IX

The Pegasus Protocol

In which the Watch is tested

With barely two hours before midnight, Alia returned to the grove. After a short, terse meeting, Rikka agreed to honor Alia’s bargain, formally releasing the flayers and restoring the blessings of the Huntress to their lands. At Alia’s request, the flayers agreed to release the sorcerers not only at noon, but in the market square, where all would see them. Alia hurried back.

She returned to the Watch just in time.

The moment she finished telling Palamara about the treaty she negotiated, a screech pierced the air. A crow flew through Palamara’s office window and landed on his desk, startling them.

“What the—?” Palamara started.

The crow turned three times on its feet, and on its final turn it pointed itself at Alia.

“Caw! Caw! Caw!”

With a mad flutter of wings, the bird flew away.

Alia and Palamara stared at each other in surprise.

“That was … odd …” Palamara observed.

“A warning,” Alia whispered.

Alarms rang out in the fortress.

“We’re under attack!” someone screamed.

Alia and Palamara rushed out of his office. Immediately they were jostled by officers running past, heading en masse for the south tower. A voice called out, catching Alia’s attention. Sheridan was fighting to make his way against the crowd.

“What’s happening?” Alia demanded when he finally reached her.

“Shadow priests are materializing,” Sheridan answered. “They showed up in the barracks and started killing everyone!”

Instinctively Alia reached for her knives, before she remembered the Dragon Pearl IV. Ever since meeting the flayers she kept the weapon holstered at her right hand.

“Stop!” Palamara boomed. Almost immediately, watchmen obeyed him. “Running blind? Are you mad? The Pegasus Protocol is in effect, people!”

The watchmen regrouped, and their training took over. Alia stayed close to Palamara, and Sheridan in turn stayed close to her.

The Pegasus Protocol called for the Watch to organize itself into units with specific tasks to defend the fortress. By design, each unit contained a good mix of sorcerers, armsmen, and hand-to-hand combat specialists.

As part of Palamara’s unit, Alia and the others would occupy the high ground. Utari Joshi came running up and fell in with them. She clutched a scryer’s globe close to her chest. The heat of battle gave them no time to attune the call globes; the watchmen fell back on old-fashioned methods instead. Through her globe Utari would relay situation reports and transmit Palamara’s orders.

“What in the Serpent’s Abyss are these dogs thinking?” Palamara demanded as they mounted the stairs to the ramparts.

With an atrium three stories high, the third level of the barracks permitted defenders to rain fire and death on intruders below.

Perhaps pessimistic, the Pegasus Protocol accounted for the potential necessity of taking a roundabout route to the barracks.

An assumption which served them well.

On the parapet outside, Palamara’s group halted. Three dark shapes moved ahead. Then, the shapes shifted. Silver masks gleamed in the light of the agate moon. Monstrous visages, concealing the true faces of the shadow priests who wore them.

Palamara’s cohort included two venatori sorcerers. With a chant and a wave of their hands they hurled a gust of wind, knocking the shadow priests off the parapet and down the hillside. Eventually, a great splash sounded as the priests landed in the sea.

But the Watchmen were already on the move. Five steps from the door, and everyone halted. Copper smoke swirled forth in front of them. Three shadow priests appeared.

Alia stepped forward, her naked moonbow knives glowing softly in her hands. Sure sign of the presence of Erebossan agents. The knives glowed brighter still when she held them out to the intruders. Blinded, the men were helplesswhen Palamara and two of his officers shot them down.

“Reload!” Palamara called out.

With sure, quick hands the soldiers did as commanded.

Once inside the barracks again, they beheld the brutal handiwork of the Lords of Chaos.

Bleeding bodies were scattered to and fro on the floor. Fallen watchmen.

A manticore dominated the center of the courtyard, shooting paralyzing darts from its tail. The tail alone kept the living watchmen at bay. Unchecked, the shadow priests carried on with their ritual.

Archers of the Watch stepped forward. Their opposite number had made it to the opposite balcony, and now they could work in tandem.

“What are those shadow priests doing?” Parth, one of the sharpshooters, wondered aloud. The wheelock in his hands was a classic edition of the Dragon’s Tongue model from Hurik & Sung’s Firelance series. He would fire after the archers did; the shooters staggered their attacks to give the gunmen time to reload.

“Ignore the manticore and aim for the priests,” Alia ordered the archers closest to her. “Stop them from summoning an arsh’atûm.”

In vain they fired, their arrows bouncing harmlessly off the shield which shimmered into place at last second, protecting the priests. A man amidst the priests capered about in obvious triumph. Shadow sorcerer. Altogether, six men clad in grotesque silver masks continued their ritual. Only the manticore subsided; the shield would not allow its barbs to penetrate outward.

Stalemate?

Alia turned to Utari. “Are the Salamandra in place?” She was already forming a counterattack in her mind. Per the Protocol, units bearing Salamandra would either be on the ground or the second story of the atrium. Exactly what she needed.

Utari’s gaze was fixed on her globe as she listened intently to the report a distant scryer relayed. “Ready.”

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“Ask the Salamandra to fire on the shield. Tell the huntsmen to stand by to petrify the survivors.” Alia glanced at Palamara, who nodded his confirmation. The knowing expression on his face gave assurance he anticipated her next move.

Alia turned to the archers. “Again. On my command. Utari, let the others know.”

Utari spoke rapidly into her globe, relaying Alia’s orders to her counterpart across the atrium.

The air warmed, a breeze lifted their hair, and a red glow bloomed: the Salamandra had joined the battle.

Fire ringed the shield. Unlike a natural fire, stone was no deterrent, though Alia suspected the flames latched onto the magical barrier instead. Soon enough the fire would burn away the shield … but probably not before an arsh’atûm arrived.

Fortunately, she had a plan.

The archers readied their arrows. Alia clutched her amulet, using it as a focus as she chanted her prayer. The prayer ended with a blessing, which Alia sang in a clear, high voice. White light coated the tips of the archers’ arrows when she finished her song.

From below, a shout rang out.

“Bring us your battle priestess! Forfeit her blood or forfeit your souls!” one of the shadow sorcerers cried.

Ice water filled her belly. She was the target?

But of course. Priests almost never served as Watchmen, and ‘battle priests’ never did. The latter type either operated alone or in groups of other priests, but directly answering to their local temples.

Joining the Watchmen was not Alia’s first choice, either, but necessity obliged her to throw in her lot with them. The position of Watch-Huntress granted her authority and resources to take down Junius.

But—were the shadow agents below working on criminal motives, or religious ones? Did they see her as their spiritual enemy? Or were they motivated by spite because she arrested their allies and made war on them? Then again, there was no reason they couldn’t have two motives.

Beside her, Palamara stiffened. He and Sheridan immediately shifted position, getting in front of her and blocking her from view.

“What do they want with you?” Parth asked. He moved up beside Sheridan, as the archers did.

“Revenge,” Alia said coldly.

A nimbus of copper swirled below the feet of the shadow priests.

A portal.

Alia took a deep breath and refocused. She eyed Utari and the archers again. “Ready? Now!” she commanded.

This time when fired, their arrows penetrated the shield, finding their targets. The shield dissipated. All but one of the shadowmen fell dead. An eerie scream echoed as five arrows embedded themselves into the manticore’s flesh. Though the monster remained on his feet, Alia counted it lost; the sorcerers’ spells were already working.

The ground shifted, and for a moment the stones liquified. They slithered, wrapping around the legs of the remaining shadow priest and his pet, binding them in place. Stone covered the priest from his feet to his waist. The evil tail of the manticore was not spared, only the its neck and head remained free.

The priest laughed like a madman.

The sharpshooters moved forward, the archers moved back. Palamara made a cutting gesture at his throat. The sharpshooters fired, killing the manticore and the laughing shadow priest.

“Infernals,” Utari whispered. She was staring into her globe. “Sir, we have infernal incursions in the east block.”

“A distraction,” Palamara replied, speaking their thoughts aloud.

Which explained why the shadow priests had made the obvious tactical error of entering the courtyard. Palamara issued new orders, for a contingent to hold the atrium.

“The tactic is a pointless waste,” Sheridan observed. “Why put themselves in a position to die so easily, just to distract us? Couldn’t the manticore do that by itself?”

Exactly so, and Alia suspected what they were up to. Forfeit your souls, the priest had threatened.

“Captain, hold!” Alia said, grabbing Palamara’s arm.

The move jerked him back. “Ironwing?”

Alia gestured to the bodies of the shadow agents. Tendrils of smoke arose from their corpses. A natural result … if Salamandra fire cooked them before death. But they did not die by fire…

“Have our sorcerers shield them again. They need to trap Erebossi now,” Alia commanded.

Palamara did so, while Alia busied herself. She focused again, her hands trembling as she clutched her amulet.

“You don’t have a choice,” she whispered to herself. Eyes closed, she concentrated on her task. Aloud she prayed, “O Huntress, your faithful servant requests aid. I beseech you, Exalted One, to lend me your strength: ubarum, alíatim.”

She held out her moonbow blades. The glyphs etched into them blazed brightly. Wisps of light flew out from the glyphs, over her head. An endless stream flew and swirled over her, until a shape coalesced in front of her. An ethereal glow fell over the group.

“The shadow priests were possessed,” Alia explained, seeing the awestruck faces of her companions. “Killing the men freed the eidolons they served.”

She broke off, for the shape had now taken a bodily form. In one bright flash it appeared.

Lightning snapped and sizzled in the air. Before them stood a creature which radiated a brilliant white light. Sunlight in human form, or so their minds interpreted it. And the form itself — pleasing in shape, armored in a cuirass and pteruges of an ethereal metal. Female—an incarnation of the Huntress. The twin falcatas in her hands confirmed it so.

Alia and Sheridan were quickest to genuflect, Palamara and the others followed immediately after.

Unlike a shadow sorcerer, Alia would not dream to coerce a spirit. The incarnation manifested in answer to her prayer. Now she would make requests, not give commands to the spirit.

“The infernals below trespass against the laws of the Exalted One. I ask your assistance—” she broke off again, as the spirit raised a weapon to its forehead. It swiped the blade down again, saluting Alia.

The spirit vanished, and quickly reappeared in the courtyard.

“By the See—Huntress,” Utari breathed. “Is that a celestial? They can form bodies? You can summon them?”

She was not alone in staring at Alia in complete astonishment. Only Palamara was unsurprised; he had known her the longest of anyone outside the grove.

“You all know she’s a priestess. Don’t look so shocked,” Sheridan answered for her. He glanced at Utari. “Warn the others not to kill the shadow priests. That’s what they want, that must be how the Erebossi entered the barracks. Contain, don’t kill them.”

Palamara turned to the sorcerers. “Go, now. We’ll cover you. Draw them here if you can.”

Alia fixed her eyes on the courtyard. Loyal to the Huntress, the astral warrior would assist another servant of the Huntress, but Alia had learned an important lesson once: it would not discriminate amongst enemies of the Huntress.

Now then, came the chance to learn if all of the Watchmen were true to their oaths. Or did some serve Junius, whose long and slimy tentacles reached many places Alia never expected?

Black smoke filled the spirit shield, obscuring the corpses of the shadow sorcerers. For now the shield trapped the abyssals, but only for now.

Green light glowed fiercely in the celestial’s eyes. In an otherworldly language the astral warrior cried out as she thrust her swords into the shield. Trapped, the abyssals could not flee from the vortex swirling out of the spirit’s swords.

When every abyssal vanished, the shield evaporated. The celestial whirled and strode over to the fallen. Watchmen paralyzed by the manticore lay dying all over the courtyard. The spirit passed her hand over them, healing them at once. Slain watchmen too arose, wherever the celestial fixed her burning gaze upon them.

Finally, the celestial came to the double bronze doors of the courtyard.

Alia stepped back. The spirit’s intent was clear in her mind: she would head for the east wing, to stop the other Erebossi. Alia turned and ran. As she did, the spirit vanished in a swirl of colorful lights. Undoubtedly in order to reappear where the Erebossi and their lackey priests swarmed the thickest.

“Cover her,” she heard Sheridan say. Heavy footsteps told her he was following.

She didn’t look back, rushing headlong into the corridor. Venatori from her unit and the second unit had already come through, as confirmed by the shadow sorcerer corpses littering the floor. Alia continued on, using the shouts and screams as her guide.

She made it down the stairs.

“Hey,” one of the watchmen said, limping towards her. His rifle served as a makeshift cane. “Hey, huntress.”

Acknowledging him with a curt nod, she continued on. The last of the other venatori were vanishing into the doorway of the mess hall.

The roar behind her barely registered. She took three steps before she suddenly realized what she’d heard. Alia turned back in time to see the black mist, just before it swallowed her.