Twenty-ninth of Harbinger
Belkai could sense the fear and anger as she approached the remains of Lithmae’s defenders. She entered the meadows from the west, stopping when she saw the dead askiri intermingled with the serpent. Beyond them, smoke slowly rose from the tunnel that the Correlate mages had collapsed. Spotting Lithmae limping towards them, Loranna pushed past Belkai and ran for him, gently taking him in her arms and kissing him desperately.
“They put up a good fight,” Davos observed. To the south, the elves were gathering the dwarven dead in piles, no doubt intending to burn the bodies. Somehow, Davos doubted that Belkai would try to stop them. She had her own anger at the ones who’d violated her Forest. She didn’t take another step as Lithmae approached, held up by Belkai as he struggled forward. Blood leaked from a bandaged wound on his left leg, but he waved off Davos when he tried to take a look.
“How bad was it?” Belkai asked quietly, hoping that the other elves might not hear the conversation. She knew better, of course, but they would appreciate her concern. Lithmae looked around with grief in his eyes.
“I lost about seventy. The Correlate, ten,” he reported. “We estimate two hundred dwarves dead. That machine over there would have been unstoppable if the mages hadn’t been here.”
He waved towards the strange creation, and Belkai followed him over. She ran a hand over the iron and frowned.
“I never knew such things existed,” she whispered. She looked up at the chieftain. “You say it dug through the earth and attacked the trees?”
Lithmae nodded. “It seems that they used it to tunnel through to get here. And it destroyed the trees with ease. If they had a dozen of these in a line, they could carve a path to the ruins within hours.”
“So why didn’t they?” Davos asked. No one answered him. “After all these centuries, Nimura would not have made just one of these. They’d have dozens for their mining operations.”
“What are you saying?” Belkai asked.
Davos looked to her with worry written over his face. “What I’m saying, Belkai, is that this was a spoiling attack. It was never meant to succeed. All they wanted was to weaken our lines and learn our strategies.”
He turned back to Lithmae. “Now they’ll know that we have archers in the trees. They’ll be ready. They know the weaknesses of the askiri – we can expect more of those serpents.”
“We left none alive as witnesses,” Lithmae pointed out. He grimaced with pain, and let Loranna lower him to the ground. She unwrapped the wound, and swore when she saw the first signs of infection.
“Falkar would have had someone – or something – watching,” Loranna said as she began to apply a new bandage from a pouch on her belt. “Belkai, could he have had shades here?”
Belkai cursed herself silently. No wonder the shades had surrendered so quickly when she’d ambushed Greywall. They hadn’t sought freedom; they’d wanted access. “Yes, he very well could have. And they’d be reporting back now.”
“He also knows of our hunter teams,” Davos pointed out. “Lasiri lost good people in her fight. The next will be harder.”
Belkai bit her lip as she watched the elves gather their dead. This was her fault. Each death was on her head. She knew that Davos wouldn’t agree, but she couldn’t shake that thought. She looked to Lithmae. “Loranna, get him to the healers. Don’t argue with me, Lithmae. Pick someone to lead your men. Make sure they’re ready for another attack.”
She stopped, seeing that the elves had begun to gather to see their lord. Speak to them, she heard Davos think, and she took a breath to steady her nerves. How was she supposed to comfort them to give them hope? Her, the one who had brought them into this war in the first place? Davos gave her a reassuring smile, and she knew the answer. She loved her people, and they loved her. Delorax would never know such faithfulness. Belkai climbed atop the shattered machine and looked about the survivors, smiling grimly at the affection that she felt from them. You deserve better than me, she thought, catching a glimpse of Loranna and Lithmae stopped as they waited for her to speak. You deserve peace.
“My people, you have fought well. You have seen hell and you have prevailed. You do not fight for glory or fame. You fight for your fathers and mothers, your husbands and wives, for your children and their own future children. You stand for freedom and hope. We have lost many good people today. More will fall.”
Tears dripped from Belkai’s eyes, and she pushed a strand of hair from her face. “I have to ask you to keep standing, to keep fighting. I am sorry that I have brought this on you. But I thank you for your courage and your strength. We will end this. Narandir will stand.”
She dropped back to the ground and Davos gave her an approving nod. She looked over to Loranna and Lithmae, but they were already gone.
“We need to talk,” Davos said, and led Belkai away from the gathering. When they were relatively alone, he sighed. “Belkai, they are going to come again, and they will bring everything that they have. Greywall will probably lead them, and he knows exactly where to find the Source. We have to close ranks, tighten our defences. If they break through here, there is no way that Syndra can bring her forces to bear in time to make a difference.”
“We have more elves around the ruins,” Belkai pointed out. “They can stop anything that breaks through Lithmae – or Syndra.”
“Belkai, Falkar isn’t done yet. You know that as well as I do. We may not be able to stop his next push.”
“What are you trying to say, Davos?”
He looked around nervously before he spoke. “I know the risks of what I’m about to say. But you need to take that artefact. You need to take hold of Narandir’s full power and put an end to all of this. Before it’s too late.”
“It’s not that simple.” Belkai stepped back and crossed her arms across her chest. “If I open that portal, I unleash whatever it was that Zumani accessed when he created it. If I survive – and that’s not guaranteed – then I might gain Narandir’s full power, but I’ll also risk destroying everything.”
“You may not get a choice.”
“There will always be a choice.” Her eyes seemed to flash as she fought the anger that rose within her. “Davos, for too long I’ve been reacting to the Arcane and following what they demanded of my life. I’m done hiding, I’m done following. Right here, right now, I’m making my stand. If I access that power, it’ll be because I choose to, not circumstances. I’m taking back my life.”
Davos knew that the elves had heard every word of her declaration, and that it was far more powerful than any speech that she could intentionally give to them. More importantly, he felt the love that filled his heart for this woman. He laid his hands on her arms and smiled.
“I am with you, Belkai. Where you lead, I’ll follow, even to death.”
Her eyes softened, a sea of green that seemed to shimmer. Her already soft face seemed to melt at his words, and her head dropped. “I pray it doesn’t come to that, my love. But I cannot see the road that lies ahead of us. All my steps are dark, and any love that I feel is mixed with dread at what I might lose.”
“Then we will walk that path together, Belkai.” Davos pulled her close, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “However this ends, I will be by your side.”
“I wish I’d given you a different life,” she whispered, and he squeezed her tight against him. “A real life.”
“You are my life. I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”
***
Nizali felt no fear as he took his seat at the head of the table. The other dozen men at the table stared at him, none more intently than his father. They weren’t in the throne room, but in a much more humble room a few yards away. A map of Narandir was spread out on the table before them, though Nizali had no way of knowing how accurate it was. It had been a thousand years since a dwarf had last had the opportunity to walk the Forest freely and note the terrain. He studied each face in turn, ignoring the human slave who filled his cup with rich red wine from the Tios Principality. She bowed to the dwarves, then retreated out of the room under the watchful gaze of the guards. Nizali took no notice. He had no interest in such diversions, though some of the generals before him quite enjoyed having humans at their beck and call. It was almost childish in Nizali’s mind, but weaknesses were things that he could exploit. Finished assessing his audience, he took a slow sip of his wine, gave a satisfied sigh, and sat back in his chair before he finally spoke.
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“I can report that we have had quite a successful battle today.” He smiled widely, ignoring the reddening face of a general from the mountain of Morilam. “Our men fought well.”
The general couldn’t hold his tongue. “You call this battle successful? An entire battalion was wiped out, no survivors but a dozen who managed to escape the tunnel collapse. And what gains did we make?”
“You would do well to watch your tongue when speaking to a prince, General,” Nizali growled. The general looked down at the table without a word. Nizali looked around, daring another to speak, then continued. “We learned valuable things today. Namely, Brilhardem and Watchers travel in bands. They are vicious fighters, but are killable. We need to be wary of them, and be ready to counteract them.
“Second, our tunnellers can devastate the Forest. Our next assault will involve a full company. We will shatter whatever defensive lines we come across. Add that to the help that Falkar has promised, and we will reach the Source in our next attack.”
“So you consider the spoiling strategy a success,” Zimari stated. Nizali nodded, and the king grunted. “The loss of life is regrettable. But I will concede the point to the prince that is overseeing this campaign.”
The general from Morilam didn’t respond, though his face reddened.
“What of Desuri?” Zimari asked.
“His team should be beneath Narandir as we speak,” Nizali told him. “The battle, and the aftermath, should distract the witch from detecting their presence, particularly if the shades are masking their approach as promised. If their attack succeeds, then we will cut the head off the snake. If it fails, then it will shatter any confidence that the elves have in their defences. Either way, we have a victory.”
“Will that be enough?” one of the generals asked. Nizali shook his head.
“No,” he answered honestly. “But it is a beginning, and an important one. We will not win this until we have crushed every elf and burned this Forest down. But that is a lengthy process, and a bloody one – for both sides. We will win that process. We have numbers and time on our side – not to mention powerful friends.”
“Our course is set, and Nizali will bring us victory,” Zimari declared, and Nizali nodded his thanks. He recognised the double meaning, though. If this failed, it would be his failure. The blame would not be shared. The generals recognised this as well, and Nizali could see the gleam in some of their eyes. Well, he could manipulate with the best of them. He turned his eyes to the general from Morilam.
“I would be honoured if Morilam’s regiments led the assault from the west. They did an admirable job clearing out that goblin nest last year.” What went unspoken was that such valour would have been unnecessary had their miners not tunnelled in the wrong direction and nearly damned the mountain. The general glared at Nizali, but he couldn’t refuse the ‘request’ from the prince.
“We will lead the charge,” he growled. “And will the prince join us?”
“I and Mirzali will be right behind,” Nizali promised with a sly grin. He looked to Zimari. “We know what we need now. Our attack will break through. Give me three days and we will have the Source.”
***
Brimur knew that they were being watched. He had sensed it throughout the march from Narandir. It wasn’t anything that he could track, or a definite threat that he had noticed, just a general sense that they were being followed. Arak had felt it too, but without any direct threat to respond to, they continued to march northwards. Word soon reached them of the movement of armies on the Tios border, and they shifted their course to make their way there. To Brimur’s surprise, they were met just inside the Lustrian border by a group of Watchers accompanied by two dozen Brilhardem who had gathered from their own missions upon hearing about the attack on the Citadel. Their leader was named Castilan, one of the few Southerners who had made their way north to join the Silent Order. Arak’s previous emissary had cleared the way for them to move through Lustria freely, albeit with a company of infantry within eyesight at all times.
“They find it hard to trust orcs,” Castilan had explained to Brimur and Arak. “They spent too many years fighting Ikari incursions, back in the day.”
“They don’t want to start a fight,” Barilax had warned, and Castilan had to agree. The Ikari were enraged, and no Brilhardem had any doubts as to the danger of an angry orc. Whatever trouble he was stirring up north, Delorax may have gotten himself in too deep.
For his part, Castilan had lived in Lustria for eight years, having been sent there on an assignment and fallen in love with the people. It was pure coincidence that that assignment had come after the end of a fiery six-month relationship with Belkai, the only other Southerner that he had met amongst the Order. He had since met and married a lovely Lustrian lady, and they made their home in the northern mining regions, where he gave his help to the more desperate amongst that population. He had left his wife and five children to heed Arak’s call to arms. He didn’t know if he’d see them again, but those were the risks that you had to run in this life.
The day before they had been overflown by a dragon. To their surprise, it had completely disregarded them as it headed south. Brimur had reached out with his senses and calmed Arak, feeling his blood rage at the species that had taken his skin-wife. Svaleta had been marked for fire, the elf understood, but Lustria wouldn’t be far behind – punishment for the Watchers’ support of Narandir, and a diversion of their soldiers from defending the Forest. The Mirzali Compact had been breached, but its retaliation clauses were being made irrelevant. Brimur was almost impressed by Delorax’s subtleties. The deaths of his people stopped him from truly admiring his enemy.
It was the afternoon of the twenty-ninth of Harbinger when they finally drew near the massing Lustrian forces. Castilan took the lead, convincing a guard captain to bring him and Brimur to his commanding officer. That was a two-hour journey on foot, and upon arrival Castilan and Brimur were made to stand outside a tent in the cold air. Castilan looked around at the Lustrian soldiers. He recognised the insignia of the Third Guard Corps, which seemed to be the bulk of the forces, but also saw that more regiments were starting to arrive, including some equipped with siege equipment. They were afraid of something within the valley before them, the mist blocking the land from view. Castilan exchanged a glance with Brimur, who nodded as he sensed his mage’s curiosity.
“Time will tell,” Brimur said quietly. “When this general finishes his little display of authority.”
“About this general,” Castilan said with a grimace, “He is my wife’s uncle. He’s a good man, but as a general, well, he has good connections.”
He’s no soldier, Brimur understood that to mean. He didn’t get a chance to respond as the tent flap opened and a captain stepped out.
“General Valliers will see you now,” he said, and waved them inside. Neither of them were armed, and stepped past the captain without a word. Brimur was less than impressed by what he saw. Valliers had recently finished eating, judging by the crumbs in his moustache, and seemed far more satisfied than the harried officers rushing about updating the map table. A Tiosian officer stood on the other side of the map table, and he seemed much more disciplined. He introduced himself as General Plaas, then turned back to Valliers.
“I would prefer a greater integration of our forces,” he told the Lustrian general, apparently continuing a conversation that the Brilhardem had interrupted. “If you want to launch an offensive, then it is madness to proceed as planned.”
Valliers grunted. “There is not enough time. It would take weeks to achieve the level of integration that you desire. Torleight wants a solution now.”
“As do my superiors,” Plaas acknowledged. “But what they demand will cost too many lives.”
“Perhaps we could be of assistance,” Brimur said, and the two men turned. Valliers blinked, as if this were the first that he’d noticed them. The elf wasn’t fazed. “I marched here with two hundred Ikari, two dozen mages of the Silent Order, and two Watcher hunting parties. We’re ready for a fight.”
Valliers frowned. “I was told of your passage, but I had imagined that you’d be joining your friends in Narandir.”
Castilan cleared his throat. “They did, General, but the circumstances demanded that we render you aid. I had hoped that we would be welcome.”
Valliers grunted, and crossed his arms. “So you left my niece for this little crusade of yours. I should send you back home whimpering.”
“We are grateful for the allies that the times provide us,” Plaas cut in. “I for one would be honoured to fight alongside you.”
Valliers glared at him, but he knew that he couldn’t back out now. “As would I, I must confess. I know what you are capable of. We are currently preparing to march into the valley and root out whatever is gathering in there. I would be grateful for your, er, assistance.
“Our western flank is held by a company led by Captain Mieur. He could use reinforcement. His men will be the first into the valley.”
And you’d rather shed orcish blood than Lustrian, Brimur thought, but felt Castilan give a calming gesture. He stayed silent and allowed him to take the lead.
“We would be honoured to fight alongside the Third Guard Corps,” Castilan said, and gave a small bow. Brimur followed suit. “When will the attack commence?”
“We are still waiting for more forces to gather,” Plass told him. “You have two days to prepare, then we will march.”
“What are we facing?” Castilan asked. “It looks as if you are preparing an invasion force.”
“One dragon has ready emerged from that valley. We expect at least one more.” Valliers gestured at the map table, and for the first time Brimur noticed red markers next to some of the Lustrian and Tiosian positions. “We have fought off three goblin raids thus far. There is an army down there, we just can’t see them.”
“And you want to go hunting.” Brimur shook his head. “This is a dangerous game to play.”
“I have my orders,” Valliers said. “I never asked for your aid, elf. But if you are offering, then I will accept.”
Brimur nodded, and felt Castilan relax a little. “We will fight with you, General. The peace of Lustria and the Principality are in our best interest.”
“An alliance of men, mages, and orcs,” Plaas said. “I never thought that I’d see the day.”