Into the Forest

Dawn had just begun to break on the Bog Fort when its gates began to groan. Twin gates, iron-banded and made from ancient oak, spread out like the maw of an ancient beast searching for food. From the opening, a line of soldiers came trickling out in a single file.  The legionnaires, about twenty men, all stopped at the barks of their commander. Centurion Eliana Amora watched them from the mouth of the beast, eyeing their unit and taking note of the speed and organization of their formation. The lines of her face twisted as she saw the neat double column of her soldiers.  It was only then that she blew a sharp note from the whistle around her neck. The march came to an abrupt stop at this universal signal. Surprise gave way to training as they all turned, confused, but alert. Very good. Stepping out from the left gate, Eliana waved them at ease. She jogged over to join them, moving swiftly to avoid wasting any time and showing respect for the discipline her legionnaires displayed by not wasting their time. A few of them saluted, while some nodded in greetings, and others simply stood patiently as she moved to join them. Among the latter was a legionnaire at the front of the column. He stood as straight as a spear, leaving him standing a head taller than most humans. Blonde hair poked out from underneath his helmet which was far longer than legion regulations. Despite that, it was neatly trimmed and washed. The man turned, gave her a flitting look, then offered a slow salute. “Centurion, I didn’t expect to see you out here. I thought you would have some desk work to do.” “Already taken care of, Atrax.” She stopped at his side and began to roll his shoulders. “That leaves me free for the rest of the day.” Optio Atrax was Eliana’s second in command and normally led these patrols and ordered the march. “What about training the rest of the century?” Eliana made as she walked beside him. “I think most of the century knows which side of a spear to point at the enemy. If they don’t, well, there’s not much training that can fix that. Besides, Plitus can handle the drills. No, my morning is free.” “Most legionnaires would choose to use that free time to get some sleep, maybe find a mug of wine,” Atrax’s mustache wiggled back and forth. He seemed to have been one of those who liked that idea.  “Sitting inside all day, f**k that. I’m doing that all day, always.” Eliana grinned. There were probably some reports that needed to be filled out somewhere, but there would be time for that later. “I need to feel the outside.” Atrax began to smile. “Well, you’re the centurion here, but I can’t say you’ll find patrol duty any more exciting. If you’d rather be out here, then I would happily trade places with you.”  “Enough of your lies, Atrax. You love being out too, even with that ugly look on your face.” Her second said nothing, but his lips twisted upwards. She knew she had him. “It is a nice day, it seems a waste to spend it waiting inside.” “It always seems to be,” Eliana muttered, thinking of all the times she glanced out the window of her office as it vanished into the blur that was the Big Fort. Every day for the past few months had seemed perfect to be outside, each one calling her. But with a new draft of fresh-faced legionnaires arriving and compounding her normal duties, there had now been time to enjoy it. That was why Eliana was determined to change it. She seemed fortunate to have chosen the perfect day with strong gales and warm sun. Even with the rushes of the nearby Bog River, Eliana heard the songs of forest birds and smelled the scent of oak and pines on one side. On the other, she had the smell of fresh dew on rich, green grass.  The grass most of all was what she enjoyed seeing. Even in this provincial position far from her home, the grass here was as recognizable as it was on her steppe home. It spread out for miles like a blanket. Under different circumstances, she would have gladly laid down on it. Perhaps she could remove her boots and feel the blades between her toes. That was not possible, though, even delaying enjoying the view was out of the question. Her duty came first, of course. But she was happy to observe from a distance, at least from this close, it felt real. Within her office, all she could see was a distant mirage of this from inside the walls of the Fort. “It is a nice day,” Atrax conceded. “It would be criminal to miss it. That's why I never became an officer.” A year ago, there were many who assumed Atrax would become the centurion after their last leader passed. He was three years her senior and more experienced, and yet Atrax seemed uninterested in the position and allowed Eliana to take it, opting to serve as her second. “Really now? I thought the problem was your drinking, your terrible handwriting, and this,” She smirked and lightly tugged at his beard. The hair was stiff from the lime wash he gave it. Her second stroked his facial hair protectively. “To take my ale and my beard? That’s not the responsibility, that’s cruelty. It would be like if they demanded you remove your tattoos.” Eliana glanced at her mailed forearm, picturing the intricate patterns of ink she had gathered over the years. “That will never happen.” Despite the orderly formation they formed, the legionnaires were relaxed. She could see men chatting idly with one another, with a few occasionally sharing a laugh. A human whispered something she did not hear, but a troll cackled, and an orc laughed loud enough to be heard from the fort.  It was hard not to share that feeling with the weather blowing. There was a light breeze blowing, snapping at the legionnaires, demanding they feel the cold. It was not effective or particularly strong, persistent as it was. Aside from requiring a cloak, it did little to chill her.  Still, it was enough to make their tidings clear. The season was changing, and winter would soon be upon them.  Eliana adjusted the straps of her helmet. The horsehair crest marked her rank as a centurion of the Trepan Empire to citizens and foes alike. Yet while the iron cross bars would have glanced off a sword, it was useless against the wind. She was grateful that the weather had not turned bad enough to require her fox-furred cap, which was against regulations. Atrax and the other native Crixans were even less bothered, as were the trolls and Skinwalkers. All of them simply let the breeze simply blow past them as they marched. A routine patrol like this was something Eliana’s century had done a hundred times before, searching for raiders, deserters, or any sign of trouble. But this close to the Bog Fort, they would have to either be incredibly mad or simply stupid. Even Eliana, who hadn’t been on patrol for months, found herself relaxing her shoulders. The last time she was out there, the most dangerous she found was one very unhappy goose that one of her orcish legionnaires had wanted to eat. “You know the rules, laugh and talk all you want, but make sure your eyes are where they need to be.” She reminded them, though not bothering to reach for the vine cane at her side. Eliana trusted them enough to know their duty and to know the punishment for shirking it. “Last I checked, you legionnaires only have one mouth, but two ears and two eyes. So if you’re gonna talk, I expect you all to be listening and looking twice as much. Except for you, Patch.” A one-eyed legionnaire in the back grunted. She didn’t need to elaborate further, all her legionnaires knew what to search for on patrol, signs of crossing, crushed grass, signs of rafts, or leftover clothing. Anything that pointed to Crixans, skinwalkers, or troll raiders.  Most of the legionnaires with her weren’t green. They were around back when raiders were as thick as fleas, crossing along the river in more ways than Eliana could count. They would cross with rafts and small boats, hollowed-out logs, or even swim if they were particularly bold and those were just the ways she had seen. There were stories of intrepid skinwalkers taming crocodiles to carry them across or of trolls using their attention to nature to summon branches that carry them across the river. Eliana had never witnessed anything like that, but just crossing the river was impressive enough. The river was wider than the Bog Fort itself and flowed swiftly. In the bend where the fort was built, the water roared ceaselessly. The rapids twisted and turned as they slammed into rocks, leaving the waters foaming and painted in a pale spiderweb. Since dawn, that sound had been there, and Eliana knew it would remain until she slept at night. Though difficult, crossing it was not impossible, so they needed to continue their search. Daring as they were, such acts could not be done without leaving a trail or sign of their arrival. She would not have survived the legion long enough if she could not read the signs that the Crixans and trolls left. And they would have a hard time concealing them on this side of the river where the grasslands spread out. Even if Eliana was not a native of this province, her people coming from the steppes of the southwest could understand the landscape here. The grass was a familiar sight and a comforting feeling, bringing back memories of home. But perhaps more importantly, they had no secrets. Had they been in the savage forests of the Bog Woods where the Crixans lived, she would have struggled to make sense of the land. But in the flat open space, they were in her country. Save for the occasional tree which provided shelter and fruit, there was nothing in their way. Any attempt to hide their incursion would be folly.  It made Eliana wish she had brought her horse with her, not only for the chance to ride but also for the extra height which would allow her to survey the land. Rider knows that Thrax is just as eager to get out of the fort as her. But seeing her men marching on foot made her determined to do the same. He would have to wait until she had an off day. Fall made searching for signs even easier. No one could have crossed the ground with fiery leaves everywhere without leaving a path of broken leaves. Yet there was no sign of blemishing or damage from being trampled. But wherever she looked, Eliana saw only fresh grass dappled with dew and stony ground worn smooth by the river. There weren’t so many mud prints clinging onto the grass.  Eventually, Atax cleared his throat. “So, I bet you must be regretting going out here.” The words were said with a grin. Eliana favored him with a light punch on the shoulder. “Between this or drills, I’d take a hike across this landscape any day.” “Not any day, every day.” Atrax corrected. “When you’ve done this for the fifth time this week you might change your tune.”  The words came out grumbling, followed by a glob of phlegm he spat on the ground. Around him, others murmured silently in agreement. Her own century was part of the fifth cohort in the legion, and the last one in the detachment in the Bog Fort. It is the position of least honor. That meant that they performed the tasks that higher-ranked detachments saw as beneath them. It also didn’t help that Eliana’s particular century was one of the only ones at full strength. They were overstrength, in fact, as other centuries had taken to dumping ‘barbarian elements’ into her unit. Eliana felt a bit guilty at hearing the unhappiness in her second voice. “Sorry about that, Atrax.” He waved his hand, some good humor returning to his eyes. “Heh, don’t worry about your pretty little head about that, Centurion. Wouldn’t it be right to make a senator's daughter trudge in a place like this.” “At least not unescorted.” A musical voice was added from the middle of the column. Eliana turned and found a slender figure winking at her. Qyn, no doubt. Only his elven ears could have picked up that whisper. “I would be glad to accompany you whenever you go out on patrol. Perhaps I could also regale you on some stories of my homeland.” “And then you’d be using your mouth instead of looking like I instructed you.” Eliana patted her cane.  A few of the closest legionnaires hooted and Qyn allowed himself a defeated but good-natured smile.  “Besides,” A large hand came up and lightly cuffed him at the back of his head. “Don’t you remember? She’s married and with a child.” “I don’t see Mr. Amora walking around here.” Atrax put in, which struck Eliana as a rather excellent point. Her husband was probably on his estate in the capital city of Aurelia, sipping wine and rubbing elbows with other senators. Her son, meanwhile, was still under the care of her uncle back home. “Don’t remind me, Brick.” Laughter rang out from the other legionnaires who pounded their shields. If given the choice, she would have gladly taken a walk and listened to some stories from Qyn rather than have to deal with her ‘beloved.’ She felt a fleeting moment of sadness thinking of little Julian, surrounded by his cousins and uncles, and aunts, yet unable to join them for rides and hunts. Eliana couldn't even recall the last time she had seen him. He must be at least five by now. Perhaps she should schedule some time off and come to visit- No, that was not her duty now, her duty was to the legions now. There would be time to think on that later. Thankfully, the conversation had drifted elsewhere as they neared the first strong point. Though there were ten fortresses, including the Bog Fort manned by the legions, this chain was strengthened by a series of smaller towers and redoubts to properly monitor the crossings of the Bog River.  This particular outpost was a tower, half timber and half stone that burst from the ground. Although short and squat, it was built high atop a rocky slope, appearing like a stone fist to intimidate those passing by. She hoped some of the Crixans felt the same way and would not realize that fewer than a score of men garrisoned it. As they drew closer, Eliana saw the outpost was not standing alone, which was not how she remembered it. The outpost she visited a few months ago was but a single tower, and though there had been a few refugees camped out at the base of the tower for permission to pass, they numbered only a handful. Now, the slope was thick with them and looked more like a hamlet. There were shanties and tents set up wherever there was space. A score of at least, perhaps more. An entire family for each legionnaire here. They were arranged in a loose circle, but that was due more to the slope rather than any true planning.  “Now that's new,” Eliana muttered as they ascended the slope. Atrax did not even break stride as he continued moving. “Not really. Bigger perhaps, but nothing new.” She stared at him in surprise. “You knew about this? Why didn’t you tell me?” “I remember telling you there were more refugees than before.”  Eliana recalled that conversation, a passing mention while the two had gone out drinking after their shift. She certainly did not remember him saying just how many there were nor that they were just milling around the tower. Eliana now felt the cold. That was not how this was supposed to be. The legions had a system for how they dealt with those crossing the border to prevent congestion just like this. “And there are so many. Why was this never reported?” She managed to ask. “We were supposed to look for raiders, these people came here legally.” Atrax shrugged. “We’re just the patrol, if the garrison had trouble you can ask them.” Eliana certainly would, as soon as she got through the crowds. They encountered no trouble from the refugees beyond them simply being in the way. They were mostly Crixans with the odd troll and skinwalker mixed in. Many of those were young, infirm, or elderly. As her patrol approached, they slunk back into their hovels. Even as they disappeared into their tents, she could sense their eyes staring at them along with the occasional growl.  Eliana didn’t want to bother them now, so she carefully picked through the crowds, stepping aside from any who got close. Her fingers reached for her vine cane though, ready for anyone not as amiable. No point in taking chances. Atrax, on the other hand, met their stares with his own, baring his teeth at anyone who got too close. An overworked greybeard stood at the entrance of the tower flanked by two guards. The bronze medallion on his breast marked him as a senior legionnaire and likely the commander of the tower. There was some surprise in his eyes as he caught sight of her. He glanced up and down, spotting her crested helmet, but then squinted at her olive skin and tattoos poking out from her neck as if he could not picture them together. Eliana drew herself up. “Legionnaire, are you in command here?” After a moment, he raised his hand to salute. “Aye, Centurion.” She offered him a stiff nod. “Legionnaire-“ “Xyrus.” “Well, legionnaire Xyrus. How fares your tower?” He gestured up to the old stones and the legionnaires standing at its top with crossbows ready. No doubt more were prepared with crenelations. “Well enough, the tower still stands and my men are ready. We maintain it as well as we can.” “I see that.” Eliana swept her hands toward the people below. “There are far more people here than the last time I was here.” “That was months ago, Centurion.” Xyrus shrugged and did not seem to find an issue with that. “More and more people are slipping through in greater numbers. Many go through outposts like this, but others...” His voice trailed off, but Eliana understood the tone of his voice. It was all she needed to confirm her suspicions. “Did they ever give a reason as to why they are all coming here?” “Same as always, fighting amongst the tribes. I’m just a garrison soldier, not much I know. Don’t they send expeditions out from your fort?” “They used to, but none recently.” The greybeard already looked tired from the conversation. “Well, that’s unfortunate.” His response was about as unhelpful as Eliana could expect. The more she listened, the less she liked hearing. Yet there was truth in his words. Eliana was in a position to know more and found herself equally at a loss. She was certain none of her officers knew much more. So she decided to focus on what she could know. “Do you find any raiders among them?” That seemed to surprise the old man. “Raiders? No, else they would be the poorest raiders I’ve seen. Many are quick to throw down their steel once we spot them?” “May I speak to some of them?” Xyrus twisted a strand of hair around his finger. “You're welcome to, but it's all just women and children here.” He pulled his finger out and invited Eliana to look around. Though the sight was painful to watch, Eliana made herself look and found the same bedraggled horde which greeted her before. Even a fleeting look was difficult, but it was enough to confirm his words. There were no fighting men here.  Slowly, she inclined her head. “Thank you for your time, legionnaire. My patrol will be on our way.”