, not hunched over and wheezing. I know the princess and her consort had healed his worst suffering, but he looks a new Fae. Ever since he moved here as well, it is though the shadows plaguing him have vanished. He slowed his long strides momentarily as he was lost in thought, and Ixitt, his old friend, turned and waved cheerfully, running, yes running over, breathing quite normally!
“Ulfuric, finished with beating the troops into shape?” Ixitt grinned. His face was still covered in scars, but a lot of the burned flesh had been replaced by healthy skin, fur starting to sprout anew. On seeing his gaze, Ixitt lashed his tail happily.
“Akio, he healed me. Completely and perfectly. I can hardly believe it.” He took a deep breath, savouring the ether that rushed into his body. “Though apparently it would be a liability, my old injuries, for the mission.” He grinned, showing his teeth. “The mission, yes. So tell me, Ulfuric. It must strike a chord with you, mustn’t it? After all, it’s the dream of all badgerkin to retake Salamandrastrae back from the monstrous allies of the Unseelie, right? You most of all.”
“A dream? Yes, a dream.” He remembered it though he was only young at the time. His father, bundling him up into a warm coat, his mother, ruffling his fur, her expression kind. The sounds of gargantuan booted feet slamming on stone, the clink of metal on metal, shouts and cries, roars so loud the very walls vibrated, the smell of blood even overpowering the sulphuric reek of the Salamander Pits…
“Mother, why won’t you come with me?” he asked, a question unworthy of a badgerkin, but he was young, too young, and scared, trembling not from the cold, for the halls of Salamandrastrae were always warm, but from fear, the killer of reason.
“I can’t, my son.” She shook her head. “As nobles of the Seelie Court, and badgerkin, there is no way we can allow the cursed brutes the Unseelie have brought through. If we retreat, then the fertile plains and valleys beyond, the forests and glens, the rivers and lakes… they’ll take them all and destroy them, just as the monstrous giants have ruined everything else they touch. What pride is there in living, if all honour is lost and duty is dead?”
“Then… then can’t I stay?” Ulfuric cried, though the thought of remaining behind had terrified him. Even so, to leave without his parents scared him just as much, if not more.
“Of course you cannot.” His father rumbled, voice like the sound of the fiery mountain they dwelt in as it roared in its fitful slumber. “We have our pride, but we are not fools. All of the young, and a number of elders, selected by lottery must be sent away. Well, we shall not fall here of course.” his voice was stern. “The badgerkin stand firm, never retreat, and our enemies break upon us like water upon the shore. Even so, a wise Fae plans for all possibilities. Now, you are my son.” He bent down, giving him a brisk, business-like-hug, before releasing him. “Stay strong, and we will meet again.”
As the elderly badgerkin woman took his hand, pulling him away from his parents, Ulfuric remembered blinking away tears. Bad memories indeed, but well-worn ones.
You lied father. I used to resent you for that, but… time fades all painful flames to mere embers, like the molten tears of lost Salamandrastrae. “Our old home is lost, and the badgerkin decline with it. Though in the end, the Unseelie paid a terrible price to take the mountain, many of the misshapen, brutish giants they called to our lands from some vile corner of the lower Astral slain by sword, spear, bow and axe. Though we could not retake it, at least they bled so much they could no longer push on. Though their raids still strike out from it like burning needles.” He clenched his fist, muscles tensing, as if to crush the Unseelie to death with his bare hands, or tear giants limb from limb.
“True. A great loss, yet also a victory. Even in defeat, your father, he managed that, did he not?” Ixitt tried to calm him, and Ulfuric took a deep breath of his own, leashing the fiery temper, the molten anger within that all badgerkin shared, that had led to their dwindling. No, I am not like the others. I am simply Ulfuric now, I no longer carry the Salamandrastrae name.
“I concede that he did.” He said coolly. “Still, all Fae who attempt to penetrate the forest will die, just like before. I cannot believe the princess is going along with this madness. I remember carrying her on my shoulders as a child. She was cute then, quiet yet quick to smile. At least until she grew old enough to hear the whispers, the slanders. Why did Prince Shaetanao never put a stop to it?”
“Master Ulfuric, I want to grow up big like you!” the cute little weaselkin beamed at him, running away from her maid, who trailed after her disapprovingly. Ulfuric noticed the shadows in her eyes as she looked at her young charge, but it wasn’t his place to interfere. No, he was not Salamandrastrae now, just one of a number of badgerkin who grew up learning the craft of war, determined to pass it on to the rest of the Fae, so that losses like they had endured would not happen again, foolish, hopeless dream though that was.
Reaching down one mighty paw, he patted her, gently, so gently, for the poor half-Fae had seemingly inherited few of the strengths of her father or her foreign mother. “I think you should instead grow kind, beautiful and strong, rather than big.” He spoke softly. “Always remember, only you can know your own worth, what is important to you.”
At that he lifted her up to his shoulder, where she sat, giggling softly, her amber eyes curious and still full of innocence. A shame she did not take his words to heart, letting the bitter vitriol she was showered with at her lack of talent consume her, stupid, arrogant servants and others enabling her self-destructive, boastful behaviour.
Shaking his head, Ulfuric growled. “I grieved when she was sent away, even though she had lost her way. I always remembered the kind, inquisitive child who loved to ride on my shoulder. So when her brother wanted to come here and find her, bring her to hidden safety, despite the danger it posed to the already crumbling status of his family, I agreed to assist. Imagine my surprise…”
“… when you found her so changed.” Ixitt laughed. “I barely knew the princess at all, I am more acquainted with her sister. Thank the King and Queen those two are little alike. To think she has found herself a lover, and a mortal at that. Though Akio is certainly no ordinary mortal.”
“No, no he is not.” Ulfuric agreed, remembering how different the princess was now, the bold way she addressed him.
“Oh Master Ulfuric, I remember watching you and my sister train when I was a child. You were so big, so strong, yet so kind-kind. Even now this has not-not changed. I appreciate your care. Yet you do me a disservice. I have stated it again-again and again. I am not the child I was. I shall face you, and I shall give it my all.”
No, she had indeed grown up, standing proud, wanting to show off to her chosen partner. For him. She had no wish to be separated from him.
“My foolish brother hampered you. Had you treated it as a battle, rather than-than a mere tool of chastisement, I should have stood little chance.”
True, she had gained strength, but not let her newfound worth blind her to reason. She knew she won not because she was stronger, but because she was prepared to fight for what she believed in. For him. For them. She did not want to see their tears.
“My forces gave a good-good account of themselves. I shall have to reward them later. I do not-not suppose you would care for a duel, Master Ulfuric? Taking you all at once would be… tiring.”
Even in the face of defeat, she could still smile. Because if she did not, they might worry for her, and she wanted them only to smile as she did.
Remembering her pride, honest, earned pride in herself and her own abilities, her bravery, her determination, her dark humour even in the face of defeat, her bitter tears as she lost, not for herself but for failing those she cherished… “She has grown up beautifully. Perhaps the words I spoke to her took root in her spirit after all. She has grown kind, beautiful and strong, but not big…” Though if those small seeds have sprouted into fine growth, then the mortal, her consort, I see he must take much credit. Support, love, faith… only they can change a warped tree to a tree that stands tall, proud and honest.
“Was that a joke? From you, Ulfuric? How unexpected.” Ixitt snickered. “So, I understand your misgivings, but..”
“The mortal is too reckless.” Ulfuric cut him off. “I respect his power, but when he set himself ablaze to fight Shaeraggo, that was foolish. His chance of victory was slim, the only real choice was to concede.”
“Really? I know you don’t believe that!” Ixitt lashed his tail. “Look over there for a moment.” He pointed, and Ulfuric followed his gaze. “That’s the ghost woman, right?”
Ulfuric nodded, unsure of his point. “Once an enemy, but now a friend. One he has promised to restore to the mortal realm, so I hear. And she believes it, though the thought seems to scare her a little too. And look at us. We came here as enemies, and now, well, I rather like it here. My kin too. He does not discriminate against us. Think of the maid, the Unseelie. He gave her a name, gave her a home. Reckless, you say? Of course. She was a danger to us, certainly. Shaeula too, was once his enemy, and Grulgor. You see it too. I know deep down you see a lot of the badgerkin of old in him. Did your father, your mother retreat? Was it reckless? Yes, undoubtably so. Did they die? Alas…” Ixitt bowed in grief, causing Ulfuric to look away, his face twitching with complex emotions.
“But he knows what is worth fighting for. Your parents, the many badgerkin of Salamandrastrae, heroes all, they died but they saved countless other lives holding the tide of Unseelie and their giant allies back for so many days, fighting until they could fight no more, then somehow finding more beyond even that.”
“I must admit, seeing him burn his very flesh to defeat Shaeraggo, which all thought impossible… yes, it moved me. It ignited the dormant flames within me, seeing him brave those flames to stand up for the princess. That is one reason I agreed to stay. I wanted to see how the princess and her new lover would fare, and give them a little aid on their journey. He then fought well against a powerful enemy and triumphed. He understands to be strong requires hard work, endless dedication and training, and he has taught the princess that too. If Prince Shaetanao could see her now, I am sure he would be moved and rejoice.”
“And hence why he wishes to retake the Spring Of Clear Reflections. Such a feat, which all, even you, claim to be impossible. If he and the princess succeed, well, who could stop her triumphant return to the Court?”
“It is impossible.” Ulfuric declared. “I applaud his care of her, I admit he has been good for the princess, and he is worth my aid, and more importantly, my respect. If he was to marry her and become her consort, perhaps I could even see myself asking Prince Shaetanao to allow me to serve them, but throwing their lives away at a faint promise of a dream? I’m disappointed.”
“You feel betrayed that someone you found to respect is making a bad choice, I see.” Ixitt nodded, illuminated. “I understand that. Prince Shaetanao has been making erratic choices too of late, and Duke Vulpatrius has taken full advantage. It must pain you to see this mortal take the same path, gamble on poor odds and lose. But hear me, Ulfuric, old friend.” Ixitt breathed out, such long unbroken sentences beyond him before. “Why is the forest around the Spring considered unconquerable since the foul Fae that inhabit it now befouled it?”
“Of course it is the seeds.” Ulfuric declared, confident. “The very air is filled with them. But no matter how much one shields their mouth and nose, it always ends the same way. At best one can buy a few minutes with cloth windings or helmets.”
“It isn’t seeds, but something smaller.” Ixitt grinned. “They are so small that they will pass through cloth or any gaps in armour, even through the eyes and any open wounds.”
“Then if he knows that, why is he…” Ulfuric began, before he was halted by Ixitt’s laughter.
“Because he knows devices that can prevent this! And I can make them! The perfect fusion of mortal ideas and Faecraft, true Mortal Engineering! Oh, if I was but a woman I would surely offer myself to him. Perhaps I shall have to offer him my finest daughters instead, bring him into the family that way…”
At that Ulfuric barked a low laugh. “If the princess hears such talk, she may well be angry. So, even should these devices work, any damage to them, and death still awaits. Surely he can see that?”
“Well, he has a plan, I know that. The members he chose. Me. Him. Shaeula. Grulgor. Hyacinth. There is forethought behind them. He is far from a fool. Yes, he is reckless, but one thing he is not, is reckless with the lives of others.”
At that, Ulfuric had to agree. The care he showed for the princess, and his other wife, the mortal, well, it was deep indeed. “No, you are correct as always. Still, such a gamble. I will need to speak to him first, to make sure he has considered all of the things that could go wrong. After all…” he paused meaningfully. “I consider him my pupil. I would ill wish to see him die, or worse, face the grief many of us share, of losing those we love.” And if he could succeed, somehow, take back the Spring, well then… He had to wonder. Would the day come when the giants were chased out of Salamandrastrae, and the grief of a generation of dead badgerkin finally laid to rest, washed out with blood of the usurpers?
I can listen, at the least, offer my advice. The mortal isn’t a fool, he’s won many battles. And, perhaps one day I’ll have the daughter of the princess on my shoulder, looking out over her mother and father training under me, weapons flashing under the moon, the lands at peace, the Unseelie, Wild Hunt and all our foes driven back. If so, perhaps that dream begins with one daring event, shattering everything we thought we believed, mortal cunning and knowledge, yoked to Fae spirit and wisdom, finally beginning to take back the endless losses. Would that not be wonderful?
Ulfuric was lost in thought, his gaze flickering back to one of the strange Barracks that the mortal could build. He was so engrossed he didn’t see Ixitt leave, still cackling at his friends’ transparent thoughts.
So far he has passed all my tests. I would be a fool not to at least hear him out. But if he is wrong, and gets the princess killed… well, even should he flee back to his mortal world, one day he will find my hands around his throat…