Chapter 28 #2
As they crossed into the Riverlands, Imani’s home territory bore the undeniable scars of Tanyl’s neglect.
The waterways still ran strong, and the land itself was lush and carefully tended, but the people moved with cautious vigilance, their eyes tracking movement rather than offering a welcome.
Conversations bled away as Imani and Ellisar approached, replaced by suspicious glances that shuttered the moment they passed.
The pattern was consistent everywhere. Soldiers and villagers both bowed to the Crown of Life, but the act felt empty.
Respect was superficial. They had endured Tanyl’s rule by withdrawing—reducing their dependence, focusing on themselves, and allowing their connections to the capital to weaken.
Obedience persisted, but it was conditional, driven more by distance and necessity than by trust.
Ahead, a Naiad nymph encampment guarded the Riverlands–Niflheim border.
At Kishion, the village where Imani grew up, the narrow currents required constant vigilance at the crossings.
The intense southern heat was oppressive, weighing heavily on Imani like her troubled memories.
She exhaled a slow, ragged breath and wiped her sweaty palms on her velvet skirt, indifferent to the damage.
Inside the camp, the Naiad nymph soldiers carried out their duties with strict discipline.
Their formations were tight, though fatigue showed at the edges as movements at the outer limits grew sluggish.
The commanders reported smoothly, but Imani noticed the clear gap between their supplies and what they needed to keep going.
They were defending the line, indeed, but only on borrowed time.
General Nereth delivered most of those reports herself.
She was a Naiad in her middle years, lean and strongly built, with deep bronze skin weathered darker across her face and forearms by years spent along the border.
Black hair streaked prematurely with silver, braided tightly against her scalp and gathered at the nape of her neck, leaving nothing loose enough to catch in wind or water.
A thin scar crossed one side of her mouth, and her gray-blue eyes rarely rested on Imani for long before returning to the soldiers, supplies, and river she defended.
Her dark uniform had been repaired more than once at the elbows and shoulders, and mud stained the bottoms of her boots despite the royal visit.
Ellisar stepped into the crowd of soldiers and transformed, casting aside the formal court demeanor for the confident bearing of a general.
Rather than seeking attention, he prioritized conversation with the men.
Moving through the camp, he asked precise, straightforward questions and adjusted their plans immediately based on their answers.
He restructured patrol routes, reallocated scarce resources, and fixed problems on the spot.
His leadership seemed honed by the harsh realities of the battlefield, molded by mud and current instead of regal authority.
Later, Ellisar stood with General Nereth by the water’s edge, watching the current surge and shift unpredictably against the muddy banks.
“It’s not holding its pattern,” he said.
General Nereth sighed and tossed a rock into the rushing water. “It hasn’t for weeks. The flow breaks without warning. It pulls in directions it shouldn’t, then overcorrects.”
Imani knelt on the shore, watching the surface tighten and release in subtle, erratic spasms, and her eyes narrowed. “This is a recent development,” she murmured.
The general blinked, her stoic facade faltering for a fraction of a second. “Yes, just in the past few months. We’ve reinforced the channels and anchored the weaker bends, but the instability isn’t coming from the earth.”
Ellisar scrubbed a hand down his face, cracking the confident veneer. “Then it’s coming from the Fabric.”
A tense silence stretched over the rushing water before the general finally answered, “That is our concern.”
* * *
Vathis, their last stop, announced itself long before its city gates came into view.
The transition to the elusive Norn city started deep in the Draswood, where ancient trees formed dense ranks that blocked the light and confined the view to the path. Next came the walls, carved from white native stone that grew directly from the land. Watchtowers emerged from the natural ridges.
Its city center thrived with an orchestrated celebration.
Torches and lanterns lined the main square, casting a warm, honey-like light over stone and wood.
Banners hung from balconies, decorated with lush green and crimson garlands, filling the night air with a rich, earthy aroma.
Drums and string instruments played in harmony, creating a lively, coordinated rhythm.
Vathis was baring its teeth behind a smile, presenting itself as strong even in revelry.
The crowd parted for them, waving handkerchiefs and tossing flowers to create a broad, open path. They bowed their heads and Imani kept her posture straight. The Crown of Life dug harder into her skull under the attention and reverence of her people, though.