Resist

by Derek Belfield

  Fidem had led the second effort. Fidem had spent the last week converting a few strategic individuals into members of the Faithful. These men and women were bards, information peddlers, heralds, and other members of influence that weren’t apart of the official power structure. As the halls of power were painted in blood by the Lurkers, the populace of Koral would be unable to turn to those individuals for guidance.

  The influencer’s newfound allegiance to the Scourge meant that they spread the Way and the benefits of the Scourge to a far outsized group of people than they would otherwise be able to reach. The best part of Fidem’s influence was that the manipulation—the enticement—would look all the more organic for their lack of direct input. Once they had been converted, sometimes forcefully, Fidem informed them that the city was going to fall. He promised them safety for them and their families so long as they spread the message of the Scourge’s benevolence. When Koral was cracked, the people would spill out into the wild. Slate hoped that they would find themselves in the arms of the Scourge rather than the Empire.

  The coming battles with the Empire would rely on public opinion over military might. Civilized conflict meant that murders happened in the dark rather than on a battlefield, and territory was won over a cold pint of beer rather than in the throne room. In the process, Slate had learned how Fidem and his kin affected the mental state of their victims. It was through a delightfully twisted mechanism that Slate wouldn’t have expected. He had heard the explanation before, but this was the first time that he got to see the effect in action. The Scourge Enticers utilized and weaponized pheromones to produce the buffs and de-buffs that was their primary function. Fidem had explained that there were limitations, non-humanoids were less affected, the range was limited, and the effects weren’t permanent. Still, with enough Enticers, they could cause rapid and dramatic changes in behavior. From what Slate knew about pheromones in his world—admittedly, not much—he figured there might be more strategic uses for the airborne chemicals. As of now, it was simply used to make the citizens of Koral more susceptible to the Scourge’s persuasive message. He watched as even hardened supporters of the Vallyr become receptive to the Enticer’s arguments. It was, indeed, a sight to behold.

  Slate, assisted by Fidem, was going to show the Empire that even though their forces weren’t yet capable of taking Koral by force, they could still steal away the population in all the ways that truly mattered. Koral was just a mismanaged city laboring under the delusions of its importance. Slate was going to burn those delusions away and show them that the true reason for their existence lay within the borders of Bastion.

  Now that the preparations had been made, it was time for the more overt and visible signs of the Scourge’s conquest. The third effort had been left to Sumnu and his group of Raiders. Just before the crack of dawn, the First Raider had led his group of savages to the northern curtain wall. He spread their numbers along the wall to be more discreet, but the copper scaled behemoths had been hard to hide from the population. Luckily, there hadn’t been that many citizens in the streets. The predawn chill made them loathe to exit their warm beds and enter the streets so early in the morning. Slate watched overhead as the Raiders used their unique powers to create cracks in the foundation of the walls. As he watched the Raiders pound on the walls like wrecking crews on his planet, he reached out to get an update from Matek.

  Matek, report. He ordered. There was a pause in the Scourgemind, and then a flash of memories was directed his way from the First Lurker.

  Slate watched behind the eyes of all the Lurkers at once. It was a complicated process when he was in his elven form, but he found that while he was in the body of a dragon, this way of communicating was more efficient than the spoken language. Matek was leading the Lurkers as they assaulted the port defenses of Koral. The biggest impediment to invasion—besides the Emperor’s reluctance to sacrifice his troops—were the port defenses of Koral. The city wall of Koral extended into the water on either side of the docks. At the extreme ends of the fortifications, large towers looked out to the bay. They were crowned with large purple beacons that guided friendly ships into their protective arms. Matek had learned that the beacons could be used to fire bolts of arcane energy into the water. They weren’t particularly fast, but they were powerful. Just underneath the surface of the water, the towers held a death-dealing chain made from the stygian iron that the Vallyr so loved.

  The chain was difficult to see during the day, but it was damn near invisible in the dark. Any ships of sufficient tonnage to threaten the city that did manage to make it ways through the barrage of defensive fire provided by the towers would find themselves caught on the spikes of the chain that blocked the docks. The chain could be lowered or raised to allow friendly ships to continue further into the water, but any adversarial ship would find themselves trapped, and then blown to pieces by the protective towers.

  It was a significant part of Slate’s strategy that these towers be destroyed, and the chain lowered so that the Empire would be able to bring their ships into Koral’s harbor. He was curious about how the Empire had expected to take Koral with the number of vessels they had. There were only three hundred or so Imperial vessels just beyond the range of Collective fire. According to his best estimates, after scouting the ships himself, they could only hold a maximum of a couple of thousand troops. They were no more substantial than some of the bigger cruisers in the U.S. Navy—the only metric he had to compare them to—and those ships didn’t carry those guests for long. They simply couldn’t support them. They usually had a crew of twenty to fifty sailors, and everything else was simply in the way.

  The ships themselves were fascinating to Slate. They had modern profiles similar to the technology of his time. They were made from smooth sheets of metal that made them look like sword blades cutting through the water. There were no weapons or embattlements that Slate could see, and he didn’t notice the presence of any sailors on the exterior decks. For all Slate knew, they were ghost ships, and the Emperor was using an elaborate ruse to convince Slate to commit forces to Koral that he couldn’t afford. Slate assumed it was possible, but it wasn’t probable. With only a few notable and historical exceptions, it was a safe bet to think that all enemies were as logical and as systematic as oneself. When an enemy made a mistake, it was to be treated as a surprise, rather than the norm. As soon as one started to think they were smarter than the enemy, they would find a blade in their heart the next morning. The only structure to break up the profile of the ship was the central construct that carried the navigation personnel and a towering smokestack that belched foul-smelling black smoke. It was strange for Slate to notice that there were no signal platforms or antennae. The ships were like the ones from his world…but not. On a closer pass, he noticed that the front of the boat, or the sword blade as he was coming to think of it, looked like it detached from the front of the vessel to create a landing platform. Slate assumed that meant that forces and supplies could be unloaded from the ship directly onto the docks, but the still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Imperial troops themselves.

  It made him uncomfortable to know that the first he would see of the Imperial fighters, would be their assault on Koral. He wouldn’t have time to stick around to see what their tactics were because he needed to make his way back to Bastion and put an end to whatever insanity had happened in his absence. He merely had to hope that Matek would gather enough information for him to use against the Empire should they have to face one another. It wasn’t a conflict he wanted to focus on in the immediate future. He still had the Collective to destroy, but he knew conflict was inevitable. The Lord of Light hadn’t left him many options in that regard.

  He flew out over the docks with Serena right behind him. He craned his neck over his shoulder as a great tumult came from the north of the city.

  Right on time. He thought, satisfied.

  The entirety of the curtain wall began crumbling down to the north. Vast clouds of soot-colored du
st rose from the gray stone. Slate was happy that the falling of the wall looked more like a controlled demolition than the gradual wear of age and poor maintenance. To Slate’s knowledge, the Empire wasn’t even attacking via the ground. The border between the Collective and the Empire was still some distance to the north. Fort Corsa still stood between the Imperial invasion and the citizenry of Koral, but the falling of the wall was a symbol. It was more critical that Koral feel vulnerable than the vulnerability itself. Slate knew that the Raiders would be disappearing by now. Their phase of the mission was complete. A few moments later, he received confirmation through a series of emotions and images from Sumnu that they were pulling out of the city. As he passed over the water of the docks, the feeling of alarm passed through him like a tidal wave. Matek was requesting his aid. Slate projected the sense along to Serena, and he felt her assent as he tilted his wings toward the south tower.

  He activated his Aspect of Cleansing Flame, and the camouflage that he had been maintaining abruptly fell away. The flames turned him into a blue-white comet hurtling toward the enemy. He could feel that Matek had run into a few opponents that were beyond his capability of defeating alone. He had been rushing up the stairs to silence the beacon located at the crown of the tower when a couple of Vallyr warriors had ambushed him.

  Slate alighted on the top of the lighthouse portion of the tower and used his prodigious claws to sink into the stone. He flapped his wings to balance himself as his tail whipped through the air like an angry snake. Slate clung to the tower with three limbs as one robust set of claws started ripping out chunks of masonry from the tower. He could feel Matek on the other side, and part of him resented the fact that the enemy dared to try and take away something he considered his. Matek was one of his most important subjects. He wouldn’t allow the man to be killed by Vallyr dogs. He finally penetrated the room and darted his tail within.

  From within the tower, Matek was dueling for his life with the two Vallyr soldiers that had ambushed him. They were both using spiked maces—a popular weapon it seemed—to attack him. It usually wouldn’t be a problem, Matek had only grown more deadly since his transformation, but these two particular warriors were well versed at attacking in sequence. They stayed out of the way of the other, and they took turns assaulting, which gave them the chance to recoup their strength during the conflict. Alone, they may not have been able to defeat Matek, but together they were enough to hinder his progress. He felt along the Scourgemind to see where the rest of his Lurkers were. Most of his half were clearing out the lower levels of the tower while the other half, led by Fidem, were in the other. They needed to take out the towers at relatively the same time, or defenders would swarm them. Right now, any of the city’s guards would be trying to figure out why their wall had fallen and where the fuck their leaders were. It wouldn’t be long before they would realize that their leaders had been slain, and one enterprising fool would decide to take charge of the remaining forces. Matek hadn’t been able to kill nearly as many officers as he would have been comfortable with, and Slate had been more concerned that they cripple the economy of the city over the military. Matek had thought the move strange, but then again, that was why Slate was the leader of the Scourge and not him.

  He decided that it was time to call in the big guns. He sent his situation over to the big boss through the Scourgemind. He chuckled after he did so and taunted the Vallyr.

  “You have no idea what’s about to descend upon your heads,” his sibilant voice had a noticeable effect on the Vallyr.

  “Fuck you, Saurian,” his primary attacker shouted while swinging the mace for Matek’s head.

  Matek ducked the blow and whipped his tail forward to strike at the man, but a blow from the second Vallyr blocked it. He backed up and frowned.

  “Saurian?” He questioned. “I’m not one of those lizard-brains.” He shrugged as another strike was delivered with the intent of removing said brain from his shoulders.

  “I don’t even look like one of them.” He grumbled. “Fucking specists.”

  The sound of shattering stone distracted all three of the combatants, and Matek grinned as dust began to rain from the ceiling. Great wingbeats could be heard through the rock by the occupants in the room. The two Vallyr looked for the source of the sound before addressing Matek again.

  “What the fuck is that?” One of them demanded.

  Matek merely grinned, “as I said, you’ll have no idea.” Matek sent the relative positions of everything in the room as a memory to Slate, digging his way outside. Matek had to admit. He had figured Slate would traipse within the room in his elf form and start killing them with his bare hands. However, it added a certain something that he would simply rip stone from its moorings and kill the Vallyr that way. He wasn’t complaining. Especially when it was his ass that was on the line.

  Matek launched himself forward into a handspring with his claws outstretched. One hand sunk into the ground, and he whirled his hips forward as the Vallyr were suddenly faced with a windmill of claws and tail blade. First, Matek struck with his right talons, then his tail blade, and then he finished the maneuver with his left talons. This was a maneuver that had been taught to him from the Way by Shale. Its intent was not actually to land a hit. It would be nice, but the move was too flashy to be that effective to a skilled opponent. As Matek well knew, often, the simplest martial arts were the best. However, this attack was exceptional at one thing: distraction. Both of the Vallyr were focused on Matek’s attack, and they didn’t realize when the stone had been peeled away enough by the dragon outside to allow Slate’s tail blade to reach through.

  Matek continued his assault as the tail plunged into the room like a scorpion’s sting and entered through the back of one Vallyr and skewered him with little effort. The blade had grown with Slate’s transformation, and now three feet of sharp murder implement punched through armor, flesh, and bone with little more resistance than a fisherman spearing a fish. The man screamed as he was picked off the floor by the force of his impalement, and his weapon clattered to the ground. The Vallyr facing Matek turned to see why his companion was screaming, and that was the fatal error that the First Lurker capitalized on. Matek simply ghosted forward on taloned-feet, and with a sinuous, practiced movement, he wrenched the Vallyr’s neck to the side. Matek watched the Vallyr warrior fall to the ground with a new grotesque tilt to his skull. A mere moment later and the second Vallyr was pulled from the room by Slates tail out of the chamber. He was screaming the entire way until Matek heard the screaming abruptly cut off. He figured the boss had decided to have a light snack. Matek personally found Vallyr disgusting, but he knew that a source of biomass wouldn’t be ignored for something as minor as enjoyment. Slate was too pragmatic for that.

  The tail entered the room again with an image in Matek’s mind for what the Scourge King planned. Matek grinned savagely as he sprinted toward the tail and then wrapped it in a bear hug. He was violently drawn through the hole in the wall and then swung into the air by the dragon. Matek whooped as he flew through the air like a stone released from the sling. He let go of the tail at its zenith and was immediately set on a trajectory for the top of the tower. The crown of the tower was an open-air platform with a glowing purple gemstone sitting in a wrought iron plinth. Matek realized as he was hurtling toward the gem that he didn’t have a way to slow down.

  “Shit!” He screamed as his body made contact with the gemstone. Luckily for him, the gem was set loosely in its setting, and his collision caused it to be ejected from where it lay. He found himself in the gem’s prior location as it bounced along the stone floor with a tinkling crystalline sound. He watched bruised and battered as it rolled over the side and plunged over the edge of the tower. It hadn’t been glowing when it fell, and so Matek assumed that it had been deactivated by its removal and summary ejection from the tower. He allowed a cocksure grin to cross his features as he communicated the success to his King still attached to the tower.

  Once S
late had been sure of their success, he launched himself from the tower. The force he generated by using the tower like a springboard, caused it to explode in a shower of stone and cement. The entire tower groaned and began to list toward the side. As Slate hovered in the air, he considered the fact that Matek was still within the confines of the tower.

  Surely, he’ll be okay, he projected to Serena.

  Serena hovered in the air next to him, just out of range of the strong winds he was creating with every flap of his sail-like wings. Surely, she told him dryly. He’s survived worse.

  Pieces of the tower were falling into the water below, and Slate watched them critically. He was getting a sense of barely constrained panic from Matek through the Scourgemind. Oddly, weaved through the fear was a sense of celebration and pride. Matek was genuinely enjoying himself. Slate shrugged and addressed Serena once more.

  Koral is cracked, and we need to get back home, but first, we need to show the Empire that we won’t be betrayed so easily. Slate’s voice was tight with anger, and the Scourge below them roared in rage as their leader’s emotions overwhelmed their own. Even the Firsts, more resistant to the effect than the others, felt their emotional state shift subtly.