Blood Hope

As she did every evening once camp had been made for the night, General Nans Gryphonheart joined Isranon in the command tent for a glass of wine and a discussion of the day's events; they would also plan for what they might expect the next day based upon scouting reports and pin-point where they were on the maps of the region.

War had never been something that Nans expected to find herself involved in. She had earned her runes as a freeranger at seventeen, doing search and rescue work; which rarely involved fighting. Nans had taken out her share of monsters and bandits; however, war was far different.

One of the more pleasant discoveries of the previous week had been a town with a relatively intact collection of abandoned taverns, wine shops, and a distillery. They had seized every bit of good liquor in the place. Their foragers always went through the abandoned towns with swift thoroughness.

Tenly, Isranon's aide-de-camp, had a talent for making perfect mulled wine, adding the cinnamon, cloves, and sugar precisely to a warmed cup of claret. His skills, attention to detail, and unflappable nature, led Nans and her officers to overlook his private indiscretions; one of which was appropriating looted goods acquired in his foraging expeditions and then selling them to various soldiers under the table.

General Nans Gryphonheart tapped the map on the table in the command tent, a huge blue pavilion. She was a cinnamon-haired, sapphire-eyed mon and tall – though not by Sharani standards – at five foot eleven inches. Most people knew her only as a freeranger captain turned general; some knew that she was the bastard cousin of King William Gryphonheart of Gormond's Reach, daughter of a Gormondi princess who most considered mad. Until a year ago, only the Rowdies and close friends knew that she was yuwenghau, a demi-god; the wilderkin daughter of Willodarus, God of the Woodlands and Wild Creatures. Nans had been forced to reveal herself after becoming trapped in Minnoras as the city-state fell to the forces of a hellgod, Gylorean Galee. She had ripped the portcullis off with her bare hands and led a group of refugees through to safety in Gormond's Reach.

"Once we strike the Lusatranden Highway, we should be able to make better time in spite of the weather." Nans flicked a wisp of cinnamon hair from her face.

Isranon sat with his legs wide and a nibari kneeling between them, her arms together behind her back in First Position. He listened to Nans with his fangs buried in the nibari's neck. The blood filled his mouth, ran down his throat, and filled his body with a pleasant warmth. She was his third that evening. He licked the wound closed and wiped his blood-rimmed mouth on a small square of black cloth.

"Tell me about the road, Nans." He noticed that she no longer stiffened when he fed in front of her. Isranon had met Nans on the edges of Gormond's Reach, leading a small party of refugees, survivors of Gylorean Galee's coup that caused a bloodbath in Minnoras. Their respective peoples were mortal enemies, and he had been reluctuant to reveal his nature to her, until a vampire-led ambush forced him use his fledgling powers to save them. They had crossed the gulf of distrust lying between them. Friendship had blossomed and devotion followed.

Haig entered, running a hand through his unkempt, coarse black hair. He wore a bearskin cloak thrown back which matched the generally hirsute aspect of his stocky, powerful body. One of the five Lemyari vampires in Isranon's company, Haig led his fellows in service to the Renunciate.

Tenly brought out glasses and three of the golden preserving bottles the sa'necari produced. He turned to Haig and asked in a droll tone, "Troll, demon, or manticore?"

"Troll."

Tenly nodded and poured him a glass of troll blood.

Haig gave a long, hard laugh. "You're a good one, Tenly."

"I know, sir."

The vampire eased his bulk into a chair and leaned to see the places that Nans had marked on the map. "If I'm any judge of distances, we should be at Linder's Meadow tomorrow."

"Most likely before dark." Nans ran her finger along the road on the map.

One by one, Isranon's commanders and counselors arrived.

Nevin Igguiden, oftimes referred to as Nevin Scarface, arrived next with his cousin Olin. An ugly scar traversed Nevin's face from his forehead, across a broken nose, and to his upper lip that was half-split, all from a wound that had failed to heal properly. It gave his hoarse growly voice a sibilant quality. Lycans healed faster and better than humans, rarely leaving them with scars; and as weapons went, only runed-silver and kendaryl could do that to one of them. His long black hair was caught at his neck in tail, except for two long strands at his temples into which had been braided the fingerbones of demons signifying his rank as chieftain of a newly formed battle-clan. Formerly the senior lawgiver to all of Clan Red Wolf, Nevin had been Isranon's childhood mentor and was now his spirit-brother. Nevin carried a big, crescent-headed axe in his belt, a sword at his shoulder, and a pair of lycan knives strapped to his thighs.

Most lycans carried just those fighting knives. Unlike humans, who often carried a sword whether they knew how to use one or not, the ever-practical lycans carried only weapons they were adept with. Their knives were among the best on the continent, with a curved back edge that ran a third of the way up the blade, and strong quillons. They had evolved over the centuries out of the hunting knives carried by rural folk.

However, it was the axe that first clued Haig to the fact that Nevin was one to walk softly around. Haig continued do so and gave Nevin a polite nod of welcome as the lycan settled into his place at Isranon's left hand.

Travis followed Luck into the tent, spied Nevin, and picked a seat as far from the lycan as he could. Nevin frowned at Travis. Olin ducked his head with a chuckle, running his fingers through his black and white hair. Travis had been uncomfortable around Nevin ever since Olin informed him that his cousin was corsach – a homosexual.

Amiri the Ymraude shaman and Zulaika their warleader arrived next. Zulaika carried herself with military precision as she settled into her chair with Amiri at her left hand. Anksha bounced into the tent two seconds behind them and curled into a seat at the head of the table beside Isranon. She ran her tongue around her mouth, licking the last bits of blood from her upper lip.

Amiri regarded Nans and Isranon. "We must decide soon where we plan to winter. Otherwise the snows will trap us."

"My thoughts were Gormond's Reach." Nans tapped the map. "It's the closest safe realm."

"That should not be our only concern. We need mages," Amiri said. "The only magic here is Isranon's. I am a shaman, not a mage."

"Perhaps Edvarde can help there," Isranon said.

Nans poured herself another glass of wine and stretched her legs out better. "Before the Azure Circle set up in Rowanhart, Ildyrsetts had the largest mage school outside of the City of Magic itself. Lord Edvarde is one of the Ildyrsetti School's largest patrons. He can certainly help. However, that will mean turning west and add at least a week, more likely two, to our journey."

"I'm willing to chance it, Nans. Amiri's right. I can't do it all myself."

Nans scanned their faces and gave a small nod. "So be it. Ildyrsetts."

When the meeting ended, Isranon sat with only Nevin and Anksha. His shoulders slumped. He was hurting again. Nevin noticed and poured him a glass of Sanguine Rose. Isranon sipped at it. "I worry. For all that I have done, I am still sa'necari. Since the Five Captains made that fact known abroad, we could find our allies turning upon us."

"Edvarde won't," said Anksha. "He knew before we left last spring."

Isranon nodded listlessly. "Edvarde is a good mon. Yet Treth closed its doors to us and broke the charters it had issued to Nans."

"Gormond's Reach will not break with us and that means that Darr will not either," Nevin pointed out.

Isranon's lips framed a faint smile. "And the Taladrim say I'm sacrosanct."

He would never forget the Taladri, Gaeatyra. She had come to kill him because he was sa'necari. The Taladrim were paladins of Tala; anti-social loners running with their moonwolves to hunt and destroy abominations like sa'necari and vampires. Travis had brought him a girl entrusted to Gaeatyra's care that had been wounded by a death blade of the sa'necari. He had pulled the death magics out of the girl and healed her.

Gaeatyra's moonwolf scented sa'necari on Travis, and she beat him senseless to locate Isranon. At Nans insistence, Gaeatyra had Read him and found him pure. Isranon had chanced her killing him to convince her that he had never crossed the line into the darkness of the rites.

Isranon saw little difference between the chances he was taking with Stygean and those he had taken with Gaeatyra, a paladin of Tala.

GODWAR CENTRAL

Blood Hope