Tenthé was frustrated. Either there weren’t any soldiers out saving people, or they had really good stealth. But, if they were out here, where were they? So far, he had been incredibly successful at not being found.

He also wasn’t having much luck coming up with other ways to get into the fort. One thought he had was to check out the access tunnel he’d used to save the Lady’s kids, but it looked like that area had been pretty thoroughly firebombed by Turtle.

Dang it all! There had to be some way!

Tenthé sat and pulled out a breakfast bun to munch on. Maybe he was doing this all wrong. Probably he should find a group of people and join them, then wait for the soldiers to show up.

Tenthé finished up his bun, got up, and started looking for any indications of holdouts. He hid from the Horde, all the time scanning the buildings he passed. But, either the warriors had found everyone, or the soldiers had, because there was no-one around. As he wandered further toward the southwest side of the City, he saw fewer signs that the Horde had been here. The buildings still had their doors attached and there wasn’t any screaming and crying. Occasionally, he came across a few people hiding in some quite good places, but he wanted to find a larger group.

He was thinking that the clandestine basement businesses that he had spotted before might be somewhere to look. He continued creeping through alleys and streets until he neared the City wall.

Although not as many as before the redo, some of the houses still had secret basements, but instead of being full of illicit manufacturing, they were teeming with the families and people who had been living above ground. Tenthé had no idea where the non-humans had gone, but he wasn’t hopeful that they would’ve gotten treated well. At best, they’d have been kicked out to fend for themselves.

The Horde was known for slaughtering any race they couldn’t convert. Tenthé did feel a little guilty about that, he held a weak hope that the Sage might have collected most of the non-humans to take to whatever haven he had. Whatever had happened, there was nothing he could do now, so he put it put out of his mind and got on with the business at hand.

He stepped up a plane, then walked into the basement and phased back in to join into the chaotic turmoil of families. The first thing he noted was the smell of a lot of bodies crammed into a small space. He kind of liked it, it reminded him of life in the Mission District. Here, he wasn’t the only one not wearing a uniform. If he kept out of the way, nobody would take much notice of him.

He was there for only an hour or so, when he heard screams. He pushed through the crowd and found a bunch of men facing off against a group of soldiers in the middle of the largest room. Tenthé looked closely, and in amongst the soldiers was a fairly powerful Magister!

After a few moments, the situation seemed to have calmed somewhat, since the soldiers started passing out bits of cardboard with a glyph, or something, stamped on it. After each person got their piece of cardboard, they rushed off to collect their belongings. Tenthé knew from experience that there would be a lot of delay while the soldiers convinced people that they really didn’t need to bring their grandma’s precious heirloom chamber pot, or whatever.

He waited in line and was handed a glyph. As best he could tell, it was just a piece of cardboard. He gave up trying to figure it out and watched the crowd. Surprisingly, less than an hour later everyone was ready to go. Either they were desperate or there was some subtle magic being used. Orders were passed back that the card would keep them hidden from the Horde, but you couldn’t wander too far away from the group. Why wasn’t explained, and Tenthé was pretty sure some of the people would be missing when they got to the fort.

Tenthé had joined a bunch of kids who didn’t seem to have any adults in charge. He helped the older ones gather up the younger ones. Oddly enough, the kids appeared to be much more organized than most of the families. The older kids weren’t above threatening the younger ones and the younger kids knew they weren’t fooling around. Tenthé thought that some of them would make good gang leaders. Maybe they were.

All of a sudden, everything faded to gray and sounds became muted. The crowd began shuffling forward and Tenthé followed, pushing a few of the younger kids ahead of him.

It was interesting. They weren’t plane walking or anything Tenthé recognized. He was sure they had walked through the ground for a while before the group emerged into a very different city than the one he knew. It looked a lot like the Wildlands, but with single-story buildings made of stone blocks widely spaced across a broad expanse of sand and gravel that stretched as far as he could see. Everything was colored in shades of yellow and gray. There was nobody else there. Just buildings and grit. Dust rose as the soldiers pushed everybody to keep moving between the buildings.

After a while, Tenthé saw a ripple in the air ahead. As he got close, he watched as the soldiers forcefully guided the people in front of him into the distorted area. When it was their time, he and the children followed, and everything came alive again with a cacophony of light and sound. All around him people were yelling, soldiers were running, and bright flashes punctuated the mayhem as spells hit the massive walls of the fort.

Some of the little kids started crying, but the older ones and the soldiers kept everyone moving.

They passed through a big gate that Tenthé recognized as what used to be the main entrance to the original fort, then they were urged onward toward a smaller gate. On the other side was a huge open space filled with families and tents. The kids were peeled out of the crowd, sent through a tent where they were given food, drink, and some bundles, then directed to another tent that would hold all of them. There, they were left by themselves.

Some of the bigger kids organized things, and soon everyone was sitting and eating, with the little kids oddly quiet while the older ones talked about what might come next.

Tenthé looked around at the group and, when no-one was watching, went into stealth and slipped out. He had stuff to do.

It was quite challenging to make his way through the crowd to the perimeter fence of the refugee area. In spite of his best effort, people ran into him a few times. They appeared surprised, and a few even felt around for him, but Tenthé wasn’t worried. In the small likelihood that someone tried to report what happened, it wasn’t likely anyone would listen, and what could they do, anyway?

Once he reached the fence, he found it only mildly warded, so he lightened himself and hopped over. No-one noticed.

He was back in military land. It would be best if he fitted in, since the soldiers were more likely to figure out he was there, plus there were a few potent wards lying about that might react to him, even in stealth.

Carefully, he made his way to the Runner’s office. It was quite busy, but looked much as it had before, so Tenthé snuck around, gathering up the parts of the uniform he needed, took a shower, then changed. When he walked out, the private in charge called him over, gave him an assignment and turned to the next Runner. Tenthé left.

He had been assigned to the commissary, which, ordinarily, would have been a good thing. They had dealings all over the fort and that would give Tenthé a reason to be anywhere. The problem was, he had no time. He had to bring the walls down as soon as possible.

Suddenly, there was a massive explosion high in the sky and pieces of something, maybe Turtle, started raining down. Everyone ducked and tried to get under cover to avoid being pelted. Shortly it was over and the fort came back to life.

Tenthé simply took off, he really had no time to dally. Running up to a sergeant, he slid to a stop.

“Excuse me, sir,” Tenthé asked, “but I’ve been given a message for a Magister, but nobody knows where he is. He’s supposed to be one of the wall ones, but I can’t find him. A Magister Donald, I believe.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The sergeant muttered something about stupid kids, then suggested, “I don’t have nothing to do with them Magisters, but they’re in that building there, as you full well know!”

“Yeah, yeah, but I looked, and he wasn’t there. Do you have any idea where else he would be? The Magisters there wouldn’t talk, said they was busy and to bugger off.”

The sergeant laughed. “Yeah! They probably are. Why don’t you try looking in the officer’s mess?”

Tenthé figured he’d pushed it enough here. He now knew where most of the wall Magisters should be. But the sergeant had given him an idea. He rummaged around in his cloak-bag as he ran toward the mess.

He found what he wanted just as he got to the building. This was one of the many places where pre-packaged food was distributed, but tea was brewed here and served from large urns. It was vile stuff, but strong enough to raise the dead. Soldiers drank it like water.

Tenthé went into stealth and walked into the main dining room, made his way to the urns, ate a few wards, and when no-one was paying attention, poured some powder into each urn. This would work. Since the urns were never cleaned or changed, new tea and water were simply added when they got low. In an hour or so, anyone who drank the tea was going to be hallucinating and running for the toilets. Tenthé sniggered. Pretty nasty stuff.

Sure, the medics would be able to counter it, but all Tenthé needed was a diversion. For what, exactly? He didn’t know yet, but diversions were always useful.

He snuck back out and raced over to the building the sergeant had pointed out. This one was seriously warded; he wouldn’t be getting in easily. If he really was supposed to be here, he would have been given a pass.

With enough time, he could probably figure out a way, but there had to be something quick and dirty he could do.

After a bit of thought, he examined the building. He couldn’t look inside since massive wards flowed all over it. Underground, he could see a huge conduit heading toward the walls. Everything was strongly shielded, so what he did to the front gate wasn’t going to work here.

As he pondered, a Runner ran past, carrying a box and an urn. He slowed down and juggled things for a moment, trying to get a hand free to open the door to the Magister’s building.

Could it be this simple? Tenthé flashed over and dumped what was left of his powder into the urn. As fast as he was, the other Runner didn’t notice the slight jostling.

If it was tea, it may have already been dosed, but its normal vile taste could only be improved by adding more of anything.

The Runner finally got everything balanced, opened the door, and went inside. Now, Tenthé had some time to kill. He looked around, trying to find something else he could screw with.

He glanced up. Isabell and Turtle were still at it. In their own way, each of them zoomed back and forth across the sky, coming together occasionally, with flashes and beams of spells going every direction. To give credit where it was due, Turtle was tough. Sort of stupid, but tough.

As he watched, he wondered what the big version of Magister Grenville had been trying to accomplish. It was all very confusing, at best. Once his brain started to hurt, he gave up, resolving that if he couldn’t understand gods, then he probably couldn’t understand the gods of gods.

Anyway, he was hungry. He’d hit the soldier’s mess and see what kind of rumors were being passed around. Maybe he might get an idea from there.

A soldier hailed him as he entered. “Hey, Tenthé! Grab some slop and come over here! Haven’t seen you for a while!”

It was one of the guys he had shared his bribes with. Tenthé didn’t know what his real name was, everyone called him Hit-shed.

Tenthé piled a plate high, since the army food was actually quite good, then went over to the table. He put his plate down and hoisted himself onto a chair.

“So, what’s going on?” Hit-shed asked. “They don’t tell us nothing. Maybe you’ve heard something.”

Around his mouthful, Tenthé answered, “The Horde’s everywhere, except here and in the southwest of the City. Something’s attacking the Turtle and the Dreamer’s dead. We gotta keep the civilians alive so Turtle can win against what he’s fighting.”

The mood of everyone at the table was pretty somber when Tenthé finished.

“Sure about the Dreamer?” Hit-shed asked.

“Yeah. Deader than a rock. Won’t be any help from that direction until the next Dreamer shows up.”

Tenthé knew that what he told them would be around the camp in minutes. Probably changed so much as to be unrecognizable by the time it got back to him.

There was some yelling and commotion, and the soldiers nearest the door began clearing out. Soon everyone was moving, wanting to see what was causing the commotion. After squeezing through the log-jam at the door, Tenthé pushed into a loose group to watch what was unfolding.

A naked man was standing in the nearest open area, surrounded by a bunch of lieutenants and a captain or two. One of the captains was pleading with the guy.

“General, sir! Please come back. We need you to calm down. You’re making a spectacle of yourself. The men are watching!”

The naked man was having none of it.

“Preposterous Williams, I am outfitted perfectly for the fight that is coming. The ghost worms are approaching and we must vanquish them by showing our true selves. If we waver, they will turn our clothes against us!”

“Please, sir! That may be, but we need to plan properly!”

The general seemed to be thinking this over as two of the sergeants snuck up on him from behind. The instant they placed hands on the general, he exploded with waves of force, pushing everyone back, even getting as far as the men clustered near the mess hall which caused a few of them to stumble. That was pretty impressive, it appeared the general had some serious power.

Tenthé assumed that what he’d added to the tea was starting to work. This should be getting worse very soon, and continue worsening for some time. The only real cure was to knock the patient out and let it wear off. Things were happening sooner than he expected, perhaps the powder was a bit stronger than he supposed. Just then, he heard some more yelling in the direction of the Officer’s Club, along with the snap and pop of lightning.

Yep, much stronger. Maybe he should get back to the building with the wall Magisters. They might be affected sooner rather than later.

The General was speaking again, “Well, ahem, that is the problem! The worms can infect anyone! We need to be vigilant! But, even more important, something I ate isn’t agreeing with me. Would someone point out the nearest facilities?”

The crowd around Tenthé pointed to the right, toward the toilets.

“Ah, thank you, men. Your service is appreciated!”

With that, the general hurry-walked in the direction everyone had indicated. The crowd watched him leave.

“We are so screwed,” the private next to Tenthé moaned. There was no disagreement.

Someone else asked, “Is this an attack, or something?”

An older soldier ventured, “Yeah, probably. But so what? Anyone have any idea what to do?”

“Maybe try and get the officers to a healer?”

“You saw what happened with the general. You want to try your luck?”

“Me? You’re joking! You do it!”

Another soldier chimed in, “Why don’t we have the healers to come out and see what they can do? Then, if things go bad, it’ll be on them. Not us.”

This met with general agreement, so much of the crowd headed for the healers’ facilities. Tenthé was left behind. The background noise was escalating as the tea affected more officers.

This was going quite well. Without officers, any response to the Horde would be localized at best, and very uncoordinated. There probably wouldn’t be anyone functioning well enough to collect more civilians until the potion had worn off, which would be tomorrow at the soonest.

Tenthé turned and started toward the building with the Wall Magisters. As he approached, things appeared normal, but upon further inspection, he heard yelling coming from inside and the wards were acting strangely.

Instead of flowing smoothly, two types of them were attacking each other. Tenthé supposed these were generated by different Magisters. There were other wards moving around the various battles, but these ones looked lost, like nobody was in control.

A Runner came up to the door, opened it, and was immediately slammed backward by some kind of spell. Now that he could see inside, Tenthé found a Magister’s battle underway. There were a lot of flashes and rumbles, plus things that weren’t human zooming around the room. Probably some sort of summons.

As Tenthé watched, there was a massive boom and he was knocked off his feet. Then another, and another, until the ground was shaking continuously. Tenthé lightened himself and kicked up into the air so he could see what was going on.

Dust was everywhere, but as he rose above the nearest roof lines, he saw a stream of the Turtle’s fireballs hitting the fort at a position opposite him. With the Magisters fighting, the wards had been weakened enough that the fireballs had brought the wall down in a few spots, which was what caused the quakes.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this latest was Isabell’s work. She had to have been watching, and when the wards faltered, she must have manipulated Turtle to fire at her. She really was doing better than he had, arranging it so that the fireballs hit the walls instead of randomly around the fort, which was all that he had managed to accomplish.

From his vantage point, he found everything to be in utter disarray. Through the obscuring dust, he could see the Horde flowing through the gaps as the faint roar of their yells reached him.

This was the start of the final chapter of the short reign of the Turtle.