by Kris Schnee
Strength against strength, mind against mind, Dominic couldn't outdo the Boundless One. Instead of attacking yet again, he tore away all of the man's defenses and tried only to hold them down. Without them, Jasper was just a man too. "But I have willing friends," said Dominic. He struggled to keep all the ammunition pinned against the torn-up ground. "Anyone else still up? He's all yours."
Crossbows twanged. A sling bullet whizzed into Jasper's unprotected skull and metal bolts sprouted like feathers from his chest. The Boundless One gurgled, raised one hand, and made every single bit of wood and cloth in the entire camp rise despite all of Dominic's effort. It all hovered there, and then it fell in time with Jasper pitching face-forward into the bloodstained dirt.
Dominic staggered. "One... one more round. Hit him again. Be sure." He didn't feel any resistance to his attempt to hold the debris down. More shots rang out and thudded into Jasper's body. "Good. Now..."
Rose sported several nasty cuts that had taken chunks out of her fur. "Your arm. Lots of wounded." She looked vaguely around. She scavenged through scattered equipment for a bottle of whiskey and some reasonably clean cloth.
The Weave all around them was tangled beyond belief from excessive magic. No one would cast a spell for days within a hundred paces at least. Blood still floated in artful trails along the ghostly threads.
It looked like the rest of Jasper's diplomatic party had been slaughtered, but they'd taken several good men with them. Dominic shook the stars out of his vision and said, "All medics, get started if you haven't already." They had. Dominic and Rose joined in to treat the worst of the men who'd been stabbed and gouged and battered, escorting them to a safer area for spellcraft. There was only so much Dominic could do once he started to notice his broken arm. Rose held him while one of the soldiers set it. He was nearly useless after that, lying down and trying not to whimper in pain.
* * *
Dominic woke up with a thudding hammer blow coursing through his arm in time with his pulse. Bearable. It was sunset and he was lying with several of the other wounded men in an open tent. His familiar was a warm presence sleeping at his feet. He carefully stood and went outside.
An officer saluted. "Prince! We need to move camp into the city. They've sent out a formal surrender. I've already begun transporting the luggage. Is that all right, sir?"
Dominic laughed at how worried the man looked. "Yes, that's good. You saved us all some time by getting it done instead of waiting for orders. How is everyone?"
"Significant casualties, but most will live. Avicenna is ours and many of the locals want to join our cause. We have the warehouses intact plus several captured ships, though they're bottled up by the enemy navy. We're staving them off for the moment, but they might sweep in soon to wreck what we've taken."
"What other fighting is still going on?"
"Servants sniping in the Masked Quarter with a few loyalist Bound, mostly."
Dominic nodded. "And the High Citizen?"
"Dead by his own people's hands."
Dominic murmured a prayer. He'd always felt the town was well run. Then again, he'd only ever been here as part of the "lowest" class. Had Jasper ever been here in disguise as a mere Bound? Too late to ask. Too late to reconcile, at all.
As awful as the dying Holy State was, how much more evil and deserving of overthrow would it have been, if the same abusive rules were in the hands of dishonest men?
* * *
Prince Dominic gave a speech in the slain High Citizen's manor. He congratulated the Citizens who'd turned on the man, while trying not to say that the High Citizen had deserved it. He would have sounded insincere. "We're not fighting for vengeance," he said, "but to liberate the people and give them a chance to choose their own way to live. It won't be long now before the Holy State breaks."
"Is it true?" someone called out. "Did you kill him?"
"The Boundless One? Yes. He admitted his true identity to me, and based on my past dealings with him, I believed it. And he had this on him."
He held up a curious crystal that had been sewn into Jasper's robe. If it had been on a necklace, it would've been grounds for claiming Jasper was a decadent hoarder of jewels. To a magic-trained eye, though, it was a thing of true beauty, with intricate whorls of emerald light coursing through its facets.
Dominic explained, "This trinket is a magical key. I've never seen one quite like it before."
A mage asked, "Are they done, then? Is the Boundless One gone?"
"Unfortunately, no. The remaining Servants will probably reorganize and make people think the One is still working perfectly." He didn't mention that the other members of Jasper's inner circle might have similar keys, and be able to carry on the elaborate book-keeping and ceremonial functions. "It's the link between the Boundless One as a man, and the crystal we imagine is really in charge."
"Then what good was that fight with the Servant?"
"We killed the man who understood it best." Including all the system's flaws.
He didn't know how the key worked yet. He imagined that if he could sneak into the High Temple, he could seize control and make the entire State stop. But really, would the Servants or anyone else obey whatever the floating rock told them to do? They weren't mind-controlled; they served the State because they believed it to be right.
Well, there was no way to try that anyhow. The island was too well defended. He said, "Right now, their most powerful and loyal men and women are on a little island with inadequate farms and now, no northern port to feed them. They'll rely now on what supplies they stashed before our attack, and food from eastern ports like Shirker's Noose."
Jakob laughed bitterly. "There was always grain to export from there, somehow."
Dominic said, "It's time to change that. We need to see if the Mithraians are coming by sea to sweep away the Baccatan navy, and we need to disperse our army somewhat for our own supplies' sake. So, we'll take the rest of the coast. We will make contact with Shirker's Noose, and end Baccatan rule there forever. My friends, the end has begun!"
* * *
Easier said than done. The next few days taught Dominic a little more of the civil aspects of rule. He made a grand proclamation about freedom of education and religion. There was a blessing by a priest of the old totemic faith who came out of the woodwork the same afternoon, showing a touching amount of trust in Dominic himself. Tax laws, sumptuary laws regulating festivals and decoration, and even most of the laws regulating the social classes, he left untouched for now. There was simply too much to do! He'd have to go through everything on the books eventually, with the help of bureaucrats more experienced than himself. Parts of the city remained under heavy guard, partly to give his troops something to do, while others were rapidly being rebuilt and fortified. Small military units were going to the villages and seizing the eastern coast bit by bit. There might yet be a major battle with an army from the east, where he and the Mithraians had sent only a few spies and other agents.
With the damage that he'd done to the State, though, he doubted it would ever come together again under the same rules.
Jakob and his wolf found him slumped at a desk cluttered with papers. "What I need are Servants," said Dominic.
"Send me to Shirker's Noose."
Dominic sat up. "Making contact with the island doesn't mean sending away one of my best men. I heard how you helped turn 'burn the shipyard' into 'keep half the shipyard intact and in our hands'."
"I want to do the same thing on my island."
"First, we need to take the coast to the east, to reach the strait and have any chance of sneaking people across to that island. Be patient. I just heard from one of the griffins that he might be able to drop pamphlets or something, for a start."
"Pamphlets! For illiterate people? Drop me from your griffin, if you're worried about a boat being intercepted."
Dominic looked to the wolf standing proudly at Jakob's side. "Why does it have to be you? I know the place means a lot to you, but I
can't have you getting killed now, for the same reason my officers are insisting that I quit jumping in front of them."
"Wrong. You're the boss. I'm nothing, just a, a Servant who's lost his mask. I still have that freedom to go elsewhere." The young man drew himself up to stare directly into Dominic's eyes. "In fact, since I never swore to be your noble vassal or anything, I think I'll go there regardless of your decision."
"Yet you're asking me." He saw Jakob only nod in reply. "A griffin ride isn't very pleasant, and I doubt that Lupa there would enjoy it either, but it can be done. Are you serious about trying that?"
Another nod. "I owe it to the people there."
Dominic pushed aside some of the paperwork, stood, and walked around his desk to embrace Jakob. "So this is what it means to rule. Watching your friends go, one by one, for reasons of their own."
"What it means to rule well, I think. Giving the orders doesn't mean you can or should try to run everything."
"All right. Start planning for whatever you're going to set off there. I'll ask the griffins to talk with you and arrange a boat trip otherwise. But please wait at least until we hear from the eastern scouts, to make sure we're not about to be swamped by a counterattacking army."
Dominic walked to a balcony with Jakob to look south over Avicenna, to the sea. The islands of the Great Chain lay over the horizon, including Shirker's Noose and Temple Island. The enemy fleet waited. Many, many of his Servant brothers and sisters waited. He, too, had to wait for the moment. He would wear no crown, he decided, until the work was done.
21. Striking Chains
He administered the city and the others he'd conquered, as well as he could from a fort high atop Avicenna. There was more fighting going on at the edges of his realm, more anger and destruction. There was even still some rioting here in town, and he'd needed to jail or execute people. At this point even a holdout Servant in town was a threat his many helpers could, and twice actually did, manage without him.
Be calm, he told himself. The final outcome is in the hands of the King, and of the people themselves.
There was little fighting in town for a few days, just a tense city to rule. Endless reports told him that the coast was his for now. He looked to the map, praying for Jakob in the east and the Mithraians in the west.
At last a griffin flew to the plaza below. It shined like the morning sun and became man and beast side by side. "Prince Dominic. We are pleased to inform you that the fleet approaches. We'd like you to tell us of your efforts."
"Sir Carlous! Good to see you."
Carolus' formal pose relaxed. "We hope you've captured some good wine."
"How much liquor does it take to get a griffin drunk?"
"A heroic amount, of course. But we like the taste."
The Prince and the knight sat together to share drinks and tales. "You actually killed the Boundless One?" asked Carolus. His griffin dozed nearby.
"I and many others working together." He explained.
"Glad to hear it, though the war's not done yet. You know, we were unsure whether it really was an intelligent crystal or a man posing behind one."
Dominic said, "I thought it was a being of pure thought and reason."
"Would that have made it a good ruler? Just because some human sets up a supposedly superior mind, doesn't make it worthy to be a tyrant. We'd want to know its style and its friends before we trust it with a single feather. And 'pure reason' doesn't sound too encouraging. Sounds like an excuse to call its victims irrational."
Dominic took a long drink, and thought of the rules he'd enforced for so long. "Well, the State lost. That's some evidence in your favor."
Carolus told him of other battles. The fleet had had a hard time in the west, to the point of several whole ships being lost to enemy action and encounters with chaotic whirlpools on the Madlands frontier. But the rest were coming, smelling blood. The Mithraic dolphin-familiar mage called Faas had scavenged miracles out of the expedition and now boasted of a secret weapon.
"What might that be?"
"He wouldn't tell even us. We've been picturing him building some kind of whale-launcher."
Dominic snorted. "I'll take what I can get. Is your fleet up for ending this?"
The knight drank. "You're lucky that the State hasn't come for you yet. They could send a horde of Servants at you, still. What's so funny?"
Dominic quelled his bitter laughter. "My old mentor thought too little of himself. It seems that his death has delayed the Holy State; he wasn't instantly replaceable. That won't last long though."
"The men who might replace him --"
"One of the likely candidates is a woman. I doubt any of them will sue for peace. The question is whether your fleet will arrive in time to blockade Temple Island, before the capital re-organizes well enough to launch a massive invasion here." He looked to the docks below. "I have people racing to build seaworthy boats, but I'm not a navy man myself. And worse..." He shook his head. "We can't crush them completely. Taking Temple Island by land would be brutal. House to house slaughter, then burning people out of our underground base."
"As we thought. Blockade and besiege, then?"
Dominic's expression hardened, so that he felt almost as though he still wore a mask. "They're not my countrymen anymore. If they surrender, we can give them a place in a new, better country. If your people are sincerely willing to help fight for one."
"Two of the Dukes want to snatch your prize away, especially if you can't be brought into the League. In terms of sheer power you currently control three or so dukedoms, if you can hold them."
"Which Dukes are after me?"
"We'd rather not say. If you're strong enough, they'll be all smiles and claim they always wanted to be your friends. That'd be best."
Dominic nodded. "Thanks for the warning. I'd suspected something like that. I think Seaflower and especially Torrin will resist an outright Mithraic takeover, but I'll need to be on guard."
Carolus straightened up in his seat, and there was a faint rustle of wings outside. The griffin peeked in. The man said, "We in the Order of the Winged Soul have made it clear that we'd frown on the Dukes attacking a professed follower of the King. We'd be unhelpful to them in such a war."
"Why?"
"Because we know and trust you. You know what it's like to be bound to other people, without abusing them. If you'd showed promise like this at a young age, in our country, we'd have offered to take you to our Aerie and see if any new-hatched griffins would accept you."
Dominic thought about that for a moment. "Thank you, Sir Carolus."
"We mean it." He grinned. "You also managed to handle an air ride without complete panic, which is part of the entrance test."
"So, I have some support from your group. But the Dukes see me as a useful pawn."
"They do. We have to admit that we're using you too, in a way -- to be a thorn in their side. To show them that a ruler doesn't need to be an inbred descendant of someone important. And, that men can rise up against rulers who grow too unjust. We think you should consider becoming a Duke within our government, eventually, but you serve that purpose either way."
Dominic nodded, and stretched. "Well, Carolus, there'll be an end to the Holy State soon. I think there'll be peace with your people. Why do you knights have so much concern for letting Baccata stay independent from your League?"
"The idea of conquering it, now that it's ruled by a potential friend, strikes a nerve with us. It's unjust to force people together, to bind them against their will. Our knightly order and our system of an empty throne was founded partly because of a King who tried to do that."
"What? Your Mithrol tried to force your griffin spell on people?"
"Ha, no; He was a good man. We're talking about His successor, the first and only man who dared to sit on Mithrol's vacated throne."
"And it didn't work?"
"It went poorly." Man and griffin gave the same vicious smile. "And then, We Ate His Heart. We promised to
do the same to any future mortal King. So, we watch the people that we guard, just as we will watch you."
* * *
Avicenna sported new coastal walls of wood and earth and roots, and a sturdier army, but the enemy fleet would be trouble. He walked out to his officers, trying to look confident. They didn't see his armor, or his hidden guards, or his struggle not to feel anything, neither sympathy for the enemy nor vindictiveness. He could feel those things after doing what he needed to do.
Right now, what he needed to do was stall. The wind blew from the west, a good sign. His allies should be here already. Not quite as good as having them here now.
"Sir, that eagle..." Dominic looked where the soldier pointed, and saw it coming from open sea to the south. An enemy scout's familiar.
"Take a shot if you can. Probably too high." He flung a hand outward to catch the troops' attention. "Buy time. I want naval crews standing by to launch their ships the moment our allies arrive. Keep guards at the key buildings, skirmishers along the coast." The griffin knight in combined form hopped down from a ledge on cue, bowing its head to Dominic in full view of everyone. Dominic smiled, as rehearsed, and showed no fear. There was an immediate use for Sir Carolus too besides showing him off for morale. He patted the griffin's wing and said, "It would be helpful if you would start by taking down that familiar."
The knight launched himself into the air with such a powerful downdraft that Dominic felt pressed to the ground. "We begin the final battle today. For a free Baccata!"
* * *
The enemy bird was fast, but the griffin slammed it from above with a deadly beak-thrust. Dominic winced at the thought of the backlash its owner must be suffering. No, he told himself. He is the enemy. Cracking his mind a little is good.
The Baccatan commander might be a replacement Boundless One. No attempt to negotiate from him, of course, just the implied promise of slow death. Dominic dared not launch his ships while the foe's larger fleet was still distant on the horizon. His few would only be slaughtered faster that way. He stood in a forward post, a wooden platform by the patch of mangroves west of Avicenna. The griffin's role now was to shuttle back and forth and find out when the damn Mithraic fleet would get here. The wind had turned fickle, though that hindered both sides.