Valebright: The arcane batalion

Chapter4

The forest road narrowed as it climbed, trees pressing close until their branches wove a living canopy that turned daylight into shifting patterns of gold and shadow. Aries’s boots scraped over damp leaves and twisted roots, each step sending fresh fire through her calves and thighs. The short sword at her hip had stopped feeling foreign; it was simply there now—an honest weight, a promise of the strength she still lacked. She focused on the rhythm of her steps and the balance of the blade, pushing discomfort to the back of her mind the way she always did when mastering something new.

She had walked since before sunrise, pausing only briefly at a stream to refill her waterskin and chew a strip of dried meat. Caelan’s silver whistle rested against her chest on its cord, cool and silent. Every few minutes she glanced over her shoulder, scanning the trees with calm, calculating eyes. A small, treacherous part of her felt disappointed that her father had not come after her, but she shoved the feeling aside. She had made her choice. Emotions wouldn’t get her to Ironspine.

By midday the forest began to thin. The slope sharpened, and the air carried the sharp scent of pine resin and distant snow. Ironspine Pass still lay days ahead on foot. The Northern Defense League’s main recruitment camp waited somewhere beyond it.

Aries tightened the strap of her satchel and kept walking, conserving her energy with quiet efficiency.

She did not remain alone for long.

Late in the afternoon came the creak of wagon wheels and low voices. Rounding a bend, she saw a small caravan: three covered wagons pulled by sturdy mules, escorted by six armed riders. The lead rider was a broad-shouldered woman with a scarred face and steel-gray hair braided tight against her scalp. She lifted a hand when she noticed Aries.

“Ho, traveler,” the woman called, voice rough but steady. “You heading north alone, lass? That’s a bold fool’s errand these days.”

Aries straightened, keeping her expression steady. “To the recruitment at Ironspine. The Northern Defense League.”

Several of the riders exchanged glances. A lanky young man with a patchy beard gave a low whistle, his eyes lighting up with immediate interest.

“Plenty of folk heading that way these days,” he said, flashing a quick, crooked grin. “But most girls your age are still at home helping with the chickens. What’s your story? Got a secret vendetta? Bored out of your skull? Or just itching for a dramatic exit?”

“I’m not most girls,” Aries answered evenly, resting her hand lightly on the hilt of her short sword, chin lifted in quiet defiance.

The scarred woman studied her for a long moment, eyes sharp and assessing. Captain Lira was a pragmatic, battle-hardened woman—direct, no-nonsense, and possessed of a dry, cutting humor earned from years on dangerous roads. She didn’t suffer fools, but she had a quiet protective streak for strays who reminded her of her own reckless youth.

“Name’s Captain Lira,” she said at last. “These wagons carry supplies for the League—grain, blankets, spare blades. We’re bound for the same camp. If you can keep pace and don’t cause trouble, walk with us. Safer than the road by yourself… though ‘safe’ is relative out here.”

Aries nodded once, practical relief settling over her. “I won’t slow you down. Thank you, Captain.”

Captain Lira gave a sharp signal and the caravan rolled forward. Aries fell in beside the second wagon, matching the mules’ pace with focused determination.

As the afternoon wore on, the lanky guard—Tomas—drifted back to walk beside her. He moved with restless energy, clearly the type who thrived on conversation and turning everything into a lively debate.

“You really think they’ll take someone like you?” he asked, eyeing her sword with open skepticism and a mischievous spark. “You look like you’ve never drawn blood in your life. What’s your plan—stare the enemy to death? Or are you secretly a legendary swordmaster in disguise?”

“I’ve practiced,” Aries said simply, keeping her voice steady. She adjusted her grip on the sword hilt, already mentally noting how the weapon sat on her hip while walking. “I can hold my own.”

Tomas barked a laugh, clearly enjoying himself. “Practiced on fence posts, I bet! The League’s trainers don’t care about pretty swings. They care if you’ll still be standing when real steel starts flying and your guts are trying to become your new best friends.” He shook his head dramatically, but his eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Still… they’re desperate. Asteria’s been swallowing kingdoms for years. If the League doesn’t fill its ranks fast, the pass will fall before the first snow. They’re taking just about anyone willing to swing a blade these days—even tiny firecrackers like you. Tell me, what makes you think you won’t just become another casualty statistic on day one? Got some clever trick up your sleeve?”

Aries’s stomach tightened, but she kept her face calm and her tone level. “Then I’ll stand and defend the north with them. Simple as that.”

Tomas grinned wickedly, undeterred. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all week,” he sighed theatrically, throwing his hands up. “Suit yourself, little stormcloud. Kids these days honestly—charging off to war like it’s a grand adventure instead of organized bleeding. But hey, at least you’ll make for good entertainment around the campfire. I give you three days before you’re begging to go home… or maybe you’ll surprise me. Either way, this should be fun to watch.”

Despite his relentless teasing, there was a spark of genuine interest in his rapid-fire questions. He kept pace easily, clearly thriving on the back-and-forth.

Night came early in the foothills. The caravan camped in a sheltered clearing beside a rocky stream. Fires crackled, bread and salted pork were shared, and watches were posted. Aries sat near the edge of the firelight, knees drawn up, quietly observing the others. She gazed up at the stars and remembered her mother’s soft voice singing lullabies, her father’s stern commands, and Caelan’s bright, teasing laughter.

A small, homesick smile tugged at her lips. This is my choice, she reminded herself again. Everything I do is for them. She pushed the ache down and focused on the practical: resting her legs, checking her boots for wear, mentally preparing for tomorrow.

She was still watching the flames when Captain Lira settled beside her and offered a dented tin cup of watered wine.

“Running from something heavier than a strict father?” Lira asked quietly, her scarred face softened by firelight but her tone blunt.

Aries accepted the cup but didn’t drink. “Does it matter?”

“On this road, everything matters,” the captain replied, leaning back with a weary grunt. “I’ve seen all kinds. Just don’t be surprised if the League works you harder than you expect. War doesn’t ask where you came from—only if you’ll break when it hits.” She glanced sideways. “You got family back home, girl?”

Aries swallowed. “Yes. A mother, father… and a younger brother who’ll probably never forgive me.” Her voice wavered only slightly before she steadied it. “But if I stay hidden, I won’t be able to protect any of them.”

Lira nodded slowly, respect flickering in her hard eyes. “Brave or foolish—sometimes there’s not much difference. Get some rest, girl. Tomorrow’s another long day. And try not to listen too much to Tomas’s yapping. He talks more than a market gossip.”

Aries slept little that night, fingers curled tightly around the silver whistle, already thinking through what the recruitment camp might demand of her.

The next two days blurred together: aching legs, steeper trails, colder air. She lost count of how many times her knees buckled. Each time she got up quickly on her own, brushing off Tomas’s offered hand with quiet efficiency.

“On your feet, recruit!” he’d say with a grin, hauling her up anyway. “Can’t have you dying before we even reach the camp. What kind of story would that make? ‘Girl with big dreams trips to death.’ Tragic. Boring. I expect better entertainment from you.”

Twice they spotted distant riders on the high ridges. Captain Lira doubled the watches and kept the wagons close, barking orders with calm authority.

On the morning of the third day they crested a high ridge, and the valley opened below them.

Ironspine Pass rose vast and jagged. At the valley’s mouth sprawled the Northern Defense League’s recruitment camp: hundreds of tents, training fields, and smoke from dozens of cookfires.

So this is the Northern Defense League, Aries thought, a quiet surge of determination rising in her chest. Here I can become something new.

As the caravan descended, a horn sounded. Captain Lira raised her hand in greeting.

“Supplies from the south,” she called, “and one extra volunteer.”

One of the scouts eyed Aries. “Another one for the meat grinder. Welcome to Ironspine, lass. Once you swear the oath, there’s no turning back.”

Aries met his gaze steadily. “I understand. I’m ready.”

She took a deep breath, adjusted her sword, and walked into the camp, the sounds of steel and voices rising around her.

Here, no one knew her name.