Firebrand

They sailed as far north as they could; the river grew smaller and shallower, breaking up into its tributaries and sources, and the Asterian ships dropped anchor. It took them past the remainder of the day making landfall, ferrying people and goods ashore in the longboats; they continued beyond sunset, using Martel’s lightstones, to finish the task. Setting up tents, the settlers spent their first night back on solid ground near the shore, watering their animals and themselves and sleeping the remaining hours. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novelFɪre.net

When the sun rose, they began the remaining journey that had to be done on foot. Progress was slow, as they had to haul their belongings on their backs; they had no carts or harnesses to allow the animals to help. Being Asterians and Khivans, old and some very young, serfs and craftsmen, even some patricians, they made for an unusual group.

As they reached the old, overgrown road that once ran from Archen to Aster, it allowed them to increase their pace. Still, it took them another day before their destination came into sight in the far distance, and they spent the next night still on the road. Before sleeping, the leaders of the expedition assembled.

“We can’t be sure Archen itself is safe,” Martel admitted. “There could be undead that me and Eleanor didn’t encounter on our first trip, hiding somewhere in the ruins.”

“But you mentioned you had an ally,” Valerius brought up. “That hedge mage working to cleanse the place. What was his name again? Would he have dealt with it?”

“We assume he has, but still,” Martel replied, sidestepping the first question. “Let’s keep people camped outside. There’s also the risk of structures collapsing, especially if a lot of people move in and about. I suggest the rest of you begin work measuring out fields, collecting timber and so on,” Martel said. “I’ll go into Archen and find our friend, get the measure of the land.”

“I shall go with you,” Eleanor declared.

“I doubt it’s dangerous for me. Besides, all that measuring up land requires a head for arithmetic.”

“I’m a stonemage who spent my career building walls,” Henry interjected. “I know how to do geometry.”

Martel raised his hands in defeat. “Pardon me, then. We leave the division of labour in your hands.” “Unless I am needed urgently, I will examine the river,” Cornelia suggested. “Water is my expertise, after all, and nothing can be accomplished without it.”

Martel nodded to her. “Very well. We convene again tomorrow night to discuss our findings.”

Shortly past noon the next day, the settlers reached the outskirts of Archen. The people needed no convincing to stay outside; the argument of the dangerous state of the structures seemed unnecessary, even. For centuries, Archen had been a name of legend; frightening, but distant. Seeing the actual walls rise with the contour of destroyed towers beyond left its mark. Martel got the impression that the common people were only too happy to begin their work, felling trees and clearing stones from the land to be ploughed; the children were put to this work as well, except for the younger, who looked after the animals until fences could be raised.

As for Martel and Eleanor, they marched up the road to pass the open gate and enter Archen. They had not come far before a shape appeared. “My friends.” A voice rusty from rare use, but friendly all the same. Atreus greeted them with a smile in addition and clasped their hands. He looked haggard, but that seemed no different than normal, and to be expected from someone who had lived in the wild for so long. “When I saw the procession of people, my heart nearly burst.”

Martel tried to imagine what it must have felt like, dwelling in these ruins for over a year without word. Nothing but hope that his friends had survived their trials and been able to get the expedition together. “It took a while, but we’re here now.”

“Yes, you are.”

“What of your work?” Eleanor asked, ever practical.

“It is complete, such as it could be done. My wards have cleansed all trace of malignant magic. I have searched the city for undead and destroyed all I found. I spent half a year, give or take, dragging their bones out and burning them. The best funerary rite I could provide,” the spellbreaker remarked with a mournful smile. “The remains, I buried east of here. The city is ready.”

“Well, we need a good stonemage in here to examine the buildings and tear down those that are unstable. Fortunately, we brought one,” Martel told him, satisfied to report this.

“You did? Most excellent.”

“We also have a watermage. And another mageknight, which might not be as useful, but at least they can haul some stone around,” Martel considered.

Eleanor gave him a look. “More useful than your sparks, fire boy.”

“Actually, I should begin enchanting. There’s plenty of rubble to work with, even if it won’t hold the magic well. The people will appreciate some good heat,” the firemage said. He looked at Atreus. “Come. You should meet your people.”

They had only turned around and begun walking towards the gate when they saw a handful of children, all of them standing outside the walls but peering in.

“What are you lot doing here?” Martel asked with an assumed stern expression.

“Sparrow’s off with that mage, so we thought we’d see what you’re doing,” Squirrel said. Mouse, the tiny girl with the big eyes, the latter currently aimed at the wizards, nodded. Badger pulled one finger out of his ear and wiped it on the nearby stonework.

“There are fields to clear and timber to haul,” Eleanor told them. “We got a lot of work to do before our home is ready.” She made shooing motions with her hands, and the urchins laughed before they ran away, back to camp.

Next to them, Atreus ran his hand over his face, wiping something away. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “There’s children in Archen again.”