by Mark B Frost
When they reached the front gates they were greeted with a barrage of questions from the guards, as well as a few passing civilians who recognized them. Atheme threw them icy glares, and they quickly dispersed. He turned to Abaddon for a second, then both nodded and stormed off in separate directions.
Atheme went straight to his office. He shut the door, then walked over and punched one of the concrete walls with his good arm. He let out a fierce roar with the blow—the first sound he had made in days—as cracks spread into the sturdy structure. He stood breathing heavily for a few moments, then went and sat behind his desk.
A guard from outside stepped into the office to see if the Lord Councilor was alright. Ignoring his concerns, Atheme instructed the man to find and send his personal assistant immediately. His tone of voice left no room for questions, and the guard quickly ran off to find the aide in question.
Alone again, Atheme retrieved a roll of bandages out of his top desk drawer and sat nursing his wounds. He replayed events through in his mind for nearly an hour before his assistant walked into the room.
He glanced up coldly from his desk. “You’re late. I sent for you an hour ago and said to come immediately.”
The young man had never seen his master in such a mood. He stammered out, “Sorry sir. I—”
The Lord Councilor did not await the inevitable excuse. “Notify my Grand Councilors that a meeting will be held at precisely noon. Make certain they know they are not to be late.”
The shaken man paused for a moment, a number of questions hovering on his lips, then turned and dashed out.
Atheme cracked his knuckles and bit his lower lip. He turned his chair around so that his back was to his door, then sat and cried.
* * * * *
Abaddon had notified Kulara to assemble the Military Council and check in at the Lord Councilor’s office. Atheme had not made his plans clear, but his friend understood him well enough to know that either the General or his council would be on the short list of people he would wish to contact.
He now sat in a small clearing in the Ducall Forest, quite a distance from the eastern wall of the city. He had stumbled upon the clearing a few months earlier while hunting with Myris Phare. Since then, he often used it as a place for meditation and introspection. After a couple of hours, he felt a presence approaching. He focused his senses, but saw and heard nothing. He only had to wait a few seconds more until Myris stepped into the clearing directly in front of him.
The Cainite said nothing for a moment, trying to read anything he could from the inscrutable warlord. Finally, he spoke. “Hello, Onion Knight.”
Abaddon did not look up, instead continuing to stare at the ground in front of him. “Myris,” he said in an almost monotone voice, “why do you call me that?”
Myris chuckled at this. “It amazes me how soldiers of Felthespar seem to know less about your people’s history than we Cainites.”
“I know the history of it. Supposedly Pecoros appeared to someone as an onion, and the Knighthood latched onto it briefly as a symbol. That’s not what I asked. I asked why you call me that. I am Felthespari by neither blood nor heritage.”
“Yet you clearly serve this city and its Military. That is all that is required. You are as much of this city as Atheme.”
“Or yourself.”
His head twitched to one side. “Pardon?”
“You serve on the same Military that I do. On the same Grand Council. Are you not loyal to Felthespar?”
“Of course I am,” he answered swiftly.
“Then either we are now both ‘Onion Knights’, or neither of us are. It is not appropriate for you to address our people as though you remain an outsider. I recommend you think that over. While you do so, I also recommend that you refer to me only as Lord Abaddon.”
The man paused for a moment, then gave a bow. They stood for a while in silence, until finally Myris could contain himself no longer. “Lord Abaddon, what happened in Revian? Why are you and Lord Atheme back so soon? And without the rest of the soldiers?”
“We were ambushed in the Gorge. They came down upon us from both sides with two-fold our number. But it was worse than that, more than the element of surprise and the extra troops. They were good. Their soldiers were organized, efficient, fearless. Our assumptions of the Revian collapse were thrown back in our faces. At best their armies were regrouping; they were never broken. We have greatly overestimated our achievements of the past year.”
“You seem perturbed by your defeat.”
Abaddon turned and locked eyes with him. Myris felt oddly exposed by the steely gaze, as though his very soul was being cataloged against his will. “They knew we were coming. I could taste it. This was no mere guard that we ran into, they hadn’t been hastily assembled for the attack. They knew we would be there, and they were waiting for us specifically.”
Myris shifted where he was standing. “How could that be possible? A seer? A wizard capable of reading the ether currents from so far away? Even Kinguin is incapable of sorcery at such a level.”
“There’s a spy,” he stated coldly, still staring the man down. “Someone in Felthespar is working against us. Though I don’t know why anyone would be trying to aid Revian. At least, not anyone with access to our military information.”
“We carefully monitor all comings and goings. It is difficult to believe word could have traveled the distance to Revian in time to alert them to our attack. How could a spy have been responsible for this?”
He shook his head. “Difficult, but not impossible. There were two months between the decision and the attack, a clever spy could have managed it. They knew we were coming and knew in time to organize an effective trap. If I manage to find out more, I will create great suffering for someone. I swear to that.”
Myris waited in silence for a moment longer. “Come. It is nearly noon. We have a Grand Council meeting that we must attend.”
The former Cainite glided off, and Abaddon watched him for a moment before following.
* * * * *
Once the councilors were assembled, a joint Council meeting was called to order. A second set of chairs had been brought in and thirteen Councilors—both High and Grand—sat gathered around the table in no particular order. Atheme threw ceremony out the window and launched right into matters, but no one questioned him. It was apparent that he was not in the mood.
“As the first order of business, I am officially declaring that we are at war. Not the type of constant turmoil and border disputes that our country is always facing, I’m talking Arocaen-level warfare. No more fun and games, no more of this public image garbage. I don’t want to hear from Vesovius or the Senate on the matter for the next month, at least.
“We have consistently underestimated the type of threat that Revian represents. No one more so than myself. I thought we had them on their heels, that we had driven them back and humbled them. Instead they laid a trap and because of our arrogance, we marched our Lord Councilor, our Champion, and two thousand of our best knights into it. We thought we were in control, that we were manipulating their leaders, when all the while they were manipulating ours. At this point it is abundantly clear to me that no one within our country knows what form their next strike is going to take.
“Offer evacuation to any of the surrounding cities and communities into Felthespar. Once everyone’s in, lock down the front gates and keep all commerce under rigorous watch and inspection. I want a record of everyone who comes and goes from the city, where they go and to whom they speak while they’re inside. There’s going to be a backlash to this, the usual cries of fascism. Tell the Templars to handle it. Maintaining civil order in the face of these changes is now going to be part of their responsibilities.
“Kulara,” he nodded in the General’s direction, “gather our available soldiers, troops on leave, on vacation, sentries positioned in occupied territories, border guards, wherever. Spread the news that we’re in danger of invasion from the far side of the conti
nent and I think the lesser threats will leave us alone. Make it clear to them that if Felthespar falls, they will go down with us. Disseminate propaganda and exaggerate Revian’s threat to this entire side of the continent. Emphasize their barbarism.
“After you gather our soldiers I want you to execute the most rigorous training exercises you are familiar with. I want the common soldier to be as skilled as one of our Dragoons now, and Cildar, I want our Dragoons to be as skilled as me.”
The paladin raised an eyebrow, but bowed softly. “As you will, milord.”
The loyalty in Cildar’s tone reached out to Atheme. He reminded himself that he was at home, that these were his allies and—more importantly—his friends, and they would support him in anything. He took a slow breath and his rage subsided. “Thank you, Cildar. I know it’s an unreasonable demand, but do what you can.”
He straightened up. His voice leveled, but he did not break his feverish pace. “Secondly, I’m declaring martial law. From this day forward all Knighthood resources, governing authority, and overrides will be handled directly by the Military Council and Kulara. Any objections? Good.”
Kinguin tried ineffectively to interject, “Atheme—”
The Lord Councilor waved a hand in the air and moved on. “Galbion Antares, our Lord of the House Lurin, died valiantly in the Revian ambush, may Pecoros see him home. I have decided that in lieu of a replacement being found for his position, Cildar will stand in on the Military Council and act as their seventh member. Since he is the former Lord of Lurin he should have little trouble. As he will no longer have his Grand Council duties to tend to, it won’t be too much burden on him, and will serve to strengthen the Military Council’s ability to govern the country until we revoke martial law.
“Now, the final order of business.” Atheme snapped and Kulara stepped forward and spread a large, freshly drawn map across the Grand Council table. The General pointed to various points on the map as Atheme spoke. “This is approximately where we imagine Carral, the central city of Revian, to be. Unfortunately both trade and tourism with the west have been cut off for a number of years now, and we didn’t give the matter the attention it merited. As such, we know little about the terrain and layout of cities in the area.
“This is the route we were going to take to reach Carral. Here is the Revian Gorge. This is where the scout party was ambushed and slaughtered. As you can see, it is the only practical route into Revian. There are several problems with taking this route. The lesser of these problems is that I caused a large part of the ravine to collapse, sealing the pass. Worse is that the nature of the area allows the Revians to monitor and guard the gorge, and it’s the perfect place to stage an ambush. There is no other way to put it—the Revian Gorge is the only way to reach Revian, and we can’t use it. You’re the greatest military minds in our country, and possibly in all of Morolia.” He sighed deeply. “I need to know what to do.”
For a moment, everyone was silent. Leprue spoke first. “If we can’t attack Revian, then we must prepare for an attack. If the pass is truly blocked off then it will be a while before they can get to us. We should set some units of our own to ambush them as they march to our city. War mages, or even fully fledged members of the Arcanum, casting spells to get rid of as many soldiers as we can before they make it here.”
Kinguin looked up from his side of the table. “I would remind you that fully fledged heralds have sworn an oath of pacifism and cannot participate in such a tactic. We could, however, use automatons. I could construct as many as I can get together and lead them out, to try to put a dent in their numbers.”
Atheme smiled at the bold Archmagus. “You know I can’t approve of that. The decision on the automatons has been made. As for your idea, Leprue, I don’t want knights dying with the forlorn hope that they can take a few enemy soldiers with them.”
Shasta scratched the back of his head. “If Leprue’s right about the Gorge, and we have bought time before the invasion, then we could set up perimeter traps and defenses. If we train hard, we can defeat them from inside of Felthespar. In siege battles the troops inside of the fortress have the advantage, if they know how to utilize it.”
Atheme nodded. “All that goes without saying, but it’s our last line of defense. We can’t allow Revian to conquer Itrius while we cower behind our walls. I need offense, I need a way to stop them before they get here.” He slammed his fist into the table. “There has to be something more!”
At that moment a woman entered the room and gave a cough. Everyone in the Chamber turned in indignation to see one of the Children of Cain standing in the doorway. The girl bowed and apologized profusely as Myris moved quickly to meet her and they had a short, whispered conversation.
As she took her leave the Councilor to the Dictus returned to his seat and explained. “Forgive me for that. A few months ago, when the Dragoons landed what we perceived to be the final blow against Revian, I recalled all of my agents from the west. Since the war seemed finished I had never bothered to fully debrief them. When Lords Atheme and Abaddon returned this morning I sent one of the Cain to gather the final reports, to see if anything of importance had been overlooked. I told her to bring the results to me no matter where I was.”
Leprue started to issue a complaint, but Atheme silenced him with a slash of his hand. “What do you have for me, Phare?”
“Only one piece of information stood out. It is unconfirmed, but logically it holds weight. Some of my spies believed they tracked down the source of Revian’s artifact technology. Instead of individually building the tiny artifacts, as we believed, they are actually fragments of much larger crystals. There are two such crystals on the continent, one near the Gorge—likely within Carral itself—and one near the western coast. Each is fed by hundreds if not thousands of spells that layer various effects over the crystalline material. Once an area has been thoroughly saturated it is broken off, then broken into smaller fragments and injected into the soldiers.”
Everyone in the room turned to Kinguin, who was scratching his chin. “It is feasible,” he answered after a moment in thought. “It would adequately explain the rapid nature of their advancement in abilities, as well as my own inability to make any sense of or replicate the technique. I was only analyzing a tiny piece of the puzzle and could not reverse engineer the full design.”
“What does this buy us?” Cildar asked.
“There is more,” Myris interjected. “Though, again, I cannot verify its accuracy. The report says these two crystals were found in the mountains to the south of Revian. They have been unable to find any others large enough to sustain their charging technique, and have no idea how to create new ones. Estimates are that they have enough material to last five years, maybe less if they keep increasing the number given to each soldier. Their hope is to have the continent conquered by then, so that they can absorb Felthespari advancement into their own.”
Cildar nodded, understanding now. “But if we destroy even one of the two crystals they already have...”
“We could cripple their long term war effort,” Atheme finished.
Abaddon rose up in the back of the room and moved to the map. Kulara stepped out of his way to give him better access. Atheme watched his friend for a moment, then said softly, “Ab?”
“We’ll need a boat.”
The Lord Councilor sat down in his chair and propped his chin on his hand. “A boat?”
Abaddon pointed to the map. “Jegan, one of our most fastidious allies, is directly to our south. As a trade city on the Keladeps River, Jegan has a variety of powerful and fast boats available. The Keladeps flows east, so the source is in the west, within the Selledi marshes. There the Tepindus flows from the Theoriun Ocean in the north to the Cerulian Sea in the south. If we could get a boat powerful enough to travel upstream against the Keladeps, we could enter the Tepindus on the far side of Sarin. We ride it south into the Cerulian’s gulf, go around the Cainis Mountains, into the Theoriun, land somewhere near Revian
, and attack.”
Atheme nodded thoughtfully. “I follow. They wouldn’t be expecting an attack on the western crystal. The area between the Gorge and the eastern crystal will be well defended, but the western will likely be open for the taking.”
“We still don’t know where the crystal is, though,” Cyprus Galahe, Cildar’s younger brother, interjected.
Kinguin waved a hand at this. “A trifle. Assuming that the information from the Children of Cain is accurate, by studying the few samples we’ve already collected I can easily construct a spell to track an artifact of the size we’re describing here.”
Lathria Grielat, a Warlock on the Military Council, cleared her throat slightly and nudged forward. Atheme looked to her. “Do you wish to say something, Miss Grielat?”
She was a young girl of frail appearance, with deep brown eyes and silken hair to match. As with all war mages, she was far more dangerous than she appeared, and was reputed to be the most powerful wizard outside of the Arcanum. She held the title of Lord of the Black Hand, the highest ranking among war mages, and was the youngest to have ever achieved it. “I have a suggestion that may not be very popular, but I think it should be heard.”
“You are a councilor. Speak freely.”
“I think we must consider employing outside help for this endeavor. The Knighthood has always been fiercely independent, but after the loss in troops we have just suffered we could use additional forces. I was thinking of Barkus.”
No one responded, and the girl slid back in her seat. Kinguin suddenly spoke up for her, surprising everyone. “She’s right. Barkus could be a good way to refine Abaddon’s plan. They could harass the Gorge, perhaps even penetrate into Revian’s territory, and keep their attention firmly focused on the east. With the greatest of fortune, the two armies could meet each other approaching from opposite sides and collapse on the other crystal, destroying it as well.”