Archeologist Warlord: A Dungeon Core Epic

by E. M. Hardy

  ***

  At the Red Court…

  “—the ability to taste things again.”

  Martin’s walker at the Red Court did not miss a beat, continuing his pleasant conversation with the Empress even as he absorbed the soul of a dead man through a walker a few thousand miles away.

  “An interesting choice of words, considering that you utter them in our presence. One might even consider them a threat, Martin Fuller.”

  Martin mentally shook off the consequences of his thoughts, doing his best to regain his composure as he saw the guards unsheathe their weapons while the attendants reached within their sleeves. He believed he had everything handled. He had no face to read expressions from, his voice was steady as he spoke, and he managed to keep his body tightly controlled. However, the Empress could still pick up on something wrong. She put down her eating utensils, waved away her attendants, and settled into the seat behind the gauze-like curtain that obscured her features.

  “No, your highness, I meant no such disrespect. It’s just that I am dealing with something unexpected right now, and the mentality just sort of… carried over.”

  “Oh? Something unexpected that ‘sort of’ carried over into our discussion? Do explain.”

  Martin would have upped and left right away if he could. But he couldn’t, and he doubted that he could evade the topic well enough to not disrespect his new sovereign. So he did as usual: he gave a straight answer.

  “I’m currently dealing with a few raiders who are trying to hunt down diplomats sent by a potential ally—the Emirate of Ma’an. I’m negotiating a deal to bring our peoples together to help in the coming fight against the invaders, but the rivals of that emirate sent their forces to hunt down the diplomats. Local politics, some sort of prelude to a larger attack that seems to be orchestrated by what Suhaib, the diplomat, claims to be criminal groups hiding in the shadows. As things stand, I’m doing all I can to slow down those raiders. The odds are bad enough, but General Shen Feng was right: I’m pathetic in a fight.”

  Martin allowed a sigh to escape, even as the general’s mouth froze mid-bite at the mention of his name. Actually, the general’s frozen expression was shared by a lot of people in the room, most notably the advisors and the guards flanking the Empress’ seat. The advisors, because they now knew that the impenetrable Yanshi mountains were not so impenetrable after all. The guards, because they thought that Martin was attempting to match the Empress’ threat with one of his own.

  “We presume that this is one of those unique characteristics you were talking about earlier?” The Empress’ tone was cool and undisturbed, almost dismissive. Martin had to give it to the Empress; she was turning out to be far more than the sheltered girl he first thought she was. Her childish giggles were replaced by a firm aura of command, and he was seeing the true Daughter of Heaven for the first time.

  “Yes, your highness. I’m currently engaged with these raiders at this moment, using bodies identical to this one that I’m using to talk to you right now. A hundred of these walkers,” he waved a hand downward, pointing to himself, “against more than two hundred, elite riders on fast war horses and equipped with all sorts of weapons, each possessing a jinni of their own.” Martin shook his head. “They must really want Prince Suhaib, sending out such a force to capture him.”

  “A prince? Putting himself at risk for a mere diplomatic mission? How reckless… and interesting.” The Empress paused in her meal, giving more thought to the idea. “These potential allies you mention, they are from beyond the Yanshi Mountains?”

  “Yes, past the desert sands bordering the mountains themselves. I’m building roads toward them right now, hoping to build a network to reach them. Truth be told, I really wish they’d stop all this; the war they plan on fighting is not going to help anyone, and we’ll need to be as united as possible if we stand a chance of even surviving the invaders—much less triumphing over them.”

  The Empress finished her meal, signaling her attendants to clear her table away. “These invaders, they are the crux of the whole reason why you wish to become our vassal, yes?”

  “Indeed, your highness. It’s the whole reason the Builders kidnapped me from my home world and stuck my soul in this… whatever I am right now. There’s nothing I can do about that, but I figured I can at least make the most of what I can do right now. And the visions I saw, the ones I gained from unlocking a pyramid in the Bashri Desert… let’s just say that I seem to have more in common with these invaders than I first thought.”

  “Something in common… we believe that you need to explain yourself further.”

  Martin sighed. “I told General Shen Feng that these invaders periodically arrive in this world to consume souls, that they let the peoples of this world repopulate before they return to harvest all the new souls. One of the Builders managed to trap a soul of the invaders, a young knight. That knight’s soul was like the template, the model, for whatever technology was used to make me into whatever I am right now. And in the process,” Martin shook his head while speaking, “it looks like I ‘inherited’ the ability to harvest souls as well.”

  That seemed to take the Empress by surprise. Even the big guard who normally maintained a stoic frown let loose an uncharacteristic gasp. Everyone else shared the same expression, though the General groaned and buried his face into his palms. Martin thought it was unfair; he had wanted to do just that a few moments ago, yet he had resisted the impulse because he thought it would look stupid.

  It took Empress Zi Li minutes to formulate her next sentence. “Has anybody ever told you that you are quite… forthcoming with information that could prove fatal to your wellbeing?”

  Martin wanted to come up with some elaborate explanation for why he told her what he did. Maybe make a witty riposte or a smart quip. Instead, he chuckled nervously and scratched his clay chin, picking up on her rather not-so-subtle threat. “Your highness, I am not doing any of this for my own benefit. I was pulled here against my will by people who thought I could protect them. No, not them; it is far too late for them. Instead, they brought me here to try and help their descendants—you. The very least I can do for you and your people is to relay what information I stumble across, even if the information is not convenient for me to share.

  “And besides, how could I as a vassal gain the trust of my liege if I keep her in the dark all the time?”

  The Empress snorted out a laugh that was very unlady-like, shocking those around her. Even the apparently tough-as-nails guard shook his head, probably at the absurdity of Martin’s answer.

  “Then you have not met many of your fellow vassal lords.” The implications of the Empress’ statement went way over Martin’s head, though the advisors and even General Shen Feng did not miss the way she used the word ‘vassal lord.’ “We will talk in greater detail about these revelations, but first, do tell me more about these people on the other side of the Yanshi Mountains—especially about this prince you seem to be keen on protecting.”

  Chapter 19

  The second ambush started out the same way as the first: twenty walkers bursting out of the sand, sticking their spears into the horses and forcing the akinji to engage.

  Martin had also learned much from the first engagement. Martin leaned into the spears heavily enough to penetrate the exposed flesh of the horses, but light enough to prevent the spears from burying into muscles and breaking apart as the horses barreled onward. Martin learned that javelins need to be held parallel to the shoulders, then thrown with a solid turn while using a foot to stabilize his center of gravity. Martin learned to coordinate his thoughts, making his walkers fight less like a group of drunk brawlers and more like a school of fish—flowing into one another with perfectly timed coordination. He learned to weave, duck, and parry with the walkers that were being targeted by lances and sabers. He learned to see gaps in the formations of the riders, openings that appeared right before the raiders would strike. It got easier and easier
for Martin, as he was in full control of every single walker engaged right now.

  Most important of all, the fear and doubts of the first battle evaporated away, replaced by grim determination and a focus on the mechanical aspects of murder. The akinji before him were no longer men in his eyes. They did not have lives, families, dreams, ambitions, or anything else. To him, they were just sacks of red-colored water that he had to pop. They were uniforms to tear, punching bags to hit and whale upon. He tuned out their words, their cries, their shouts as noise.

  Despite his grim coordination, the akinji were just as prepared as he was.

  The lead elements barreled onward, their riders jumping off their injured mounts and forming up into defensive groups. The riders behind the lead elements spread out into the sand, riding down the ambushing walkers and immediately hacking and bashing away to give their dismounted allies time to regroup. Not even a few minutes passed, and the supporting elements had systematically trampled down the walkers. He had only managed to kill fifteen horses without inflicting any casualties to the raiders. That brought the total number of mounted riders down to 206.

  Martin was crestfallen. Despite his improved control over the walkers, he was not able to put up much of a fight this second time around. The akinji were fully prepared for the ambush, and it was his turn to be caught completely unprepared. He only had 60 walkers remaining, along with the 492 cow-boxes keeping up with Suhaib’s party. Would those numbers be enough to deal with the raiders?

  One of his eyeballs in the Bashri Desert noticed something odd in the Bashri Desert, near where he had seen the initial group of raiders approach from. It was a large group of camels, protected by a handful of akinji on horses. These camels moved very slowly, carrying large containers on their backs that seemed to sway left and right.

  When Martin relayed this information to Suhaib’s party, it was his friend Faadi who answered. “That’s a supply convoy. They must be carrying the water and feed for the horses of the akinji. As hardy as they are, they won’t survive for long in the sands of the Bashri if they don’t have regular access to water.”

  The information did not help their situation. He didn’t have any force that could attack the supply convoy. And even if he could, the raiders were still less than ten miles away and hot on their trail. Left unhampered, they would catch up to them in an hour or two.

  Martin considered his remaining walkers and the cow-boxes escorting Suhaib’s party. He had taken the measure of the akinji, and they had taken his measure, and it was time for him to commit to a larger engagement.

  ***

  It was strange for Martin to see how the cow-boxes were giddy with excitement. They were bumping into each other as they rumbled toward the raiders, almost jumping with joy at the prospect of bashing their bulks against other stuff. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little at their antics, despite the grim work ahead of them.

  His own walkers were mounted on their respective cow-boxes, spears and javelins bumping up and down while the other cow-boxes rumbled around them. He had formed the cow-boxes into two parallel lines: the first line was 100 cow-boxes wide and three cow-boxes deep, while the second line was a hundred feet behind the first and was 50 cow-boxes wide and two cow-boxes deep. All in all, he had committed 400 cow-boxes to this charge, with the remaining 90 riding alongside Suhaib’s party. These cow-boxes would serve as their mounts when the camels tired out, just in case Martin’s attack failed.

  He wasn’t sure how well the cow-boxes would fare against the akinji. They were big, bulky, and raring for a fight, but they weren’t the well-trained weapons of war that the akinji were. And while the cow-boxes outnumbered the akinji two-to-one, the jinn would quickly even that advantage out. Sure, most of the jinn accompanying the akinji were supportive in their abilities, like refreshing their bondmates and helping speed up their mounts. However, there were enough combat-capable jinn in the mix to seriously tilt the advantage to their side.

  He could only hope that this charge into their lines would cause enough damage to throw them off Suhaib’s trail. He only had to delay them for an additional day before Suhaib’s party reached the reinforcing walkers.

  The akinji noticed the charging cow-boxes soon enough. They kicked up billowing clouds of dust in their wake as they rumbled resolutely toward the raiders. Martin tried his best to remain calm, keeping the cow-boxes lined up in an orderly manner. His walkers clutched their spears with one hand, javelins strapped to their backs with rope that Suhaib’s men had on hand, while holding on to the backs of the cow-boxes with the other. It was difficult for Martin to hold on, but the walkers had a strong enough grip to keep them on.

  Martin’s combined forces were almost five hundred yards away, ready to crash into the lines of the akinji, when the unthinkable happened: they turned tail and ran. Someone in the lead waved a signal, and the formation of raiders fanned out and made a sharp U-turn.

  “Prince Suhaib,” Martin said as he brought up one of his eyeballs floating beside Suhaib’s mount. “Our pursuers are breaking off.”

  The prince, dog-tired as he was, did not answer. He seemed to give his response some thought and nodded. “It is to our good fortune, then, that the commander of these raiders is a conservative sort.” He waved his own signal, telling the men following to slow down to give their camels time to rest.

  “What is this? Why are we slowing down?” It was Munjid, who trotted up beside the prince.

  “Martin says that the akinji have turned around after spotting his cavalry charge.”

  “This is strange,” Munjid said as he knitted his eyebrows together. “The akinji are normally far more aggressive than this. Tell me, how many of your—what do you call them? Cow-boxes? How many of your cow-boxes did you send against the akinji, and what formation did you use?”

  When Martin finished detailing his actions to Munjid, the man shook his head and frowned. “You went for a wide formation that was just three lines deep? Very strange indeed. The akinji could have forced a breach through the middle of your formation. They could have punched a hole and managed to get a sizable force through the gap. Even with the second line you mentioned, it would have been relatively easy for the akinji to absorb a few losses and outrun your cow-boxes.”

  Martin made a figurative gulp as he heard the armsmaster’s criticisms. He thought his formation would be enough to tie up the raiders, trap them in a pincer formation. He did not realize that the raiders could just burst through the line and go straight for Suhaib’s party using their superior speed.

  Then he remembered something that the raiders shouted in the first encounter, when the dead man rose up and attacked his comrades.

  He was just about to ask Prince Suhaib what a shayateen was when he held his figurative tongue in place. He remembered how Empress Zi Li had chastised him for sharing too much information. Even now, she was grilling him on everything he knew about Ma’an as well as the invaders he had met in his dreams.

  Then again, he never was good at subterfuge; the direct approach worked best for him, for good or for worse.

  “Prince Suhaib, do you know anything about what a ‘shayateen’ is?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well… I think that’s why these raiders turned around.”

  Despite Suhaib’s fatigue, he managed to face the eyeball floating beside him with a raised brow.

  “What?” It was Uhi, Suhaib’s jinni, who had materialized from the Invisible World upon hearing what Martin had said. “What did you say about the shayateen?”

  Martin reconsidered his approach when he encountered Uhi’s angry reaction, but he decided to just keep barreling on. “Remember what I said about the invaders being able to harvest souls? I seem to share that ability. When one of the raiders was thrown from his horse, he landed badly and broke his neck. I saw his soul float up from his body, and I instinctively grabbed on to it. I… absorbed it, felt a rush of power flow through me. After that though, I heard
these voices rush into the dead man’s body. It—”

  “—rose from the dead,” whispered Uhi, her eyes wide as saucers. More jinn began manifesting beside her, and they wore the same gob-smacked expression on their faces as Suhaib’s partner.

  “Erm, yes. That’s one way to put it.”

  “And this man,” it was another jinni, one that Martin did not know. “He was consumed by an unholy malice…”

  “…where the only thing he wanted was to kill…” Yet another jinni, who also materialized from the Invisible World

  “…and kill, and kill, and kill some more…”

  “…until no living thing remains nearby.”

  “This is what you were describing?”

  Martin would have gulped if he could, but he settled for being unnerved. “Um. Yes?”

  Uhi turned one eye to the prince, while every other jinn in the vicinity surrounded the floater. “Suhaib. This thing that calls itself Martin, it is an evil thing. It has admitted as much, stealing souls and unleashing shayateen upon the world. Turn back now, have nothing more to do with it.”

  “Wait,” stuttered the prince. “Didn’t you say just a day ago that we should trust Martin? Go with him, form an alliance?”

  “That was before he had admitted to consorting with shayateen.”

  Martin was thoroughly confused now, and regretted not listening to the little voice that told him it would be a bad idea to tell Suhaib about his newly-discovered abilities. It may have worked with the Empress because she didn’t consider him a real threat. Uhi and the jinni, however, saw something very different in him.

  Yet, it would seem that the young prince had different ideas. He called for a stop so that everyone could catch their breaths—and hopefully resolve this issue with more level heads.

  “One moment, Uhi. I don’t think Martin is consorting with the shayateen, much less is he one of them.”

  “No, Suhaib! It has admitted its evil deeds! This thing has the ability to summon shayateen to this realm, to bind to the dead and give them human hosts to infect this world with their hatred for the living!”