Explorer

Explorer

The sound of Captain Zokein’s fist slamming onto the map table echoes through the room, making Jeremai’s heart stutter.

“It’s going to be a bloodbath,” growls the captain. “Carver’s Crew has us flanked. We can’t hold the town. Best we order the evacuation now, while there’s still some hope of getting the villagers out safely.”

“No! We’ve got this, Captain.” Jerimai straightens his shoulders, so that the Cartographer’s insignia on his shoulder glitters in the lamplight. “Those bandits may have numbers, but they don’t have our smarts. Or our maps. We’ll find a way. I swear it by the Divine Compass!”

He can feel Lita staring at him, but he doesn’t dare meet his partner’s dubious gaze. They’ve run from Carver’s Crew too many times. He isn’t going to let them take another village!

Zokein frowns at the pair, then across the table to Alexia and Brennon, the militia’s pathfolders. Finally, he gives a slow nod. “Very well. I’ll see to the fortifications. But we have little time. I’ll expect a report when I return.”

The captain stalks from the map room. Lita lets out a long, low breath as the door swings shut. “You sure about this, Jere?”

Jeremai begins pulling out the reference maps, covering the table in a patchwork that slowly reveals the thick woods surrounding the village, the too-distant neighboring towns, the roads already held by Carver’s Crew. “I’m sure I’m not letting these people down. There’s not enough time to get them all away, especially the elders. We’ve got to hold the village!”

He scans the maps, feeling the hum of power under his hands, seeing the shapes and patterns, searching for a solution, for the secrets of survey and mark, of elevation and grade, all the clues that come alive in his mind, like a vivid dream. Lita joins him, and together they hunch over the parchment, placing symbols, making marks, moving totems, searching for the means to defend the village.

Minutes slip past. He’s dimly aware of Alexia and Brennon, standing restless, eager for work. Finally, he straightens, neck stiff, back cracking. Gods, how long has it been? His stomach growls, and his mouth is dry as sand. But they have a plan. And it just might work.

“Alexia,” he says. “You’re going south to Crinton. Here’s your route. Find Marshal Lenex. She owes us for that help we gave her with the ichorfen last fall. If her people can attack here--” he taps a spot on the map-- “that should clear our southern flank.”

Alexia snaps a sharp salute, tucking the orders into her satchel.

“What about me?” asks Brannon.

Lita grins. “Oh, I’ve got something even more fun for you.” She brandishes a creamy scroll under Brannon’s nose.

“What is it?” asks Brannon, dubiously.

“A counterfeit map!” Lita waggles the scroll triumphantly. “Get close on the western arm of Carver’s Crew and let a few of the bandits see you and give chase. Then, while you’re ‘running for your life,’ find a way to ‘accidentally’ drop this. They’ll think they’ve scored a secret route into the village. Little do they know it will actually lead them smack into the middle of a swamp. You remember that swamp, right Brannon?” She grins. “The one we had to pull you out of last summer, when you decided to try pathfolding without a proper course?”

Brennon rolls his eyes. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She gives him a wink. “Maybe in a few decades.”

The lighthearted moment snuffs out abruptly as the door thumps open and Zokein stalks into the room, his face grave as deathbells. “Well?”

Jerimai fists his hands, standing straighter. “We have a plan, Captain.”

He lays out the strategy, gesturing to the markers on the map table. Zokein nods, looking only slightly less grim. “Very good. That accounts for the southern and western flanks. The lake blocks the east. But that still leaves Carver an open route from the north.”

“We’ve planned for that,” says Lita, sliding a new map onto the table, this one showing the details of the village itself. “We suggest the healing circle be placed here, and the frontline here, to take advantage of the terrain.” She points to the markings.

“The most recent survey shows some loose rock along this pass,” Jeremai adds, gesturing to one of the northern trails. “We can prepare a rockslide, to slow them, so the bulk will come here, near the smithy.” He taps the map one last time, then stands back, arms tight to his side.

The plan is sound. Jeremai trusts it, trusts Lita and Brannon and Alexia. But will Zokein?

A long moment passes, as Zokein leans over the table, his craggy features impassive, as he studies the map. Jeremai holds his breath.

“Gods be with us,” rumbles Zokein, finally. “Let’s do this.”