The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador

by Swanson, Jay

  He gestured towards the big dark one, who simply nodded in response.

  “There is much happening right now, Ardin. Too much, in fact, for us to make full account of at present. All of us will be needed in the north, and soon. You are to make for Krakador, his fortress in the Desert Mountains. It is there you will again meet the Renaults and their army.”

  “What's in Krakador? Is that where he's hiding?”

  “We believe so,” Tristram spoke up. “But we are yet uncertain. What draws him there is an even greater mystery, some weapon that he was forging long before we defeated and imprisoned him. We were never able to discover it afterward, nor do we know its purpose.”

  “It is the reason that we were able to defeat him in the first place.” Oscilian's tone seemed resigned. “He has poured so much of himself into this thing that it has kept him from growing as strong as he well could have. He was stronger than us, but the Magi made up the difference. Whatever strength in the realm of the spirit he has gathered has been stored and spent on this weapon. It is why we could overcome him, even in our divided deficit of strength.”

  “So this weapon, whatever it is, that's what you're after?”

  “In essence,” Tristram nodded. “We do not know if he is there, but it is difficult to imagine that he has left it unguarded. His obsession with it will be his undoing yet again, so long as he does not bring it to completion and turn it against us.”

  “He cannot lead his attack on Veria, yet the time is ripe for just that. His plans are progressing too quickly even for him, which means that your people will stand a fighting chance.”

  “The forces of Islenda move against him now in the barren wastes.” Oscilian looked to the north. “Soon they will arrive in the Desert Mountains. It is our intent to find a path for them to take to Krakador, and to face the Relequim should he rear his head. It is there that we are needed, and where we fight the Relequim. That is all we shall do, and you shall be needed as well.”

  “What exactly do you think I can accomplish against him?” Ardin felt anxiety prickling at his chest. “I've already faced him once; he nearly killed me, and he wasn't even technically in the same room!”

  “You will not need to face him directly, Ardin.” Tristram put a massive gloved hand on Ardin's shoulder. Somehow he could sense the weight of it, even though it was as light as silk to the touch. “You need only support us in our fight.”

  “But how?” Ardin looked from one to the other. “How do you expect me to even know where to begin in a fight like that?”

  “Your bond with the Atmosphere is now greater than any that has been before available to you, or even to Charsi. You will be of great help against the Relequim.” If Tristram had had a face, Ardin was sure it would be smiling. “You have already discovered how to effectively fight and destroy dragons, have you not? Onyx dragons, no less.”

  “Dragons and Demons seem to be a bit different both in scale and in threat.”

  “True,” Oscilian nodded. “But you faced them on your own. You had no training, you had no more time to prepare than the moments before they arrived, and yet you overcame them.”

  “You were watching?”

  “We are aware of much, Ardin, even should we not be present. This concept is not foreign to you, aware as you are of the world around you, though you fear to explore beyond yourself at present.”

  Tristram removed his hand and drifted back a pace. “You must not let your fear of him paralyze you, Ardin. You have become stronger than he knows. You will have to stand against him and fight, like you did against his winged beasts. We, too, have a horrible burden to bear, and like you, our fight will not be easy.”

  “But he'll break in,” Ardin said. “If I try to reach out, I'm afraid...”

  “There is nothing to fear from the Relequim, Ardin. Not in that. He will do his best to terrify you, and he will try to break into your mind, but unless you are compromised or you invite him in, he will not be able to enter.”

  “How can you be so certain?” Ardin asked.

  “He did manage it, though only once before, with a Mage who was considerably weaker than yourself.” Oscilian's voice was calming. “You are safe. Now the Relequim moves on his second front, and that will ease our burden in the fight to come. He has been undermining the defenses of Veria for some time, and I fear that he is poised to strike.”

  “How is he undermining the defenses? He's not even over there.”

  Tristram looked towards the east as he spoke. “The Relequim's greatest strength has not been in war, but in deception and corruption. For many years his influence has grown in various places, but none so powerfully as in Elandir and Liscentia. Liscentia was where he put MARD into the hands of men who could learn to maximize its potential. And Elandir was where the soldiers were trained to put it to use. Politicians, soldiers, and men from nearly every walk of life have been corrupted by him, whether or not they are aware.

  “To most, their motives seem of utter purity and their goals of the highest good. But the methods they are influenced to use and the collateral damage of their success rarely leads to anything but destruction and death.”

  “You're talking about the Purge?” Ardin still didn't know much about it himself.

  There was a tension released in the air as if all three warriors had sighed in unison. Tristram's shoulders almost looked like they had drooped momentarily. “The Purge was one of the greatest catastrophes to result from his undermining influence, yes. Our ignorance of his movements only compounded the effect it would have. But his influence is pervading again, and if he has his way, he will open the doors to enter Veria with minimal effort and instead spend his energies on laying the entire continent to waste. They may not even know or believe he is coming until he is already there.”

  “Then you have to do something!” Ardin looked from one impassive, faceless figure to the next, each saying “no” without uttering a word. He never thought they would let the Demon's forces attack Veria outright. “You can't just let him invade unopposed! You have to intervene!”

  Oscilian shook his head. “This is the one chance we will have to advance on Krakador while the majority of his strength is elsewhere, Ardin. We must take this opportunity and destroy his work, or risk losing everything should he complete it. He will not be distracted this time, so we must place our hope in a quick and decisive confrontation.”

  Tristram nodded in agreement. “There is no reason he would risk everything he has unless what he is building can swing the pendulum definitively in his favor. Thus, there is no reason for us to focus on anything but destroying what he is making.”

  “But what if you're wrong?” Ardin's fear for his own people only grew with every word they said. “What if this thing is just a diversion, and we lose everything anyway?”

  “It is no diversion, Ardin; it is his obsession. Centuries of work have gone into its creation, and the ripples we feel in the power structure of the world tell us that it is near completion. We must destroy him, and we must destroy it, or all is lost. You are to join the Renaults, help them swing the tide of their battle, and join us in our fight against the Relequim. We will deal with his weapon once he is destroyed.”

  “The hope of Veria is their unity.” Tristram's voice took on a dubious tone. “If they stand united against the Relequim, they can succeed in repelling his attack. It is that hope we must rely on, Ardin, for they are beyond our help now.”

  ANDERS KEATON DIDN'T WANT TO GO INTO THIS FIGHT BLIND, BUT THERE WAS NO REAL CHANCE OF DOING IT ANY OTHER WAY. They were running out of options, barreling towards the finish line and hoping they didn't crash before they crossed. He would have to trust that Phelts could mark Merodach as promised. Now they were in a race to beat Merodach to a destination he had already set out for.

  The military trucks they had commandeered wouldn't stand out on the road, nor near the bulk of the army, but they weren't the fastest mode of transportation either. It didn't help that it had taken them the bet
ter part of the day just to retrieve them. As for routes, they didn't have a lot of options beyond the main highway to Liscentia as speed was their priority, but thankfully the darkness of night would only help.

  “Did Phelts' source have any idea when Merodach would be walking the harbor's defenses?” Keaton asked as he flipped through maps in the passenger's seat with a small light.

  “Grimes said it would be soon, but the guy had no real idea,” Saltman said as he checked his speed. “I'm guessing it won't be immediately, but I think he's right; it'll be soon. I don't know how closely they'll follow protocol on this, because Merodach hardly ever does anything outside the walls, but he should do two passes. One with the brass to plan their deployment, and a second when the troops are in place to boost morale.”

  Keaton looked sideways at Saltman. “It'd be nice to hit him when there aren't a couple thousand soldiers around.”

  Saltman laughed. “I thought you were gonna ask how Merodach's presence could boost morale.”

  “I almost dare to hope that killing him in front of them would do just that.”

  “Feel free to stick around and find out.” Saltman grinned in the dark. “I'll be nowhere near the bunch of morons that let a Mayor die in their presence, at least not right after it happens. Odds are there'll be some serious violence that follows.”

  “It'll be the best spot to hit him, at least for what options we're aware of at the moment. Let's hope we can do it when it's just the brass.”

  “Yeah,” Saltman agreed. “But what's better is that Merodach won't see it coming. Phelts said Merodach made some speech, declaring he was hard at work in his offices. Not bothered by the lack of security and all that. He thinks we'll try and hit him there while he's gone, the coward.”

  “Slow down, would you?” Keaton put his light away and straightened up in his seat. “There are more trucks ahead.”

  Saltman dropped a gear as he slowed his approach, the trucks ahead numbering in the dozens. “It's a convoy,” he said as he pulled out to pass them.

  “You're going to pass them?”

  “Well I'm not sticking around long enough for them to block the road and ask who we are.” Saltman accelerated as he came around the first truck. “For all they know we're just bringing supplies to the front.”

  “For all we know, someone in that convoy has a good working knowledge of who is moving to the front and when.”

  “Well...” Saltman gave Keaton a glance and a shrug. “I guess we'll find out.”

  There were nearly thirty trucks that they passed, lumbering south at a relatively slow pace. Keaton could make out soldiers sitting in the beds of the trucks, but the cabs were too dark to see anything. At least it was a relief to know that he was equally invisible. These trucks were very clearly from Selton, the purple chevrons of the Western Battalion on their doors and tailgates. Keaton's truck was covered and marked with the long, red Elandrian star.

  At least they shouldn't give us any trouble, Keaton thought. And then the lead car started to flash its lights. An arm stuck out of the driver's window, signaling for them to slow down.

  “What should we do, sir?”

  Keaton banged on the back of the cab to alert the men riding in the bed of the truck. “Slow down, and hope they don't recognize us.”

  Saltman slowed until he was pulling up alongside the lead truck and matching their speed. The man in the driver's seat was already leaning out of his window; Keaton rolled his down in response.

  “You boys headed back to the front?” The man wasn't anyone Keaton recognized at least.

  “Yes sir!” Keaton tried to play the soldier ready for a fight. “Just got some fresh ammo to deliver, and we'll be done with all of these runs we've been making.”

  “A bit late to be out making ammo runs, isn't it?” The man kept looking forward to ensure he stayed on the road. It was straight; there wasn't really a great chance he would wander off of it any time soon.

  “That's what I said!” Keaton laughed as well as he could manage. “But you know the brass. Orders are orders.”

  “Orders are orders,” the driver agreed. “You boys know this road well enough then, hey?”

  “Not much to know,” Keaton responded. “It's a straight shot south from here. The only windy bit is through the hills before you hit the desert.”

  “You mind if we follow you, then? I hate driving enough as it is in places I know. Damned trucks are death traps, I always say.”

  Keaton dared a glance at Saltman who was shaking his head vigorously. He looked back to the other driver. “You know, we're going a lot faster than you guys. We were supposed to have this shipment back by dawn, and we'll be lucky to make that.”

  “We can speed up!” The driver grinned. “To be honest I'm just slow when I'm the lead like this. We'll follow you in and help you unload your cargo when we get there.”

  There was no way to say no, Keaton realized. To do so would draw suspicion, and there was no losing them in any case. It really was a straight shot south from here, with nowhere for a truck like this to easily hide.

  “Keep up, then!” He shouted.

  Saltman pulled away and in front of the lead car, leaving Keaton wishing that they were driving something significantly faster.

  “How on earth are we gonna take these guys into occupied territory?” Saltman asked as he checked his mirrors. “They're definitely going to keep up with us now, and we're dead men if we get caught.”

  “Just drive.” Keaton stuffed his maps into the compartment in front of him. “We'll figure something out.”

  Keaton unlatched the metal covers over the rear windows and slid them to the side so he could explain what had happened to the men in the back. The drive south had been dangerous enough when no one knew they were coming. Now they had soldiers following them towards soldiers they had hoped to avoid. Keaton watched the lights of the cars behind them bobble and shake in the mirror, wishing they would shrink and grow dim. He was tempted to make a stand right here to avoid getting caught between both forces.

  But he knew that was suicide, and even if it didn't mean a certain death, it meant certain failure to get to Merodach. If they had an idea of where the Mayor actually was at that moment they could strike at him; going out in a blaze of glory was acceptable so long as the despot was deposed. But Anders Keaton had no idea where to find his enemy; he would have to hide and wait. Unfortunately there was no hiding and certainly no waiting going on behind him. The convoy stuck right to them as they continued on.

  How they could possibly lose them now was beyond Keaton. The road barely diverged until they reached Liscentia. As they entered the desert itself, he knew there was no chance of hiding. Back in farming territory they could have tried to pull off the road among the fields and farmhouses. There would have been a chance to hide there at least. Now that the low dunes of the Lorendian Desert surrounded them, there wasn't any track to take that didn't run the risk of bogging them down in the process.

  The damned lights stayed in his mirror. There was no stopping them; at least there was no way to stop them without drawing suspicion. They were already conspicuous enough as it was, traveling so late. The convoy itself was coming south at an odd hour, but troop movements at night were nothing to find particularly strange, especially if they were expecting action from Silverdale. Keaton still wondered what they were planning that required so many fresh troops to move at once. Merodach must be very seriously concerned about Silverdale's movements.

  He shook those concerns free as the impending reality demanded more of his attention. They would have to be ready to fight. The possibility was decent that they would get gunned down at the checkpoints they would have to pass, if not in the middle of the camp itself. The hours passed too quickly, and soon they approached the first Elandrian checkpoint north of Liscentia.

  “If they figure us out, just make enough room to make a fight of it,” Keaton said as Saltman slowed the truck.

  The checkpoint itself consisted of
two trucks on opposite sides of the road with a chain strung between them to block their way. They slowed almost to stop as a soldier stepped out onto the road and waved them down. Keaton's breathing got shorter as the truck moved slower. He swallowed hard as he slid his sidearm out of the holster and held it close to the side of his leg.

  But the man caught a glimpse of something behind them and stepped back to the truck on their left. The chain dropped immediately after, and they were waved through.

  “Looks like traveling in convoy isn't so bad after all,” Saltman sighed as they sped past the trucks.

  “Not for checkpoints at least,” Keaton agreed. “Getting through the base and surrounding camp will be a different story. Did they ever move into Liscentia?”

  “No.” Saltman shook his head. “Desert rats surrendered under condition that they wouldn't be directly occupied. Last I knew, Lucius had honored the agreement.”

  Lucius. Keaton's certainty in killing Lucius had wavered significantly in the past few days. He had been one of his own men once, after all. Would you really have been able to help?

  “We'll have to try and hit the ring road around the walls if we can to get south.” Saltman flexed his grip on the steering wheel. “From there we should be able to find the road to the harbor.”

  “Let's get through these checkpoints alive, first.”

  The next two checkpoints went much as the first, though the last almost brought them to a full stop before dropping the chain. Keaton could see the first hints of sunlight tickling the heavens as the broad military encampment came into view under the low walls of Liscentia. The glow of the city itself contested the validity of the sunrise in Keaton's mind. He wasn't sure if the exhaustion was playing tricks on him yet or not.

  The lights over Liscentia were notably dimmer than they had been in the past. As they approached, he realized there were massive scars and holes in the walls. He wondered just how much damage had been inflicted on the city before they had given in.