Chapter Thirty-Four: Grinding on

Chapter Thirty-Four: Grinding on

The first week went well for the expedition. They encountered the usual problems: attacks by beasts, some interpersonal friction, a handful of injuries resulting from them, but these were expected on any foray outside of a fortress city.

They made good time, forging northwards into the Grounds. They saw no signs of orcs, though, nor any sign of their camp.

They knew roughly where the last two scouting forays had run into trouble with the orcs. They had several reports from traders too, survivors of caravans that had also run afoul of the orcs.

Wayrest had four trade roads running in each cardinal direction. To the north of Wayrest lay the Rust Sands, and the nomadic peoples that lived there. To the west was Safe Harbour, a massive port fortress sitting in an idyllic bay. South, far and away, Wayrest eventually connected to Toast, the single city in the enormous expanse that was the Thresh. And of course, eastwards lay Horizon.

There were only three trade roads running from Horizon. To their east were only the mountains, and past them, a flat stretch of heavily rainforested coast that stretched for thousands of miles between the Barrachos and the sea.

The southern road ran straight as an arrow until it hit the Tavern Alley river and the only passable bridge across it until the crossing at Wayrest’s southern trade road. After that, the road quickly fell into disrepair, Tom had learned. The semi-nomadic plains elves were insular, and it was exceedingly rare for any to venture outside the Thresh.

The northern road ran straight too, for around two hundred miles, then gently began curving towards the Rust Sands. It was along this gentle bend in the road that the reports of attacks from traders had been coming in, and so when they reached it, the expedition left the road, and carried on into the Proving Grounds proper.

Rosa had been back to her usual gregarious self since they had made it to Horizon. Not knowing whether her family had made it there safely had been weighing on her for months. She’d also been through a lot, during the siege, and seeing her family again had helped take some of that darkness from her too.

Tom loved seeing her so happy. Her soul was lighter, and it showed in everything she did. Tom knew that he was probably just noticing it more being so close to her, but he could see a massive difference in how the rest of the expedition treated her too.

Rosa had always been charismatic. Tom liked to think of her as being…cheerfully combative. But with her burdens lightened, she was a one-woman wildfire.

The monks seemed to appreciate her aggressive positivity, even her capriciousness. To Tom’s surprise, after the first week or so, the monks began to refer to him as a ‘mountain heart’.

It was widely known that the women of Horizon were fiery, to say the least. Rosa was an exception, in that she was absolutely incandescent. In Horizon culture, it was said that men must make mountains of their hearts to withstand their heat.

The monks said it was now obvious how he had triumphed over two of their best at the monastery; he was a Horizoner in all but birth. You simply had to be to withstand a relationship with a Horizoner woman.

As simple as that, Tom was adopted. Darius found it hilarious.

The handsome monk had also been in good spirits since his return to the monastery. Tom had been worried that his friend would be punished for his attempt to run away, but he now learned that it was more or less expected of any would-be infirmerers.

You couldn’t breed such a fierce and zealous warrior culture and then be surprised when your warriors balked at being restrained. Darius had still been punished, of course, but it was more procedural than anything. The fact that he had made it all the way to Deep had won him no small measure of respect, even.

Tom found the differences in their culture fascinating. Rebelliousness was not only expected at the monastery, but even encouraged to an extent. Wayrest’s Church of Truth would have crushed any such notions -that is, until they had recently been crushed themselves by a rebellion.

Darius was well-liked by his peers, as Tom expected. What he did not expect was the tinge of reverence that laced every one of his interactions. In their faith, anyone that forwent direct combat to ensure that their brothers and sisters could keep fighting without interruption was afforded a measure of inherent holiness and respect. Darius seemed to get an extra measure due to his new healing swarm familiar. Its healing ability and collective nature seemed to cancel out any disdain about it being a familiar, and therefore akin to a mana beast.

Darius preened under all the attention, though Tom could see it chafed him too. The other monks took it as a given that he would manifest a third healing Ideal, and thereby cement himself as a full infirmerer. Tom could tell Darius was still holding out hope for redemption.

Tom felt a tiny thrill when they left the road after that first week. It felt similar to stepping into the Deep proper, outside and away from the village rings where old growth reined and the calls of beasts in the gloom was the only thing to keep you company.

They forged northwards and a little east, making for where the last scouting party had run afoul of orcs and had to retreat. After a few more days of travel, they began to run into problems.

As soon as they left the road, beast attacks became more frequent. This was no surprise to any of them. After a day, though, Tom noticed the amount of attacks drastically reduced in number. It was odd, but he thought that perhaps the majority of the beasts in the Grounds liked to lay in ambush next to the road. He was wrong.

Another day passed, and the attacks ramped up again. Another day, and still the attacks increased. No one was nervous, or worried. There were over one hundred and fifty seasoned warriors with them, healers and all. They could handle the pressure. It was what they signed on for. The frequency and size of the attacks were not enough to threaten them.

Another day passed. The attacks increased again. Now they had to move more slowly, more carefully, but there was still no true danger.

On the fourth day, there was a qualitative shift. The number of attacks stayed stable, but something changed. They seemed to be coming in waves, attacking together as opposed to strung out randomly throughout the day.

It was puzzling. Did the creatures resent their encroachment into their territory? Were they intelligent enough to realise they had a better chance if they worked together? It seemed outrageous, but Tom couldn’t quite discount the possibilities. There were plenty of extremely intelligent mana beasts in the Deep, after all. It made sense there would be plenty in the Grounds, too.

After some pondering, Tom came to the conclusion that the creatures were likely being displaced from their usual territories by orcs. He couldn’t imagine any situation in which an orc would tolerate them nearby. To orcs, anything living that was not an orc was food. It made sense that these creatures had chosen not to end up in an orc stomach.

Tom passed his thoughts to Abbess Sunrise, who conferred with several other scouts. They all agreed. The next step became simple. Over the next day everyone with an aerial familiar kept an eye on beast movements from as far out as they could manage. That night, they conferred and came to an agreement on the direction that the beasts were being displaced in. The next day, they adjusted their course accordingly, driving straight against the flow.

The hope was that they wouldn’t have to endure the constant deluge for long. Flying beasts, such as wind sprites and hawks and vultures, were beginning to harass their familiars, which in turn made it more difficult for them to spot the beasts on land massing for attacks as they fled the orcs.

People began to take more and more injuries, and more of them were serious. Thankfully, no had died so far, though there had been more than a few close calls. They had only avoided it due to the tireless efforts of Darius and the other healers, but they were being pushed increasingly hard to keep up.

The constant fighting had seen some benefits for them though too. Rosa had gained an uplift for her Speed skill Quickfire, and had taken an option that increased the chance of it to reset a skill cooldown upon cast from trivial to low.

Both Tom and Rosa had consolidated much of the rapid gains they’d experienced in the last few months, becoming much more comfortable with their skillset, and much more comfortable fighting with each other. Darius tended to hover near them, and their teamwork increased steadily too. Lastly, spending so much time in the company of Bloody Monks doing their bloody work had seen them pick up more than a few tricks as well.

Tom focused on these gains as they spent another few days grinding through mana beasts, elementals, and golems of all varieties, trying to catch even a glimpse of the orc camp. Finally, almost a week after leaving the trade road, they caught a break.

At midmorning one day, a monk with a great hawk familiar caught sight of orcs in the distance. They were the same massive, brutish variety that Tom had fought in the Grounds previously. It was only a small warband, just ten of the creatures, but they were in the direction they were heading.

It was excellent news, the first undeniable proof that they were heading in the right direction. Everyone’s spirits were buoyed, and everyone bent to their task with increased determination and ferocity.

The monks were near rabid with their desire to meet their actual enemy in battle. It was not to be, however. That first warband kept their distance, circling out to the side of the expedition as they pressed forwards. A rushed conference with Sunrise and the other senior monks decided the orcs must be trying to lure them off course. Zealous as the monks were they were also superlative professionals. The decision was made, and they carried on.

That first warband simply shadowed them at a distance, keeping pace with the expedition from several miles away. Another warband appeared in the distance that afternoon. They swung out to their other side, keeping pace with them too.

No one could explain the behaviour. Orcs were known, in all lore and all mythology, in every experience so far, to be bloodthirsty beyond reason. For these orcs to be content to let humans wander close and creatures wander by, was unsettling. For the first time since they had set out, nerves began to rise.

Another day passed, and more warbands appeared. Several of them joined together, making larger groups. One fell behind and began trailing them. None kept pace in front. They seemed more than happy to allow for the still-coming constant stream of beasts to wear them down.

And there was still no sign of the camp. Still they pressed onwards.

More warbands appeared throughout the next day. Beast attacks remained constant throughout the night. The amount of orcs making the loose collar around them now matched their own. It would not be enough to overwhelm them, not with every member of the expedition handpicked to resist these orcs’ strange auras, but it was concerning.

How many more orcs were out there? Could they get close enough to see their true numbers before they were forced to retreat?

Tom could see the worry on the monks faces, in the set of their jaws, in the tightness around their eyes. Still, they were determined to see this through.