“Bor… I ask you humbly for wisdom… because I do not have it…”
Ucankacei sat cross-legged on the limestone and terracotta bricks, as well as his aching bones allowed – hands cupped weakly in his lap, as if discarded for their uselessness. His crutch lay on the ground beside him.
He was alone in the training courtyard at Alaris Khi Thung. Dawn was near. Above, the stars multiplied and lingered in an endless plot of deep blue. Slowly from the east, red and orange light poured overhead.
Often, he made a point to face the rising Sun. Today, he faced west.
Often, the words flowed from his lips without strain. Today, he hesitated.
“You’d think…” Ucankacei thought aloud, forcing a feeble chuckle. “… that being so old, I wouldn’t have to ask this. But… I am at a loss. This Kingdom… the Kingdom founded on the beauty of your own… is crumbling… and with each passing day, it is dawning on me… that no one is coming to save us.”
Ucankacei lost his words again. A sparrow flew overhead. The old man’s weary eyes clenched shut.
“So many dead,” he lamented. “So many killed. So many more will come. I don’t remember the faces or the names anymore. So many… and I find myself wondering… what is the point?”
Ucankacei almost forced his mouth closed. The question was ignorant. It was absurd. It was selfish. It wasn’t his place – the elder – to question these things. He was to give the young assurance and comfort – a shelter in trying times. If he himself was in doubt… How could he fulfill this duty?
But with another scrunch of his eyes and a shake of his head, his mouth opened again. And in defiance, he continued.
“For all my life, I’ve believed in your vision. The vision of the Gods,” Ucankacei rambled. “I believed in reason for all things. I believed that all costs had their worth. I believed in light past the dark. I believed that you spoke through the world. But now the ugliness of war has been revealed to me. Ruthless, indiscriminate, and unforgiving. And I wonder… this cost… what could it possibly purchase, other than despair? There cannot be reason in this. No greater message of any meaning to impart. Please, Bor… tell me, in your All-Sight… In your boundless wisdom… What do you see? Share your peace with me. Please… I need your generosity. I need…”
His voice shuddered and broke. His eyes fell again. And then he looked up at the sky. The light of the Sun was spreading. He didn’t dare turn to the east.
“I need something… to tell me these prayers are reaching you,” Ucankacei whispered. “Something to tell me that you are truly watching over us. Something to tell me I am not simply speaking into a void…”
A swell in the breeze ruffled the leaves above. Ucankacei felt the cool air against his face. Painful memories came to greet him.
“I prayed for Heror, so many times…” he wallowed. “And it did not change his fate.”
The recollection threatened tears. His throat shook. He held them back.
“I pray now for peace… for understanding…” Ucankacei went on. “… and yet I know that I will not receive it.”
These kinds of conclusions were not comfortable for Ucankacei – ever the optimist – to consider. He agonized in the silence of the young morning. He doubted his epiphanies. He doubted his long-standing spirituality. And at last, he came to a state of sullen indifference. His shoulders sank. A sigh of surrender escaped his mouth.
“But there is still a stubborn – perhaps stupid – part of me that wants to remain faithful…” he admitted. “And so even if I won’t find peace, I can still pray for others…”
And so Ucankacei carried on with his prayer. He prayed for Thaeolai – who, for all he knew, could be dead. He prayed for Heror – again. He prayed for the lost souls. He prayed for the Kingdom that relied on his protection. And then he meditated – until the light of the sun enveloped the cerulean sky above. Eventually, the heavy wooden doors to the training ground creaked open behind him.
“Siekarum Ucankacei…” he heard the tired voice of a siephall. “It’s time for the scheduled briefing in the dining area. The siekanghs asked me to fetch you.”
Ucankacei let out a shallow breath. Wispy hairs danced in the breeze. He nodded.
“Tell them I’ll be right there.”
The siephall closed the door. Ucankacei indulged the newfound silence for as long as he could, and then he thought it best not to delay further. With some strain, he rose to his feet, and he stabilized on his wounded ankle. He’d removed his boots to feel the cool smoothness of the stone, but now he went to fetch them again. Once he was ready, he ventured back inside. And with a few-minutes’ walk, he made his way to the Khi Thung’s assembly hall.
The great hall was lined with wooden tables and chairs, and capped by a large angled ceiling. Torched pillars outlined the assembly area, and up above, railings lined the second floor as it encircled the great hall. From the scaffolding beneath the second floor, iron circlet chandeliers hung – adorned with candles. As Ucankacei walked, his crutch clacked against the polished oaken floor.
At the central table, the remaining Ardysi officials from the border camp lingered – a number so few that it startled Ucankacei. There was the advisory siekangh Jakthei from Ellindal, and the siekangh in charge of the fortress, Sulemei. And Ucankacei was the fourth of only four siekarums left commanding their units. As he approached, he saw Shinuei at the table with Volocei and Daromei – the youth of their blonde hair renouncing Ucankacei’s fraying strands. The latter sneered at Ucankacei’s lateness as he approached.
At Ucankacei’s approach, Jakthei – a younger siekangh with hair more dirtied than blonde, and sun-darkened skin – offered a single nod.
“Thank you for joining us, Ucankacei,” Jakthei said. “Have a seat. Help yourself to a refreshment, or some kaffa to stay alert. We’ll get started shortly.”
Ucankacei’s eyes went to the table. Splayed out in front of the officials, a vast map of Ardys lay flat on a cork board – a Kingdom sea-wrapped on three sides, more wide than tall. Ornamented pins adorned with the seal of Ardys marked different strategic objectives. The Khi Thung sat roughly 35 miles south of the wall breach, with over a dozen other Khi Thungs spaced out along the border from end to end. A pin sat at each fortress, and small finger-sized clay chips were stacked behind each pin – presumably a measure of khilung strength at each location. Alaris Khi Thung boasted the most presence, with three clay chips.
There were only markers for Ardysi army outfits, Ucankacei noticed. No Midan markers. No remote understanding of the threat they faced. As if it were a ghost.
Then Ucankacei’s tedious eyes ran across the table, and he saw the refreshments – rows of sweet-crusted tarts situated on plastered parchment, and assorted goblets of reinvigorating drink. The sight, however, did not reinvigorate him. He watched as the older siekangh Sulemei stood and grabbed a tart, crumbs dribbling down his chin as he chewed. Ucankacei sat and said nothing. He enjoyed no refreshment.
After a moment longer, the rest of the officials sat and were situated. It was then that Jakthei stood. He took a deep breath.
“Thank you all for coming,” he offered, through lips that longed to be closed. “And thank you all for providing your losses reports after our census. Those numbers have enabled us to assess our current strength.”
Ucankacei watched as the siekangh gathered himself. The official was trying his best to be professional and composed. But this was a situation none of them were familiar with. Least of all Ucankacei. Silently, he glowered at his ignorance, but his focus returned when Jakthei leaned over the map.
“The attack two nights ago was costly,” Jakthei went on. “It incurred another heavy loss on our forces, and it was not unique to our front. Other khilung outfits across the length of the border experienced similar ambushes from the Midan riders. It was a coordinated attack, and one that was effective. The entire line was pushed back to the Khi Thung boundary. Most of our forces have reconvened within the defense of these fortresses. But en route to Yescaris Khi Thung, siekangh Harumei’s battalion was wiped out entirely. Scouts found no survivors.”
“That’s over a thousand men,” Sulemei gasped, lowering his half-eaten tart from his face.
“Their caravan was not as strong as ours,” Jakthei expanded, “and the riders overtook and surrounded them. The elinji finished them off. Towns in the thirty-mile stretch close to the border – Tularis, Iberis, Toehndal… we can only assume they’ll be overrun.”
A mournful silence flooded the room. Ucankacei’s eyes fell, until they rose at the sight of a small spider dangling down from the rafters. Jakthei cleared his throat.
“And worse, our scout intelligence tells us that the Midans have taken hold of Yescaris Khi Thung as a new staging ground in Ardys,” Jakthei revealed. “This advance of theirs was a sweeping one. Our fortifications now work against us there, and we don’t have the manpower to mount an attack and attempt to regain ground without exposing another path south.”
Ucankacei glanced around the table for reactions. Sulemei’s was one of shock. Shinuei bore no reaction, but it was stoic focus rather than indifference. From the other two, he sensed an apathy frighteningly similar to his own.
“I’m sure you’ve all drawn the same conclusion,” Jakthei led on. “Yescaris Khi Thung is the closest western Khi Thung to our location here. Here, we guard the main road, which offers the most direct, least obstructed route to the city of Cephragon. Our presence here is fortified, but there is concern from scouts and myself… that the Midans will attempt to lay siege to this fortress, take control of it, and punch through to the Jeweled City itself. The Kcirun will relocate west if the city is jeopardized, but regardless, its loss would sever an important hold of the Kingdom, and cede it to Midan control. The towns and farmlands south of here depend on the Khi Thung line for defense.”
“What are our numbers now?” the siekarum called Volocei asked, almost in a scoff. “Surely, we’ll receive assistance from down the way?”
Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.
“We number around 3,000 after the latest attack,” Jakthei answered glumly. “And the wounded make up a large portion of that. You’ve all been given your re-assignments – unhoused siephalls who will now fall under your care. But defending this place alone, should it likely become an objective of great focus, will be difficult. This brings me to a small bit of good news…”
The siekangh took a quick breath. Then he continued.
“I sent a courier to Cephragon shortly after the battle, telling the Kcirun of our retreat and our need for reinforcements,” Jakthei informed. “The courier returned yesterday, with word that the Kcirun will send two thousand siephalls north from Fyre to strengthen our rear guard and prevent the Midans from out-flanking. He’ll also send a detachment of keatuuchan to aid in the defense of this strategic point, and he’s gifted two of his trusted Kci Talon to oversee the operation.”
At the mention of the Kci Talon, the room fell under an awed silence – a silence so stark that even Jakthei had to pause.
“Munei and Gheilei will arrive two days from now, with the detachment of keatuuchan in tow,” Jakthei eventually continued. “The Midan archers are elite, and their ground forces are strong. But they do not have the proficiency in keawalaatu that we have as a collective.”
“With this, perhaps we can fend them off here, and tip the balance back in our favor,” said siekarum Shinuei with steely determination.
“This is not an attack plan,” Jakthei corrected him sternly. “This is our only choice. There are no other options.”
Steadfast hope quickly gave way to uneasy quiet. And the reality of the situation sunk in on the soldiers. After a moment, Ucankacei spoke.
“Is there… is there a plan to transport the wounded and the healers south… to safety?”
“I’m not surprised this is the one who speaks out of turn,” Daromei hissed. “The wounded do not take precedence over the intricacies of our action plan.”
“Siekarum Daromei, please…” Jakthei said, raising a hand. “This is a complex situation. All and any questions are welcome.”
Now Jakthei turned his gaze to Ucankacei and nodded.
“I’ve already arranged for carriages to transport the more severe cases south. The healers here will have to stay, as I’m sure you understand. We’ll no doubt have an ongoing need for their services. If you’re concerned about the wounded, do not worry. They’ll have healers to attend to them in the city.”
Ucankacei nodded back, though this did not settle his unease.
“Now…” Jakthei sighed, expelling his stress. “What are the immediate steps we all need to take? Each of you, find your assigned barracks and get situated with your units. All of the siekarums here will be forced to take on a large number of new siephalls. Sulemei and I will each do our part to help manage these disproportionate allotments, but I have preoccupations that restrict my reach. I apologize for the inconvenience, but that is the nature of our situation. I place my trust in all of you to do your best.
“When the members of the Kci Talon arrive, we will do introductions. I will see to it that they will coexist with you, but I also can’t deny the authority of the Kci Talon’s position, as they are the Kcirun’s men. When they arrive, the Kci Talon will be placed in charge of the fortress defense. While you all yet supervise your divisions, the Kci Talon will have the autonomy to enlist siephalls for help if help is required. I expect you all to cooperate with them, as every measure they take will be a measure toward protecting our Kingdom.”
Jakthei looked about the table. Left and right, and left again.
“Are there any more questions?”
There was naught but silence. Jakthei tucked his chin.
“Dismissed.”
~:{~}:~
“Aktaku.”
Raldu rode through the broken gates – the gates that broke for him. Deadened stones cracked below. The rotten must of smoke tickled his nose. He frowned.
The elinji stood erect with reverence as he crossed the border gap, into the Kingdom of Ardys – with Shaail and a host of Tekhal riders trailing behind him. Through the calm morning air, word quickly spread of the Aktaku’s arrival, but Raldu’s mind was elsewhere. His eyes climbed the carapace – the dome of icy blue and fiery orange above, where the blackened sun slowly rose above the brilliant emerald treeline, through misted and melted strips of vapor.
In the wind, his hair of silver and gold danced. His purple eyes loured. Shadow clung to his face. This was Ardys, the Land of Opela’s Divine Beauty. But he saw no beauty here. He would never be fooled.
From the lands, his eyes dropped and fell upon the camp. Rows of tents – of light brown burlap jute and canvas – swamped the border wall’s southern side. Tall sawgrass totems stood bearing the Tekhal’s traditional gold and black banner, with yellowed tassels on the ends. On the tent poles, thin red elinji flags ribboned and flew.
A young Tekhal handler approached, heavy with the smell of torch smoke. Raldu hid his discontent. The handler bowed his head and clasped his hands, addressed the leader by his honorable title, then offered to take his horse. Raldu nodded consent, and he freed his feet from the stirrups.
Raldu paused for a lone pulse before dismounting, but not due to lacking confidence. This was the first time he’d set foot on Ardysi soil in a long, long time. He wanted to feel this.
He slid off the side and dropped to the ground, burying grains of grit and gravel beneath his boots. The land swallowed the noise, muffling the impact. He twisted his boot in the dirt. A sudden sneer came and left, and then he forged a disarming smile for the handler.
“Sa lantu.”
The handler took Raldu’s horse by the reins and led it away, and now Raldu strode into camp, dark robes and scarf twitching in the breeze. It wasn’t long before he saw his destination – one of the larger burlap tents near the border wall. While most tents sat unattended, this one was guarded by two elinji, equipped with thin-tipped spears. They bowed as Raldu ventured near. Raldu reciprocated the gesture, and then he brushed through the flaps.
Inside, it was dim. Raldu remedied this, releasing a golden keatuu candle from his fist. The orb of light floated to the ceiling, and as the light washed over the tent’s interior, he saw the djauul rider Paru standing at a wooden table. Splayed across the table was an intricate Midan map of parchment, detailing the area beyond the border wall with precise markings and illustrations.
At the arrival of the Aktaku, Paru looked up with sharp eyes of bronze, and he nodded to his leader. The young djauul’s black beard and loose bun shined in the flameless light. He wore a bison wool doublet and linen trousers, and a magnificent recurve bow of wood and sinew adorned his shoulder, along with a quiver of arrows.
No words of greeting or pleasantries were needed. Raldu began.
“Fill me in.”
Paru’s hand gestured to the map. Extending from the border, clustered crescent markings identified the Midan forces. Since the initial breach, they’d flooded out into the Ardysi lands, and now they stretched almost all the way across the northern border. Their presence was strongest closer to the breach, however. South of the Midan forces, several large X’s sat, spaced out in steady increments – presumably areas of Ardysi fortification. The Khi Thungs. Raldu knew of them well. The last true line of defense against a Midan invasion. Losing that line could tip the war beyond recovery for Ardys.
“The attacks flushed the Ardysi line south almost universally,” Paru explained. “We displaced them with little casualties to our own. Most of the Ardysi forces retreated to the fortress line, approximately 30 to 35 miles south of the border. The largest Ardysi camp is here…”
Paru placed his finger on Alaris Khi Thung.
“… but there are satellite camps running from west to east. Our estimates range from 500 to 2,500 enemy soldiers at each fortress, with close to 3,000 at the largest. The primary objective was forcing the enemy on their heels, but my clan was able to wipe out one camp entirely. We eliminated them on the road, and we traced their path south to a base… here…”
Now Paru stabbed his finger onto another fortress – perhaps 25 miles to the west-northwest of Alaris Khi Thung. This fortress bore the Midans’ crescent marker on the map. Paru looked up at Raldu, eyes weighted with resolve.
“We were able to take control of that fortress.”
Raldu’s eyes focused and flickered. He’d counted on driving the Ardysi forces back. And he’d planned on attacking the Khi Thung line; such an incursion was necessary. But this development gave the Midans more maneuverability. And it accelerated their timeline.
“Humsa’s forces are in control of the fortress,” Paru continued. “We’ve gained ground across the Kingdom, and we have a favorable position adjacent to the Ardysi line. Suffice to say, our latest advance was very productive. Now we await your next orders.”
Raldu pleated his lips, and his eyes fell to the map again. He followed the main road down from the wall. The Midans’ illustrations stopped with their experience, and so the road halted at Alaris Khi Thung. But Raldu knew this Kingdom better than them. In his mind, he traced it southward – bending through dense, verdant forests, and rolling plots of wheat and farmland. And then his eyes curved east, until they came to the location of the Jeweled City, on the coast of the Publaic.
He traced the path once more, and then his eagle eyes returned to Alaris Khi Thung – the fortress that guarded the way south. And the Midan forces that encroached from the west and north.
The path forward was simple. The only remaining question was the approach.
The Midans safely outnumbered the Ardysi forces at Alaris Khi Thung. Raldu knew this. But he also knew how fortified these strongholds were. Their outer grounds were gated and encircled by flat plots, dotted with stone ramparts and guard towers where archers and keatuuchan stood at the ready. Past a vast bulwark, a wide courtyard hugged the fortress more closely. There more guard towers stood, with more battle whyzards atop them.
The Khi Thung – Raldu begrudgingly admitted – was one of Ardys’ more formidable innovations. The best Opelites were traditionally potent in the ways of keawal and keatuu, and these structures magnified and targeted their abilities, while also providing ample defense. Behind those massive walls, a lone two Kci Talon could perhaps hold back an army.
Raldu fluttered his fingers as he thought. Sparkelets of golden electricity danced from middle to index, and from middle to ring. His skin warmed. He smiled.
If the Khi Thung was heavily defended, it mattered little. It only meant he’d have to show his hand sooner than expected.
Raldu’s eyes rose. He looked at Paru.
“Focus on the gateway to the south: Alaris Khi Thung,” Raldu instructed, gesturing to the fortress on the map. “These structures allow for quick refortification for retreating battalions, so there’s no need to rush our next advance. We’ll have the numbers advantage, regardless. Send a courier to Humsa. Tell him to stand by and stay ready. Send scouts south to the fortress on the main road. Have them report back on arrivals and departures over the coming days, and keep me apprised of these. Any decisions made by the Kcirun will be made in haste. Nevertheless, these fortresses are not to be approached without caution. We’ll advance once we are able to quantify Ardys’ strength in this new environment and reposition our forces accordingly. Dispense these directions at once.”
“Aktaku.”
And then Paru walked past the table and left the tent, leaving Raldu alone and awash in golden light.
Raldu glanced down at the ground. He scrunched his boot in the dirt again.
Returning to Ardys awakened no feelings in him. This was only the motion of fate. The tides were turning. Uprooted were the fundaments. He would see to it.
They would pay.