Vegetation crashed. Ingar was blundering out of the undergrowth to join them. “You two are scheming to get rid of her.”
“She’s a—” began Zahna.
“—warlock and doesn’t know it,” said Torstag, suddenly not wanting to burst his friend’s bubble.
“Well that’s obvious,” said Ingar.
“I saw links binding her to something in that tomb,” said Torstag.
“She has no idea,” said Zahna. “This Pale of Miss Millicent’s must be a Reservation.”
“To keep people in?” asked Ingar.
Zahna shook her head. “To keep Gremlins out. Without them, people rely on machines and forget all about magic. Even so, perhaps Miss Millicent can help us get inside.”
“Absolutely not,” said Ingar. “She deserves to get back to her life. You don’t know what it’s like—”
“To be taken away from your life by powerful forces outside your control,” completed Zahna. “Yes I do. But—”
“No buts,” said Ingar.
Zahna shrugged. “Cleaning out the tomb will break its power over her. We’ll do that without her help then get her to safety. Right now we need to make camp and recover from the journey.”
Ingar frowned at her. “Who died and put you in charge?”
“I did,” said Torstag. “Apparently.”
Chapter 35: Attack of the Flying Tooth Garden!
The sky above the edge of the Flying Tooth Garden changed from the blue pink of the last realm—a place of calm seas and palm groves—to a wall of black mountainsides.
Translocation complete. Flying Tooth Garden is hungry. 0 of 4 translocations available. 1000 Sacrifices required.
Gronchard squared his shoulders. Judging from their body language, his Saints had not much liked his gamble; rushing the Flying Tooth Garden through three all-but empty Realms, gambling everything on finding more sacrifices in this one. However, the charts indicated the city of Ironhaven was sited near this ley nexus. How hard could it be to round up a few sacrifices?
One of the seraphim pointed North. “Divinity! Look!”
A big stone appeared over the rim of the Flying Tooth Garden. It seemed to hover for a moment, then dropped.
Gronchard stared at it stupidly.
The stone fell a few tens of feet and crushed a patch of squirming shrubs. The tooth plants screamed.
The Peril Gong resounded across garden.
The mingled sounds dispelled Gronchard’s mental paralysis. He left the balcony and strode out for the the bridge that connected his Heaven with the Temple of Incarnation. As he crossed the colonnaded span, he glanced north.
Another stone followed the first, then another.
Each was almost at the top of its arc as it passed the rim, so did not have much momentum when it struck the garden. Even so, Saint Incarnation should be responding by now.
Gronchard swept into the sanctuary in time to see a seraphim cast a handful of grains over the central sandbox.
As they fell, some grains stuck and outlining a translucent phantom of the Flying Tooth Garden hanging between steep mountain sides. One wall of the valley was bare except for a scattering of trees. The other bore a vast city, well-guarded by thick ramparts and dozens of sturdy bastions, each of which bore a huge trebuchet.
Form 5. Performing Cynosure at Level 9.
All eyes turned to Gronchard. All activity ceased.
He snapped, “Get back to casting sand, boy!”
Another cast of sand and great stones now hung in the air like wingless hummingbirds. On the bastions and long trebuchet arms were caught frozen in the moment after the slings whipped their missiles high into the air.
Gronchard’s eyes narrowed. Something was missing. “Why aren’t we shooting back?”
Saint Incarnation bowed. “The range is too great, Divinity.”
“Well then,” blazed Gronchard, “get us closer.”
“We can’t, Divinity, not without risking grounding. We need more sacrifices.”
Without answering, Gronchard strolled to the observation platform on the far side of the chamber. It looked out onto the Garden’s central well. Hundreds of feet deep, and wide enough to contain a small town, the well framed a limited view of the landscape below the Flying Tooth Garden.
At this moment, a foaming river ran down the middle of the valley. Rising up on either side were terraced orchards and stone-walled rice fields.
“Who are these people to defy our will?”
“The Republic of Ironhaven, Divinity,” said Saint Prescience. “They have grown arrogant on the riches won by mining these mountains.”
“None defy me,” said Gronchard. “Saint Incarnation—the denizens of the Immaculate Hall of the Holy Concubines will no doubt gladly give their lives so we can prevail. Send men to make that so—tell them no need to wire the jaws shut this time, since the need is pressing.”
Saint Incarnation despatched a Seraphim.
Gronchard’s brow furrowed. He’d wiled away long hours in the Immaculate Hall and it did seem a waste—his surgeons had spent months sculpting the concubines into the likenesses of Angelica’s various vessels.
However, his sensed that it might be difficult to explain the concubines to Angelica herself, so this seemed a fitting resolution to the problem.
The Flying Tooth Garden has been fed. Some movement now possible.
That was quick! The shrubs must be sentient enough to know they were in peril—a thought worth investigating later…or did he already know all about that?
“Set course for that city. Position the Garden directly above its heart.”
It would be much harder—probably impossible—for the enemy stone casters to shoot vertically.
Current Form 5. Performing Warlord at Level 7. Saint Incarnation barked orders. The Flying Tooth Garden swung into motion.
The ground below the Well slid past.
It wasn’t going much faster than walking pace.
A great crash came from outside.
The seraphim cast another handful of sand.
Another trebuchet had come into play. This one stood in its own plaza in the midst of the buildings. It was had a shorter arm than those on the wall, but was build far more robustly, with a massive counterweight. Clearly this was designed to throw very large boulders.
There were also now little smoky streaks marring the space between the city and the Flying Tooth Garden.
“The enemy have bolt throwers,” said Gronchard, since nobody else seemed to understand what they were seeing. “They are shooting incendiary missiles.”
“The fire fighting companies are already on standby, Divinity,” said Saint Incarnation.
“Of course,” said Gronchard.
He considered the phantom city. Did he want to add it to his Magisterium, or merely harvest sacrifices?
Another crash. Tiles fell from the ceiling.
Using Feat Airborne Assault 3/6, cost 1 Potestas. 5 of 6 remaining.
Result = 7 (Performance) +2 (Feat) -1 (Luck) = Planning at Level 8.
Now he could see several options.
“Saint Incarnation, attend me.”
The young saint edged a pace toward the sand box.
Gronchard sighed. “Fool. Come in close by me, I don’t bite.”
Saint Incarnation obeyed but did not speak.
Gronchard nodded. Unlike his veteran predecessor, this Saint Incarnation knew to keep his mouth shut and listen to the wisdom of his Living God. “The objective,” said Gronchard, “is force the city into submission without overly damaging its ability to produce revenues.”
“Yes, Divinity.”
“So, the cherubim will swarm the siege engines. Once they are engaged, half the Myrmidons will winch down. Once the Myrmidons are deployed, the cherubim will break contact and sweep the road, forcing all refugees to travel south, up into that steep the pass. The resulting fatigue will make it easy for us to harvest them.”
Saint Incarnation was regarding him str
angely.
Gronchard had seen the look before, every time he’d had to go through adolescence. People would see the skinny youth and forget that his age was measured in tens of thousands of years. He had learned—if he remembered correctly—to savour that moment, rather than punish its belatedness. After all, if he had Saint Incarnation executed, he would have to go through the same tedious process with his successor.
“Go on then,” said Gronchard, “make it so.”
The distinctive thud of the Garden’s own artillery resounded in the temple.
Gronchard straightened from the sandbox and gestured at the sand seraphim. “Go on then.”
The grains fell, capturing the Tooth Garden’s engines in the act of reloading, and stones falling and bouncing around the city’s heavy trebuchet.
The gunner captains had chosen their target well. That had to be the only engine that could attack the Garden until it was almost over the city.
A trumpet blew. Gronchard turned to watch a flock of cherubim dive down the well. With good fortune they should silence the heavy trebuchet.
He strode over to the observation platform and realised he felt more truly himself than he had since coming to conciousness in the Flaying Room.
He’d left himself notes, of course, and among other things they had advised him to leave off conquest until his vessel was at least twenty one years of age. However, clearly he had been too cautious.
At last the Flying Tooth Garden moved over the city.
The light was fading now. The darkened townscape was alive with flickering lights.
“Saint Incarnation! What is this? I did not order the use of incendiaries!”
The military saint stammered for a few moments then said, “They are not ours, Divinity.”
“What then?” asked Gronchard. “Do they burn their own city?”
“I…I don’t…” began the Saint. “They’re getting bigger!”
Not bigger, closer.
The lights swelled as they rose.
“Fire lanterns, Divinity,” said the Saint.
“I can see that,” snapped Gronchard. “Do something about them.”
The Saint ran to the edge of the platform and bellowed, “Archers!”
There were, of course, archers stationed to prevent a counter-attack via the well. These now loosed their arrows.
The angle, however, was clearly difficult until the last moment, and the steam of paper balloons fast moving. When arrows did strike, they passed right through, and the balloon kept rising.
One exploded, scattering hissing embers. Some in turn struck other balloons, which burst into flames.
Most passed through the well into the sky above the Flying Tooth Garden. Some flashed as they climbed and more embers rained down. Others drifted out of view over the deck.
Bells rang.
2 Roofs on fire in main plaza. 3 Tooth Plants damaged by embers.
“Divinity,” said Saint Incarnation, “the fire lanterns are raining embers on the deck.”
“Fool, I know—what is that?”
A glowing ball trailed fire as it whooshed past up the well.
Flaming Carcass.
Gronchard leaned over the rail and tried to pick out where it had come from.
There was an odd timber construction directly below.
Incendiary has struck Tooth Plant bed. Fire damage. Risk of fire spreading
“Drop rocks,” ordered Gronchard.
“But the city…” began Saint Incarnation. “Yes Divinity.”
He barked orders. Rocks started tumbling back down the well.
The launcher disgorged a ball of burning material. This one bumped the side of the well, rose high, then fell back the way it had come.
It landed in a plaza, casting long shadows on the rocks that lay scattered around the siege machine. Oddly, none of them had actually landed near it.
As Gronchard looked on, more rocks fell, all just happening to miss the one spot where they needed to strike.
“There’s a wizard down there. Redirect the cherubim!” ordered Gronchard. “Silence that engine. Bring me the wizard’s corpse for my mausoleum.”
Saint Incarnation folded his arms and stood in silence for a moment. “It is done, Divinity.”
Golden-winged cherubim swept into view over the rooftops, converging on the weapon. Something broke their rush. Individuals flitted off in the wrong direction, or crashed into rooftops.
“Killer wasps, Divinity.”
“What?” Rage boiled through Gronchard. “Lower two companies of Myrmidons onto the plaza.”
“But the enemy engines…” Saint Incarnation caught Gronchard’s look. “Yes, Divinity.”
A short pause, then two boxy platforms dropped through the well, winches paying out double cables as they fell. They braked as they approached the ground.
A cable snapped. One of the platform plummeted. It smashed into the plaza, scattering Myrmidons like a burst coin purse.
197 Myrmidons killed. 3 Wounded.
A fifth of his fighting force wiped out just like that.
Another burning missile launched. It lost speed as it climbed, then fell back down to—somehow—land on the deck of the surviving elevator platform, the one that was packed with Gronchard’s Myrmidons.
Chaos irrupted. Burning men leapt over the side. Fire flared on the cables. The platform dropped and landed near the first one. This time, armoured figures crawled away from the burning wreckage.
102 Myrmidons killed. 98 Wounded.
Gronchard felt it like a punch in the gut.
Current Form 5. Performing Theurge at Level 9.
Using Great Miracle Salt City 2/6, cost 3 Potestas, 6 Vitality, 6 Will.
Result = 9 (Performance) + 1 (Luck) -5 (Base Difficulty) = 5.
Effect = Salination Attack level 5.
Average Will in the Target is 4.
Below, it was as if a sudden snow fall had dusted the city white. The big stone thrower collapsed, sending out an expanding cloud of dust. Cherubim dropped. Roofs shattered.
City: Around 2500 mortalities and 2500 survivors.
Cherubim: 154 casualties. 44 remaining
3 of 6 Potestas remaining.
-2 of 4 Vitality remaining. You have Hindrance "Debilitated”
Toughness 2 Surpassed twice. You have 4 Wounds.
You have Hindrances "Wounded,” "Stunned” and "Dazed”. Form Lost. No Stunts available.
-3 of 3 Will remaining. You have Hindrances "Discombobulated”, "Mentally Depleted”.
“Uh, wow,” said Gronchard, legs buckling under him. “Uh.”
You have hindrances "Debilitated”, "Wounded”, "Stunned”, "Dazed”, "Discombobulated”, "Mentally Depleted” conferring a penalty of -7.
Hands caught him, kept him upright.
The noise of the Sanctum pressed in. There were orders he should give, decisions he should make.
“Divinity?” prompted Saint Incarnation. “What now?”
“I…uh…,” said Gronchard. “I need to…uh…rest. Take me to my…Angelica…” His brow furrowed. Where was he supposed to be? “Concubines. Take me to my concubines.”
“You had them sacrificed, Divinity.”
“I meant to my Heaven! Take me to my Heaven!”
Will -7.
You still have Hindrances "Debilitated”, "Wounded”, "Stunned”, "Dazed”, "Discombobulated”, "Mentally Depleted” conferring a penalty of -7.
“Quick,” said somebody. Was it Saint Prescience? “Carry his Divinity to his Throne of Praise.”
“But Angelica…”
Saint Incarnation saluted. “Do not worry, Divinity. We will harvest the sacrifices then get under way. We should be at the Tomb of the Ice Queen within a day.”
Chapter 36: Tarpit Tomb
Morning found Millicent standing on the cliff top where it overlooked the approach to the tomb, nursing a fresh cup of Miss Zahna’s tea. Now the insects had stopped pestering her, the jungle’s deep green and lush prima
ry colours were quite enchanting, but not as enchanting as the delightful trio of youths trying to get the tomb door open.
The one with the sword had nice muscles, but had eyes only for the girl…
Warrior Level 3. Marked.
…which seemed reasonable since she had a certain magnetism that belied her years.
Virago Level 1.
But no!
Silence!
No hearing voices today.
Millicent really didn’t want to have to take a pill. Even if the girl was wrong about the effect of the humidity—there’d been something shifty about her when she said that—it was actually a relief to be able to hear her voice properly, rather than have it mumbling in the background like an attic-bound mad aunt.
An insect buzzed past.
Millicent took a good gulp of the tea. It wasn’t coffee, but it packed a punch—well to be quite honest it tasted completely foul, as if made from mashed fern and random moss and mushrooms and goodness knows what—but it really did seem to do the job.
In the same way, the red haired boy—Ingar—wasn’t her usual lost young scholar type—the kind who’d blink at her like a rabbit in a night hunter’s lantern—but there was an alluring vulnerability behind his cheeky persona. It was also…intriguing to watch him run his hands over the stone door and its frame. It added a certain frisson that he was a member of a party of rogues who could have leapt from the pages of some penny dreadful.
Millicent told herself that she wasn’t quite spying on them, just observing from where they weren’t looking.
Ingar stepped back from the stone door, hands raised in defeat.
Level 4 Burglar. Youth, amorous, frustrated.
Oh do be quiet.
“There’s no way to open this fucking thing,” said Ingar. “Are you sure it’s even a real door?”
The Jungle Tomb of the Ice Queen (The Flying Tooth Garden Book 1) Page 22
