Excerpt From The Mad Scholar's Wall—
We stood at the edge of the new… trench, but the word doesn't do it justice.
You can not call a massive canyon — that was a cone miles wide, which you couldn't see the end of — a mere trench. But how can you call something made by a mortal a canyon?
More than a canyon because as we stood dazed at its edge for days, it began filling with water.
Days passed into weeks as we stayed at the future mortal-made great lake. Eventually, we came to the conclusion we had to walk back ourselves. No one was coming to guide us.
But we didn't know where to go.
After some discussion, we decided to skirt the river leading into the great forest. Clouded as our minds were of our time in the woods, we remembered towns and cities on the river.
Weeks and then months passed as we traveled. We foraged for food and hunted for food, and when winter came, we camped on the river's banks.
And when it passed, we walked some more. Over time, we came across villages, the endless ruins. We became more ragged and beaten down with every passing day and mile.
Then we found elves.
It was just a few at first. A half dozen lived in a small hut, living off the land. They fed us and then followed us as we left, guiding and providing us with food.
They took us to small villages, which also packed up and followed us.
The ever-growing number of elves following us cared for all our needs as we traveled, and it wasn't long before the elves eclipsed our numbers.
Tens of thousands of elves trailed in our wake by the time we saw Olimpia on the horizon.
**********
The definitely in the thousands of legionaries gathered down the street, half of which were not or only barely conscious, were not organized and ready to move. I know it was strange, with legionaries supposed to be able to fight at the drop of a hat and all, but I didn't think they were trying to ruin our reputation.
Their excuses of having broken limbs, being unconscious, having no more mental energy, being the only survivor of their century, or warily watching their enemies across the street all sounded good, but all I knew was this was taking forever.
After an hour of me reassuring the makeshift leadership on the beastkin's sincerity, which was a handful of tribunes and the few centurions forced to join the tribunes, we were finally ready to move.
I could tell that the centurions didn't really wanna be there for the discussions, but the spring tribunes didn't have much experience with combat. Getting ahead of any stupid ideas they might form in their collective head was a good idea. Not that the sacrificed centurions had to do much while their fellows were doing the real work of getting the legionaries ready to move, as the only idea the tribunes had was to try and send out a pulse calling for orders.
After I told them — each of them a few times — they finally believed me the beastkin could block mental energy. Or they finally accepted that if they were going to get a response, they would have gotten one by now. Who knew what the right answer was?
Kanieta knew.
So did I.
Because she told me the beastkin were blocking telepathic communication to prevent the legion from getting any bad ideas. She was trying to lower the tensions, not raise them, and the 15th charging the Northern Fort in a needless gesture would not accomplish that. After all, she was going to let the prisoners go.
Or that was what she said. What would really happen was still to be seen…
I — and everyone else I talked to — just could not see what she got from lying to us.
Kanieta could have us all killed at any time. Under these circumstances, without our weapons, our fight would be futile, and that was against normal beastkin. Not these super-powered magical ones.
After everyone was organized and those who couldn't walk were collected by those who could, I found myself at the head of the column.
Everyone was tense as we looked at the wall of armed beastkin, no more than two dozen feet away.
As the tension built on our side, I could see the beastkin shifting as they readied themselves for a fight. Whether their movements were conscious or not, it only served to ratchet up the tension as the soldiers noticed and reacted in kind.
"This is going to shit fast," I muttered to myself.
"Ha," barked out Centurion Hella next to me. She has been sticking close to me since I came over. She said I had 'the smell of a survivor' around me, and I was good luck to be around.
I did not miss her hands, and more specifically, her knuckles, though. Her blond hair was cut short, and she was attractive enough for her age, but her hands were those of a pugilist.
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She was a fighter, and I doubted anyone had underestimated her more than once. If they came out of their bad judgment alive or just wishing they were, was another matter entirely.
"Well," Centurion Hella said after a moment, "Someone better get to it."
I turned to her with squinted eyes, but she wasn't even looking at me. She was cleaning some dirt and blood out from under her nails with a sliver of wood and a bored expression. Seconds passed as my eyes drilled into her without a response. I was starting to question if I had even heard her speak…
Sighing, I looked down the street, squared my shoulders, and stepped forward, ignoring the smirk on Hella's lips.
Sweat gathered on my back as I took the first step forward, and the eyes of thousands settled on me.
For a fraction of a second, I stopped as the weight settled onto my mind. It was like I was actively trying to feel the other's emotions.
But I wasn't doing anything.
Thinking hurt at the moment, and thinking of casting sent a shiver of phantom pain down my spine.
I might not have been trying to feel anyone's emotions, but I felt the collective looks of the thousands around me like a sledgehammer.
The strength left my body, and as my foot came down, it couldn't hold up my weight, and I stumbled forward.
Even as the passive collective will continued to bore into me, I was shrugging it off as I closed off my mind with another jab of pain in my head. It might hurt to form a shield, but doing nothing hurt more.
After taking a few staggering steps forward, I came to a stop, hunched over, and sniffed at the liquid in my nose while wiping at it with my hand. I looked at the blood and tasted the copper tang in the back of my throat before standing straight again.
The spike of concern, amusement, and curiosity made my knees weak, but I was half expecting it, so I was able to push through. Already actively shielding my mind, the emotions slid off me like water being poured over a rock.
Continuing forward, I took a few more steps before the ranks of the beastkin fell back.
It wasn't a cowering in fear from my awesome mental powers or the scattering to avoid the charge of the bloody and bruised legionaries behind me. No, this wasn't anything so grand on our part.
The beastkin pulled back in good order, in what could nearly be considered a legion standard. Not that the comparison is fair, how could the beastkin compete with a company of men who practically share the same mind? The fact they are anything close is beyond impressive.
I slowed my steps to match their pace, as I didn't want to show signs of pressing them. And the legionaries behind me shuffled forward at the same speed.
With me in the middle between the two groups, we traveled from the middle of the fort to the bridge that connected to the other sides of the river.
I looked at the destruction inflicted on the fort. Images of the intact buildings I spent years walking between flashed across my mind. It made me feel… nothing.
Wonder how many people they got out… I thought, thinking about the boat bridge and those who made it.
While talking to Kanieta and watching her through the morning, I overheard some beastkin bring up the subject to her. She threw a look at me before telling them to push back the knights and burn any barges they could before moving on to another topic.
I'm sure they got hundreds out, but far more — as was made apparent by the line of people behind me — were either unconscious or unable to escape.
We really don't have an information network once our Union breaks. I thought before focusing on what really mattered, putting forward one foot after another. Holding the shield in place while walking was harder than it should be, and my throbbing head was getting worse.
Putting my head down and gritting my teeth, I pushed through the pain.
I blinked, focusing on a rapid movement in front of me, seeing the last of the beastkin in the formation flowing to the sides of the square in front of the walls of the small fortress guarding the entrance of the northern bridge.
Saying the gates were open was technically correct. The stone gates were smashed to pieces, and the steel portcullis was ripped from the roof and was laying in the passage.
So… open? It won't be able to close again, though.
I slowed for a second but continued forward, not changing my pace. The shuffling of feet behind me picked up for a second, but it quickly died down with a few shouts to get back in line. Not many of those back there could move at a run, and if they started rushing forward now, someone would be trampled or left behind.
As soon as I stepped onto the bridge, I heard shouts of surprise. I could see those on the walls of the Middle Fort gesturing to me, but something was missing.
Looking back, I saw a blurred shimmer in the air, enveloping the gate and everything inside. Even the sound of marching I had grown accustomed to was gone.
Turning, I smiled as I looked at the Middle Fort and continued striding up the bridge, waiting. All at once, silence slammed down onto the fort. I heard the first ranks of the legionaries coming out of the gates behind me.
The silence held firm until I was a quarter of the way up the bridge.
Then the damn broke, and those defending the fort cheered so loud that it shook the air.
The cheering never stopped as more and more legionaries came out of the Northern Fort, and the line filling the bridge grew.
By the time we were halfway to the Middle Fort's gates, they were thrown open, and figures were wildly waving us forward.
When I was within a hundred yards of the entrance, figures on horseback rode into view. I squinted my eyes as I felt a mild pain from the light glaring off their armor, but I continued to study the important-looking people. Because you know… important people need attention to live. Wouldn't want them to die or anything.
My heart skipped a beat, and my eyes widened in shock as I saw the purple stripe running down the side of the pants of the figures on horseback. Only the Prefect and Legatus of the legion had purple stripes signifying their rank, as our legion didn't qualify politically for a Tribune Latic to be appointed. More accurately, the political creatures that compose that office would ensure they weren't sent here, so one was never appointed.
Moving to salute my commanders, I froze as thunks of metal hitting stone sounded around me.
Knights had fallen from the sky and stood like impassive guardians carved out of steel. I felt a twinge in my mind as large chest-sized stones rose from behind the walls and moved to hover over the heads of the knights.
My mind flashed with disbelief as I looked at my commander and fellow legionaries about to attack me. Even Those on the walls cheering a moment before had quieted down and drawn their bows, looks of growing fury covering their faces.
Why would they att— Oh. Shit. They think we are an illusion…
"Legatus Valee!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, "I am scout Green! I come with a message from the leader of the Red Tail Faction of The People and a gesture of goodwill." I waved to the line of legionaries behind me, indicating them, "She wishes to open peace talks between our nations."
Nothing happened for a few seconds, and sweat began to bead on my brow. A second was an eternity to one in a mental link, so long as they were willing to use the mental energy. And I would bet my life that they were.
A wave of relief passed through me as a voice ordered, "Come forward alone and give me the message."