The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 312: A Familiar Face

Chapter 312: A Familiar Face

Blue rock and earth flashed beneath us, even the largest rock formations reduced to a blur beneath Fable’s paws. After the first hour, I’d long since lost track of time, carrying just enough strength to hold Korra and cling to Fable. The only real reference I had was the distant silhouette of the mountains on the north and south flanks, framing the Blue Canyon from beginning to end. They’d been there since we began our descent, and, according to Korra, the range only ended as we entered Brithlite proper.

At some point, I became aware of a thin needle on the horizon. It steadily grew closer with each passing minute, until, despite being quite distant, it dwarfed the nearby rock formations. A nervous tremor ran down my tail as we approached, and I touched Korra’s cheek, flinching as I found her cold and clammy. She groaned weakly and shifted in pain, and I cast a Gentle Song, soothing her sleep. The poison had advanced to fill her entire body with ugly blackness; there wasn’t much time left. If we couldn’t find help soon, even if I eventually found a healer, the hopeful scene in my vision would never be fulfilled.

Soon, the rock formation towered high in the sky, easily as tall as any mountain. To me, it was a hopeful beacon, the silhouette of a lighthouse in a storm. Within its shadow, there was someone who could help us, someone who could save Korra. The ground flowed by like a river, disappearing rapidly beneath us, until we finally crested the final ridge. Fable cantered to a stop, letting me get a view of the scene below.

A small city, just as I’d seen in my vision, nestled against the base of the monolith. It was more of a fortress than a city, with stone walls at least thirty feet thick. Squat towers broke up the smooth face of the walls, laden with siege weaponry and flapping with Brithlitian pendants. The road, which we had left so long ago, appeared a little the our side and snaked through the last canyons before ending up at the gate.

Unlike my vision, there was no army without the walls, only a few scattered companies–a couple hundred at most. Their camps were neat and orderly, evenly spaced a couple hundred feet from each other and the walls. One sat on the road itself, acting as a guard post or waypoint of some kind. Despite the distance, I could just make out tiny soldiers sitting around or training, the red light of the setting sun catching on their polished armor.

How were we supposed to approach this? I was an exile, one who had rejected the gods’ invitation to return and pay penance for my crimes. Korra had abandoned the world for me and was likely just as hunted as I was. Even if they didn’t recognize us immediately, the soldiers before me were a clear sign of the war raging between Enusia and the demons. Would they really just let a demonkin waltz in and demand a healer?

My tail twitched as my fears piled up, and I had to constantly remind myself that there was a path that led to Korra being healed. I had to have faith and trust what I had seen, no matter how impossible it seemed. Korra’s life depended on it.

The Nexus spell had yet to break and still bound our souls together, but the rest of my magic had since dissipated. After hours of desperate travel, my mana had slowly regenerated, leaving me with a little over half–just enough for a few fifth-circle spells or a sixth-circle array. It wasn’t much, not if we found ourselves at odds with the soldiers below, but it gave me enough confidence to take the next step."

"Let’s approach from the road," I murmured into Fable’s ear. "We’ll have to face them eventually, so it’d be better to get this over with. And if there’s someone powerful enough to help Korra, the soldiers will know about them."

He let out a soft bark and nodded, and then we were streaking down the rocky mountainside. Fable had maintained his condensed form the entire time, finding it easier to maneuver the tight canyons and crevasses and allowing him to conserve his strength. I wasn’t the only one exhausted after fighting the centipede.

As we approached the camp, my heartbeat accelerated, thudding painfully against the inside of my chest. My grip on Fable tightened and my tail flicked back and forth anxiously. Just what exactly was I supposed to say? How could I possibly convince them to help us? IT had taken me weeks to even try and talk to the Glory Chasers, so what was I going to do amid a crowd of hostile strangers? Biting my lip, I glanced down at Korra in my lap and wished for the thousandth time she was able to help me. She’d know just what to say, how to connect with them and get what we needed.

But she wasn’t here, and it was up to me. Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage and urged Fable forward, breaking out onto the flatlands about the city. The camp stirred at our coming, soldiers swarming out like ants and taking positions around the road. Fable slowed to a walk as we approached, and I clutched Korra to my chest, my tail trembling.

Steadying myself a deep breath reached forward and rested a hand on Fable’s neck, stroking him softly. "Be still, " I whispered, "don’t cause any trouble, even if they attack. We can’t risk offending them."

The soldiers were swift and disciplined, their movements reflecting the stance and grace of experienced veterans. There were thirty of them out now, the weakest among them was third-level, the strongest fifth, making up one of the strongest companies I’d ever seen before. Something about them was vaguely familiar, itching the back of my mind as I gazed about with wide eyes.

They stared back at me, eyes crawling over my exposed horns and tail, before shifting down to the ashen-faced girl in my arms. There was hostility and caution, yet also curiosity. They murmured to each other, their voices tickling my ears yet too quiet to fully discern.

"Halt!"

The one who finally challenged us was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a crested helmet and thick gold detail on his breastplate. His fifth-level aura was restrained, but his very voice and presence were commanding, practically overflowing with charisma. He carried a long spear with a gold ribbon tied just beneath the spearhead. The weapon shone with light, bearing a fourth-circle enchantment designed to cut through physical and magical defenses. That, combined with the difference the other soldiers gave him, proved this man was far more than a mere foot soldier.

My grip on Korra tightened, my heart stuttering through the next few seconds. "Please, we need your help. My friend is hurt, she needs a healer."

The commanding soldier’s grip on his spear tightened, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And what reason could a demonkin possibly have for assuming we’d offer aid? I’m surprised there’s any of your kind left in this land at all, and that you haven’t fled to the demons."

"Please," I whispered, clasping my hands together pleadingly, "if not for me, then her. She’s–"

"A spy? If you think we’d fall for such an obvious ruse, then you demons have truly underestimated us," the man spat, "You come flaunting your filth and riding a demon, and expect us to believe you?"

I swallowed hard, looking around the ring of soldiers. Hardened eyes returned my desperate gaze, suspicion swallowing up any of the curiosity and sympathy our arrival had garnered. A weight settled in my stomach, a tremor passing down my tail, as I looked back at the officer. I opened my mouth, hoping that something, anything, would come out and explain it in a way that saved Korra, but he slashed his hand through the air, cutting me off.

"Take them. I’ll have the truth if I have to force it out myself," he ordered.

The soldier’s grip on their weapons tightened, and Fable tensed, his lips curling back in a growl. His fifth-level aura swept out, and the soldiers’ breath hitched, all but the strongest suppressed by his strength. The officer took a step forward, his spear pointed at my chest. His soul swelled with power, gathering enough mana for a fifth-level magical technique.

"What the hell is going on here?" The loud voice cut through the tension like a knife, carrying a question that sounded far more like an order.

The officer flinched in surprise, glancing over his shoulder as another man elbowed his way through the encirclement. The soldiers resisted at first, yet the moment they caught sight of his face, they pressed a gauntlet to their breastplate and stood aside. In seconds, a path was clear and the man pushed into the circle, coming up beside the officer.

The newcomer was a bear of a man, at least six feet tall and broad as an ox. He lacked the full plate armor of the other soldiers, dressed in plain leather trousers and a loose, lace-up shirt. The laces were loose, revealing a hairy chest laced with thick scars, as though he’d been struck by a dragon’s claw. It was a terrible wound, but the scars tickled my memory again, the itch growing even stronger. Had I seen in him Brithlite before? Why did he look so familiar?

The man returned my gaze evenly, but a moment later his eyes widened. I shivered as he continued to stare, his face gradually filling with recognition, until began to flick uneasily. Before, we had been spies, but did he recognize us as traitors? His soul was sixth-level, and in our exhausted and wounded state, we’d be completely unable to resist. If he attacked us now, then–

My thoughts evaporated into confusion as he took a step forward, his voice falling to a disbelieving whisper. "Lady Xiviyah? Is that really you?"

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