10th of Locus

The Siege of Calamon

II

Troop Count:

~1000 Calamonis, ~10,000 Alisan Troops

"The frey cannot truly breathe underwater. Their pudgy, fattened heads hold air in through their gils, allowing them an extended period of around thirty minutes to hold their breath..."

Red-skinned Tiana Lluevin sat with her bare feet out below her, on the cobbled walk of the sewer. The dark water below splashed against the bottoms of her feet, cool and refreshing, visible only by her blood-given dark vision, the luxury of her Alisan birthright.

Then came a whistle. A light from the ladder behind her, and the clattering of armor as someone descended to her platform. "Oy! That's sewer water, get yer feet outta there!"

A blonde man with uneven, unkempt facial hair and heavy plate. The lantern at his hip illuminated her just enough that he could see her scowl. "This is drinking water, you smooth. The aqueduct." she hissed in a thick accent, barely comprehensible to him as though she was speaking around a fat tongue, or cotton wedged into her mouth.

"Is that somehow… better?" he raised his bushy eyebrows as he approached, wearing the face of an angry dog.

"No worse than what Tybaut is doing." She looked back to the running stream. "Besides, I am sure they filter this water. Calamon has magic for that sort of thing, do they not?"

"Whether they use it is another story."

She cast him a cruel glance as he wandered back toward the wall, but still complied in pulling her feet up to put her boots back on.

"Anything yet?" he asked as he leaned back disinterestedly.

"Nothing. It is quiet down here, I do not expect an ambush from this place."

"Cedric told us to expect the unexpected. Told us to surrender our lives that Calamon may live, too." He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Tiana stood and stepped away from the waterfront. She took a moment to brush off her beige skirt and blouse, the plainclothes of one from her home village. Then she rubbed each of her curved horns from the base of her forehead to the pointed tips.

"What, afraid you lost them?" he laughed.

"I've more to lose than you've got, smooth."

His laugh was short lived at that. Hard to disagree, Lysander?

Then his eyes lit up. "Tybaut! Find something?"

There was a blue-headed frey protruding from out of the rapid current. "We're missing a few at the other stations. Are things the same here?"

"Just me and her. However I got roped into working with two Alisars when we're at war with them, I'll never…" His voice trailed off when they both glared at him. He cleared his throat. "Who's gone?"

"Elise and Jalim. They haven't gone topside, we should be sealed in."

"That we are." Lysander nodded.

"I'm going to rendezvous with the next station. If I'm not back in five minutes, ring the bells."

"If you're not back in five minutes, you're asking me to kill myself?"

"I'm asking you to open the valve and unseal the dam. The frey aren't too handy under the water, appearances aside—"

"And who the fuck put you in charge?"

He glared. "Do what you want. The deaths of the Calamoni people will be on your hands."

And then he submerged.

"Gods, fucking… Arse!" he shouted into the water. "Can you believe this fucker?"

"I can. Did you not agree to die for your country, for your city?"

"I agreed to stand watch for a hefty sum of cromers, not to drown myself for fun!"

"You smooths are too fucking greedy."

Then it fell silent. Lysander leaned back up against the wall, staring at the ceiling as though it were the most exciting thing he'd seen all day. Tiana paced back and forth on the precipice of the aqueduct, letting the gentle spray of water cool her ankles.

It was almost five minutes later when Lysander finally spoke up again. "Why aren't you fighting for Alisa?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you on the Calamoni side? You're an Alisar aren't you?"

"Fuck yourself, smooth. You call me that again and it'll be your eyes getting plucked out while you scream for mercy.” Tiana jumped suddenly when something moved in the water below.

Lysander's face twisted into a horrible gloom. "No manners, the lot of you fucks. I…" His voice trailed off when he saw it, too. A dark-skinned body in fine blue robes. Magi's robes. "Elise!"

Tiana hopped away from the ledge. Her hands blasted a spray of misty frost onto the water's surface, building a barrier between them and their would-be adversaries.

It was too late; a red-skinned sel leapt from the rushing current with a long rapier in his hand, his bare chest wet with the water. His brown leggings dripped a river of their own, waterlogged.

She twisted her arm to his legs. Freeze, damn you!

He took a step, tripped on the suddenly-frozen pants. Down he went, just as his two frey escorts sprung from the water.

Lysander hissed in a worried breath, drew his broadsword. "Fuckers, daft fucks!"

His eyes landed on the bell beside the ladder, stuck to a pipe that would alert the next squadron the second they rung it. The bell that would flood them, drown them out, then flush the water and seal off the city's water supply.

Tiana turned and sprinted for it. One of the frey grabbed her long black hair between his thin, translucent fingers. His clawed offhand came up, his nails glistened in the dim light off Lysander's lantern.

Then cleaved the mercenary's broadsword through the first frey, cornering him against the wall. The thing fell before the span of a breath. He hopped over its body, rushed to Tiana's side.

"The bell, you fucking—" She howled out when the claws ripped into her side. She turned with her left hand's swing. A fireball formed just before she rotated fully, slamming a flaming palm against the blubbery face of the frey. His head popped like a bubble, deflated and released the air inside the fat. Filthy air, you fake damn fish!

She threw her shoulder into his chest. Down his corpse went, back into the bloody water.

"Tybaut is dead, you fuck! Ring the bell!"

Lysander froze up. Tiana ran for it. "No! You'll drown us!"

She threw herself at the rope jutting from the wall, pulled it down with all of her weight.

DING.

DING.

His face contorted in horror. He turned back to the water, watched it swell, watched it rise…

But it did not flood. The valve was not released. Their bell was not answered.

She grit her teeth. "We must make for the first men, the ones at the valve. They're dead already."

Lysander was still frozen in place. He looked down to his bloody sword. "That bell… I should be dead. That should have…"

"Stupid fucking smooth, you are alive. That should be enough for you. You do not follow me, I will kill you myself."

He grimaced at that, slid his sword back into his sheath. Then, with a sigh, he said, "Fine. Lead the way, oh majesty."

Stupid bastard, she thought. And off they went, down the cobbled, waterslick path of the aqueduct, into the sewer system beyond…

"We don't need to flush ourselves out." Lysander said, negotiating with Tiana.

She kept her eyes forward, kept her rushed, balanced pace. "We do. You know how many men were stationed at the mouth of the aqueduct?"

"No. How many?"

"Castelbre posted some thousand or so. Whoever killed them all is too strong for us, or they are a much larger force than he was expecting. They are all dead, I'm sure."

"All of them?"

"Alisa is braced with a force twenty-thousand strong. Their army is the greatest on this side of the world."

"What's Castelbre's plan? Better yet, what's the plan of the whole damn Hunters, they're the bastards leading this thing, aye?"

She nodded. "Their plan, so far as I am aware, is to fight."

"That's it? No strategy, no thought, just man the walls and fight?"

"We are not exactly in a defensible situation here, smooth."

"Then why don't we all lay down our arms? We could become part of the Alisan peoples, no?"

"Only if you like the idea of being a slave. That's how it was in Llueves."

"Llueves? You're from the elven kingdom?"

"Shh! Did you hear that?"

They stopped. They listened. Lysander could only admit to hearing the rapid current beside them, loud enough to drown out the every skittering of the rats besides. And the sounds of any ambush waiting in the shadows for them.

A moment later, Tiana carefully continued forward.

"This river…" he began carefully, "runs from Llueves, does it not? The Agra?"

"We call it the Aümuné. It runs underground at its end, downstream through cave and tunnel to our aqueduct."

"It's a damn impressive feat…" he mumbled.

"There they are!" Tiana raised her palms to a dark figure at the end of the pathway. "Fucking ambush!"

Two blasts of fire ripped out of her palms, warped like arrows at the figure. It dropped down to the ground, on all fours, and rushed at impeccable speed.

Tiana stepped forward, thrusting her arms in a sweeping motion. The ground vibrated with a wave of fire.

The figure leapt. Lysander drew his broadsword.

"Wait!" cried a raspy, frightened voice. "Stop, don't hurt me, I am unarmed!"

Stolen novel; please report.

"Fucking — rat!?"

It was a giant, man-sized rat that emerged from the shade. He stood again on his hind legs, rubbed his pink palms together. There was a horrid stench from him, a horrid discomfort at the dark stains all over his blackened, moldy robe.

"Please, please! I'm no Alisar!"

"You've got that right, bastard. Watch your damn tongue." spat Tiana.

His ears folded and flexed in a display of his hurt feelings. "You're looking for the valve, yessss?" He held the hiss of his final word to let the sound die out in the rushing current beside them.

"None of your business, sm… fur." she juggled insults.

He squeaked a soft noise, looked back and forth all around. "I know the way. You'll be lost. You'll get lost. You're already lost. I know the way, I can show you!"

Lysander shifted his lips. Tiana looked back and forth between them. "Cut him down already, smooth! He's waiting for his ambush party!"

"What's stopping you from incinerating him?"

"The only thing worse than the stink of this fucking animal is the stink he'll make burning. Cut his head off, drop him into the sluice."

The rat's eyes bulged. He cowered backward slightly. "No, trust! Trust! If not, look!" He suddenly pointed between them.

Lysander turned. Tiana did not avert her gaze, until the mercenary elbowed her in the side, nodded his head behind them. "Company!"

She glanced quickly back. Two frey, two sel. More stomping behind. She turned back to the rat, igniting her palm.

But he was gone.

"Damn ambush, I told you!"

"Less words, more action! That's a good rule to follow!"

They spun themselves to the ready.

For Osmar, I fight. For Osmar, I’d…

She locked up.

What fucking business does that smooth have invading my thoughts?

“Don’t hesitate, you…” Lysander grumbled, then rushed forward with his sword swinging.

Tiana shook herself from the thought. She slammed her palms together, ripped into the ley with her mind and feelings alone; “Riv tokka, des fiah!”

She pulled her hands apart to reveal burning light. A blade of flame was locked within her hand.

Lysander cut down one of the frey in a single cleave of its mushy head. The sel beside lunged to his exposed side and bit a dagger beneath the armpit of his armor.

"No!" cried the steel merc. Tiana rushed forward and spun her own sword. Down it went for the sel. He lunged back and dropped the dagger, strangled for the sword at his hip.

A blast of watery magic shot over Lysander’s shoulder from one of the fishmen. He winced out of the way, leaving Tiana to brace her fiery blade against it, blasting burning steam up at the sel’s face.

Then the sel’s sword was equipped, his eyes watering as he blinked harshly through the scalding mist. He swept it at her once, twice. She backpedalled just until her magicked sword could reheat, brought it up to bare…

“Gah! Fucker!” she cried as the blade scraped a chunk out of her shoulder. Then went her own blade at his throat. There was a gentle pop of the releasing pressure in the sel’s body as his head severed cleanly off, the blood quenched as fast as the flames could cauterize the skin. A hiss of foul-stinking smoke poisoned the air between them.

Then came the next two. The frey sucked in a breath, then shot a torrent of water out at her.

I don't think so!

She cleaved her blade at some of the spray, then took a painful blast of water to her face, slipped and fell clumsily to the ground, dispelling her blade. The sel ran past the rigid Lysander with his blade raised.

Her eyes locked onto the dagger at her feet: the dagger that had stabbed Lysander. But there wasn’t time. Not for a physical movement, at least.

“Physio!” her voice echoed. The dagger twisted and shot up into the sel’s chin, spinning him round and dropping him with a splash into the water.

The two frey in the rear grimaced.

“You’re next, you fucks!” Tiana screamed as she jumped to her feet and dashed madly after them. The swung her hands out with a torrent of aimless flame.

And that was enough to scare them off into the stream. Her breaths were heavy, even after they were gone. Her heartbeat raced and pounded in her chest.

There was a scuttling cry from behind, from where the ratman had been. Tiana darted back, then turned to Lysander, slumped against the wall. "Damn smooth, are you alright?"

"I…" he hissed. "Gods, no. It hurts… it…"

Tiana threw her arm over his shoulder, tried to yank him away from the wall. “Come on you bastard, we need to reach the valve. I need your help—”

His body fell to the ground with a resounding thud. He was still. The blood leaked out from his corpse.

"Fucker!"

And that was it for him. The dagger on the ground beside him, the one that'd stabbed him, was far too long. It must have pierced his heart. His last breath was shallow, gravelly… and then it was quiet.

Except for those sounds again, another fight in the rat's direction.

She bent over for his broadsword. “Sorry for your fate, smooth. Better that it was yours, and not mine.”

With a great push from the side of her boot, she shifted his body until it rolled over and splashed into the rapids. Then he was gone. Filthy mercs. You’ll make your way to the sewers soon enough.

Then she saw them: two sel in the dimness of her darkvision. One was dead, his throat gouged by jagged teeth. The other one was beneath a clawing rat. His eyes were being clawed at. His face and neck and chest were covered in dark blood.

The rat looked up as she approached. As the man ceased his protest.

"See? See? You see me, you see? He's dead! They're dead! I kill the sel, I fight with you, for the city!"

Damn fur, she thought.

"Where, where we going? The valve? The valve? Flood the drain, flush the drain, leave us dry, empty the drain?"

"That is the plan. You stay here, fight the sel if you want."

"The way, the way! You'll be lost. You need my help, you need me! Take me with, I bring you to the drain!"

"I won't fall for your trap, vile thing." Her eyes went to the signs above the path. They were barely legible. There was no way to know the way to the valves.

"Trap, no! We do not eat men, we do not eat flesh! To eat flesh is a mortal sin, greatest sin of all! Greatest sin of many! We do not eat—"

"Hold your fucking tongue, bastard. Fine. If it gets you to shut up, I'll follow you to the drain. But any dirty tricks and your head will come off."

"Yes, yessssss!" he said. His eyes glimmered hopefully, with a charm like he'd won. Tiana scoffed and began down the path. The rat ran beside her, them came to his hind legs and walked in stride with her. "I am Rosévinir!"

"I did not ask your fucking name. Keep quiet, I said. I can still hear their footsteps all around."

"A quiet path, we go a quiet way. None know the way, I know the way. Quiet, I'll be quiet."

And he was. And it would have been so quiet, if not for the rushing rapid beside them, and the stomping footsteps echoing all around, through sideways alleys and catwalks overhead…

"Here, here!" The rat clapped. It had become too dark even for Tiana to see — this place was under some curse, perhaps. Or they'd sealed every crack of ambient light in every way possible.

"Can you see?" she asked.

"Yesss! You cannot?"

"No. I'm trusting you. If this is your trap—"

She spoke too soon. The ground gave way where the stepped, dropped her into a hole of dirt and gravel, tumbling down a mound of jagged rocks and to a dusty, hard surface below. She grunted, groaned. "Riv—" went her spell, cut off by an impact into her face. "Fiah!"

A bulb of flame sparked to life in the air above them. The spun around frantically — the hole gave way to a cavern, a deep cave system that ran well beneath Calamonis complex sewer system.

And it was full of rats. Ratmen.

There wasn't a space to breathe before a cluster of them dropped atop her, began gnawing and clawing at her flesh, scraping at her horns. She cried, screamed out, blood gurgling from her throat.

No time for a spell—

Her thoughts grew hazy. She could no longer decipher the movements, nor decipher the sounds and smells of the rotten place. She gave in. She agreed: this is my time to die.

Then Osmar came to her mind again; short black hair, a scornful face of a man fed up with his life, fed up with the world. Blood on his hands, when they first met beyond Llueves. Clipped ears. He'd just clipped those elven tips from his head, clipped with a pair of shears he'd stolen from the farmhouse they met in.

'You're running from Llueves?' he had asked.

She hadn't the words to respond, then. You are, too.

You are, too, bastard prince. Slateless fuck.

The fire died. The light went out.

But so too did the sounds of the rats. They lifted their heads, gazed around the shadowy room. She lurched up, coughed bile up.

“Shhhh!” hissed one of the rats. “Do you hear that?”

Silence, again.

DING.

DING.

DING.

Someone was ringing the bell. The rats froze up, then scuttled away the second they were sure.

DING.

And then the sound crackled to a halt.

Up, Tiana, up!

She struggled. She pushed scraps of wet clothing away, felt cold saliva, hot blood all over her weary body. Her head was light, airy, absent.

I'll bleed out, I'll die before I reach the valve. I'll die before I can save Calamon… Not so long as I can keep my guts in me.

She was up before she knew she’d started to stand. Her feet were wobbly. Her legs were aching. Her chest was burning. The dim stones below had turned red with her blood. Her robes were soaked through and torn to her red flesh. She reached up at a twinge. One of her horns had broken in half. The tip was missing. Some kind of liquid marrow oozed from inside.

To the valve. To the valve, Tiana!

It was some incomprehensible amount of time later that she dragged herself along the wall at the beginning of the water's current. The path grew wider and wider until it wrapped around into a large stone bridge that ran over the gaping mouth of the dam. Some light shone in over the water, cracks where miners had gotten too ambitious, dug too deep… fell in, if they were unlucky.

She looked down to the rushing water.

Flood the sel. Leave the frey stranded. Flood the sel… Leave the…

There was the valve. Bodies of Calamonis were strewn violently across the floor all around it, the blood still running wet onto the slick cobbles. Copper pipes all ran from the ceiling and from beneath the bridge into that one point at the end, where a giant steel wheel sat locked in place by the most complex engineering in the entire realm. And there, leaning on the valve, was a man. Familiar. Red-skinned. Donned in chainmail armor. Red tabards flowed from the scarves at his neck and his waist.

His eyebrows raised. Then a nasty smile formed over his lips, revealed his jagged, rotten teeth. "Tiana!"

"Vasaad." she groaned. She still clutched her side, still held to the wall for support.

"You do not look happy to see me, dear!" he shouted uncomfortably before swapping to their native tongue of sellish. "You are Tiana?"

"I am." she answered in the common word. "I am your daughter, dirty bastard."

"Oho! Get a scratch from one of those Calamonis?"

She looked down to her bleeding side, to her torn robe.

"No matter. I'm with a group called the Orphans. Some of us, we took a tunnel through a cave we found out along the Way. Let us drop a nice little ambush on your captors, here. Anyway, you go down that-a-way," he nodded down a sidelong tunnel, "and you'll find the rest of my squad. There's a couple of combat medics there, they'll patch you up. Get you ready to fight."

"Osmar said you sold me to the Lluevi. I've had enough of your lies."

His smile did not fade, but his eyebrows sprung up again. "Ooooh, Osmar? That's… the ex-prince of Llueves, isn't it? The slateless one? I'm not surprised he'd try to deceive you; two children cast out from their homes by uncaring families… how romantic."

"Fuck your romance." She clutched the broadsword tight. But she did not have the energy to swing, nor to clear the distance between them. The world was growing darker again, even in the cavern's blue magelight.

Vasaad merely lifted the handheld crossbow from his hip and pointed it at her. "Well, I tried. You're no good to me as an insubordinate."

I'd fucking kill you. If only… if I just had one last onze of energy… If only…!

She began her limp toward him…

Clear the dam. Flood the place. Leave the sel breathless.

But he was gone. Perhaps he hadn’t been there at all, just an illusion. She couldn't remember. She couldn't be bothered to care.

Soon enough, she wrapped her calloused red hands around the valve.

Goodbye Calamon.

She twisted. The flow of water increased.

Goodbye, Osmar.

The water ripped into the bridge, trickled through her bloodsoaked boots.

Goodbye, Caloria.

And then the valve gave way. The dam broke against the rushing torrent, the water flooded into the chamber…

And Tiana was swept away.