Remnant Pages Spearhead

by J.B. Kleynhans

  The wait for the meal was almost painful, and Cid stared far out to their path ahead. Today’s detour underground had slowed their progress, but they would undoubtedly reach the Basin by tomorrow.

  Chapter 38

  Concerns

  The march was slow in the narrows, Fafriv winding down to a long slender ravine before it would open into the Basin. They had yet to depart this morning, the dreary pace of the days behind them making the Lanston men reluctant to get moving. Their camp for now was an endless stretch of tents rather than their usual cluster, adjusting to the space offered by the ravine.

  To present supplies had held well and the men were healthy if nothing else, even in complaining that their clothing supplies had not considered Alparack’s obstinate ability to wear and soil on everything. Drissil knew that, since they past the borders of the forests the potential for an ambush was unlikely, their current locale a milestone point in terms of security.

  Furthermore the eastern two satellite companies had emerged from their respective woodland just yesterday to join with the main force, boosting the march with another 400 men. Captains Maverin and Phillip reported minimum Fallen encounters and no casualties on their part, unlike those of Cid’s and Olum’s companies. In all, it was going well for Lanston, yet Drissil was worried.

  The Colonel was standing among the engineers as they practiced their maintenance on the ballistae. Somehow, Drissil’s experience with the devices at Ravanack had seen him become the unofficial overseer. He would not complain however, for no else seemed as primed for action like he was, the attending artillery Captain rather lackadaisical.

  Drissil forced himself to pay attention as the engineers tested the machines, eager to find mechanical flaw if there were any. On the Isle of Adissa the ballistae were mounted on towers or galleon ships, those fierce and pending artillery greeting a traveller no matter how he approached the city. These field ballistae were attached to a wheeled-base unit and were built somewhat smaller so that they could move effectively. The principle design however could not be improved much and was thus the same across the Sovereignty.

  The wooden base elevated the great crossbow to the height of a man’s chest while housing the gears and winches. The wheels on the bottom axis were small and steel-plated around the rim to handle the terrain with a soft suspension on each. The base had a hollow spot right beneath were the bow was mounted, wherein lied the rotary gear, allowing the bow and the upper part of its platform to be rotated while the base remained motionless. Likewise, the bow's aim could lowered or heightened on a similar gear mechanism. A few degrees either way made a world's difference in where and how the bolt would travel. The higher based models like these were despised by the men who had to labour manoeuvring them, but well-loved by battlefield commanders: The inherit height that they fired from meant that the engineers had little need to incline the bow upwards, and the less arc there was to the projectile the more speed it had when hitting the enemy.

  The base had a winch on the side to lock the gear during fire, so that the recoil action would not wrench the bow out of its position. The bow-arms spanned massively to accommodate the force needed to launch a projectile of nine feet. A specialized Fainkin coil was tensed on the bow during battle, unmanageable without the cranks used to wind and pull the coil back.

  Along the spine of the crossbow the missile was inserted into a groove from which it could jump smoothly and without resistance. These wooden missiles were crafted with care, each thicker than Drissil’s arm, with a heavy iron tip and blades making it resemble a very devious arrow. In further resemblance the missile sported leather tail fins, which gave it aerodynamic balance and set it spinning through the air to cause all the more damage. A final heavy lever at the back released the pin of the catch, launching the missile as the tension was unleashed.

  Aiming and maneuvering these devices was an art of its own and Drissil would leave that for the engineers. Rather he instructed them to go through the paces, loading false projectiles and shooting them against the canyon wall so that they could correct any apparent decline in the devices’ capabilities since setting out from Lanston.

  The ballistae lurched satisfactorily as the headless shafts rocketed into the canyon wall, the coordination pleasing as well. There was a mathematical constant in the difference of setting and aiming the ballistae for a headless shaft and that of the bladed shaft. All Drissil knew about this was that, should the practice projectiles fire perfectly, the engineers would only have to account for the constant difference in order to get the same result with the bladed design.

  With a few practice rounds for each of the machines Drissil called the engineers to rest. Lazily he sauntered through the camp. By then he was considering taking the entire cavalry regiment and backtracking a bit so that they could do some manoeuvres; the horses needed to keep lithe and fit and he was sure the men would welcome it as well.

  The thought was interrupted, the soldier named Welce addressing the Colonel.

  ‘No word yet on Cid, and there is no consensus whether he is dead or not.’

  ‘And the Valkyrie?’

  ‘The outriders were being secretive, but it sounded as though the Valkyrie abandoned their mission. They did not report back as far as anyone is concerned.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ asked Drissil.

  Welce shrugged. ‘Everything here in the camp seems fine, but the word from the outside tells a different story.’

  ‘Have you had contact with Harlem?’

  Welce frowned and seemed to bite his tongue before saying, ‘sir, I regretfully heard that Harlem was killed in action. It was reported that some Reavers caught them unawares near the Basin. His companion Julian seemed to have escape without hurt, rather miraculously.’

  They did not talk about it, but both men would wonder for long hours on the nature of Harlem’s’ death.

  Drissil cursed. ‘It’s getting harder to know where to turn to. How about the Fallen?’

  ‘No definite reports sir, everyone seems to assume that they retreated from our trek and will hold at Jacanta point. We have nothing to indicate their numbers as of yet since old Commander’s Bennam’s intelligence. I’m worried that what we saw in the forest might mean they are a lot stronger than we initially guessed,’ said Welce.

  ‘You are right. It does not bode well this silence. If the Fallen had a legion in the western veil alone, how come this entire valley has been devoid of activity? We’re getting through too easy and we have no idea where the Fallen might be massing, or how many they may be…’

  ‘Have you spoken with the Commander, sir?’

  ‘I don’t think talking with him is an option anymore.’

  Welce seemed uncomfortable.

  ‘Not to worry soldier, I’m just being careful. I want to be ready when matters get real. If Stelinger is not at fault then no harm will be done. It’s best for at least one of us to be worried at all times,’ said Drissil with a reassuring smile.

  Still Welce seemed concerned. ‘You’re wrong at that Colonel. Girdo noticed it as well; the men’s front is as always, hale and hearty. But we see and hear things that the command does not, as is the reason you’ve assigned us.’

  Drissil frowned.

  ‘When the men’s guards are down at night and they talk - they talk about Bennam and they talk about Cid. They are not at all sure of this operation anymore and the fact that we haven’t seen any action till now only frustrates them. They long for border wars, and they too think we are marching blindly.

  ‘They are… afraid sir.’

  Drissil stomach churned uncomfortably. Hearing that thousands of men acknowledged his concerns somehow made it worse. It was a consensus that Lanston did not belong here, that it had no business prowling through these lands in search of trouble. They were here now however, and could only hope they would make it out alive.

  Chapter 39

  The Basin

 

  ‘This is it,’ said Cid in real
ization. They were in the Basin of the canyon and Jacanta point laid ahead to the north, past increasingly rugged terrain and a ramp leading right out of the Basin, thereafter one left Alparack and Fafriv for good in exchange for the lands of the Fallen.

  Cid knew now that the Lanston army would never even see Jacanta point.

  The landscape was encompassing, like a pit of a great arena, its sloping mountainous wall running all around, creating several layers of grand terraces as though the idea of spectators were real enough. There was a flatness to the rest of the Basin even counting the few dots of mesas, making it a place to accommodate marching numbers, all except for a single pinnacle of rock projection, its tall figure able to cast a mile long shadow during the first and last hours of the day.

  It’s all going to become an abyss.

  ‘The Fallen will not wait for Lanston to get to Jacanta. This Basin is the best place for them to assemble and push their numbers. We overlooked it, the whole plan did. If I had to wager a guess the Fallen will seek to overwhelm us here,’ Cid confessed to the others.

  ‘Gods, are we going to risk scouting ahead? See if we can spot whether they have some kind of force lurking behind those mountains?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Those can hardly be called mountains,’ commented Vanapha, ‘that is a mountain,’ she said, pointing to the east of the Basin where the highest peak stood in what Cid remembered to be a 500 mile radius according to the charts.

  Mount Hashur.

  It wasn’t a gargantuan mountain, but its size was accentuated by the hollow of the Basin and seemed to be the culmination of Fafriv as the eastern ridge that had been the canyon wall led all the way into its side.

  ‘Whatever - well, should we have a look?’ pressed Alex

  ‘They must be swarming the area already. Their scouts are probably tracking Lanston’s progress. I’d rather not,’ said Cid.

  ‘I can look,’ motioned Vanapha.

  Cid turned at the woman, his appreciation for her growing by the day. ‘Can you show me as I well? If there is something past those hills it would do me good to try and gauge their strength,’ said Cid.

  Vanapha nodded, standing close to Cid. She reached out, clamping both her hands on Cid’s temples. Her touch was both comforting and eerie.

  ‘It is a far way from here. Be patient okay, it’ll help me focus my sight,’ said Vanapha.

  Cid closed his eyes, breathing deeply, waiting for something to happen.

  Suddenly something intruded into his consciousness and then colours streamed in, giving his mind’s eye a picture only after his logic adapted to them. Cid felt a flying sensation as his mind was fooled by the soaring vantage Vanapha was sharing with him. He could understand how the Valkyrie cherished the stars so much, for in this instance their Farsight was like looking down from a heavenly body in the sky. He could only imagine what they saw when they turned their gaze upwards, at the stars themselves.

  The farther they moved north the less detail they could see. He wasn’t sure whether or not he was imagining it, but Cid was getting the feeling that Vanapha was straining to sight across such a distance while maintaining her bind with Cid. He willed the vision softly forward, yet still eager not get impatient like Vanapha urged.

  Already the experience was invaluable, for Cid managed to observe and surmise many of the Basin’s fundamental logistical parameters, noting its valleys, ridges and terraces. The vision floated farther, reaching out to the north, gliding above and over the hills… and then they saw the Fallen.

  Jacanta point was an altogether higher ground than the Basin; a large flat stretch of land before narrowing down to some mountain passes that ultimately divided into Nimroth’s gate to the north and the Ghost pass to the north-west.

  What should have been a lonely plain of dust and rock though, was a war camp, undeniably massive. Hundreds of tents stood there, black ones with royal orchid embroidery on the edges as though the enemy could afford and appreciate vanity.

  Fallen soldiers moved through the camp like ants, working or wandering, their continuous patterns enough to lull the mind. Cid and Vanapha’s vision wasn’t clear or focused, but the scale of the camp made up for that deficiency.

  They saw the robed Priests on black horses and the menacing Reavers scavenging at the perimeter. Among the clusters of tents, those comprising the commanding circles, stood the catapults, the devices recognizable by their size and dark lacquered frames. Cid made notes in his mind, pushing down shock as he tried to calmly measure the prowess of their enemy.

  His effort was interrupted. The vision was suddenly pulled to the side and became focused on a mound at the front of the camp, the vision gaining clarity. There stood but three men - two men purposefully flanking one. At that moment Cid thought that Vanapha no longer had control, that they were being watched.

  The experience became increasing alien and Cid actually felt like he was standing on that mound, looking up at the giant.

  Upright he was in fallen armour, his hands clenched on a dual set of battle hatchets, as though he was already waiting for his enemy, hungry and vengeful. The men at his sides were heavily robed Priests and their spread hands convinced Cid that they were indeed aware of Vanapha’s scrying and in turn were trying to leash her efforts in order to look back.

  He was sure then that they were successful, for the man in the middle’s dull white eyes were fixed on Cid, brimming with as much recognition as fallen eyes could ever show. For now the giant went without his skull helm, his clean shaven head and hard features worsening the pit in Cid’s stomach, the fate of Lanston encapsulated by this one man.

  The vision mercifully faltered and disappeared. He returned to his own mind and opened his eyes, the sudden wrench back upsetting his balance for a moment.

  ‘I’m sorry, I cannot sustain the vision at such a distance,’ breathed Vanapha, looking a bit pale.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Cid, ‘I have seen all I needed to see’, not sure whether the Valkyrie had seen all that he had seen. She did not raise the matter, so Cid was not sure what to make of it.

  ‘So they are indeed waiting at Jacanta?’ asked Lidayel.

  ‘Yes. It was difficult to estimate, but I would say they are one or two regiments short of ten-thousand soldiers, and that’s not counting the men they can call from the surrounding valley. In any event it’s much more than Bennam prepared Lanston for,’ said Cid morbidly.

  ‘Do you think Bennam was fed false intelligence as well?’

  ‘I just don’t know Alex. He made me think he knew more than he was telling, but I can’t believe he would allow Lanston to march if he knew the Fallen were this many,’ said Cid.

  Staring up at his surroundings, Brunick said, ‘it’s a massive range of attack, if they push a few thousand men over that ridge and down the ramp then Lanston will be dead down to the last mule. The way home will not be safe either, I’d wager they’d have cells and strike groups in the woods still, just waiting to cage any that might flee.’

  ‘We have to stop the army from making contact,’ said Cid, turning as he spoke, his mind mapping the battle and its inevitable outcome. ‘Once Lanston enters the Basin it will be like Brunick says; the Fallen will seek to surround and seal off the entire site.’

  ‘How do you suppose we stop the army? We have no leg to stand on in any circumstance. If we try to communicate with the army Stelinger will have us killed,’ said Vanapha.

  Cid considered his options, each more desperate than the last.

  Eventually he turned to look at Lidayel. ‘It has to come from you Summoner. We need something big, something that can buy us time!’

  ‘Like what? Creating another eclipse isn’t going to do us much good,’ said Lidayel almost defensively

  Cid observed his surroundings, studying the vast expanse, trying to gauge an answer from it. He turned his gaze into the sky, his eyes running up the peak of Mount Hashur and beyond.

  ‘Those are some pretty heavy clouds, rain season is b
ound to start any day now,’ said Cid, focusing on the woolly whites rolling tentatively above the rugged land.

  ‘I know where you’re going with this; it’ll take an enormous amount of rain to flood this valley. I cannot do it Cid, I can’t make rain out of nothing.’

  ‘And you don’t have to, we have all the clouds and moist we need. You just have to find some way to get the natural process of rain to work for you,’ said Cid.

  Lidayel was intently staring at the clouds now, holding up his hand to block out the bright of the sun.

  ‘Clouds reach a threshold point, then release due to heaviness,’ supplied Brunick hopefully.

  ‘And they do so because of pressure caused by compact moist, again, I can’t create water by myself,’ said Lidayel

  ‘You moulded the fire the other night, why don’t you do the same with the clouds?’ said Vanapha.

  ‘I get what you’re saying, but it’s a bit too much, exercising so much control on such a scale and range is beyond me. You can’t lecture me on how practical this idea is,’ said Lidayel.

  ‘What about something small then, at least at first, like a chain reaction, you know, just tweak nature to work faster?’ suggested Alex, despite Lidayel’s reprimand.

  Cid nodded. ‘Alex’s got a point. How about it?’

  Lidayel paced away, his wits trying to formulate something at the behest of his comrades.

  ‘No it won’t be enough, I need to have direct control if we want a proper cloud break, but it’ll take far more energy than I can muster.’

  ‘More than the eclipse?’ asked Brunick after the Summoner.

  ‘Remember! I had a scroll for the eclipse and it didn’t use as much energy as you would imagine, as it sustained itself from the sun, this however will not happen simply because I want it to!’ said Lidayel.

  ‘Come on, dig deep, you’ve got to know something that could help,’ said Cid.

  Lidayel was thoughtful, wracking his mind. It then struck him, but then just as quickly wiped the excitement from his face.