Book of The Dead
Chapter B5: Beyond the Mountains

Vien slowly, ever so slowly, clenched his fingers tight. Then he released them, patiently, ensuring the movement was as tight and controlled as possible. His muscles responded, his blood flowed, bringing back a hint of feeling and helping push the cold away.

Good. Do it again.

Perched in his tree, concealed by the frost-covered foliage, the Imperial Scout repeated the simple process over and over again. Like a bear waking from winter slumber, his body began to respond. Just as the first light of the sun began to peak over the horizon, he’d regained the full sensation of his fingers and had turned his attention to his toes.

A lesser scout may have complained about the enchantments on his light-weight kin-hide armour. Despite being worked by the finest craftsmen of the Golden Legion, worked on by the very best Arcanists, there wasn’t a drop of energy devoted to environmental protection. Nothing to help ward off the deathly cold of these mountains.

But Vien knew better. He was gold ranked, level seventy-nine, as indicated by the burnished insignia woven into the leather on his left shoulder. Weather, he could overcome himself. Be it the burning heat of the desert at midday, or the frozen mountain heights in the depth of winter, he was able to endure. That was his training.

His armour helping to deflect projectiles and defend against magickal attack was far more useful.

When he was ready, the scout finally stood, his muscles screaming in protest after a night spent perched on a tree branch. Frost and icicles dropped from his cloak, which he disguised as natural snowfall from the tree. After waiting to see if there was a response to his movement, he dropped down from the tree, his cloak activating to slow his fall. Vien landed so lightly his feet didn’t even sink into the fresh snowfall, nor did he sink after taking his first steps. Lightfooted, a very underrated ability, but not for the scouts in the Golden Legion.

Birdcall, a bluebird, the faint sound carried far over the snow covered ground, pricking Vien’s ears as sure as a shout.

Over a few seconds, he checked his person and gear, ensuring everything was in its place and that he hadn’t experienced any unseen injury during the long night. Nothing, everything was as it was supposed to be.

With that, he was off, speeding across the snowfall as light as a hare and twice as fat. His armour warped and shifted its colour, blending into the scrub and endless white as he moved, his body always as low as possible. A small copse of trees appeared towards his right and he angled towards them.

Another birdcall and Vien changed his angle slightly, heading towards a particular pine, tall and thick with needles. When he reached the tree trunk, the Scout curled down at the base, his cloak spread over his body and blending into the snow.

“Vien?”

“Yes, Captain Brolk.”

“Wait for the others.”

Hunched down, pressed into the snow, Vien waited patiently, his eyes constantly scanning, looking for any sign of movement. Within a few minutes, he caught sight of the other scouts, rapidly closing in on their position.

“Took you long enough,” he greeted them with a wry smile.

“Shut up, Vien,” his friend, Techar scoffed.

The southerner rolled up a ball of snow from his hunched position and flicked it at Vien, who swatted it out of the air with one hand.

“Shut up, all of you,” the Captain growled, his voice held impossibly low.

“Yes, Captain,” they all replied, speech so soft it barely disturbed the air in front of their lips.

“According to the timetable, we push down out of the mountains and onto the plains today. Forty kilometres, thereabouts.”

There was a hint of irritation in the Captain's voice, a hint of emotion which normally would never be found. Not in the field.

“Something wrong, Captain?” Vien asked.

Instead of the reprimand he expected, the Captain was silent for a moment.

“I’m getting mixed signals from command,” he said finally, causing the other three scouts to raise their brows.

If command sending confused orders was unusual, the Captain sharing it with them was doubly so. Vien felt his heart rate pick up and steadied his breathing.

“Some are saying go, others are saying to pull back. There’s some sort of pissing contest going on, and I don’t think it’s command.”

The court.

It was the only thing that made sense. The Golden Legion were the Hammer of the Emperor, an efficient and professional fighting force that did their job without ego or allowing petty power grabs to get in the way. Without using so many words, the Captain was telling them there was politics being played by the court, interfering with the mission.

Every member of the Golden Legion knew what that meant: When the High Lords and Ladies meddled, Soldiers got killed.

“As of this moment, my orders are to continue our advance, so that’s what we are going to do. Be aware that this may change, so I want you all to check in with me at the end of the day, rather than tomorrow morning. Does everyone understand?”

In other words, exercise extreme caution, something fishy was going on.

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“Got it, Captain.”

“Understood.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get back out there. I’ll see you when the sun sets.”

Vien was the first to move, up and running in an instant, speeding across the snow once more. Despite what he’d been told, he didn’t let any distracting thoughts seize his attention. If the danger was higher than they thought, then all the more reason to do his job perfectly.

Kilometres away from his fellow scouts, Vien proceeded to race down the mountain side, his hyper-acute senses attuned in all directions, allowing no sight, sound or scent to escape his notice. Wind rushed past his face as he ran, only pausing to survey the land ahead.

After four hours, he crawled into a cluster of stones and withdrew some rations from an interior pocket in his uniform. Dense with nutrition and magick it may be, but it certainly didn’t taste good. After years in the service, Vien had long grown accustomed to the flavour and kept his vigil while he ate. A few mouthfuls of water and he was up and ready to run once more.

The further he came down from the mountain, the more disturbing the surrounding scenery became. The greenery that struggled to survive in the colder temperatures was even less prevalent as his altitude became lower. In their place, he began to see the occasional crystal growth, spiking up from beneath the soil and gleaming ominously in the light.

Growing more cautious, Vien was tempted to slow his pace, but decided not to. He knew exactly how much ground he was required to cover today, and his fellow scouts did as well. If he didn’t travel as far as they did, the invisible line that connected them would become uneven and the possibility of something slipping their notice would rise. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Down the slope he ran, always vigilant, silent as a ghost and even harder to see.

Eventually, he made his way out of the mountains entirely, the vast plains of Granin lying before him. A vast wasteland. There was nothing alive as far as he could see, and Vien could see a long way. A faint smudge on the horizon could possibly be ruins of some sort, but other than that, all he saw was crystal spires, a roiling storm of magick overhead, and death.

There was barely any cover to speak of. The scout found a particularly large spire of crystal that had overturned the earth as it grew upward, creating a cluster of hardened soil and rock he could push himself into. So far, he hadn’t seen anything moving out there, no animals, certainly no people.

Did the survivors of the Western Province really come out here? If they did, they were surely dead. How could they possibly hope to survive? Vien raised a hand and let the air flow between his fingers.

There was abundant magick, which could do a lot, certainly.

He lowered that same hand and dragged his fingers through the soil, raising some up and letting it trickle from his digits in front of his eyes. Sandy, filled with shards of crystal and completely barren. The land here was completely devoid of life. Even the worms had abandoned Granin.

Movement by his feet was the first warning sign. When the small lizard-like creature burst from the ground, Vien was waiting. His dagger pierced the thing, right between the eyes. Twisting the blade, the scout observed it for several slow seconds.

Doesn’t appear poisoned, no spines or bright colours.

He twisted the blade again, ensuring the lizard was dead, before he brought it closer to his face to examine. Dark skinned, with small crystal growths breaking out along its back, it certainly didn’t look like any living thing he’d seen before. Lowering it back down, he yanked free his knife and cut carefully through the monster’s hide. Sure enough, he found a small, chip of a core inside.

This was a kin.

Vien looked down at it, his expression unchanging, then returned his gaze to the horizon. He needed to stay here for another few hours, then head back to rejoin the captain before nightfall.

Hidden, unmoving, barely breathing, he remained in place, tracking the sun overhead. No more kin came to attack him, but he was on guard nonetheless. As the shadows grew longer and the sun continued to dip lower, he knew it was time. Gathering his strength, Vien prepared to spring away and start running.

Which was exactly when they attacked.

The first came from beneath the ground, rising up through the crystal-laced soil to grab him. All the scout felt was a piercing cold, deeper and more vicious than what he had experienced through the long nights in the mountains. It stabbed deep into his bones, but only for a fraction of a second. With inhuman reflexes, he sprang upwards, turning his gaze down to see a wraith emerging, its face twisted in hate.

The second had been waiting for him.

Cold pierced his lungs and Vien gasped in pain. It had been hiding in the crystal pillar, only emerging when its ally attacked from below. It was inside him, cold so deep it burned his flesh. Heart shuddering, the scout again reacted quickly, his foot lashing out to crunch into the crystal shard and send his body hurling through the air.

There were more waiting for him when he landed. A coordinated assault by wraiths? No, there was a mind controlling them, there had to be.

Now that he knew what to look for, he could see them easier, their ethereal, tattered forms drifting through the air, clothes rustled by a wind he could not feel. They reached for him, gleeful, vicious, filled with malice and hatred for the living.

If he didn’t do anything, he’d land amongst them. So many of them, it might be enough to lock up his muscles and slow him down. If he lost his speed, his chances of escaping grew slim.

Not once did he think of fighting them; that wasn’t his task. He was to see, and to return alive to report, so that was what he would do.

Vien’s blade scraped out of his scabbard as he drew it midair. He spun the blade in his hand, grasped the hilt, then thrust it forward. With perfect timing, he stabbed the ground, letting the weapon and his arm absorb the shock of the landing. Ghosts reached for him from below, still emerging from the ground.

The scout flexed his arm and pushed off, flipping ten feet away. Blade still in hand, he landed on his feet and was off, running like the wind. No attempt at stealth now, Vien put everything into his speed, and he was fast.

So they’d been right, the Necromancer was out there somewhere. Perhaps with survivors, perhaps alone. It didn’t matter. They’d found him now, and there was no chance for him to escape.

He ran, without pause, until finally he heard the call of the bluebird. Vien rushed forward, breathing heavy, sweat dripping from his brow as he finally slid to a halt on the ground, pulling his cloak over himself.

“Vien? What happened?” the Captain hissed from nearby.

“I was attacked by wraiths,” he replied between deep slow breaths. “A coordinated assault. The Necromancer is down there somewhere.”

“Damn it all,” the Captain spat. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve been ordered to withdraw. Someone finally won the pissing contest.”

“What?” Vien muttered, shaking his head. They’d found him. That was what they’d come here for!

“When the other two get back, we are pulling back to regroup with the main force and then retreating to camp on the other side of the mountains. Those are my orders.”

While he may not like it, Vien would never question his orders. At least the politics had played out without too much going wrong. With nothing else to do, he settled in to wait for his comrades to return.

As the hours trickled past, it became increasingly clear they would never be coming.

Far away, Tyron leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, brow furrowed.

“Huh,” he said to himself.