Chương 102: Garrison

Mark of Hollow Reach. Breakstep. The wind screamed around Vera as she tore across the open sky, her feet finding purchase where there was none. Each step struck empty air with a thunderous crack, launching her forward in bursts of force that sent startled birds scattering from the trees below. The ground blurred beneath her in streaks of green, brown, and blue. Forest, stream, and grassland rushed past so quickly that even she barely had time to register them before they were gone.

Vera let the ridiculous exhilaration of it all burn away the lingering mess Yria had left in her head, fixing her gaze on the mountains ahead. The Thrynewall rose in the distance like a dark, jagged barricade. Ridge after ridge climbed into the sky, their black stone faces cutting upward through veils of pale cloud where they blocked the lowlands from the regions further south. But there was one place where the wall broke.

A narrow split cut between two immense ridges, winding inward until it vanished behind overlapping shelves of stone. A pass that twisted back and forth instead of running straight through, as if the mountains had only grudgingly allowed its presence. The Thryne Passes. At the mouth of the pass stood a fortified garrison built from gray-blue stone, its walls braced against the mountains on either side.

Square towers guarded the approach, their upper platforms lined with soldiers, ballistae, and long strips of hanging canvas snapping in the wind. In front of the garrison sprawled an extensive war camp. Rows of tents covered the broken ground in uneven grids, broken up by cookfires, supply wagons, horse lines, training yards, and muddy footpaths packed down by what might very well have been thousands of boots.

Tiny figures moved between them in steady streams, carrying crates, sharpening weapons, hauling water, and doing whatever soldiers did when no one was actively trying to kill them. The flags flown over both the camp and the garrison boasted colors that were familiar to Vera.

The Covenant's simple charcoal with a single vertical flame in white-gold, the blackened sun sigil of the Pyric Oath, the crossed-brand mark of the Ashward Companies, the river-laced blue-and-silver banner of Darnelle, and half a dozen others belonging to smaller factions and bands. Nearly all things she remembered from Ashen Legacy. One more Hollow Reach brought Vera directly above the outer edge of the camp, several dozen meters in the air. Heads snapped upward beneath her.

Someone shouted, and a cluster of soldiers near a wagon scattered as Breakstep launched her toward the garrison gate. Vera twisted as she descended, letting Stillwake vanish back into her Vaultring just before she hit the ground in front of the open gate. The impact cracked through the ground. Dirt dipped beneath her boots, dust jumped from the seams, and the air boomed, maybe just a touch sharper than she meant to, making the nearest soldiers flinch.

Up on the wall, a man in dull plate nearly stumbled backward over the parapet before catching himself with one hand on the stone. His spear wobbled in his grip as he stared down at her. More shouts sounded out. Behind her, men and women spilled from tents, reaching for swords, bows, and shields. On the wall, more soldiers rushed into view from the towers, while barked orders cut through the sudden chaos. Vera raised both hands before anyone decided to try stabbing over diplomacy.

A man in a dark blue officer's coat pushed through the soldiers gathering above the gate and stopped near the center of the wall. He was broad-shouldered, graying at the temples, and didn't look particularly happy about the mess she'd caused.

"Who are you?" he called down.

"Identify yourself." Vera turned her arms slightly, letting the sigil-scars show clearly against her skin.

"Veralyth Mournvale," she said.

"Maybe you've heard of me?" The captain's eyes widened. A ripple passed through the soldiers on the wall, and behind her, Vera heard the murmurs start and spread quickly.

"Mournvale?"

"The Ascendant?"

"That's not possible."

"She's not dead?" The captain's expression tightened. There was some suspicion there. Vera supposed that was fair enough. If some legendary figure who was supposed to be missing dropped out of the sky in front of her gate and announced herself like that, she might have been suspicious as well. A woman with close-cropped brown hair stepped nearer to the captain. She kept her voice low, but not low enough that Vera didn't overhear some of the words.

"Captain, I've seen the Ashborn Ascendant before. That's her." The captain glanced at her, then looked back down at Vera.

"…What is your purpose here?" he asked.

"I'd like to speak with whoever's in charge." These were the forces Elaria had told her about. A mixed contingent of several northern factions and core forces that the Covenant had sent north before, but that were now supposed to be moving south to help against the advancing Unraveling threat there. Instead, though, they'd been stuck here for over a month because of the ice storms tearing through the pass. Vera didn't technically have business with them. At least not directly.

But since Ashmark communication with this army had been unreliable, and the Covenant had only been able to reach them intermittently through non-Resonance-based methods, Vera felt like checking on the situation was the obvious move. Also, these people were probably the last ones who had seen Mira. That made them worth talking to, if only briefly. The captain exchanged a few quiet words with the woman beside him. Another soldier joined in, though his eyes stayed fixed on Vera the entire time.

While they talked, Vera glanced back over her shoulder. A broad half circle had formed at the edge of the camp, and it was growing quickly. Most of the people kept a careful distance, their expressions ranging from wariness to curiosity to the dawning, uncomfortable sort of awe Vera had first started seeing hints of in Marrowfen after she killed the Silent Lord. Vera tried to show them a relaxed smile. Finally, the captain spoke again.

"We can bring you to our commander," he said.

"Do you have anything to verify your identity?" Vera turned back to him.

"Oh. Right. Yes, I do." From her Vaultring, she pulled out the metal signet ring Elaria had given her. It bore Elaria's personal sigil on the face, along with the mark of the Pyric Oath worked into the band with a surprising degree of detail. Vera had been half-tempted to ask the woman if she had a bunch of these just lying around, but she had—probably pretty wisely—refrained. The captain disappeared from the wall with two soldiers at his back. A minute later, they emerged through the gate and approached her.

The two soldiers kept their hands away from their weapons, but Vera could tell just from their Resonance that they were tense. When they stopped in front of her, she held out the ring. The captain took it and studied the metal closely. His brow furrowed as his thumb passed over the Pyric Oath's mark, then over Elaria's sigil. Whatever he saw there must have satisfied him, because his posture shifted a fraction. It didn't relax, but it certainly turned more respectful. He returned the ring and dipped his head.

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"Lady Ascendant." Vera blinked at the title.

"Just Mournvale is fine."

"I understand, Lady Mournvale. If you would come with me." The man brought her through the open gates and into the garrison proper. Inside, the place looked less like a fortress prepared to ride out a battle and more like one that had been forced to cram one too many people inside its walls.

Soldiers moved through the yards in tight knots, many of them out of armor or only half-dressed in it as they hauled crates, while the dirt paths had been beaten into a muddy mess that clung to boots, hems, trouser legs, and the lower stones of basically every building in sight. A lot of eyes looked over as Vera passed. The farther they got from the gates, the less people seemed aware of what was going on. The stares started curious, but one way or another, recognition spread as soldiers whispered to one another.

Here and there, certain people straightened too quickly, as if they'd just realized they were slouching too much, while to Vera's left, a woman actually gasped and fainted. Vera almost stopped to help, but others were quick to help the woman, and the captain in front of Vera motioned for her to keep going, sending annoyed glances at the people around them. Eventually, the captain led her toward a square tower built against the mountainside at the rear of the garrison.

Its lower levels had been carved directly into the dark stone, while the upper floors rose in stacked tiers of gray-blue masonry reinforced by sigil-crafted iron bands. Vera followed him up a winding stair, past narrow windows and several guarded landings, until they reached one of the highest chambers. The captain first asked her to wait in a small antechamber before disappearing through a heavy door. Left alone with the two guards, Vera tried very hard to act casual. A moment later, the door opened again.

"This way, Lady Mournvale." Vera followed him into a spacious command room with a long table, several map boards, and an open fortified balcony overlooking the garrison and the mouth of the Thryne Passes. What caught Vera's attention most was the perch standing on the balcony. Resting on it was a large owl with smoke-gray feathers, a pale face, and long black tufts rising from either side of its head like horns. Its eyes were closed, but Vera got the faint impression that it was watching her.

Behind a desk situated at the far end of the room, a middle-aged man rose to his feet. He was wane-born, with silvery hair that was braided into several long cords falling over one shoulder, and a neatly trimmed beard threaded with a few darker streaks. His uniform was ashgray and looked far more formal than the captain's, with creases along the elbows that Vera assumed meant he'd worn it for a while. He gestured for the others to leave, then rounded the desk to greet her.

"Lady Mournvale, welcome to Thrynewatch. I'd heard you were still missing, but it's an honor to meet you here."

"Thank you," Vera said.

"I've actually been back for a while now, but I'm guessing news has been moving slowly." She studied him for a second.

"Sorry for having to ask, but have we met before?" A mild smile touched the man's face.

"We have, but I would be surprised if you remembered me. I was present for several of the larger war councils you attended during the campaign against the Chainfather Cult, though I was only a marshal at the time." He pressed a fist to his chest and lowered his head slightly.

"High-Marshal Helton, Keeper of Ashward's Fourth Company, and the Covenant-appointed commander of this contingent, greets you. My men informed me that you carry a signet granted by the Flamebearer herself?"

"That's right." Vera brought the signet ring out again, letting him examine it as she took him and his Resonance in. Ninth Binding, from the look of it. Fairly close to the Tenth, as well.

"Have you been sent here to help, Lady Mournvale?" Helton asked as he returned the ring, seeming satisfied with what it showed.

"Not directly," Vera replied.

"But if there's something causing you grief, I can probably lend a hand."

"Causing us grief?" His brows rose slightly. Then he gave a dry, amused smile and shook his head.

"Other than our inability to cross the passes, I doubt there is much here worth lowering someone of your standing to handle."

"But the passes are still blocked, then?"

"Unfortunately."

"Do you know what's causing it?" Helton motioned toward the balcony, and Vera followed him outside. They stopped before a stone parapet that reached her chest, giving them a clear view of the jagged mouth of the pass rising ahead. The owl shifted on its perch as Vera drew near. Its eyes opened. They were a cold, luminous gold, ringed by thin circles of black. Both fixed directly on Vera with a level of focus that felt far too deliberate for a normal bird. Vera met its stare, a faint frown pulling at her mouth.

"It isn't especially visible from here," Helton said, drawing her attention back to the mountains, "but can you see those clouds?" He pointed toward the pass, above the dark peaks where the ridges cut a line through the sky. Vera squinted. At first, the clouds looked like nothing more than a pale smear caught between the mountains. But then she saw that some of them were moving, churning too quickly and folding over themselves in restless spirals that didn't match the calmer sky around them.

"That's the storm, then?"

"Precisely. We haven't been able to confirm the cause, but the storm itself is highly localized. It occupies the inner reaches of the pass and almost nowhere else. However, our sigilists suspect that whatever is sustaining it is not anchored to a single location within the pass."

"So it's moving?"

"That seems likely."

"I see…" Vera's eyes stayed on the clouds, a foreboding sensation rising in her chest. A thin mountain breeze slid over the balcony, tugging at her hair and carrying a biting chill that was far sharper than the mild lowland weather she'd been dealing with up till now. It wasn't freezing, exactly, but there was a strange edge to it. Helton turned to her.

"It is also worth noting that the storm appears to be growing stronger. When we first encountered it, our forward companies could make it nearly half a day into the passes before they were forced to turn back. Now, no one below the Seventh Binding can set foot inside without risking death within minutes. Even I can't go much farther than the outer reaches."

"What about Mira?"

"Mira?"

"Mireya Halstrad," Vera corrected herself.

"She's supposed to be here, isn't she? Do you know anything about that?" Helton was silent for a moment, his expression turning more careful.

"It's true that Lady Halstrad was here. As you likely know, she took it upon herself to investigate the passes. Unfortunately, it's unclear how much progress she has made."

"Then when did you last speak with her?"

"I believe it was shortly before she first entered the passes. Over a month ago now."

"… Are you sure she's still there, then?" Vera couldn't be completely sure about the Mira of this world, but the Mira she knew had been infamous in their guild for being annoyingly fickle. If she got bored with a dungeon run, a grinding route, or an entire game other than Ashen Legacy itself, she rarely hesitated to move on to the next thing without bothering to tell anyone. It wasn't unusual to start something with her, blink, and realize she'd quietly ditched the group half an hour ago.

Helton seemed to mistake her skepticism for worry, because his features softened a fraction.

"I think it unlikely that she has been severely harmed," he said.

"While I haven't met with her in person for some time, we received a message from her only a few days ago."

"You did? How? Ashmarks aren't working, are they?"

"By owl." The High-Marshal stepped closer to the perch and carefully raised a hand to stroke the owl's breast feathers. Vera looked between him and the owl.

"You're telling me Mireya sent that?"

"Yes." Her eyes narrowed slightly on the bird. The owl stared back at her. The Mira she remembered hated owls. Actually, Mira hated basically all things that had wings with feathers. It was stupid, but it was also one of the few things the woman had been aggressively consistent about for as long as Vera had known her, and the main topic that she and Kai fought over. Did that mean this Mira probably wasn't the same person?

The quiet little hope Vera had been holding somewhere dimmed slightly, but she kept her expression still. No. That didn't necessarily prove anything. Besides, something about this owl felt familiar to her. Not familiar in the obvious way, like she'd seen it before. It was more in the way that Yria felt familiar to her. She turned her attention back to Helton.

"If Mireya sent a message a few days ago, how can you still be unsure about her progress?" The man's mouth tightened slightly.

"She only sent three words.

'Working on it.'" Vera stared at him. Then a short laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it, because that sounded exactly like something Mira would write. She looked back at the owl. After a moment of consideration, she stepped closer and slowly offered her hand. The owl watched her fingers approach without moving. Then, just as Vera started to wonder if there was any risk she'd lose a finger, it leaned forward and pressed its head against her palm. Its feathers were surprisingly silky in texture.

Vera smiled, scratching it along the side of the neck.

"Let me guess," she murmured.

"You're a smug one, aren't you?" The owl closed its eyes again, almost seeming to preen, as if this degree of attention was only normal. After a while, Vera stepped back and rolled her shoulders.

"I'll see if I can help solve this storm situation," she said.

"I'm not making promises, but I'd recommend getting your people ready to march when the time comes."

"Don't worry," Helton replied.

"They are always prepared."

"That's good." Vera walked to the edge of the balcony and set one boot on the crenel of the parapet. Helton's brows rose.

"You are leaving now?" Vera turned back to him.

"Yep. I don't have much else to do here. Did you have anything you wanted to say?" The man opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider whatever he had been waiting to say. After a brief pause, he pressed a fist to his chest in a formal salute.

"No. We thank you for your aid, Lady Mournvale. May the Wounded Sun light your path."

"Mm. Sure." Vera stepped fully onto the parapet, facing him. She gave him a slightly lazy two-finger wave, then she let herself fall backward. Cold air rushed up around her. Stillwake appeared in her hand as she twisted through the drop, the garrison wall flashing past in a blur of gray-blue stone. She cut once, and a Hollow Reach opened beneath her. It swallowed her whole. A breath later, Vera landed on a narrow mountain shelf overlooking the mouth of the Thryne Passes. The garrison and war camp spread below her.

Ahead, the pass clawed into the mountains, where the storm waited. She used a few Breaksteps to carry herself higher, then another couple of Hollow Reaches to put herself closer to one of the peaks and get a better view. What she saw was a wide expanse of white and stone. Above it all, snow twisted in a ceaseless torrent, hanging so low across the sky that it looked less like a storm than another mountain coming down to crush the ones beneath it. Vera's expression gradually grew more grim.

Her grip tightened around Stillwake. She had hoped it wouldn't be the case, but that was bad. It also explained why Mira hadn't managed to solve things yet. Speaking of… It was time for Vera to find the woman. All she had to do was search an entire mountain pass. Easy, right? Mark of the Stillbound Veil.