Gerik could not wait for the morning to come. Jeri was as talkative as he was before and kept his distance from the Old Cleric during their conjoined shift. The silence that hung in the air allowed what tales told to entertain Yule to settle, set, and fester in his mind.
They had truth to them, though Inra teased Mathias endlessly over their slaying of some sort of fantastic monstrosity. Kor told Inra of places beneath the ground, massive labyrinths filled with all strange architecture, topped by an endless jungle that stretched on and on in all directions. Inra continued with her tales of dragons and deep, deep purple seas and shimmering ships of silver and gold.
Rial had not been a storyteller, though offered their own take of the dark places he called home, and how they managed to bring home something called a displacer beast to a friend.
Jeri, of course, kept their distance and their vigil. Sometimes as Gerik stood guard, he caught the soft glow of the pipe for only a moment, always somewhere different, and gone before he could focus on it completely. That constant quiet allowed questions to form, clawing at the back of his mind.
Where did these people come from? Who sent them?!
Gerik did not recognize any of these fantastical locations or things they described, yet again, there was no lying to him. And Gerik was not stupid.
They were not from Gerik's World.
Rial had admitted as much during their first meeting, shocked to learn that there were no Dragons or Drow on 'your world' as he put it. Gerik may have been old, his knees were hurting him standing for so long, the air escaped his lungs far sooner than it had in his youth, and it hurt to pee. But the mind? Gerik's mind was still sharp.
And it plagued him.
If they were here helping him to protect Yule, were there others out there helping Hardran?
Was this some sort of game, or a last-ditch effort to protect the young one?
Where did they come from, how did they know to find Gerik here?!
The Dark Elf calling for him shook Gerik out of his thoughts. The camp was broken and breakfast was served cold. The Foxkin came into Gerik's peripheral vision, gesturing towards Rial. They gave him some sort of report before crawling into the wagon, not at all helping in breaking down any of the camp at all.
Once more, Jeri had wrapped themselves up in that stolen cloak and drank a potion, keeping themselves isolated from the rest. Yule who had been next in the wagon immediately walked right over to Jeri and patted the Foxkin on the head, before making off with that book with the paintings in them. There had been a grumble from Jeri, yet nothing more as whatever alchemic potency in those vials took hold, forcing the thing into sleep.
Avina put herself between Jeri and Yule a short moment after, forcing Yule to scoot further away from the Foxkin, curling up like an oversized cat, with maw and eyes on the little girl. They were riding again, Inra having more to say about those winged cousins of the pseudo-dragon, Avina, even offering tales for what lay in 'Lil Suzzie's' book.
They were trying to distract Yule. To make this dark chapter in this little one's life a tad brighter than what it was.
After the switch, Gerik once found himself in the wagon opposite of Jeri. Again, the Foxkin, other than sudden intakes of breath, had been sound asleep. Again, as soon as Gerik took his eyes off of it for more than a moment, they were awake, though this time around they had a different book cracked open at the spine.
Red Leather, with golden swords crossing each other over a gold heart.
"Another 'romance novel'?" Gerik asked drily.
For longer than a few heartbeats, Jeri's eyes simply stared through Gerik once more. There was still an air of veiled hostility between the Foxkin and the Human. Darting towards Yule, the almost shiny eyes turned once more towards Gerik, before the cold expression relaxed.
"Tragic one," Jeri finally replied, and now Yule peeked over the picture book to her 'Uncle Puppy' as they spoke. "Boy and Girl fall in love, Boy dies in a War, Girl tries to move on with Boy's Brother not knowing Brother killed the Boy in order to get with the Girl,"
Jeri sniffed, closing the book, "I really do not like this story, ends poorly,"
"Like happy endings do you?" Gerik asked, and shook his head slowly, "Not all stories end happily,"
"And those stories are poorly written and poorly told," Jeri retorted, flicking a red finger Gerik's way, then shifted it towards Yule. "The hero should win, all of the time, isn't that right, Yule?"
"Right!" came the enthusiastic reply.
Jeri and Yule seem to nod exactly at the same time in agreement with one and other, and the Foxkin continued, flashing Gerik that cold smile, "See, the young one is smarter than the elder,"
Yule chimed in as well, "Smarter!"
A frown pulled on Gerik's as Jeri and Yule shared their moment, and the man rolled his eyes. He was about to chastise them both on their rather childish insult when the wagon shifted, and they heard a sharp crack.
"Out!" Inra ordered sharply and brought the wagon to a sudden halt.
Gerik quickly scooped up Yule and rolled over the wagon lip, brandishing his morning star as fast as he could. Another sharp crack and Gerik found the source. One of the wheels had snapped, then broke as the weight of the wagon settled in its stop. It had been a rear wheel, and though it still remained upright, it was only thanks in part to the other three wheels and the weight distribution within the wagon itself.
Rial had turned around, calling out for Mathias. As the Dark Elf got a decent view, he gritted his teeth, "Gerik, how far would you say we are from Myra?"
"On foot? We won't make it before nightfall, maybe tomorrow afternoon,"
A quick shake of their head and Rial inspected the wheel once more, "Mathias? Can you fix this?"
"I am neither a woodweaver nor do I have the tools," Mathias shot back, not seeing the problem yet, "Ask Inra, she has the hammer,"
"We are not leaving Inra behind either," Jeri said as if reading Rial's mind, and the Dark Elf made a dismissive gesture. Gerik understood they would have to ride on the horses, and Inra may look physically capable, the Old Cleric felt the wagon shift considerably when the Gold Broodling moved around. Inra was too heavy for horses.
"I did think of that, sorry Inra," Rial admitted with a frown, "Both you and Jeri would fair better on your own against the undead then Gerik and the Child,"
"I understand," Inra seemed to agree without being angry or annoyed at the prospect.
Jeri, however, bared his teeth, "I'm the only expendable one you got Rial, Inra is the only one who can keep us on our feet and fighting,"
"I can do that!" Mathias announced.
Jeri dismissed them immediately, "Poorly,"
"Shut up!" Rial snapped at them, "Take what we can from the wagon, release the horses, we'll go as far as Inra can and rest where she stops,"
"Jeremiah!" Rial shouted angrily, moving their horse closer to the Foxkin, Jeri's ears pressed against their scalp, but did not move from where they stood. Rial pulled a book from beneath their breastplate and jabbed it towards Jeri, as if homing in the point they were making. "That is the second time you've shown your teeth at me this trip, there will not be a third, is that understood?"
"Yes," Jeri agreed, though did not look ashamed or away.
The Dark Elf nodded sternly, slipped off their horse, and started to help free the horses from the wagon.
"What's wrong?" Yule finally asked Gerik, who had taken her off to the side to let the party have their exchange and to work. "The wheel broke?"
"Yes young one, we can't fix it, so we have to leave it behind,"
"Do they need a new wheel?" Yule asked hopefully.
Gerik grimaced a moment, "Can you?"
Yule nodded and smiled, quickly skipping over to one of the other wheels that were attached. As she leaned in and inspect it, Gerik leaned against his shield, "Alright everyone, back away from the wagon,"
"What is she doing?" Rial asked, and they all stopped to see what the young girl was doing.
"Just give it a minute," Gerik said, making a motion to give Yule space.
With a nod of her head, Yule turned around on the spot and held out her hands. A flash blinded them, Geirk had turned his head, and when they could see once more, there, standing perfectly upright, had been a wagon wheel.
Mathias reached out instantly to keep it from falling over, but other than Gerik and Yule, all of them were dumbfounded. They looked at the wheel, then Yule, then the wheel again, trying to wrap their heads around it. It was an exact match. It looked like a fancier variation of the wheels wagon. The one conjured had had newer metal fixings and what looked like reinforced spokes.
Rial had been first to recover from the blind stupor, and clapped his gloved hand once, "Enough gawking, get the wheel, and let's go!"
As Inra, Kor, and Mathias tended to the work, Jeri drifted from them to turn around and watch the road. Rial drifted closer to Gerik, who again had Yule next to him, and his hand on her shoulder.
The Drow looked from the Old Cleric to his Charge, "Was that what I think it was?"
"Yes, and do not overthink of where the Wheel came from, as I will not think too hard on where you people came from,"
Rial arched a brow.
"I'm not stupid," Gerik informed Rial, "I was, after all, an Inquisitor,"
A smile formed on those ebon lips, yet before Rial could respond, Jeri shouted, "Rial! Incoming!"
Less than a heartbeat later, birds screeched overhead, fleeing over their heads in sheer panic. There had been no uniformity in species or color, they were wild flock that was running from something in the deepening dark of the Shade Wood. The Horses were next, they shifted uncomfortably on their feet, neighing in fright. sensing something before the rest could, yet did not flee.
Rial knew what was coming, they all did, and without asking scooped up Yule and headed towards the Wagon, "Mathias?"
Gerik, with minor fascination, watched as Mathias again showed their strength by hoisting the wagon up a few inches with a shoulder. Kor quickly changed out the old wheel for the new and stepped aside, allowing Inra to jam in the fastening bits with practiced ease and displaying control and skill with her Maul in tapping down the wheel. The Broodling inspected the wheel by tugging it lightly and satisfied that it fits, flicked her tail against the ground.
"Done!" Inra reported for Mathias, who offered little more than a grunt as they slowly set the wagon down.
"Dogs!" Jeri shouted again, half turning to them all, "Gather at the end of the Wagon!"
They all did as instructed, pulling their horses close to the wagon's end with Jeri standing a few feet away in the center of the road.
"Stay close to me," Kor reached out and touched Gerik's shoulder, and linked their round shield to Gerik's towering one. "And close your eyes, this is going to be bright,"
"Jeri?" Rial asked the Foxkin.
"Just stay behind me, Inra, get ready!" the Foxkin called back, and placed a hand on Diplomacy, flicking away the wrapping to reveal a heavily decorated sword that shone with its own inner light. There was wording on the blade that Gerik could not immediately make out, but he felt the sword, even from here. It was a sensation of awe. Like walking into the Grand Cathedral on the Capital for the first time, and seeing the vaulted ceilings, and the vast, enclosed emptiness bathed in the Light of the Gods.
They heard the baying in the distance, the haggard barking of the dogs with puss-filled lungs and broken throats as they drew ever closer. They came in a terrifyingly short amount of time. Undead Hounds that ran on all fours, or even threes, with fur molted, flesh graying, teeth exposed from rotting lips, obviously dead and moving with unnatural power to chase down their prey. Gerik had seen these things once before, a long time ago, and once felt terror and dread. Now with Diplomacy exposed, and Jeri simply holding the hilt, Gerik felt nothing but that feeling of being near something, holy.
The Foxkin did not raise the weapon from where they held it, blade tip still on the ground, gripping it with a single hand, waiting for them to draw closer. For what, Gerik did not know or understand, so all he could do was watch. Jeri held that stance until the snarling, barking, and horrible things were virtually on top of them.
Then Jeri thrust Diplomacy in the air, and a golden wave erupted from the pearl white blade, bathing the area around him in light that for a fleeting moment, had been as bright as the sun.
Gerik did not recognize the kind of lettering that sprawled down the length of the blade, and nearly cried out at the brilliance that stung his eyes, drawing tears. That golden wave however felt like a warm summer's breeze, and the light that stabbed at his eyes eased until the sensation was no longer a hindrance. Gerik blinked away the dampness of his eyes and peered over the shield.
And could not believe what he saw.
The Undead wave of Dogs had been turned to ash, which scattered around the Foxkin like a tornado of gray leaves that disappeared shortly after that. Diplomacy struck the ground blade first, and Jeri leaned on it, heavily, as if for support. There were more of the creatures coming, undeterred by the destruction of their kin. And just as they surrounded the group once more, it was Inra shouting a word of power into the air, with hammer aloft in the above that brought forth another golden wave of light. It was not as intense or as bright, but the same warm summer breeze washed over Gerik, the same awe and wonder.
This time, Gerik could see the monstrous things turn to dust as the light touched them. Yet unlike Diplomacy, some of the creatures remained standing, though momentarily halted in their tracks with fur and flesh burning at the light's touch. It was as if they were stunned from the shock wave that did nothing but filled Gerik with hope, and courage. It was here the group around Gerik dispersed forward and started putting the undead things down.
Rial had shot three before Mathias or Inra could reach Jeri, Gerik could not even hear the twang of Rial's Bow as arrow after arrow sped into target after target. Avina bit the head off of one of the dogs and punctured one repeatedly with her tail until it stopped moving. Mathias cleaved into multiple creatures of dead flesh with each swing of that long, curved blade of theirs, again showing a brutal efficiency with their chosen weapon. Inra's hammer not only crushed the things but turned them into ash even before their bodies could be placed into the ground. Inra's tail also cracked into the sides of the undead things, breaking bone and sending them scattering away just like her brutal hammer. Jeri's Diplomacy continued to leave ash in its wake, the Foxkin did not move from where they had initially engaged their foe, leaving nothing but whirling gray dust in the air with every sword stroke.
Neither Kor nor Gerik joined, Gerik did not want to leave Yule undefended, and Kor was not leaving Gerik, Yule, nor Rial. Kor's sword had been drawn and rested on top of their round shield with eyes hunting for anything that passed beyond Mathias or Inra. Nothing of the dead reached the Wagon, and the fight was, in a brutal few moments, over.
But they all knew there was more coming, lingering in the quicking dark.
"Call!?" Rial demanded.
Gerik observed as each turned on the spot, scanning around themselves before shouting "Well!" individually, except, of course, for the Foxkin.
"Ale!" had been Jeri's reply, they sounded tired, and they took a knee as they gathered the wrapping for Diplomacy.
"Walk it off!" Rial called back, "Mount up, we are leaving,"
Gathering themselves, Mathias said the obvious as they mounted their horse, "I'm impressed these beasts stayed while the wildlife fled, much less stayed calm,"
"They are used to the dead, and that feeling of them being near," Rial explained, already sitting high in their own saddle, "Gerik!"
The Old Cleric had not moved far from, genuinely stupefied on how quickly these people had ended the fight.
"Don't think too hard on it," Rial said, offering Gerik a warm, friendly smile, "Not our first time against the things such as these,"
The comment made Gerik smile back, and with the help of Inra, Gerik got back into the wagon and sat down, with Yule quickly clutching at their Guardian. Gerik rested a hand on her shoulder to comfort her and brought the shield around the guard her further. Jeri crawled into the wagon with effort, collapsing into that same spot they occupied, and was unmoving as the wagon started forward.
As Jeri lay there, Gerik could clearly see everything on the naked blade dubbed Diplomacy.
There was no stain marrying the metal, which continued to glow with its own power. The lettering, alien to Gerik's mind, yet somehow he understood them by a glance, Mercy of Angels. There was more dark lettering on the white steel, with different markings and sigils surrounding what the Old Cleric could read, yet unlike the lettering that stretched the length of the blade, he could not fathom their meaning or origin.
There was genuine disappointment in Gerik's heart as Jeri finally managed to start concealing the blade beneath the blanket. The weapon itself had been a masterpiece of its craft, it should be exposed. It should be held in display and reverence!
After wrapping the sword up, Jeri leaned back against the wagon wall and struggled to pry their hand from the hilt. It took effort, to Gerik's surprise, for Jeri to free themselves from the weapon, and once free, relief spread across that furry red face, and they closed their dark eyelids to rest.
"That takes a toll on you," Gerik observed, and Jeri's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and seeking the source of the voice. Then the Old Cleric could not help himself. "Where did you come by Diplomacy?"
He was not expecting an immediate answer, if at all, yet the Foxkin surprised the Old Cleric with a rather blunt, "From someone who owes me blood,"
Gerik noted from the corner of his eye, Inra had turned her head back to do a quick inspection of the Foxkin as well, human-like concern on her scale-covered face. Jeri noted it, and called up, "I'm fine Inra,"
"What does it do to you?" Gerik asked, gesturing back at Inra, "I have a touch of the healing magic myself,"
"Nothing magic or alchemy can cure," Jeri dismissed instantly, "Just some rest, and some booze,"
"Everyone is okay, right Uncle Rik?" Yule asked from beneath the shield, "Even the horsy's?"
"Yes, even the Horses, you were very brave," Gerik stroked her hair.
"Yeah," Jeri offered up, energy-returning to their voice. The Foxkin had recovered enough that they had wrapped themselves in that stolen cloak. "Yule was the bravest here, Kor almost cried like a baby,"
"I heard that!" Kor shouted, yet all Jeri did was smile fiercely. Kor was riding just next to the wagon, with Mathias on the other side, flanking it. Gerik rose up and saw that Rial was near the Horses, and Avina was sitting next to Inra, their head turned around in an impossible fashion, staring back towards the dark.
Something else was going on, Gerik knew that with the formation change. The pace had been quicker than it had been before, and they were all very watchful.
Except, of course, the Foxkin, who did not seem to care what was going on beyond the wagon walls.
Their focus seemed to be on Yule beneath the shield. "Everything alright under there?"
"I am safest here," Yule said, though she retreated further behind Gerik's tower shield. "Uncle Rik's shield is unbreakable!"
"Is it?" Jeri asked, glancing at Gerik.
"Yes!" Yule affirmed before Gerik could confirm or deny. "He is going to beat that, that bum!"
"Yes, little one," Jeri agreed, tilting their fox-like head to the side once more stare through Gerik as they had done before. There was no hostility this time as the golden eyes bore into the Old Cleric's skull. For an instant, Gerik sensed something else. Pity? Sorrow? Why? Why would Jeri be looking at him like that? "He will, with a bit of help from Uncle Jeri,"
The ride was not long before the Wagon was slowed to a halt. Gerik shifted to see what was going on and realized they were in sight of the Bridge Town. But something had been obviously off. The gate was half-open, there were men idling around lit torches as the sky grew dim beyond the trees, and stars starting to wink into existence.
"Jeri!" Rial called, and the Foxkin stood up, ears pricked forward. "We got a problem, Gerik when we get to the gates we are leaving the wagon,"
Of Course, Gerik asked, "What's wrong?"
"The enemy," Rial responded quickly, looking on towards the Gate itself, "They are wearing a lighter version of the armor of the bastards Jeri introduced himself too,"
"Mathias you've front, Kor, Inra, Prioritize Gerik," Rial instructed sternly, " Gerik, once we get to the gate your goal is to get to the other side of the bridge, do not linger behind for us. No telling how many are on the otherwise,"
"We can't leave you behind!" Yule immediately protested.
"Young one the harsh truth is that you are all that is important. We will defend you to the end," Rial smiled sadly down at Yule, "But I promise we will find you after the fighting,"
"You are not gonna go die?" Yule asked innocently.
They all chuckled at the question. It was not a nervous one, or even one to show their bravado. Gerik's brows furrowed, it was a genuine laugh. They all thought it was funny.
"Trust me, Yule, you should pity the bad people," Rial offered with a reflective smile. Then Rial looked at Jeri and pointed at them. "Uncle Puppy!"
The immediate growl from the Foxkin told Gerik that Jeri really did not like being called that. The party offered up more chuckling at the Foxkin's discomfort, uncaring of the glare the Foxkin gave them all.
"Leave Diplomacy in the wagon, I need you to go over the wall and do what you do,"
Jeri instantly dropped that holy sword, discarding it like it was little more than a tool being dropped by a disgusted wielder. Gerik had almost been insulted for some reason, and nearly spat at the Foxkin.
"What if we need it again?" Inra asked, pulling her hammer over to her, "I cannot be everywhere at once, Rial,"
"It doesn't have a scabbard or a safe way to carry it," Rial argued. "Jeri can come and claim it later, if not, then it will not be very hard to find."
No. Gerik thought to himself. That weapon could very well win this nightmarish war. The Gods, as far as he was concerned, not only delivered salvation for Yule, but brought forth the means to destroy Hardran.
Gerik stood up, and held out his tower shield, revealing the rest where his morning star found itself. "My shield has an adjustable position for a sword, I can carry it without touching the hilt,"
There was a moment that Jeri and Rial seemed to offer each other knowing looks before the Foxkin simply slipped out of the back of the wagon.
"That is rather convenient," Rial remarked dryly, then added, noting Gerik knew enough through their own observation that the weapon affected Jeri "And you are smart."
"The warning is simple, Gerik," Rial began, leaning towards the Old Cleric with a deathly serious tone ringing in their words, "You take up that sword, you think of only Yule,"
"I will die otherwise?" Gerik quipped and leaned down to pick up the sword by the bundle. He had to expose the weapon again, though carefully held it by the wrappings as he aligned the blade, and slid it into a scabbard built on the inside of the tower shield. Diplomacy, and all its glowing glory, easily fit inside, and Gerik had to do little in adjusting the fittings. The hilt rested well above the armrest, yet did not peak over the edge of the shield. All Gerik had to do was take it by that glittering golden hilt, and pull.
It was as if the sword was made for this very hold. The Words, Mercy of Angels, unobscured short of the gripping for the shield.
Gerik turned, slightly, catching Rials expression, which had been impassive, and unsurprised. What the Old Cleric did not know was Jeri had already inspected their shield. They had already made the adjustments. The Foxkin reported what they had done to Rial that morning.
They had already made the arrangements, and all of this, right now, the attack, and now the pending battle with whatever lay at the gate was being used for their own benefit. If not now, then it would have been later. All of this, of course, was Rial just pre-planning on Jeri's assumption that the Lich was supercharged by that blood sacrament. There was no way of knowing, but Rial would not be blindsided by it.
Yet Gerik did not know, to him, this seemed fated that he would come into possession of this strangely named sword. As the Old Human looked into the ruby eyes of the supposed Dark Elf's, Rial corrected Gerik's statement of 'dying otherwise'.
"No," Rial offered as they turned away. "But you'd wish you did,"