Fallen Ambitions

by Vann, Eric J.

  The Succubus smiled back at him—just as a wave of pressurized air rushed through the throne room, its strength causing the stacks of papers the Tijari scribe had painstakingly arranged on his table to fly away in a flurry. The Grauda hissed, while the humans, Celia, and Melody covered their ears.

  Aziel winced. The wave was filled with mana, but not enough for it to become a mist. As everyone recovered, Aziel quickly stood, expanding his senses in an attempt to find where this intrusion had originated.

  “Master?” Celia asked, still shivering from the effects of the mana wave.

  Aziel growled as rage bubbled from within. What had she done… he thought as he ignored all of them and strode for the levitation platform. After a moment’s hesitation, he heard Celia following.

  The second floor was a flurry of activity as he stepped off the platform onto it. Grauda were dashing around, rearranging toppled furniture. Aziel strode straight through them, across the central room and into the living quarters.

  Noticing his presence, the four Grauda males and a female who were standing guard immediately knelt. Without breaking stride, Aziel twisted and surprised Celia by snatching her dagger from its sheath on her thigh before kicking one of the bedroom doors open.

  He rushed in and grabbed Princess Lucienne by the throat and pulled her up from the ground before slamming her back against the far wall. Celia’s red-hot dagger sizzled as he brought its sharp tip close to her eye. “What… did you… do,” Aziel demanded through gritted teeth.

  The princess glared at him. “What I had to do,” she replied, “to get your attention.”

  “Oh, dear…” Aziel heard a voice say from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Duren, crouching beside a small burn mark on the floor. He picked up a small straw-like object—no, not straw. It was a burnt feather, Aziel realized. Glancing back at Lucienne, he noticed the red and black feather she had worn in her hair was missing.

  He also noticed that her eyes and face were turning red. He let go of the princess with a snarl, and she fell to the ground coughing, taking labored breaths.

  “What is it?” Aziel asked.

  “A Calling Feather,” Duren replied as he passed over the burnt remains of the feather.

  “What’s a Calling Feather?” Celia asked.

  “Exactly what it sounds like,” Duren said. “Many of the more magical avian races have them. Depending on the race, when damaged, burned, or a myriad other processes, the feather sends a powerful call. It gives its owner its exact location. I daresay Lady Lucienne there might have made this very troublesome for you, Lord Aziel.”

  Aziel looked at the princess, whose head was down, avoiding eye contact with him, her shoulders trembling. She looked so fragile. “Whose feather was it?” he demanded.

  The princess looked up, her hand holding her reddened neck, her eyes still bloodshot, but it was Duren who answered.

  “Given its coloration and who had possession of it,” Duren said, watching Lucienne, “there really can only be one person.”

  “Who?” Aziel asked, feeling a pit forming within.

  Duren’s brow furrowed as he shifted his gaze to Aziel.

  “Adara will answer the call.”

  Chapter 26

  Emily stood concealed behind a large spreading oak as the others moved into position around her. She glanced to one side, then the other—having to turn her head much further than usual due to her lost eye—as she counted the fighters who had assembled. There were over a hundred, most from Fermont looking to avenge those killed in the purges. Others were members of the Syndicate, including her own Green Threads. With her help, news had spread of the Satraps, her father’s acceptance of the purges, and his subsequent assassination. With the continued atrocities carried out by the Gold Serpents, thousands found their courage and had rallied to help fight the Ejani, but it was a mess of hundreds of small groups without a common strategy or leader.

  Some wielded arms, while others provided whatever resources or information they could to the resistance. The Gold Serpents took issue with this, of course, and had been even more brutal in their persecution than before, murdering entire families if even a single member was under suspicion. The arrests were now growing to hundreds each day, whole villages taken away in chains. Emily, whose group was by far the largest at present, had been tipped off as to the location of one of the concentration camps these poor people had been taken to. To her surprise, it was quite close to the now-ruined city of Arna.

  “It’s quite a lot bigger than the convoys we’ve been targeting so far,” Ness remarked from behind the closest tree, his green hood covering his head.

  Peering around the trunk, Emily took in the large camp situated in the valley below. Rows and rows of yellow tents marked by the flapping flags of the Gold Serpents, the light from the torches and braziers outlining the camp for all to see. The camp surrounded a fenced clearing, where a large number of people sat on the ground. Even from this distance she could make them out: the naked mass of bodies huddled against one another, surrounded by armored guards and overlooked by manned watchtowers.

  The tip had mentioned people being executed and buried in mass graves, but Emily had not been watching the camp long enough to witness such a thing.

  “I thought there were supposed to be no more than a thousand soldiers here. Looks a lot more than that,” she said, glancing at the tree-line on the far side of the camp. There were three other strike groups hidden there, bringing the number of people participating in this ambush to over four hundred. It was the largest mobilization the resistance as whole had undertaken by a significant margin. As Ness had pointed out, most of their attacks so far had been on smaller convoys and patrols, or in the streets of Firma where they had many avenues to escape.

  At first, Emily had been against attacking this camp. It was too large and well-guarded, for one. But the more she learned about it, the more she knew she could not pass up striking it. The guards here were the same people who had purged Arna.

  “Each tent of that size could hold at least six soldiers, so I’d say three time that,” Ness said as he pulled his cloak tighter. “More importantly, why is it so cold?”

  Emily pulled her own cloak closer. It was strange; the temperature had been mild and humid on their way here, but cold winds had started to blow in from the east—from the direction of Arna. She could not imagine how difficult it was for those held down there, naked and exposed on the cold ground.

  “Are the others in position?” she asked.

  Ness glanced at her, and though his face was completely in shadow, Emily could still tell he was giving her a look. “I’m not sure how you expect me to know that, love,” he said.

  Emily looked up, trying to spot the wide-winged geela birds they had been using to pass on messages, but the skies were covered with dark clouds. There was no sign of them.

  “Cyclops.” A heavily built man hefting a wide axe had approached, speaking in a low voice. “There appears to be a large cage just by what I think is the command tent.” He offered her a spyglass he had likely stolen from a ship docked in Firma.

  Emily accepted it, as Ness chuckled. “You didn’t even flinch that time. Getting used to your new name?” he asked, frost appearing before his face with every word.

  Emily ignored him as she extended the cylinder and looked through the eyepiece. He was right, there was an isolated cage, and there were people in it. The longer she looked at them, however, the less convinced she was that they were normal prisoners.

  “Ness,” Emily called as she offered him the spyglass. “Are those what I think they are?”

  Ness took it and followed the direction of her finger. “Those are vampires and thralls,” he said grimly as he returned the spyglass to its owner. “I can see their red eyes.”

  Emily frowned. “Why are they keeping them alive?”

  Ness shrugged again, rubbing his arms. The cold didn’t agree with him, it seemed.

  “No matter; it changes n
othing. We are still striking this camp,” Emily said decisively as she took another glance at the sky. Still no sign of any messenger birds. She pulled out her dagger. “Come, let’s go. The others will join us when they hear the commotion.”

  She turned to the others gathered behind her.

  “Remember, we aren’t here to hold ground—we move in, kill as many as we can, burn as much of their supplies as possible. Then leave. We can’t help every single prisoner; all we can do is give them a chance.” Emily looked directly at a few men who stood to one side. “Deliver the weapons to those willing to fight, then retreat. Lead those who can’t or won’t fight to safety.”

  Her instructions were met with nods and affirmations.

  Emily turned back to Ness. They had yet to hear back from the Tijarii regarding their proposal, and she had begun to wonder if they had even received her letter. Either way, without support, they had been forced to scavenge everything they needed. Their weapons largely came courtesy of a few ambushed Gold Serpent supply convoys.

  “Let’s do this,” Ness said. They left the safety of the trees and stalked down the valley, keeping quiet and low as they approached the outer ring of tents.

  Just before she gave the nod to enter the camp, Ness stopped her. “Stay alive, Emi,” he said, then suddenly sprinted on ahead, disappearing into the jungle of yellow tents. Emily did not worry; he was by far the deadliest amongst them, and would inflict more than his share of death.

  She crept forward, choosing one path through the tents. A trio of guards sat around a brazier, their plate armor reflecting the orange flame. “Damned freezing,” one of them complained.

  “And it’s getting colder,” another said as he nursed a steaming cup.

  “I can’t do it. I need to get out of this armor and into something warm or my parts are going to start falling off,” the third grumbled as he began to pull off his greaves.

  Emily couldn’t imagine being covered in metal armor in this cold. At least in the case of these three, it would not matter for long. She raised two fingers and kept them there for a moment—before flicking them forward. The gesture was followed by three simultaneous twangs, as crossbow bolts flew overhead and slammed into the three guards. Two fell to the ground while one grunted, trying to reach for the bolt which now protruded from his back. Before he could make any more noise, Emily was already upon him, her dagger sinking deep into his throat.

  “Go,” she said, and her people spread amongst the camp, blades drawn. Emily moved to the closest tent, pulling the flap back just far enough to duck inside. She activated her Keen Sense skill, and after a brief flash of white, the darkness of the interior was replaced by an arrangement she was familiar with.

  It was just like the one she had been tortured in. This time, however, the bedrolls were occupied, and weapons and pieces of armor were strewn about.

  Emily took a deep breath as she crept to the first bedroll.

  The man lying there was young, with dark black hair and fair skin. He wore a peaceful expression, totally unaware of Emily as she brought her dagger to his throat and cut as deeply as she could, her hand wrapping around his mouth to keep him quiet as the life drained from his suddenly wide-open eyes.

  She stayed there, holding him as his body continued to convulse, before gently releasing him and pulling his blanket over his head. These people were her enemies, she repeated to herself as she moved to the next roll. They all deserved this for what they had done.

  * * *

  When she was finished, Emily pulled open the tent’s flap, taking care to check for anyone outside before leaving the seven bodies behind. She wiped the blade against the canvas of the tent before moving to the next one—then stopped, flinching back when its flap suddenly opened. Emily sighed in relief: the person exiting was one of hers. The young man had a haunted look on his face as he wiped his bloody blade clean against the flap. It was how they had agreed to mark the tents they had already finished.

  She squeezed the young man’s shoulder before instructing him to go to the next tent. She picked a new target herself, working hard to keep her movements quiet, the now frozen ground crunching with her every step. Just as she gripped the tent flap, a loud roar came from the east. Emily cringed. Just a bear—but so loud! That damned animal was going to get them all killed.

  She retreated, taking cover under a supply cart, waiting to see if anyone woke at the noise. For a moment, nothing moved—and then, just as she was about to continue her task, it sounded again.

  This time the roar was even louder, and there was a series of smaller roars and growls accompanying it.

  Cursing, Emily pushed herself off the freezing ground and ran between the tents. There was no way the camp wasn’t on alert now. Not a moment after that thought, she heard the bells and the yelling.

  Cursing again, she was soon joined by a few of her men, any sense of stealth gone as they kicked over braziers and torched every tent along their way. “We need to get to the fence,” she said.

  “You! Stop there!” a man shouted, just as the fence came into view. Emily twisted around to see a half-dressed soldier running at her, a long blade in hand. She dug into the folds of her cloak and produced a pair of throwing knifes and flung them hard—their razor-sharp edges cut through the air before they both pierced his chest, and the soldier collapsed.

  More soldiers appeared, and now the fighting had caught the attention of the prisoners within the fenced clearing. Several shuffled closer, their hands wrapped around themselves, their legs shackled to weights.

  “Stand back,” Emily called as two of her men began setting up the explosives.

  “Cyclops,” a young woman wielding a short bow said. “Look.” She pointed to the east. Emily followed her finger… and stared in shock at the curtain of smoke bellowing from the camp’s edge. It was then that she realized very few soldiers were actually attacking them. The vast majority were moving to the east, toward the bellowing horns.

  An explosion sounded in the distance, then a second as two other sides of the fence were blown open. “It’s lit,” one of the men close to her said, and they all lunged for cover. The three spherical wooden bombs exploded, opening a wide gap in the fence.

  “Go!” Emily yelled as a trio of Gold Serpents appeared. “Arm the prisoners—I’ll hold these off!”

  “There’s them bastards, get him!” she heard a soldier grunt before the three ran at her, just as the rest of her group ducked through the gap and into the fenced clearing. Emily flung the last four throwing knifes she had, bringing down two of her attackers before the last barreled straight into her, slamming her against the fence. Her back throbbed—then she grunted in pain as the man punched her gut, and her chest, before throwing her to the ground, her hood falling back to reveal her face.

  “Ha, a fuckin lass,” the soldier snarled as he gripped a handful of her hair and pulled her to her feet. Emily leaped forward, using the momentum to wrap her legs around his neck and forcing him to the ground, his hands releasing her. She rolled on top of him, her dagger stabbing and twisting into his chest repeatedly as he tried to gulp in air like a fish out of water.

  Then a battle cry rang out behind her—as hundreds of naked prisoners rushed through the gap and passed her, most simply trying to flee. The few who were now armed crashed against the outer camp like a wave of vengeance. The sounds of fighting were everywhere now, the disoriented Gold Serpents fighting off the very people they were here to guard.

  Ducking under a spear thrust, Emily rolled forward, her dagger slashing at an exposed thigh as one of her own people joined her, sword in hand. More explosions sounded from the distance, along with the clash of steel. “Alright, we’ve done enough, sound the retreat,” she barked to the man, but just as he pulled out his horn, a crossbow bolt plunged into his chest, dropping him to the ground. Emily crouched, grabbed the horn and dove behind the closest cart. With as much breath as she could gather, she blew into the horn, hard. Its sound cut through the chaos as arrow
s and bolts rained down from the watchtowers.

  Then the night sky was suddenly illuminated in a warm red as bright Magitech Cannon shots arched above. The half-dozen projectiles whistled as they cut through the air, bearing east.

  All except for two, who began their drop far earlier. Emily watched them, her heart slamming against her chest. The first was aimed at the center of the prison camp, while the other was descending right atop her own position.

  She flung herself to the muddy ground, just as they exploded in the sky, the shockwave dropping everyone and flattening the tents directly underneath. But Emily knew that was not the end. It was simply the first phase.

  As she watched, the single shot separated into at least a dozen smaller bolts.

  “Take cover!” she heard people scream as resistance fighters, Gold Serpents and former prisoners stopped fighting and scrambled to take cover under anything they could. Emily coiled into herself and covered her head with her arms as explosions sounded all around her. The ground shook, and the air shrieked with every strike.

  She lost track of what was happening—just heated blasts of air rocking her, and an incessant ringing. When her vision slowly began to return, the true power of these weapons was visible.

  There was nothing left. Bodies littered the now cratered clearings; some were intact, but most had been blown apart. Men wept and begged for help, while some called out for loved ones. By sheer luck, Emily saw, the cart she had been hiding under had not been hit.

  She stumbled to her feet and held her dagger to her chest, helpless as she watched wave after wave of Magitech shots streak to the east.

  Something grabbed her ankle. She looked down; it was a person, severely burned and mangled. She couldn’t tell the gender or affiliation, and one glance told her this person had no hope of surviving. She pulled her leg free before she continued to stumble forward through the smoke and chaos, unsure where she was headed. Her teeth began to chatter as the cold returned with a fury that reached her bones.