by Adams, Tom
There they go, he sent to Celestia, if only the world knew what was happening beneath their feet; the sacrifice this unknown people are making on their behalf.
It’s like Destain said, isn’t it? The jaded ones continue their mundane existence as if blindfolded.
If only I could work out what the rest of the vision meant. Destain goes through the torment of seeing these things, but without an interpretation it’s all futile. I don’t even know which scroll reveals the most desired future.
There was no time to rest once the operation was complete. Celestia stayed in Celebrai to oversee the deployment of Hierophant far-seers, while Merrick, helped by Karapetian, supervised thousands of personnel on five different continents to transfer to Celebrai. Then there was the equipment, food and weapons of war to transport.
“It’s an incredible sight isn’t it?” Karapetian said.
“Yes,” Merrick replied. They were standing on the threshold between Namibia and a realm Merrick had named Riverworld, due to its preponderance of waterways and freshwater lakes. “It’s amazing how you’ve managed to bring this all together. Do you think Shamon has any idea of what he’s up against?”
“If I know Jagur Shamon, he’ll have planned for several worst-case scenarios. By now, he may have realised we haven’t used an existing gateway. That will unsettle him. It’s just a question of whether he guesses the full size of our capability and the nature of our strategy.”
“Speaking of which, there’s to be a final war council meeting tonight?”
Karapetian nodded. “There’s a few minor developments we need to take account of, but it will be a significant morale boost to have all leaders gathered together—including the former Outcasts.”
Merrick felt no small satisfaction in knowing Arun and Albany had gained the Outcast’s confidence and drawn them together with all their unique talents under one banner.
A thought occurred to him. “You don’t think it’s a mistake having all commanders in one place the night before a battle? It’s the perfect requisite for a mass assassination.”
Karapetian smiled. “You still don’t appreciate the nature of the Mage-lock do you? There are much higher powers than even we can imagine watching over this historic conflict. Such demi-gods rarely intervene in the affairs of men. But a breach of the Mage-lock would initiate events of a celestial magnitude. The magickal phenomena you have seen rely on the integrity and sanctity of these ancient laws. If any contravene them without a penalty applied, then chaos results—the demi-gods of Alamar would not stand for that.”
“I hope you’re right, but you can forgive me for being skeptical about Shamon—he’s not exactly a man of honour.”
“Not honour in the sense you understand it, Merrick. But even evil has its precepts.”
Merrick closed the gateway and realm-jumped to the head of the troop convoy. He had planned each route to access the most efficient path through the dimensions, avoiding both danger and unwitting inhabitants of the worlds they crossed. The lifelessness of some realms surprised him, and he began to understand why Shamon had placed his store in Celebrai, a remarkably populated land.
By late evening, it was finished. In terms of Celebrai’s planetary rotation, their sun was just setting. From the Alliance’s vantage point, Merrick could see the tents and marquees representing their encampment stretch across the lower slopes of the Severed Mountains. As shadows grew longer, the sky became overcast with a heavy blanket of clouds. As the temperature plunged, the Hierophants knew the likelihood of precipitation was strong. Fires were lit in each quadrant and as Merrick saw them appear in their thousands, he knew that he saw only a fraction of the allies’ full strength. There were deployments ensconced in hidden valleys and gulleys on the higher slopes, ready to form second and third assault waves at Karapetian’s command.
Across the valley, he could see Ukurum fires springing up to mirror the allied beacons, although it was difficult to estimate numbers at this range. Despite regular boosts of elixir, he was weary to the bone and knew that tomorrow would bring even greater demands. He and Celestia, together with a dedicated team of far-seers, would be the allies’ eyes and ears throughout the conflict. Celestia was proud of her team but their capabilities were limited to recognition of terrestrial magickal humanoids. For some reason, impossible to fathom in the short time scale available, Celebrains were invisible to them. Only Merrick, by virtue of his union with Celestia, had a clear and detailed view of the enemy. Yet their unique partnership couldn’t survey everywhere at once, and it prevented them from gaining a complete overview of enemy troop movements.
Merrick lowered his field glasses and checked the time. The war council would be starting soon.
He passed several tiers of guards on the way to the central marquee, who each challenged him for identification. Karapetian was obviously taking no chances with security. He sat with the companions and listened to Jason’s last minute briefing. It had changed little since the previous one and he found his mind wandering as a result of fatigue. Celestia nudged him at one point when Jason announced a change of waveband for their communication—the alien atmospherics allowed conventional use of radio and Merrick needed to know this as he was in charge of the communication hub. Despite her prompts, Merrick found his mind wandering again to Destain’s vision. He had consulted Karapetian, but the only insight he received was the obvious identification of the dragon as Shamon, and the many-headed creature that represented the allied forces. The Hierophant leader advised him to put a low priority on such indistinct portents and concentrate on the plans they had formulated.
He dismissed the War Council after half an hour and Merrick wandered back to his private tent with Celestia. He found four guards stationed outside, reminding him of his VIP status. The one guarding the entrance nodded to him and Merrick exchanged a few pleasantries, thanking him for his service.
The tent interior was basic but comfortable. A fur-covered bed had been set up for them, and Merrick suggested they get under wraps as soon as possible. Even under canvas the Celebrain air was biting cold, and its lower oxygen concentration tended to bring on wheezing fits despite the weeks of acclimation they had undergone from countless visits.
A small butanol lamp shed a warm glow at the bedside and they huddled together in its cheery light, grateful for the shared body warmth. “The preparations have gone well on the whole,” she said.
Merrick paused, then said “Yeah, it’s all going to plan.”
She looked up at him. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“It all seems just ... too easy.”
“You were hoping for a disaster or two?”
He smiled. “No. It’s just disconcerting that the usual Whyte bad luck hasn’t struck yet. I can’t help thinking that the god of fortune is saving up some particularly bad shit for me.”
“We have prepared for the worst—now on the eve of war, we deserve a chance to hope for the best.”
“The best thing to happen is lying right by me tonight.”
She pressed the end of his nose, a gesture that had become habit between them. Make love to me, she sent.
He stroked his finger along her jawline, then began the prelude to a union of desperate passion. Afterwards, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, weariness overcoming any remaining nervousness.
~~~
Elsewhere, across the other side of the allies’ encampment, Tessanee shivered inside a makeshift but inescapable cage. The guards had given her a straw-filled mat to sleep on, and enough blankets to prevent hypothermia, but it wasn’t enough to stop her teeth chattering. The one called Johnny had given her some hot broth for supper, but the warmth in her stomach dissipated within minutes.
She rubbed her hands against her grimy cheeks to generate some heat, but all she succeeded in doing was to take the top off her slowly healing wounds and set them bleeding again.
Curse you Outsider, she thought as she remembered Johnny’s face and its look of glee as he meted o
ut a harsh interrogation regime. The violence had stopped over five days ago, but the hardest technique to resist had been the relentless probing by the Psychonaut and his bitch mistress. She had made a play of confessing some small detail or two about Shamon’s defences. These had been truthful but insignificant, and it took all her magickal ability to erect a convincing barrier to deflect further infiltration of her mind. She guessed Johnny suspected he had only been thrown a few morsels. Why else would he bring her here, if not to resume the interrogation once time allowed?
She hated every one of them with a fervency that consumed her, and swore she would make them regret not slitting her throat when they had the chance. The obstacles between her and escape were many, but her resolve and devotion to Jagur Shamon were stronger than her tormentors could imagine. She would bide her time, and wait for the opportunity that must surely come.
~~~
Chapter 40
Heaven and hell
Morning broke to a hell-swept sky. It wept flakes of precipitation that seemed to Merrick like dry leaves or ripped parchment. He buttoned down his coat against the chill, dry wind that swept through a pass that gaped like a raw wound in the mountain range above them. It was a dismal coldness, not piercing, more of an insinuation that seemed to spread from the bones outward.
“Lovely day for an apocalypse,” he said to Albany and Celestia.
Albany gave a bleak smile. “At least we get to see what we’re up against. Mind you, if the sound of Shamon’s hordes is anything to go by, I’m not sure I want to.”
The night had been filled with the ululations and deep moaning of the Ukurum. They deprived the Alliance forces of sleep and eroded their resolve. Now, as the gargantuan disc of the sun broke through the haze, they could see the massed armies, laid out in an unregimented smear across the valley.
“I see you’ve brought your sabre,” Celestia said.
“If all else fails, I want to go out like Custer at the Little Big Horn,” he replied.
“Don’t be maudlin,” Albany said, “it’s always darkest before—”
He was interrupted by the sound of a mucus-laden gob of spit. It was Jason and he’d brought three pairs of binoculars with him, he distributed with a gruff greeting. He took out a telescope for his own viewing and scanned the vista.
After a full minute, during which no one spoke, Albany gave his appraisal. “Ugly looking buggers aren’t they?”
Ugly was an understatement. Merrick thought he’d seen extreme mutation during the encounter with the Necrolytes and Amorphic. But the creatures Shamon had assembled on the barren slope opposite were beyond nightmare. Just when he thought he’d seen the extent of grotesquerie, his binoculars picked out another twisted variation of bio-engineering.
“Quel abominations,” Celestia said.
“I estimate about nine thousand combatants made up of three basic types,” Jason said.
Merrick was adept at estimating large numbers of grouped individuals after having spent many a day out on the mud flats with his uncle counting waders. “I’d say nearer to ten thousand.” He knew the correction would irritate Jason, but that wasn’t his purpose. They needed an accurate assessment of the opposition to stand any chance of victory.
Jason ignored the contradiction. “You can be sure Shamon’s held back another army, equal in size and most of which will be disciplined Ukurum warriors. This lot look fearsome, but they’re likely just cannon fodder, designed to weaken us before the second, more experienced troops wade in.
Merrick continued to examine the shambling and shifting bodies of the Ukurum advance guard. One type appeared androgynous in form, unclothed and faceless, their torsos made of myriad tubes and intertwined in a dull-brown conglomeration. He could make out limbs but no face; just an anterior, raffia-like swelling on the shoulders. The legs were humanoid and padded with plates of tissue—natural rather than synthetic armour.
Much larger in stature, were conjoined double-entities; again, humanoid in form but appearing as a skeletal, wiry framework wrapped over with sheets of pale, grey skin. The skin patchwork was shaped into cowls which, as far as Merrick could tell, enclosed nothing. Blackness was ensconced within.
The third, most common type weren’t just small, they were minute. At this distance, Merrick judged they could be no more than knee-height. This might have filled him with confidence if it wasn’t for the fact that they moved with the speed of quicksilver. Indeed, they scurried about with such rapidity, under and over each other, between the legs of their lanky brethren, that they were more like a swarm. Every so often he snatched a glimpse of an eyeless head, with jaws larger than a gin trap and teeth equally sharp. Merrick could imagine the damage they could do to limbs and nether regions in the middle of a skirmish.
Jason lowered his telescope. Wafers of precipitation lay on his beard as if he’d just eaten an oversize pastry and forgotten to brush himself down. “Well, I haven’t seen the like of these before. Did you notice they’re not carrying weapons?”
“Yeah,” Albany said, “which means they’ll not be any good except at close quarters. Our arrows and catapults could exact a heavy toll before they even cross the valley.”
Merrick still scanned with his binoculars. “Shamon’s too crafty to throw unarmed monsters at us. He’s hiding something.”
“I can’t pick up anything by far-sight,” Celestia said. “The psychic shield over their troops is stronger than ever. I’ll need to get in closer if I’m to penetrate their defences.”
“How long until battle commences?” Merrick asked.
“About two hours left,” Jason said. “Horns will blow on both sides.”
“And then?”
“Whoever advances troops first onto the flood plain, opens themselves up for attack from an army charging down from above. More likely the opposing armies will march, then repeatedly stop. That way neither side concedes the advantage.”
Merrick felt a knot tighten in his bowels. It hadn’t let up since dawn. He’d forced some food down despite protests from his stomach, and now it repeated on him, aggravating his nausea. Some action would combat the tension, and he knew just how to take his mind off things.
Celestia, are you up for an astral visit to check out the competition on the far side?
Oui, but my range won’t even reach to their front line.
That’s okay. I’ll realm-travel to the gulley lying south of them. It should give us enough range.
After telling Jason their intentions, they returned to the tent with a warning from Jason not to do anything that constituted an attack on the Ukurum. They were bound to keep the Mage-lock.
Merrick carried twenty metal vials of elixir in an adapted belt. He took one out and swallowed half the contents.
“That should do it,” he said, feeling the warm glow of the potion spreading from his core. “Are you ready?”
“Ready and armed,” Celestia replied.
Merrick breached three realm boundaries to arrive at the gulley, but resolved to try a different route back as one of the worlds was infested with insectoids that ran up their legs. They swept several of them off as they clung on with tenacity to their clothes.
Celestia shuddered, and it wasn’t from the cold. Have you got them all off me? I hate les bestioles.
Yeah. I wasn’t counting on them hitching a ride.
They found a sheltered nook and merged minds straightaway.
We should proceed with caution, Celestia sent. They’ll have their own far-seers employed to guard against any infiltration.
Can you shield us?
Oui, provided they do not have an adept of higher order than myself.
Is that likely?
Non.
The frisson of pride she gave off made him smile as they soared free of their corporeal selves and glided over the massed Ukurum. Close up, Shamon’s hordes were even more ferocious and bestial. The little creatures they had observed from afar seemed to writhe as a mass of teeth, bone, skin and slime. They
skittered over their neighbours in a constant competition to occupy the top layer, trampling the more unfortunate ones underneath. As they zoomed in, Celestia and Merrick saw huge piles of compressed bodies beneath the squirming multitude. He watched the skin of one dead life form (presumably asphyxiated.) It bubbled as something moved beneath. Then, a head burst through the body’s dermis and crawled out, biting at other emergents around it.
Merde, I can’t stomach much more of this, Celestia sent.
I’m with you on that one. It’s hard to see how the Ukurum can control these things. Surely they’ll just get in the way of Shamon’s other troops?
Let’s not jump to conclusions. We need to inform Jason so he’s prepared.
They soared over the rest of the front line, Celestia keeping them well away from circling astral sentinels.
They’re not reacting to our presence, Merrick sent.
That seems to be the case, but I sense they’re suspicious.
Have you picked up on Shamon yet? It would save everyone a lot of trouble if I could appear behind him and slice the fucker’s throat.
Non. He’ll not let his shields down. He knows I am present and I him, but we cannot pinpoint each other.
Let’s take a closer look at those raffia-type monstrosities further up the valley.