by Vic Davis
“I wish it were that simple,” signaled Voor. “Mesmer’s are not gods.”
“I would need much more time in close proximity to implant any reasonable suggestions to modify their thought patterns,” added the Codex seemingly amused at Xodd’s naivete.
“Then you cannot add these creatures to our army?” replied Xodd clearly irritated at the news.
“I could dominate a dozen, perhaps more on the instant but it would require a lot of effort. Best to slowly make suggestions and gradually change their modes of thought. Given the time constraints such programming would be impractical.”
Block was growing increasingly anxious at the delay in receiving further orders. “Sir, if you don’t mind. What’s next?”
The question jolted Xodd back into action. “Yes, you are right. To the barracks with our main force. It’s probably in the center with the commander’s quarters. Send a squad to each of the other three gates as well. Quickly now.”
The rest of the outpost was secured with little difficulty and at the cost of only a single casualty during a brief scuffle at one of the gates. Ten or so troops were rounded up from the main barracks without a fight; an officious officer had locked up their short lances in the armory so that they were not easily accessible. The prisoners were lined up and decohered in the training square that formed the nexus of the outpost.
Groz located the Runners’ kennel and easily dispatched the two guards and two runners on station there. The officer in charge of the outpost was apprehended trying to escape and was dealt with quickly and efficiently.
The town was now theirs; the run of good luck did not last, however. The storm was coming; of that, there could be no doubt. A thickness in the ether was steadily increasing: an opaque, oppressive stillness. Xodd was at the kennel with Malador and Groz inspecting their two newly captured Trissa when the news arrived in the form of a very agitated Sergeant Block. “Sir! Captain! We are in trouble. They are here!”
Xodd was exasperated by Block’s continual lack of military decorum and an impeccable inability to keep the panic out of its signaling and off of its form walls. Sadly, there was no easy replacement readily available. “Who is here sergeant? You must be more specific.”
“The council sir! Lots of them coming from Urta’s Rest.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know exactly sir. Thousands I would guess.”
“How did our lookouts not spot their scouts? Surely they must have approached from the road below?”
“I don’t know sir. Nobody reported anything but we haven’t been watching that long.”
“Where is that useless Grivil? Where is Voor?”
“I don’t know, captain.”
Xodd considered its options carefully. “How long until they are here?”
“I’m not certain sir. Kos said the vanguard has just appeared but there are more, lots more. Soon they will be on their way up the incline from the road.”
Once again, the joy of battle in the offing swelled in Xodd’s core. It looks like this might be where it all ends, thought the former Chief Enforcer. Well, so be it. “It’s no use trying to flee. We will make a stand here. Malador! Get your little war wagon to the gate that guards the access to the Pilgrim’s Road. They will approach from that direction. Block! Keep a squad at each of the other gates; send the rest to support Malador’s wagon.”
Xodd watched as Block hovered off without even signaling an acknowledgement of the order. I will decohere that idiot with the last blow of my club if it just panics and runs out one of the back gates, thought Xodd. Malador hovered in place waiting to be dismissed. “Go Malador. We must be quick about this.”
“Yes, my Lord Captain,” signaled Malador. The little siege engineer hovered off with a purpose.
“What do you want me to do, captain?” asked Groz.
“Stay close to me Groz. We may need to try and fight our way out of this if all is lost. Should I fall, you must go on your own to Instrumentality and try to decohere any of the Endarchs that you can get close to.” The mention of the Endarchs triggered an idea in Xodd’s transom. “Baloris! Perhaps that buffoon can still be of some use? Follow me Groz. We have little time.”
They hurried to the center of the outpost to find Voor, Codex, Grivil and the Old Alchemist there waiting. They had heard the news. Xodd instructed Groz to go fetch Baloris, then approached the little clique.
“Captain, there is a council army on our doorstep,” signaled Voor in a rather calm tone given the situation.
“Yes, Pilgrim Voor. This seems to be the end of our association. I should probably use my last energies to decohere you— each one of you and your little friend there too but I am needed elsewhere.”
“All is not lost captain,” assured Voor “We might even use this opportunity to our advantage. A small group of us could slip out during the storm and then evade the enemy. We might be able to find a resonance point to use to get closer to Instrumentality: an unguarded one of course. Or we could risk the shards.”
Xodd ignored the Djenirian. “Grivil, how long until the storm begins?”
The Master Channeler seemed in a mild state of confusion. It stirred as if from some solipsistic reverie. “What’s that? The storm? Yes, soon. But I’m not sure that it is a storm. Well, not a normal storm. I don’t know what it is. An instability. We should find shelter.”
“By all means,” signaled Xodd sardonically, “Please go find a hole and hide. The rest of us will buy you some time before they roust you out.”
Groz emerged from the Overseer’s house with Baloris, Pipper and the guard. The Endarch did not appear to be overjoyed at the prospect of facing its old friends. Xodd motioned with a tendril for them to take the exit from the square that led to the threatened gate, then departed to meet up with them. Voor and the others followed without protest.
They arrived at the main gate to find Malador quietly organizing the defenses with the frenzied assistance of Block. Not bad, thought Xodd. The war wagon was just inside the main gate, the walls were lined with troops armed with lances supported by the odd grenado thrower occasionally interspersed within the line. Malador and the Old Alchemist had been very productive and efficient in creating munitions, admitted Xodd.
“How far out are they? How many?” asked Xodd in a booming signal of command.
The relief of Xodd’s arrival was apparent on Malador’s form walls. “My lord captain, not very far. I was worried that you might not arrive in time. They are almost here. Perhaps a hundred in the vanguard now climbing the slope, but the column is long. There are many more.”
Xodd mounted the ramp that led up to the platform above the gate and beheld the approach of the enemy. They were obviously oblivious to the situation that awaited them. At least two thousand more troops were coming up the road from Urta’s Rest with the intent to make camp on the open areas down below the outpost. Visibility was difficult as the ether seemed to be in the process of congealing into something thick and viscous. The entire effect was oppressive, but it might just give them a chance to bluff their way through this, thought Xodd.
The lead elements of the Council army arrived at the gate and demanded entry. Xodd did not recognize the officer, but it was clearly a sub-lieutenant assigned to whoever was commanding. “Open the gates and make preparations for the arrival of Chief Enforcer Vodd.”
Xodd repressed a howl of laughter. Vodd had been a reject if memories were to be trusted. A sudden thought occurred to Xodd: a change in plans. “Tell the chief enforcer that we have captured the traitor Baloris; After the storm passes, we will send it down to you. Offer Chief Enforcer Vodd our hospitality. It is welcome to shelter here in the outpost. The army will have to remain outside. We will send supplies once the storm abates.”
“I ordered you to open the gate, sergeant,” signaled the sub-lieutenant clearly not paying attention to what Xodd had communicated. “If you make me wait any longer, punishments will be meted out.”
“We have the
traitor Baloris; the compound is on lockdown. We cannot let you in.”
“If you make me repeat my order again, you will be sent to the labs in Instrumentality. Where is your garrison commander?"
“There is no time. The storm is nearly here, and we are on lockdown.”
“You are an ignorant source farming peasant. You will pay dearly for this. Open this gate now! Consider this is a direct order from Chief Enforcer Vodd.”
“I cannot.”
“This is outrageous. You will regret this.” The sub-lieutenant motioned for one of its sergeants. “Bring up the siege ladders. We will take this gate and punish these disobedient mutineers.”
“Your stubborn persistence in refusing to listen is making it impossible for me to control my anger,” mocked Xodd quite enjoying the absurdity of the present situation.
“Huh? Who is this? Open up this gate in the name of Vodd immediately!”
The sub-lieutenant’s intransigence was proving impenetrable, and plans would have to be modified. Xodd gestured to Malador down below making a motion resembling the lobbing of an object with a guide tendril. “Malador, grenados please.”
Malador snapped into action. “Grenadiers! Arm grenades. One, Two, Three, Throw!” There were only ten or so grenadiers chosen especially by Malador and Block to receive the most minimal of training with the time available. They performed adequately now, given the circumstances. Only one of them bobbled the grenado. A quick reaction by a nearby short lance soldier flicked the deadly projectile away onto the roof a nearby building where it exploded harmlessly. The others lofted down onto the enemy column and detonated with some effect.
Xodd watched with amusement as the column reacted in terror to the unprovoked and unanticipated attack. Now was the time to add to the buffeting. Xodd shifted into battle form. “Open the gate. Block! Form the first squad up on me. Follow my war club!”
The gate opened quickly and released its demons. Xodd led the way swinging its war club with joyful abandon. The gratifying crunch of the weapon connecting with the enemy’s form walls was rapturous. They had been taken completely by surprise and now responded poorly: battle forms not assumed, a confusion in the ranks, failure to form up, panic giving way to rout.
The decohering work was done quickly and with brutal efficiency even as more Council troops arrived to make camp below; if any of the enemy recognized what was going on, they gave no indication. Some in the rear of the enemy column had escaped and fled back to the main encampment, observed Xodd; a response would emerge from the writhing mass of soldiers building shelters down below soon enough.
There was a sudden discharge of energy high above close to the ceiling of the node; it reminded Xodd of the power that the Librarian had unleashed on occasion: an arc of pure energy that danced from invisible point to invisible point in the ether. Xodd ordered the squad back into the outpost. As the gate closed behind them, a different yet very familiar disturbance pierced the dampened field of the ether: an unmistakable cry of hunger and rage.
Chapter 16
Convergence
“How many?” inquired Vinks calmly. The army had made good progress down the Pilgrim’s Road in a hurry to find some type of shelter before the storm manifested itself. The ether seemed to grow ever more pregnant with an ominous latent energy. The mood in the command group at the head of the column was tense and pensive. Now, disturbing news had arrived in the form of a scout’s report: a large Council army at an outpost only an eighth of a cycle down the road.
“Difficult to say, general, a significant force, perhaps a thousand,” replied the soldier mounted on its Trissa. “The scout, who reported contact, couldn’t get closer without risking revealment. They are making a large camp on both sides of the Pilgrim’s Road just outside the town. But the odd thing is that the scout thought it perceived some type of source-charge detonations on the far side of the outpost: some type of practice or training perhaps?”
Another arc of energy discharged in the ether above them. The group nervously waited for the effect to dissipate. “That was close,” signaled Pilgrim.
“That might be the source of the scout’s report of detonations,” signaled Breaker.
Steadfast was noticeably jittery, in a state of nervous energization that surpassed its usual unrestrained enthusiasm. “We must seek shelter soon. Something is going to happen. I can feel it building.”
“This will be more than just an ether storm. I’m not sure what exactly, but it will be different,” confirmed Lacks, its transom firmly fixed on watching the ether and the ceiling of the node above them.
“General, we can hunker down here,” signaled Breaker. “Although, the position is exposed and some of our troops will not be able to find shelter. Or we can double time it to the outpost and fight our way inside if necessary. I would suggest we choose one or the other now.”
“If we hasten to the outpost, we will need to either abandon the supply train wagons entirely or order their crews to remain to try to weather the storm in place. I’m not sure I like either of those options,” replied Vinks tersely.
“The outpost will have supplies,” offered Stinky.
General Vinks was never one to vacillate. A decision was made quickly. “We will leave the supply wagons and force march to the outpost. Once we are there we will break into the outpost and fight in close quarters if we have to with the objective of securing any source ration warehouses. Perhaps we can force them out of the walls and make them try and survive the storm in the open.”
Pilgrim wondered out loud: “They might be trying to pack all their soldiers into the outpost right now. Surely they wouldn’t let them be caught out and weather the storm in the open?”
“It doesn’t matter. We will roust them out even if we have to destroy the place in the process. Then we’ll cling to the ruins until the storm breaks,” laughed Vinks.
Tencius and Bleaks had the entire column underway on the double time with admirable efficiency. The Drothgar were first unharnessed and set free so that they would not panic in the storm and overturn the wagons or drag them away from the road. With any luck they would not wander far and survive the blistering of the ether.
They were almost upon the outpost when the storm suddenly materialized in full force. One moment they could vaguely see its outline up above on the small hill that it dominated, the next moment visibility was cut to almost nothing. Pilgrim perversely felt a sense of relief. The sight of the large host of Council troops mulling around on the road ahead had been disconcerting. While the majority had elected to ride the storm out under their wagons or in small makeshift shelters, others had seemed to be in a total panic swarming and swirling without any coordination. Some were clearly trying to climb the rise and enter the outpost via several gates. There would be a serious house to house fight once they arrived, thought Pilgrim.
The vanguard of Vinks’s army pressed blindly up the incline sticking to a worn path that presumably led to a gate, each soldier following and staying close to the one in front of them. The shape of something tall suddenly loomed before them: the outlines of a wall. They had reached the gate; it was shut and locked but unguarded. Or so they thought. As Pilgrim and Stinky hovered to inspect the large door, a grenado fell down from the covered archway above to greet them. Pilgrim reacted instinctively, speeding up its processing to slow down time, picking up the grenado and depositing it at the base of the double door.
Pilgrim was back at Stinky’s side to deaccelerate its processing and return to normal time. “Shield!” yelled Pilgrim. Stinky responded instantly with a shimmering wall in front of them. The explosion blew the gate door wide open and deflected around the barrier. Stinky dismissed the shield as if it were all in a cycle’s work. “After you, Pilgrim.”
Pilgrim signaled back to Vinks with a booming amplitude: “The gate is open!”
Vinks hovered forward with an expression of concern on its form walls. The last thing it had witnessed was Pilgrim and Stinky leave to examine the ob
scured gate, then there had been a shimmer followed by an explosion. Vinks seemed pleased with the jagged opening where the doors had once been. “We are going in. We’ll converge on the center of the town. Remember the recognition signal is ‘Hegemon!’”
Pilgrim went first, followed by the special assault group that would make the direct drive into the center of the outpost to capture the HQ. The troops following behind would fan out and occupy buildings clearing them one by one, halting to seek shelter from the storm when necessary.
In addition to Pilgrim, the special assault group consisted of Stinky, Zuur, Breaker, Humble and its two friends: Mong and the tamed Omega. Sticking tight on them was a group of Tencius’s Hegemon Commandos with orders to lend support when needed and clean up anything left behind. They had debated the merits of bringing the artifact weapons and decided to take one of the energy rifles as a precaution. Stinky had not even objected to serving as its custodian, as long as it did not have to carry anything else. The rifle now hung across his diminutive ovoid form secured firmly by a flexible flow battle vest.
Pilgrim led the way down a main thoroughfare aiming directly for the center of the outpost. The storm had now reached a ferocious intensity; arcs of incandescent energy and a blistering whirl of the ether made progress down the street almost impossible.
Pilgrim halted and signaled at the highest amplitude it could muster hoping to be detected over the din: “We can’t go any farther, I think we should find shelter and work our way forward through the buildings. If we encounter the enemy outside, we won’t be able to tell friend from foe.”
Breaker agreed. “It can’t be that much farther. We’ll go house to house and move in short bursts.”
Pilgrim groped to find a nearby door; it was locked. A highly energized tendril sliced through the bar securing the door and it opened easily; there was nobody inside. Pilgrim entered and the assault group followed. Breaker directed the Hegemon commandos to do likewise on the other side of the street.
