Archeologist Warlord: Book 2

by E. M. Hardy

  “Then, there are the walkers,” Ishida continued, clutching his bow and grimacing at the dots in the sky too far for even his blood bow and blooded arrows to reach. “Faceless constructs that walk on two legs like men but are made of tough clay. Most bladed weapons skid past the hard surface, so blunt weapons work best against their ceramic limbs. I doubt, however, that the same could be said for blood-blades.” He unsheathed a portion of his katana, stroking the blood within with a fraction of his will. The blade responded to his call, the veins glowing faintly before dimming as he pushed the blade back into the sheath. “If the performance of blood-arrows is any measure, then I believe our blood-blades should be able to cut through the clay men with ease.”

  “We do, however, need to prepare our men for surprise attacks,” Ishida said, as he turned around to face the Maharaja with a grave expression. “If we can see those eyeballs in the sky, chances are we are already in range of walkers. We also need to send out scouts to hunt for obelisks. These big clay structures are three times as tall as the highest trees in this forest. The Rats report that the clay constructs can only operate so far from the obelisks, meaning they somehow affect the range in which the constructs can operate. If we find and destroy those obelisks, the clay men and the other constructs should fall apart like dead dirt.” Ishida grimaced once more as he recalled details from the missives the Rats had sent him.

  “Find oversized phallic symbols, then destroy oversized phallic symbols. Sounds easy enough,” replied the Maharaja, nodding his head in understanding.

  “It’s not quite as easy as that,” Ishida said, as he shook his head. “The Rats report that these clay men need neither food nor rest. They have the spies in the sky watching our every move. They can and will attack with impunity, avoiding our main army while hitting our supply lines over and over until we starve. We cannot risk advancing into Imperial territory unless we clear out the obelisks. That takes time, and time is not our friend in this case. If the Empire manages to gather the Khans to the north, mass their disparate tribes into one colossal army, they will have the numbers to crush us in a tide of horse and steel.”

  “Hmm,” the Maharaja said, noncommittally, as he studied Ishida. He looked as if he was about to say something, but then he closed his mouth while swaying his head from side to side in that odd nod of his. “I believe we have enough time to send out teams to demolish these obelisks you speak of. In any case, I also have something that might help us discourage the constructs from attacking us outright. Or should I say, someone.” He turned to one of his men, beckoning him over with a wave of his hand. “Hey! Bring the good general to me, would you?”

  Ishida quirked a brow at the Maharaja’s statement. “General? What general are you talking about?”

  Chapter 06

  “No.”

  Martin wanted to scream, rage, at the young woman seated on that grandiose throne of hers. This was a private, informal audience in a private room, so she did away with many of the formalities usually reserved for court. However, the stubbornness on Empress Zi Li’s face made it ten times as hard for him to hold his tongue.

  “Your Highness,” Martin replied with as much forced respect as he could muster. “Please. Give me something to work with here. At least, listen to what he has to say, to what he wants. If I can get him to agree to a truce before blood is shed, before battle can start, I might be able to negotiate the return of General Qiu Ja and the surviving members of her army. I can send an eyeball down to their camp at this very moment, and all that—”

  “You will not nor ever negotiate with rebel scum,” the Empress said, as she hardened her gaze, fixing it upon the eyes painted upon the walker’s face. “You will uphold your vows, Martin Fuller, and you will fight for the unity of the Empire. Your vows do not include cavorting with your enemy, striking deals beyond your station, and DEFYING YOUR EMPRESS!!”

  The Empress finally snapped in anger, raising her voice as she slammed her palm on the desk with a meaty smack. Martin resisted the urge to fling his arms in the air in despair, opting instead to keep it down to prevent himself from saying something he would later regret. The bald, nameless bodyguard beside her frowned as he studied Martin’s walker, probably sensing Martin’s desire to lash out in frustration.

  The Empress inhaled deeply, recomposed herself, and gently shook her head, causing the ornate patterns of her silk scarf to rustle. “We appreciate you coming forward with news about our general and her troops, vassal.” Martin flinched at the deliberate attempt to remind him of his place as the Empress’ vassal, but he refused to rise to the bait and waited for her to finish. “But we must not encourage treachery by giving in to the demands of rebels. Rebels who, may I remind you, attacked first and without provocation.”

  The Empress tightened her hand into a fist as she continued her impassioned speech. “The Three Sages weakened this Empire with their plotting, and this weakness emboldened our more treacherous vassals to think they can carve up our Empire. We cannot allow Venkati’s rebels to rampage throughout Imperial territory uncontested, for them to link up with the Taiyo rebels to the east and catch our armies in a pincer.” The Empress lowered her face, compressing her lips into a fine line. “Even if this means losing General Qiu Ja and her survivors.”

  Martin’s heart sunk at the Empress’ words, which hurt much deeper than he expected them to. Martin lowered his walker’s head, unable to meet the Empress’ judging eyes. He forced himself to raise it up after a few uncomfortable minutes, facing the Empress once more.

  “Your Highness… Zi Li.” Martin ignored the murderous look the nameless bodyguard shot his walker, the way he squeezed the pommel of his wickedly curved sword. “Do you recall when the League of Merchants marched upon the Emirate of Ma’an? That army was ten times the number of walkers I fielded at the time, and I had no hope in hell of beating those numbers—not in the open fields of the Bashri Basin. The only reason that al-Taheri and the House of Ma’an still stand to this day is because the League granted me an audience with them. I made an offer, they made a counter-offer, and we hemmed and hawed until we came to an agreement. Their army turned back, and al-Taheri stands intact and unmolested. Now the League is ironing out an agreement with the Emirate of Ma’an and the other emirates around them because of what happened that day.

  “Fighting, killing, absorbing the souls of the fallen, calling Shayateen to inhabit the corpses, is something I want to use as a last resort, Your Highness. It is extremely disrespectful to the dead... and it is far more dangerous than I first thought.” Martin slumped as he recalled the souls he had absorbed while he fought Shen Feng, who had attacked him under false orders. He then forced back a pang of craving as he remembered how good it felt, how empowering it was, to take those souls into himself. “I—”

  “ENOUGH!” the Empress shouted, which came out more as a shriek than a roar. The Empress huffed once, twice, before composing herself once more. She flattened her lips in disapproval as her eyes drilled into Martin’s walker. “Do you refuse to do your duty as a vassal sworn to the Ren Empire?”

  Martin was tempted for the briefest of moments to tell her to shove it where the sun don’t shine, but he managed to choke down the biting remark. “I will do what needs to be done, Your Highness, but I would much rather—”

  “No more excuses! They betray our trust and attack our forces unprovoked while the Empire is weakened by the worst floods, famines, and plagues we have ever seen. They cross our borders to attack us, coordinating with other rebels to ensure they do the most damage. You are either hopelessly naïve, fantastically ignorant, or seek to cooperate with our enemies. Do tell us, Martin Fuller, which are you?” The Empress didn’t laugh nor ridicule Martin. No, she glowered at him with contempt.

  “None of the above, Your Highness,” Martin replied as he ignored the challenge, focused on one last attempt to sway the Empress. “I am just hopeful that I could resolve this peacefully, through compromise, the same way I halted
the advance of the League of Merchants upon the Emirate of Ma’an.”

  “Then curb your hope, for I will not tolerate such idiocy!” replied the Empress, her tone sharp and rebuking. She softened her expression after that brief outburst, clearly thinking something over. The room remained silent as she processed her thoughts. Not a single whisper floated through the court as the Empress’ Balancer guards stood stoic, unwavering, in their position. The Empress’ nameless guard scowled at Martin’s walker, clearly not appreciating Martin’s defiance of his liege.

  “Our answer remains as it was. You will crush these rebels, these traitorous upstarts, and you will do so with the forces you have at your disposal. I will not allow your naïveté to expose the Empire to more betrayal, especially from a rebel who has already broken his sacred vow of vassalage.” Martin slumped the shoulders of his walker in the Imperial court, feeling the defeat deep within his core consciousness buried deep within the Qleb Sierra Pyramid. Zi Li spoke of the sanctity of vassal vows, yet she turned her own general upon Martin when he was at his most vulnerable? What hypocrisy!

  “This vassal thing is not working out as well as I first thought it would,” Martin whispered to himself, using a lone walker standing at attention along the highway he built in the Bashri Desert—far, far away from prying eyes and listening ears.

  ***

  Martin watched as the swarm of dolls continued their frenzied work, sucking up mud from an endless line of cow-boxes transporting the precious building material toward the valley. Even his own walkers helped unload the mud, distributing it to the dolls as they continued their frenetic work.

  The Empress may have ordered Martin hold off the advancing Sahaasi and Taiyo forces, but she didn’t tell him how to run his campaign. Instead of rushing out to fight the enemy head-on, Martin had decided to pull back to a more defensive position. Martin scouted the area with his eyeballs and drew up maps, picking out a suitable location to fortify. He found a valley nestled between two imposing mountain ranges with multiple canyons circling around—obstacles that would force an attacking force to waste weeks circling around them.

  Martin consulted with Shen Feng in the heart of the Ren Empire, comparing notes and asking him for advice. “Are you sure this will work?” worried Shen Feng, as he studied the drawing of extensive earthworks that Martin set up all over the valley.

  “Hell no,” answered Martin through the walker standing beside Shen Feng, who continued studying the map and its surrounding areas. “But it’s better than slamming into the Sahaasi army head-on. They outnumber my walkers two-to-one, and they have the benefit of those Taiyo samurai marching along with them. Not to mention that I have no idea how well my walkers will fare against those tattooed warriors. No, I’ll need to squat inside fortifications and draw this fight out as long as I can.

  “If the Sahaasi choose to go around the mountains, I’ll remain behind and harass them from the rear while cutting off their supply lines. My walkers don’t need food or water anyway, so they can stay here indefinitely. If the Sahaasi choose to assault the fortress, they would have to go through multiple layers of fortifications. They would need to clear out the main fortress right inside the lip of the valley, then deal with hidden bunkers all over the winding paths. They’d have to dig me out of these cliffs like a tick if they don’t want to find my walkers jumping out and sticking a knife in their backs.”

  He was about to continue with his explanation when the general shifted his attention to another map, shaking his head in disappointment as he studied the walls and towers that Martin drew up.

  “Problem?” Martin asked, when he noticed the general’s displeasure.

  “If you’re using the same kind of mud fortifications that you used when I sieged your pyramid, then these walls you’re putting up won’t last long,” Shen Feng said, as he pointed at the diagram of the walls. He spoke quickly and avoided looking at Martin’s walker, not wanting to draw out the discussion about how he attacked Martin after receiving false orders. “A few chi-enforced siege weapons, maybe even a team of martial artists that specialize in projecting force, and those walls are done for. I don’t know exactly what the Sahaasi are capable of, but I do know that they can cultivate chi very much the same way that we do. They use it to strengthen their bodies very similarly to how our more physically-oriented martial artists can. Instead of just a few dozen experts, however, expect anyone and everyone with a tattoo to be capable of similar physical prowess. This is especially true for their elite ghurkas, Sahaasi warriors famed for both their skill and their determination in battle. Those men don’t break no matter how many losses they take.”

  “I see,” Martin said, not wanting to dredge up bad memories. “Any suggestions on what I can do to deal with them?”

  “Wait,” Shen Feng said, rubbing his chin. “I’m not sure how their tattoos work or how they work with chi. You may be able to more easily deal with them if you can absorb the chi in the area. Can you do that? Drain the chi in the area around the valley, deny them energy?”

  Martin shifted his attention, switching to another partition of his consciousness within the valley his troops fortified. He tried pulling chi, draining the power in the area. He felt the energy in the air compress into his consciousness, but not within the valley itself. No, he drew the energy in a short area around the nearest obelisk—about a few hundred meters around the obelisk.

  Martin hummed as he switched back to the walker beside Shen Feng. “I can, though I’ll need to build an obelisk within the valley itself. It appears I can only…” Martin checked himself before he could reveal the information to Shen Feng. The general stood, raising his brow as he waited for Martin to continue. “Yes, I can drain the chi around the valley,” he finished, lamely, as he tried and failed to hide his reluctance about sharing more information than necessary with the general.

  Shen Feng narrowed his eyes as he stared at the walker, then sighed in resignation. “Very well,” he said, while looking back down on the maps and diagrams arrayed before him. “Draining the chi in the area will hopefully be enough to deal with whatever surprises the Sahaasi will throw at you. Now you only have to worry about those Taiyo bastards.” Martin thanked Shen Feng for steering the discussion away to a safer, more constructive, and less awkward topic.

  “Yeah,” Martin said, remembering what happened a few days ago. “Some of the Taiyo accompanying the Maharaja’s army were able to shoot down my eyeballs in flight.” Shen Feng glanced at the walker, then shook his head. “Samurai,” he said, spitting out the word with disgust. “They’re the reason we can’t just roll over the islands of the Taiyo. Not only can they destroy our landing craft from afar with living arrows that seek their targets, but they’re just as deadly in close-combat. Only skilled martial artists can take down a samurai in a straight-up fight, and that’s assuming they can get close enough without arrows perforating their organs.” Shen Feng grimaced as his eyes glazed over in thought. “Bai Yu must be having a hell of a time in the eastern front. If you can tie up the Sahaasi, bog them down in that valley long enough, then maybe I can send some forces to relieve pressure off of Bai Yu.” Shen Feng nodded to himself as he continued muttering, stroking his own beard while lost in thought.

  “If you’re going to maintain a defensive line, then be careful to watch for ghurka scaling the cliffs,” the general warned as he turned his attention back to the maps spread out before him. “The Sahaasi use a form of chi similar to but fundamentally different from chi, granting them great strength and vitality. They will definitely send small teams to sabotage your fortress, open up a breach from inside the walls. And be careful dealing with the Taiyo’s blood-bound weapons. Those will scythe through your constructs if you don’t deal with them right away.” The general made a face as he studied the numbers, then nodded. “Yes, a defensive position will work well here. I know you can easily replace your losses in a matter of months, but they outnumber you two to one. You cannot afford to let that army put
pressure on our southern flank—not when the Taiyo’s main forces can go for a hard push from the east. You need to keep them off the heart of the Empire at all costs.”

  Shen Feng’s expression hardened at that last statement, boring into the eyes painted upon the walker’s face. “At all costs?” Martin said.

  “At all costs,” the general repeated, slowly, gravely.

  “Even…” Martin started, gauging what he should say to Shen Feng. “Even if it means resorting to more creative ways of interpreting my orders?”

  “I will pretend I did not hear that,” Shen Feng said, as he inhaled deeply and shook his head. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of fighting smart and letting the enemy do the dying for you.” He returned his gaze back to Martin’s walker, lowering his voice and pressing his lips to form a thin line. “But yes, Martin. It is more important that you stall that army, give time for the General of the Black Turtle Guo Zhenya to gather the Khanate hordes. In this case, it might be better to ask for forgiveness from Her Highness than permission.” The general’s words tapered off into a whisper so low that Martin’s walker could barely pick up on what he was saying.

  Martin simply nodded with his walker as he committed himself to what needs doing—even if it meant risking his good standing with the Empire and the Empress he was trying his damnedest to protect.

  “Eh,” Martin said after the long, choking silence in the air. “I never was a good soldier anyway.”

  Chapter 07

  “That should not be there,” Maharaja Venkati exclaimed, boggling at the sight before him.