by D. H. Aire
“It’s not like I thought anyone was living in it,” he muttered back.
“Thirty-five thousand Legionnaires,” Terus said.
“And their dependents,” Ri added.
“They’re raising the citidel’s wards,” Revit’s slightly deeper gravelly warder voice said as he and Ri’s warder knelt to help Se’and get George back on to their feet.
George shook his head, “I thought Kolter was in the front of the vanguard. Turns out that was an illusion. He’s continuing on south.”
“He won’t get away,” Se’and said. “Farrel knows he’s coming.”
Frowning, George said, “I take it that Cle’or knows, too.”
Se’and nodded, “Yes, and she says you had better return the majority of the Fourth Legion or things are not going to go very well.”
“Return them?” he muttered.
:Yes, return them.:
His head aching, George smiled, “Uh, I think we need to have a chat with them first.”
“And Kolter?” Se’and said, glaring at him.
“Lawson, can you hear me?” he shouted.
#
Twitch.
Yel’ane’s eyes were wide. “Uh, Lawson,” she whispered.
He lay there and glanced back at her, “I know.”
‘What?’ she thought back.
‘Well, you’re looking more, um, grown up.’
‘Lawson, I suddenly don’t know if I am ready to be.’
‘Good, you had me worried.’
“HER PHYSICAL MATURITY IS NO LONGER AN ISSUE.”
They winced.
“Uh, thank you for sharing that, Mother,” Lawson muttered.
“ASSISTANT ENGINEER, YOU WILL PROCEED. I HAVE NEED OF YOUR CHILDREN.”
‘Lawson, can you hear me?’ another mind voice called.
“Uh, George?”
‘Stop whatever you’re doing this instant. Kolter’s heading your way.’
They felt Mother’s displeasure as the link began to grow tenuous.
Yel’ane gulped as Lawson sat up, replying, “Yes, Sir. Sorry, Mother… Re’ut, Le’ann, what are you staring at? Kolter’s headed this way. We need to turn this army around.”
Re’ut blinked, glancing past Le’ann at all the other staring half dressed Cathartans, “Uh, yes, Milord.”
Yel’ane blushed. “Uh, pass me some of the waybread from the pack. I’m starving.”
Lawson glanced about, then leaned over and kissed his now another two inches taller and definitely more mature wife. Her eyes widened, then his did as she kissed him with a surprising passion. Her stomach growled, “Um.”
Lawson nodded and was soon rummaging through the pack for more than just the waybread, knowing she had to be voraciously hungry. Moments later, she ate with a lack of manners that might worry many a troll.
Chapter 49 - Catch
Bastian quaked as did the Citadel far above. “Rexil?”
“I see it,” he rasped as the monitors flashed in warning. “Sounds like we’re back on duty.”
“Rexil,” Shannon said, “we’re being hailed.”
‘What are you doing up there?’ Aaprin demanded.
“It’s not us,” Shannon answered.
:Attention all warders.:
Beep.
“Staff?”
:Rexil/Shannon, begin preparations to catch.:
“Did Staff say ‘catch?’” Shannon asked.
He looked at her as one of his monitors flipped to a new menu.
“That’s the manual!”
Shannon did. She called up ‘catch.’ “Aaprin! We’ve been asked to catch an Underhill structure.”
‘A what?’
“Aaprin,” Rexil said, “apparently someone moved the one we had.”
:Aaprin, prepare to assist in the ‘catch’:
“Rexil,” Shannon rasped, “according to this we’re going to need a lot more power. I’m not certain that we can handle this.”
:You have one hour to acquire the requisite power required.:
“And just how are we supposed to do that?” Rexil wondered.
There was a clomping of hooves.
“Uh, Rexil…” Shannon said, pointing.
The unicorn stared back at them from the monitor ring mirror.
#
“Are you all right?”
“Fine, so what happened?”
“One moment you were talking to the Mother Shaman, then you fell to the floor.”
He frowned. “I… I saw someone else.”
“Someone else? Who?”
“Someone I never thought I’d see again.”
“Who?”
He scratched his head, “I don’t know…”
She looked at him.
“I really don’t…” He frowned, hearing something inaudible. “Catch?” His eyes rolled up and he fainted again. There was a cry; apparently he wasn’t the only one.
“Catch?” one of her Sisters muttered.
“Help me get him back to bed!”
#
Aaprin stood next to Gallen as Ander and Cle’or stood guard behind them. “Rexil, you ready now?”
‘No. We have one more lift to send down, first.’
“That’s not the plan,” Aaprin muttered, seemingly to himself.
‘It is according to the manual,’ Rexil replied. ‘Ready? Lift is in position.’
Light flared as the lift vanished from the Citadel and reappeared before Aaprin and Gallen in the cavern at Bastian. The unicorn with Casber and Juels, no longer looking like Raven, shook her head. Greth looked even taller surrounded by dwarves, gray haired ones with axes and daggers, riding triple on their specially made saddles.
“Master Fronkwin?” Aaprin said, frowning.
He looked directly at the Seeress, who nodded.
‘We’re ready to catch now,’ Rexil said.
The unicorn stepped off the lift. Juels dismounted, glancing about and suddenly saw more than double. Aaprin tightened his grip on Gallen’s arm wrapped in illusion and not, but it was also really George and Staff.
She squinted, her right hand pressing against the unicorn’s flank for support. “Are you all right?” Casber asked, glancing down at her.
Meeting his gaze, she saw… a man in a blue cloak in Casber’s place. It was George, but not George. She swayed.
:Catch.:
Casber fainted.
#
:Your move, George.:
He stood in one of the north facing towers, Se’and at his side. The two warders each placed a gloved hand on one of George’s shoulders. ‘Revit, you’re shaking,’ Aliana gasped.
‘Terus is, too,’ Ri said.
Raven flew in the window out of the night as the ground quaked, raining dust on them.
“Je’orj?” Se’and cried as he and Staff began to fade. She grabbed him around the waist. He solidified and slumped to his knees, dragging her down with him as he held Staff in a two-handed death grip.
Backwinging, Raven shimmered, settling in beast form. She whimpered, sniffing at George, he looked back, unseeing.
:George, are you sure you want to do that?:
“You have a better idea?” he muttered as Se’and gasped, her anklet flaring with light.
:You have options.:
“No,” he muttered, feeling reality twisting around them. Castles, keeps, flashed through his mind, then offering Troy, Minoan, Egyptian, Chinese, and countries long forgotten on Earth throughout history, structures imagined and real.
Raven reached out a front paw and saw it pass through George. She drew back as Se’and vanished, Cle’or in her place, then it was Fri’il. Her scent was… not one of motherhood. George turned away, his eyes unseeing, his staff looking as if it were made of wood. Leaning on it, he said something she could barely hear, but she sensed the voice was wrong, which is when Raven also glimpsed a faint scar visible on his cheek.
Then a phantom cowled Mother Shaman appeared beside him, reaching out to steady him. The Moth
er Shaman glanced in her direction and jerked back, as if surprised to see Raven.
“Catch?” George gasped as reality shifted, slumping to the stone floor. The phantoms were gone as George clung to his computer staff, eyes closed.
The warders writhed, falling to the ground with feminine cries. Fri’il was gone and Se’and was in her stead, but her scent was wrong.
Shimmering, Raven changing to human form, knocked this false Se’and aside. Raven growled, barring her teeth, rushing to the unconscious George.
Se’and stared at her, startled, faded. Another, the one she knew reappeared, her anklet flaring. The tower around them firmed as the world shifted and Raven swayed, then grinned, realizing she had changed form. Seeing her hands, she began grooming George’s hair and face.
#
An hour before dawn, the northern border of the Empire quaked. Legionnaires along the Great Wall were knocked off their feet. Those at the Consecrated’s Tower were all standing in the roiling waters of the Talisman as the guardian rose in the mist.
Fenn du Blain’s siege towers and tents toppled as tremors rippled beneath their camp, several caught fire, which led to others catching fire. His troops shouted in fear, stumbling about.
“Bastian!” one of his soldiers cried as Fenn struggled to get out of bed as lanterns fell over, cracking up, spewing their oil. His tent burst into flame.
Du Blain found himself having to crawl to the tent flaps as his cot and field table, which was still dipping with the blood of his latest victim, smoke filling the tent. He gasped as he saw horses fleeing through the camp, adding to the havoc as he felt the earth buck worse by the moment.
“Curse them!” he shouted.
His burning tent beginning to collapse behind him, Fenn saw Bastian appearing to rotate and draw back into the suddenly glowing Imperial cliffside. It swallowed up Bastian as he saw the last manning its walls abandon them. Moments later the cliff wall blazed and a gleaming white fortress, its walls far higher than that of Bastian, rotated outward, looking almost ghostly.
That wall kept coming, further out than Bastian’s perimeter, heading ever closer to Fenn’s overturned and burning encampment. Broken siege engines vanished from sight as the massive ghostly outer wall passed through them.
Du Blain struggled to his feet and ran, knowing his plans were doomed. Glancing back, he saw his troops running after him, trying to flee, but those walls moved too fast. They began to vanish as the wall reached them. He did not stop running until he reached the northern edge of his encampment. Gaping, he stared at the Imperial citadel’s outer walls towering above him. The fortress ceased rotating, those walls now nearly midway through what had been his camp.
He looked around trying to ascertain how many of his men were trapped inside as what remained of his army fled even as he began hearing cries of: “You are our prisoners!”
Legionnaires appeared on the Citadel’s walls. He cursed, desperate for a horse and ran.
#
Walsh swung his fist, batting an attacking soldier from his saddle. “I could have handled that,” Thomi said, lowering his blade.
‘Of course, you could have,’ Amira whispered from afar.
He winced, “You’re back.”
‘The Scryer’s Network is down again, but this time we can do without.’
“Fourth Legion!” he heard shouted.
Lord Rian and his personal guard rode through a rallying detachment of Haydenese. All were on foot, their mounts lost in the chaos of the quake. “Fifth Legion and Rian!” the elflord cried.
‘You have more important work to do.’
“And what would that be, dear?”
He felt her displeasure. ‘First, you are to tell Lawson to stop playing the fool…’
#
Lawson cradled the dozing Yel’ane close as Thomi rode up with Walsh running at his mount’s side. The young lord shouted, “Lord Lawson, Amira says we shouldn’t split up. We have prisoners aplenty and wounded to deal with.”
“And what does she say about Kolter?” Lawson demanded.
“That he’s running south with what remains of his Demonlord minions,” Thomi replied.
“Then we’re not finished,” he said as Yel’ane softly snored.
Thomi shook his head. “We’ve sent a dozen of the Fourth’s Faeryn mages after them.”
Le’ann said, “Milord, we should join Lord Rian.”
“It is nearly dawn. Rian is moving his banner to the Keep.”
“Not the new Citadel?” Le’ann asked.
“No, that appears to have gone elsewhere with a sizeable amount of the Fourth Legion,” Thomi replied.
“Well, going to the Keep sounds good to me. Lord Je’orj is there, at least,” Re’ut muttered.
Walsh cleared his throat.
Thomi shook his head, glancing askance at the ogre, “I have it on good authority that the Highmage may not be much help for a time.”
Lawson nodded, “That’s George for you. Sleeping, while there’s still a job to do… So, I think the Sisters and I can do more good against Kolter.”
Thomi swallowed, blushing, “Amira told me to tell you that, um, you should return to the Keep following Lord Je’orj’s cue to get some much needed rest.” He winced, “Fine, Amira… Actually what she said was you should take some time for your honeymoon.”
Le’ann glanced back at her glowing and rather dirty Sisters-in-arms. “The Keep has warm water, doesn’t it?”
Walsh nodded, “Soap… too.”
Thomi glanced up at his friend. “Oh, so now you know that word.”
“I… smell… fine,” Walsh replied. “Lawson… not.”
“It must be an ogre thing,” Lawson muttered even as his battle steed turned its head and glared at him. “Et tu?”
The steed nodded and galloped toward the Keep, the skeletal looking Sisterhood looking weirder in the receding darkness.
#
Aaprin was looking up at the sky as the first rays of the sun subtly changed the darkness. Gallen was curled up beside him. “They all right?” Ander asked.
“Um, they will be,” Cle’or said, kneeling beside them. “He’s lost a lot of body heat.” She checked Gallen, “She has, too. I need these two put in bed and we’ll need plenty of blankets.” As they were carried to a bedroom, Cle’or said, “Ander, you’re going to need to get in with them and chafe them.”
“Me?”
“You married them,” Cle’or replied.
Aaprin groaned and Gallen moaned, barely conscious as Legionnaires put the pair in their bed.
“Help me get their clothes off, then take off yours and join them under the covers.”
Ander gaped at her.
Cle’or looked back at her. “Ander.”
A moment later, Ander was removing her Cathartan livery as Cle’or shooed the Legionnaires out. As she was about to close the door, Greth shouldered past, carrying the unconscious Juels into the chamber, “Milady.”
Cle’or frowned.
“Is she all right?” Ander asked, half dressed.
“The Seeress said she is exhausted and that she belonged with her husband and Sisters at this moment.”
Cle’or shooed the troll out and took off the girl’s sandals, jerkin, and pants, then tucked her under the covers. “I’ll say this for her. She’s quite warm, which should help with these two.”
Ander blinked, “Are you sure, Cle’or?”
“The Seeress apparently is,” she replied. “And she’s engaged to Aaprin, in any case.”
Swallowing hard, Ander said, “Uh, just how much, um, warming am I supposed to do?”
“Whatever’s necessary,” Cle’or replied, her gaze steely.
“That’s what I was afraid you’d say…” Ander muttered, quickly crawling under the covers, beginning to work on Aaprin first.
“Now you’re thinking like a Cathartan.”
Ander paused, nodding and drew Juels closer to Aaprin, glad she was so warm. She turned and tucked hers
elf closer to Gallen, who was even colder to the touch than Aaprin. Oh, Ruke, what have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 50 - Scryer’s Honor
“We have more than a thousand troops massing directly ahead to take the city, Milord,” stated the old scryer, who had been less than pleased to find himself reunited with his dark lord and master.
“So few. No matter. My mages succeeded in taking the city from within?”
“Aye, Milord,” the old scryer said, having see the havoc of the throne room filled with broken statues and a new chair raised in Kolter’s honor. “Lord Tane is dead. His son is clearly bound and our prisoner at the right of your waiting throne. Lady Janielle is shackled to it on the left.”
“His troops have no inkling?”
“Clearly none, Milord,” the old scryer replied. “His men have taken to the field and our archers have their range. All we need do is rout them and the gates are yours.”
“Excellent,” Kolter said, knowing that even with only three hundred of his adherents left, once they controlled Tane, the Empress would never be able to rout them, no matter the thousands of Legionnaires she had somehow amassed and illusioned through the Faeryn mages that had harried them as dawn approached.
Kolter seethed. He knew what the Demonlord would demand and Tane offered him sacrifices aplenty. Turning to his page, a teenager, who brought him children to sacrifice and loved torturing them, “Order our archers to fire, I shall lead the charge.”
The scryer paled as the youth grinned, his eyes almost glassy, nodding, “Yes, Milord.”
#
The remaining Tanish forces sent north fell back toward the city. When the reinforcements counter-attacked, they fought with renewed hope while helping their wounded comrades back toward the plains before the city walls. However, it was the arrival of the silent often rather short reinforcements dressed in ill-fitting livery shortly thereafter that made them wonder if they had lost their minds.
“Keep those torches back!” Tett ordered.
A dwarf grumbled, “We shouldn’t be out here.”
Tett rode over on the battle steed stallion, “Tell that to your mother.”
The dwarf paled, “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Why, yes, now see that everyone keeps their torches back on this side… and keep your shield close.”