The Vampire & Her Witch

Commander Bassinger’s revelation shocked everyone in the command tent. The number of people in this tent who understood the relationship between the Briar and the Vale of Mist could be counted on the claws of one hand, and even then, those few captains who had heard about Madame Zedya’s lessons from the Mother of Thorns were among the oldest in the tent.

”Has the Mother of Thorns fought the human exemplars?” one of the younger captains asked, blinking several times as his mind struggled to think about how else a powerful Witch from across the mountains could know so much about their human enemies.

”Witches have their ways of knowing,” Commander Bassinger said before he pointed a sharp claw at the furry spider on Akshala’s shoulder. ”She’s also a member of the Night Weaver Clan for one, so perhaps a Witch as powerful as her is able to send her eight-legged spies even further away than Miss Akshala can. Perhaps she has other methods of knowing.”

”I’m not one to question what Lady Nyrielle tells me, especially when it comes from such a reliable source,” the bearish commander said. ”The important thing is that Loman Lothian displays none of the traits of an Inquisitor or Exemplar. He seems to be an ordinary priest, though he is a talented and strong one compared to what we saw from priests in the last war.”

”So, now that we have this information,” Milo asked hesitantly. ”What do we do with it?”

”For now, nothing,” Bassinger said, tapping the map to draw everyone’s attention to the notes written on small bits of paper there. ”Our campaign of harassment served another goal. We bought time for Broken Rock Village to evacuate even the elderly. It now stands empty and ready for the next step in our campaign.”

”For the next few days, Liam Dunn is expecting us to attack him and he’s making preparations to receive that attack,” the commander explained. ”We, however, will move to Broken Rock Village and prepare to receive their attack. Most of the residents were from the Horned Clan,” he mentioned, giving a few of his captains a look.

”The walls aren’t tall enough to repel a human assault,” one of them said, nodding with an understanding of the point his commander was about to raise. ”They built their defenses to ward off wild beasts and to shelter their herds at night, not to resist human armies. They probably thought that it would be years before the Dunns penetrated so deeply into the wilderness, if ever.”

”Exactly,” Bassinger said. ”Building a new, taller wall that would survive a serious assault will be too difficult and largely a waste of effort. However, we can dig a deep trench in front of it and set some stakes as well to break a charge. At the same time, we can prepare a method of retreat...”

As the night wore on, the bearish commander issued his orders, assigning tasks to each of his captains before sending them on their way. Akshala, as a volunteer spy without an official place in the chain of command, was one of the first to be dismissed, but even though Milo expected to be dismissed shortly after, the command never came. Eventually, while the last of the captains filed out of the tent into the cool night air, Commander Bassinger caught Milo’s eye and gestured for him to remain behind.

The young archer’s whiskers twitched in surprise, but he stayed in place as the previously crowded tent emptied and cool night air swept into the dimly lit space. When the last captain had departed and the sound of footsteps had faded, Bassinger took a seat on a wooden box filled with supplies and gestured for the shorter man to do the same. The formal atmosphere of their meeting melted away as the commander’s posture relaxed.

”Milo,” Bassinger said as he took a seat on a wooden box filled with supplies and gestured for the shorter man to do the same. ”I wanted to talk to you alone about what comes next.”

”You want me and the others from my village to booby trap the village,” Milo guessed. ”And to build sniper hides along your path of retreat so you can disengage when the fighting becomes too costly.”

”Smart,” Bassinger said, digging around in a nearby leather sack for a small cask of ale and a pair of wooden cups. After pouring a cup for himself and one for Milo, he took a deep swig of the pale brown liquid that smelled of fresh herbs and sharp alcohol before giving the young archer a very evaluating stare.

”You’ve done well with your kinsmen all through this campaign,” Bassinger praised while Milo sipped cautiously at his ale. The foam tickled his nose and he wasn’t entirely sure he liked the beverage but he was unwilling to be rude enough to reject the commander’s offer. ”It hasn’t been long, but I’m old enough and I’ve seen enough warriors come and go to know a man who can lead when I see one. You have the gift, Milo.”

”Thank you, Commander,” Milo said, ducking his head while his tail swished in embarrassment. He didn’t think he’d done well at all. He’d only barely kept the others from his village in line and he’d cursed himself several times for denying them a chance to claim even a single life in revenge for what had been done to their village. They’d done as they’d been told, but even now that he understood the reasons, it felt far too abstract and distant to feel any great pride over.

”I want you to join us,” Bassinger said bluntly. ”Not as a soldier, but as a captain, like the others from tonight’s meeting. It would be good if more of your clansmen came with you, but even if none of them do, I would still offer you a position of leadership. If you think enough of your clansmen will join you, I wouldn’t mind forming an entire unit under your command. We could use snipers and trappers that can operate as a unit in the war to come.”