Chapter Twenty-Two

The Shattered Remains

Michael and Oliver rushed along the foyer of the stronghold where they bumped into Sarah, sitting quietly at a lunch-table, still clad in full-body armour and clearly in shock.

Jack, about twenty-feet ahead of the boys, paused as he saw her and said, “Robinson. Fall in.”

She blinked and went to raise a question but he’d already taken off again toward the central keep, leaving her to jog to catch up. She fell in beside Oliver and whispered, “Are you two okay? Sweet-Rii, he’s fast!”

Oliver only managed a weak shrug.

Jack’s metal armour shifted and echoed in the hall as he wordlessly marched. He led them down the Paladin hallway right to its end and stepped passed the opening to the bathroom stairwell.

Michael watched him place his hand on the door marked W.C. and push it open sharply, revealing a long room with a great oval table, crowded with chairs and bodies to fill them. There had been a idle roar of nervous conversation that was smothered by Jack’s entrance.

Amekot was sat down the far end on a chair slightly more ornate than the others. His hands were laid flat on the table as he glanced up to see them entering. “McKennedy, why did you bring these soldiers? This is a closed council.”

The Javen warrior pulled out three chairs as he walked, gesturing for the young Legacies to sit before proceeding to lean against the wall. “We could use some varied perspective, Hillborn. Besides, half the people in this room wouldn’t disagree with you under threat of death. Which we are.”

Amekot folded his arms indignantly and sat back. “We’ll be discussing sensitive information.”

Sidney, sitting a few chairs down from Amekot sighed and interjected, “Fairly certain this will concern all of us soon enough.”

Amekot gritted his teeth but made no further issue of it.

Michael and his friends quickly seated themselves and Michael wondered what it meant to be Fortmaster. Could he make the final decision on matters like those or was it purely ceremonial? He wondered if any of the rest of them knew the answer either.

Amekot held up his right hand and the entire chamber followed suit, followed awkwardly by Michael after a lagging moment.

“I, Fortmaster Hillborn, hereby commence the War Council of Fort Guardian. Let us not waste time. Reconnaissance, tell me, what numbers is this Nikereus working with?”

The table of Legacies turned to face three particular soldiers, all clad in thin-leather armour, scrambling over several heavy tomes and thick scrolls. The middle of the three, a woman with bright green eyes and a shaved head, spoke first. “Oddly enough, the entire infantry was made up of Obthraie, mixed class- obviously. Externally armed. We counted two-thousand, five-hundred strong.”

A deep and cold silence followed those words.

During that silence, Michael leaned over to Oliver. "Sorry, but Ob-what?"

"Obthraie. First part- Ob, like corn-cob. Second part... shit.... wait. No I got it- think 'Thigh' with an 'r' crammed in. Ob-thraie."

Michael looked at him, quietly amused and Sarah leaned in, trying to maintain her composure. "It's the Shanii word for Soil Torn," Sarah explained.

"Thank you," Michael said, pointedly to Sarah, and Oliver muttered about being unclear.

Amekot looked around the room but when he went to speak he only shook his head and swallowed the words.

Flinn was also in attendance, due to leading the Ballistae Team Michael later learned, when he spoke up from the other side of the room. “Archie, the enchantment which brought them back to life... what was it?”

The left-most Legacy in the recon trio leaned forward and unrolled a scroll. He was pale and his hair was carroty red but he had a smithy’s build.

“We- we have a few w-w-working theories,” he stuttered mechanically, “but nothing solid. W-w...” he stopped and breathed out the word, “...whatever it w-was, it was powerful and old. W-we’lll continue looking into it.”

The women on his right cleared her throat.

Amekot meekly said, “Yes, Dara?”

“Two-five strong is what showed up today. We all heard what Nikereus said, Amekot. They’ll be back. They’ll be back with many more. If ‘The Monarch’ is to be believed- that this truly is one quarter of their strength… I think we should safely assume the real number could be anywhere from eight to ten thousand.”

Michael shuddered at the very thought of it, and before he realised he was speaking, he muttered, “Ten thousand un-killable stone soldiers?” and the entire table fell quiet, all eyes on him. “Oh, sorry.”

Sarah saw his face going red and to divert their further gaze, she quickly asked, “What are our numbers?”

Dara flipped to the front of her leather tome and said, “Three hundred and twenty-five soldiers are currently stationed here.”

A hard silence followed.

Amekot clenched his teeth.

Jack idly touched the lines on his face while the rest of the room devolved into frantic murmuring. “How many Arcancy-wielders do we have right now?”

“Not now, McKennedy,” Amekot said firmly.

“Not now?” another official asked riotously.

Amekot and several of the Fort Guardian officials began to talk over one-another. Jack tried to rein in order but the noise only grew. Men began shouting, women slammed their fists on the table, Legacies stood sharply, levelling fingers at each other.

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Michael, Oliver and Sarah looked at each frightened.

“Enough!” Sidney slammed her palm against the table and a cold, deep shiver shot through the foundations of the keep.

Everyone went quiet as mice as dusted sprinkled down from the rafters and building settled again.

Jack looked at her carefully. “Easy, Sid, this keep is probably due for a structural inspection.”

Sidney rolled her eyes. “Someone tell me exactly how panic, fear and disorder will help us get out of this?” She waited for a hard moment and huffed. “Just what I thought. Take a damn breath. Now, Dara, Archie, Coele, what else is Nikereus likely to bring? That beast isn’t breaking into this fortress with just infantry. Ten thousand litres of water won’t wear down a standing stone, even if it is reusable.”

Dara ran an anxious hand across her shaven scalp and shrugged. “I don’t like working with conjecture but... there’s a limited number of creatures capable of even putting a dent in our main gate or our walls. If Nikereus really means business, they’ll probably bring a battalion of Saose, Deep Trolls, or Yiraa to use as siege engines. And ladders. Lots of ladders. My wager is they Nikereus would use Yiraa- you know, Mountain Wolves? -since they tend to herd in the same places as the Obthraie. They’re not as tough or horrifying as Saose, but they’re faster and just as strong.”

“What else?” Jack asked quietly from the edge of the room. “The prick isn’t going to challenge a Legacy stronghold without cavalry of some kind. Even someone as thick as the Emperor didn’t neglect mounted troops during the rebellion sieges,” he said spitefully.

The third Recon-Legacy, Coele, a stockier young woman, twisted a thick braid of hair in her fingers and muttered, “I suggest we start immediate scouting missions to establish more information. Once we have a better grasp on the situation, we can formulate a defensive plan.”

Amekot hadn’t looked away from his hands for some time. When he finally glanced up he nodded stiffly. “We’ll see to that, but the numbers and particular species of Shanii aren’t exactly what holds my interest. It’s their resurrection which concerns me most.”

Oliver cleared his throat and awkwardly sat up straight. “Assuming we can’t find out what kind of dark magic they’re using... how do we plan to fight it? I mean, how do you even fight an army that size when you can’t keep it dead?”

Archie, the red-headed recon, fumbled with his hands nervously and Michael watched him idly before realising he wasn’t merely fidgeting, but he was actually signing the word Fire, over and over, in Riniglacian Sign, as though lost in thought.

“Would that work?” Michael asked the young man, much to everyone else’s confusion. Fire, he signed.

Archie smiled at Michael’s nimble use of the language but shook his head. “Fire? N-no I don’t th-think so.”

Sidney raised her hand and asked, “Wait, why not? We have time, we could lay inferno runes all about the valley and just cook the bastards. Can’t regenerate inside a furnace, right?”

Sarah shook her head. “No enchantment lasts forever. Besides, I don’t think you can enchant flame. It’s too stubborn an element. Without powerful magical tools to perform the spellcraft I’m pretty sure the flames would do what the normally do to stone- Which is to say, we’d just be giving Nikereus a really dramatic entrance.”

Flinn blinked and a look of apprehensive revelation crept onto his face. “What about the Immortal Flame. Would that work?”

Sarah went wide-eyed too. “Maybe. Its a miracle-grade piece of Creation Magic. Something that powerful must be able to undo something as powerful as this, right?”

Jack squinted his eyes at the two of them. “It may as well be a myth.”

Michael sighed, realising there was never going to be a time where he didn’t have questions again. “Are we talking about the same Immortal Flame? As in, ‘Khasm sparked the Immortal Flame, held the Clay of Life upon it and moulded their Citizens into beautiful forms, ever-living by the magic with which it burned.’ That Immortal Flame? You’re telling me that’s real?”

Sarah suppressed a smile but her voice was still smug as she asked, “Do you know lots of faerie-tales off by heart?”

Michael wrinkled his nose at her and both Sarah and Oliver chuckled.

Amekot stood from his chair quite suddenly and began packing his things.

Jack frowned in confusion. “Hillborn, where are you going? This is important.”

The Fortmaster straightened his collar and walked to the door, proclaiming, “I agree, and as such I’ve got something to look into.”

“Want to inform us? Hillborn!” Jack yelled but the door closed behind him, leaving them alone. He huffed and turned back to the table. “Forget the Immortal Flame. It’s been lost as long as anyone can remember. So, for now, let’s proceed with the worst-case scenario in mind.”

Oliver frowned nervously. “What’s that?”

“That ten-thousand immortal soldiers will be here very soon. Begin arrow and crossbow-bolt production. Reap the current harvest and fill our stores. Experiment with some high-impact runes in the Conjurement. Fire might not work but something else could.” He stopped speaking and a dark and faraway thought seemed to linger in his mind before he pulled his helmet back onto his head. “Council adjourned.”

*****

Michael wandered back outside with his two companions and they found themselves a table where they idly drank coffee in silence.

The air was cold and stiff, jetting out into grey plumes of steam with every weary breath.

The grassed crunched in footsteps nearby and Michael turned to see Nichole and Aroha wander up quietly, dressed in their ranger garb. Nichole’s hair was tidily braided while Aroha’s short mop was wild and pushed back easily. They sat down on either side of Michael with hot drinks that they didn’t touch.

Michael looked at Nichole’s face and slowly the world faded at its edges again. His mother’s voice spoke softly at the edge of his mind.

Because it will be the death of you... and I won’t help that happen.

Oliver quietly watched him from across the table. He wanted to worry about the coming siege. He wanted to stress over the danger to everyone there. He wanted to care more about the darkness in their future, but he couldn’t. All he could bring himself to care about was the young boy in front of him, who’d heard his mother say that she couldn’t tell him why she was leaving him.

Sarah glanced at Oliver and Michael, realizing that a different shade of worry seemed to sit with them than anyone else. “Are you two, okay?”

Michael nodded absent-mindedly and pulled himself together for the sake of avoiding the conversation. “What are we going to do?”

Nichole smiled meekly. “Whatever we’re ordered to do. Amekot will sort something.”

Michael idly linked his fingers together and asked, “So the Immortal Flame… is that a real avenue for us?”

Sarah and Oliver glanced at one-another at the same time and timidly shrugged, fighting off their blushing faces. “Depends who you ask.”

“What do you mean?”

Nichole began retwisting one of her braids. “Sounds like you had an interesting council-meeting. She means that its real. It’s one of the few things discussed in ancient Gargan texts. But like most of those things, they’ve never been seen, or were lost to time ages ago.”

Michael frowned. “So, Jack’s right. It’s not worth the trouble then?”

“I mean he’s not wrong to be cynical,” Oliver said and blew a hole through the steam cloud of his coffee. “With our luck, it’d be hidden beneath a Drakonian somewhere in a Crek silver mine.”

Michael huffed and took a swig of his coffee. “Fair enough. I mean if I were Nikereus, I’d try to destroy it. But if I couldn’t, I’d bury it somewhere, maybe in the Ahuran desert...”

Nichole shook her head. “No, it would have to be somewhere like the Driftiken Isles. It’s impossible to find anything in those storm jungles.”

Aroha finished her cup and smiled. “Are you kidding, I’d keep it with me! If there’s one thing which can diminish my entire military advantage, I’m not leaving it somewhere.”

There was a small beat of small laughter followed by a small, but very noticeable, set of realisations.

Michael blinked. “What if Nikereus has it?”

No one spoke. No one spoke because it made perfect sense. If there was one thing in the known world which could stop you, all you had to do was make sure it never left your sight, and then no one could get in your way.

Michael stood from the table and took off at a run toward the keep with the others hot on his tail.