Chapter 18
“Woah there,” Drevin pulled on his reins, jolting Petor awake. They weren’t close to their destination. He looked to Drevin who stood up on his seat to look ahead.
“Cinderborn up ahead.”
Did Desari send out her orders?
Petor stood up on the seat. Mosi was waving to a group of fighters spread across the road. Their leader signalled to his soldiers and they moved toward the carts.
Petor slipped off of his seat, checking his storage for his gear and jogged to the front cart.
“—is property of the Molten Fist!”
“Shut yer mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” One of the soldiers spat. “That’s our food, we’re just taking it back from you lot.”
A few others laughed along with him. Petor put a hand on Mosi’s arm and squeezed . Either the grip or the sudden strength stopped him from saying anything further.
Knives were drawn, cutting the rope holding down the tarps.
“We can untie them,” Mosi growled.
“Too slow,” One said, cutting through the rope with a laugh.
Petor clamped down on his arm and shook his head from side to side.
Mosi looked ready to spit rocks but stood on his chair instead and waved off the others.
“Gather your people and move to the side of the road,” The leader said, he pointed to someone else and waved them forward, turning back to his awaiting carriage.
“Get ‘em down!” the man he’d waved to bellowed.
Petor let himself be pulled, Mosi was nearly dragged from his seat, the others complaining and cursing as they were dragged off to the side of the road.
A couple of soldiers watched them, the others tearing apart the carefully packed materials, passing it to others that took it to their own carts.
A few chatted with the appointed leader of the work detail. Two carts were rolled away from the convoy.
“What you doing?” Mosi growled.
“None of your fucking business now is it?” A guard said, jabbing him in the chest with the butt of his spear. Mosi went down on his ass, sputtering as his breath was driven from his lungs.
The others picked him up as Petor studied the Cinderborn fighters. Most were white, a few white mixed with red, the leader a red flecked with orange.
About seventy meters. He moved his hand, limbering it up.
“How the hell they think they’re going to get away with this?” Drevin muttered.
Mosi was back in the group, his breath coming in hitching attempts.
There’s only one way you can be sure to keep it quiet for some time. The soldiers were sure to brag and talk on it later, but it would slow the spread of information.
Forty fighters in total. It would get messy.
The two carts were added to the Cinderborn’s train. The rest of the carts were raided and cleared out, filing out their own half-filled carts.
Petor pulled of his scarf and his goggles, using the scarf to clear the dust off of his clothes, out of his hair and face.
He looked up, the leader of the detail marching over from their officer’s carriage. A determined look on his face and another ten fighters with him.
The soldiers watching them stiffened and stood straighter.
Mosi and his people shifted around nervously, unsure what was happening, but an idea appearing in their minds.
“On your knees!” The leader yelled.
“What for?” Drevin asked.
“Bind your hands and we’ll leave you here,” The man said.
Lying . It was on his face, the way his eyes moved, the way his body was tensed for action. The sour look to his grimace, a soldier on a job they didn’t like but they’d carry out.
Someone stabbed one of the mounts, it let out a keening cry of pain, startling the others and making some of the soldiers look back.
“Deal with them,” The leader lowered his spear.
Mana flooded through Petor’s channels, his armor sheathing him as he shot forward, stopping the spear from driving through Pirinn with his shield. His own spear drove through the leader’s throat. He tore it free, cutting through another solider’s shoulder and armor. He triggered his shield, throwing two back.
A mana blast from his spear went through a man’s armor and his chest. A sweep of his spear, broke a man’s legs.
He lead with his spear, they were too slow and too weak to give him pause. The stone dust whirled around with his movements.
Several started to run, leaving him over the bodies. He stored his spear for his sling, loading everburning bramble casting plant growth on it before hurling it at the front of the Cinderborn train, a second aimed at its rear, the next three amongst it.
He stalked forward all the while, loading a hellfire thistle as the officer kicked the door of his carriage open, against the Brambles that were burning trails into it.
It struck near the officer and detonated, thorns tore through the surrounding soldiers, the carriage and the officer trying to escape. His hands didn’t pause, loading another a quick spin and it shot out to land infront of the group that had been attempting to kill the mount—now trying to get back to their own carts.
They collapsed in a spray of brown stone and pink mist.
Petor loaded another hellfire thistle looping the sling onto his belt, to draw his spear, squinting at the last two soldiers running into the wilderness. He adjusted his aim and activated his mana blast. The glow rose and dropped, going through the man’s back and exiting his chest. Petor fired at the second, missed, the second shot took out their feet, the third shot ended it. Mana flowing into his channels from the man’s last moments. A cold confirmation.
He cast plant growth on the aggressive brambles covering the train, the sound of wood rubbing against one another, ending the last of the yells and screams.
He folded the spell back in, the brambles halting their growth and triggered cavicate on his spear, blood and viscera were flung clear.
“Looks like things are going to move quick now.” He turned back to the caravanners he’d spent the last few weeks with.
“The Cinderborn are running out of food supplies, they don’t know how to support a force in the field beyond their volcano. They’ll get orders to attack your supply lines to get the food they need. Then when you attack they won’t do a damn thing. Probably call back a bunch of their people to deal with all the drama they have.” Petor looked at the volcano.
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He dropped his gaze to them, they hunched, to protect themselves, others stepped backwards. Scared, worried.
Just how easy had their plans been put into action? Seeds in ripe ground.
“Tell your boss Torin, if he wants to survive, don’t attack Ilus.”
“Who are you?” Drevin asked.
Petor laughed. “Me, I’m just one of the four horsemen.” Mirradon appeared next to him.
“Hey girl.” He jumped on her back storing shield and spear to grab her reins.
She bolted as soon as he was settled. Dust was thrown up along their trail as Petor pulled out his crystal and threaded mana into it. Another connected.
That was quick.
“This is P, cover’s blown, Cinderborn attacked supply convoy.”
“This is D, we’re at Cracked Harbour,” Desari said.
We’re?
“Understood,” Petor drew out the word as he pulled out a map, checking the town and the marker upon it. “Be there soon.”
“Hurry up, M is about to make their play.”
“Understood, P out.” He shoved the crystal away and took out a teleportation scroll, he focused on the map and activated the scroll.
The spell covered him, the dust rose but he was no longer there.
***
Lyra threw her door shut, showing her strength of the green core, something she rarely did. A thread of mana activated the gem on her desk, the other leaders of the Molten Fist already there.
“The-“ Lyra paused what she was saying. Lyra waved her continue.
“They have a way to teleport. Disappeared right in front of me. Two operatives entered the city, got Ikor and disappeared.” She paused. “Worse they were well equipped and trained. I fought one, he had a yellow core, probably yellow mixed with green, but he fought like his core was solid green.”
That made the others shift in their seats.
In a straight up fight, a core level was usually enough to crush another, especially once one reached the orange core stages. To fight someone a core level stronger to a standstill. It meant that their gear or their training had to be better , and not just slightly, than their opponent.
And Lyra was their opponent .
“They have access to trained fighters,” Gavrik said.
“Mercenaries?” Torin asked.
“His name was Valter, I don’t know it, but then another one appeared, her name was Desari,” Lyra said.
“Why do I know that name?” Riven asked.
“There are a number of stories about her within Ilus. A traitor, a savior. Though they all agree that she went out into the middle of an army assaulting Ilus and destroyed it, apparently by herself,” Lyra said.
“How?” Riven looked disbelieving.
“She made a pact with the elemental lords themselves and apparently died killing their leadership. Her history is murky, though she was a powerful mage, one of Ilus’ strongest and she was also an alchemist,” Lyra said.
“With the elemental lords?” Torin frowned.
“We were not able to confirm, it but there were multiple reports from different people within the city.” Lyra said to Torin, before addressing the others around the table. “Either it was the elemental lords or an elemental lord so damn powerful they thought it was an elemental lord. Don’t forget they have quite the number of green core mages among their higher echelons. They know what powerful is.”
“So they have fighters, actual fighters, not just academics playing and fighting working with them,” Gavrik shook his head slowly. “I don’t like that, don’t like it one bit. With the right training, the right mindset, which they have been coming around to in the last couple of weeks. Hell they led a raid against us, that shows confidence, it shows planning and forethought. They’re getting stronger.”
“We’re running into supply issues, surely they are as well?” Riven asked, his words spat in frustration.
Elara looked at Caius and signalled for him to speak.
“We probably aren’t getting anything more out of the Cinderborn for the near term. There are a number of their people that are heading out on ‘trade delegations’ basically getting the hell out of the way as the noble families fight it out. We’ve been able to trade some food quietly with the groups that are leaving. With that we learned that some are leaving because of the posters and letters that appeared throughout Cinderstein.”
“Posters in Cinderstein and in our own cities, seems a little too coincidental,” Lyra said.
“Well we know that there were people in at least one of our cities,” Gavrik said, holding up his hands. “I’m not saying that’s on you Lyra. I’m saying if they were able to get into your city, then they must have been able to get into others. We have so many people from the Cinderborn moving around, as well as our own people.”
Lyra tilted her head in acknowledgement.
“What do these posters and letters say?” Torin asked.
“They lay out several facts that point to the nobility and higher castes abusing the lower castes. Things that have been checked and verified. Then there is a warning to leave the volcano. If they believe in Cinderborn, in their position in life stay, if not, strike out on their own path,” Caius said.
“A warning,” Lyra said.
“Ilus has always been a softer hand,” Riven said. “ If they’ve finally run out of patience.”
“You think that they could do something against Cinderstein?” Torin asked.
“They teleported right up to our gates, tore through the walls and our cities with ease and disappeared with minimal losses. We didn’t even know they had that ability. They’re smart and they have individual power. If they’re starting to get organized and put that power into a singular focus,” He held out a hand towards Gavrik who grimaced, before looking back at Torin. “We might have just stepped on a leg eater.”
Elara grimaced. The leg eater as it was called was one of the reasons their plane was called the abyssal plane. It would dig a hole and blend in with the ground. If someone stepped on one they would shoot a sharpened spike up through whatever stepped on them.
Usually it was a foot, the barbed spike would reach halfway up a person’s calf. One would need to cut off their leg and quickly to remove the barb and the seeds it deposited within. Then go through the painful and costly process of regrowing their limb—if they were lucky.
Torin as normal didn’t give anything away, though unlike in the past he didn’t offer words on the subject.
“Back to your questions,” Caius continued. “The letters arrive at the noble homes, they leak information that will throw the different houses into turmoil. It has effectively cut off the higher ups dealing with their own messes. Ilus, within its walls can grow food with just an expenditure of mana, same for water. They might not be the best with spells turned towards war, but to increase a harvest and supply their people, they’re probably eating the best out of any of us.”
“And we’re starting to have a new problem with our food,” Elara said. “We have several reports of Cinderborn troops stealing supplies. Worse, we’re missing some supply convoys that were supposed to report in and were passing Cinderborn forces.” She worked her jaw. “One of the convoys had an Ilus agent with them. The Ilus agent took on forty Cinderborn, red cores and slaughtered them. Saved our people. They sent a rider ahead to tell someone what had happened. They had a message for us.” She looked right at Torin.
“Lets hear it,” He sighed.
“He said that if we wanted to survive, then we’d best not attack Ilus.”
Lyra drew out a sound transmission device and held it up to her ear. Drawing everyone’s attention. There were few things that would make them do something else.
“How many of the Emberclaw ports are under attack?” Lyra asked.
“All of them, okay, do we know who is attacking them?” She grimaced. “The Infernal Marauders. You’re sure?”
“Their barriers are coming down from inside the ports? How?”
“Okay, thanks.” Lyra put down the sound transmission device. “The Emberclaw clan are falling apart, their losing their ports as we talk. Their fighting forces deployed around Ilus are racing back to their homes to defend them and hit the attackers.”
“The Infernal Marauders. I didn’t think they had the ships or weapons to pull off something like this,” Torin said.
“It looks like they captured a lot of Emberclaw ships. Used those to get into the port, then lead the attack before they came in with their own ships. I think I know why we haven’t been in contact with the supply ships for the last couple of days. Our scouts report weapons able to crack barriers being used on the port cities.”
“Cinderstein is a mess, our allies are stealing our supplies. The Emberclaw are being torn down as we speak.” Torin grimaced. “Shit we really put our damn foot into this one.”
Elara felt a tension release in her chest at those words, maybe there was a way forward. If Ilus was willing to negotiate.