Chapter 4 - Complaints

Chapter 4 - Complaints

Marching proved to be a dismal affair. The rain started mere minutes after the scouts set out; not thick, but enough to thoroughly dampen the soldiers and their spirits. The birds, however, seemed to enjoy the rain; there seemed to be thousands, flying from tree to massive tree, constantly singing. The underbrush was thick, but not enough to impede Darte as he pushed forward on the western flank of the search. He refused to simply walk through the trails left by his troops: if he was going to lead them, he was going to help where it was practical to do so. Besides, few could best him with the guan dao. Should an attack be made, he would almost certainly survive to call the alert. One thing was for sure: he was eager to have this expidition over and done with. Rynsor had been right, he knew: any further south, and they would be in danger of ambush, and he would not risk the lives of his men.

The sound of swishing ferns signaled an incoming cadet. He did not kneel: all the cadets had learned that kneeling during a march meant a breathless dash to catch up. He did give an informal salute, though, knuckled hand meeting wing-tip at the forehead. "Sir, it's Liure. She's wanting a talk with you. She's near the rear flank."

Darte gave a heavy sigh. Liure complained worse than a tentful of soggy cadets, and he knew he was in for an earful. "Thank you, Cadet. I'll be there directly. Cover this area until I come back, you hear?" The cadet nodded, pulling an elm flatbow from his back, while casually nocking an arrow to the hemp bowstring. Darte began burrowing his way toward the center of the formation. Liure would be somewhere near the middle, surrounded by the guard assigned to her. He was surprised she had even let herself get near the edge. She was scared to distraction that barbarians would take them all in their sleep. He would not have brought her, had it not been that she was the only Heron willing to travel in this expedition. If they did run into barbarians - Ka'ghain's heart, he hoped they wouldn't - she would be the only one who could tend to wounds beyond basic aid. This far from the city, there was little chance a wounded soldier would survive. No, Liure was a necessary bother.

"Speak of the black soul itself," Darte muttered. Liure had spotted him, and was riding slowly towards him. He was surprised her horse did not take a fall: it was of noble stock, little suited to the rough terrain of the rainy forest. Her dress, too, was out of place; the fine silk was practically ruined by the constant damp. Liure finally managed to come within decent speaking range, and she opened her mouth to a torrent of words. "Lance-General, you ought to have seen to better accommodations on this... expedition. I awoke this morning to find a spider nesting itself at the foot of my cot. What would your scouts do if I was killed by the thing? And I'm sure to catch cold something awful in this rain. It's not healthy, I tell you. You should have brought a Harmonist, at least. One of them would fix things better than any tent."

By this time, Liure had finally intercepted Darte, and rode alongside him. Darte supposed she was trying to be intimidating, with her white-veined, deep blue wings pinned tightly together. She certainly stood little above the General in height, even mounted. He simply plodded on, making no comment. Why would the woman not speak common sense? Tents he could do nothing about, and he was sure no pair of Harmonists could touch the weather, no matter how strong. The difficulty lied in telling her that; the Heron seemed to have two minds lodged in one. The bitterness against Magicks inherent in her Chamber was ingrained into her - but she recognized, however grudgingly, when they were needed. On the other hand, she didn't seem to understand exactly what Harmonists were capable of: she couldn't comprehend that more than one Harmonist was needed to accomplish anything worthwhile.

Darte's mouth tightened as Liure's list continued. Poor rations hurt her stomach, but better food would surely attract Wild beasts; light cloaks were needed for the soldiers, and heavier ones for everyone else, to keep off the rain; tanned gloves and boots, more pack-horses to lighten the loads...

"General! A word, if you will!" Rynsor's head poked up from the approaching incline. Liure cut short and glared in Rynsor's direction challengingly. Whatever he had to say, it was not as important as the immediate concerns of fresh bedding, apparently. Darte groaned inwardly, turning his head up to the now-pouring rain in sheer exasperation. He froze in shock, mouth falling open. In the trees, a massive shape loomed; seemingly squareish, it was not large enough to cut the light out of the sky, yet near hollow in the middle. Suddenly, he realised what it was. He jumped to action immediately, waving Rynsor over rapidly, and calling a nearby cadet to retrieve Lubris' squad. "Liure, I think you need not be concerned for much longer. Our expedition just may be at an end."