by Eddie Han
“Soon, you will be dead.” Magog started around the desk toward Yusef. Yusef began to heave for air. His eyes, wide and desperate, followed Magog around the desk. Magog came alongside him and whispered into his ear. “I warned you that I would undermine all who would profit from this war. I warned you and your Shaldea. How strange it is to see you now, wearing the sacred adornments of the Benesanti. Oh, how far you’ve come from the days of riding the Saracen as your people’s deliverer. If they could see you now—working with Enlil Fairchild in the guise of the cloth. The irony!” Magog snickered. After removing the dart from Yusef Naskerazim’s chest, Magog stepped toward the door.
Unable to resist, he stopped. Once more, he turned to Yusef who was slumped back in his chair. His head was hanging to the side. The eyes were open but Magog could not be sure whether Yusef was still there. His breaths were shallow. They could have been as much a result of lingering reflexes as they were living breaths.
“You asked for justice, Mister Naskerazim. This world—Parabolis—this is perfect justice: that we, the unjust, are condemned to live an unjust existence. You are no more innocent than this Republic you’ve cursed. And that you’ve crawled into the heart of it to die here is fitting. Go now, naked before your Maker, and be judged.”
CH 40
LIVING FOREST
Aday later than Valkyrie had predicted, they were in the borderlands. The region was noticeably cooler. The prevailing mist they had grown accustomed to since traveling along the coast seemed to linger deeper into the day. The climate changed, but the severity of the terrain remained the same. The dense forestry and the rugged topography of the Wilds extended to the borderlands.
A mile from the Ancile, Valkyrie stopped and held his hand up.
“Hold it,” he whispered.
Everyone froze.
“What is it?” asked Alaric.
Valkyrie slowly crouched down and parted the fern at his feet. He fingered what appeared to be an iron mechanism. There was a snap. A noosed rope went flying up into the air.
He looked back at the others. “We’re not alone.”
Then they heard a voice not far off in the distance. “Damn right ye not!”
Alaric, Selah, and Dale all drew their swords and carefully stepped toward the voice. Valkyrie drew his bow and aimed an arrow toward heavy foliage over their shoulders.
“Drop ye weapons.”
“Like hell,” Valkyrie said, still not seeing who spoke.
“Ye got twenty rifles trained on ye, sandworm. If yon arrow flies, the sound of rifle fire will be the last thing ye hear.”
Selah and Alaric lowered their weapons. Dale followed suit.
“We are emissaries from the Holy Order of the Benesanti,” said Alaric.
“Then tell yon Shaldean companion to lower his aim lest ye all suffer for it.”
“Charles?”
The ranger reluctantly eased the tension on his bow and dropped the arrow. The forest immediately came alive around them. Not five feet from where they stood, shrubs levitated from the earth on the helmets of soldiers. Like paper cutouts, some of the vegetation strolled out from the dense foliage. Men dressed in ghillie suits. Even their faces were caked over with mud. There were only ten of them, but they were each armed with rifles. The squad leader had in his hand a large war hammer. As he walked past, Dale noticed the weathered red of a Republican Guard’s uniform below his camouflage.
“What brings ye this way?” asked the squad leader, propping his hammer over his shoulder.
“We’re looking for safe passage,” Valkyrie tried, before he was cut off.
“Nay was I addressing ye, sandworm.”
The squad leader looked at Alaric and the sword at his feet. “By what order of business have ye been sent into these Wilds, templar?”
“To escort this cleric to Valorcourt and make an appeal for peace,” Alaric replied.
“Templar, my ass,” said another soldier. “He sounds Balean. Looks like we got ourselves some coalition spies.”
The squad leader then began eyeing Selah.
“If nay ye be a templar, then mayhap yon lass nay be a cleric. In which case, a party we be having tonight with her.”
The other soldiers hooted and hollered.
“That’s a cleric of the Benesanti you’re talking about, soldier,” said Dale.
“Aye? And as far as I be concerned, she’s got a hole that needs a plugging which I intend—”
Before he could finish, Dale jumped forward and punched him in the mouth. The squad leader stumbled to the ground. Two of his comrades grabbed Dale from behind and kicked the back of his knees. The others raised their rifles and fixed them on Alaric and Valkyrie.
The squad leader spat out some blood. He got to his feet and bellowed a crazed laugh. Looking at Dale with a bloody smile, he cast his hammer aside, and instructed his men, “Let him go. I like this one.”
“You’re wearing the uniform of a Republican Guard,” said Dale. “If they’re yours, then you’re in violation of the Guard’s code of conduct, Sergeant.”
“Am I?” The squad leader punched Dale in the stomach. Dale fell to his knees. Leaning down, the squad leader then mocked him. “How about now, chatterbox? Am I still in violation?”
He took a step back to drive his heel into Dale’s face. Just as he took a big step forward, the squad leader was sent flying from a push kick delivered in his flank. Standing there was his commanding officer with a reconnaissance detachment of six men.
“You got a reason for beating on my kid brother, Sergeant Bixby?” asked Major Darius Sunday.
The sergeant scrambled to his feet. With a dumbfounded expression, he muttered, “Bloody hell, sir. Nay did I know—”
“Nobody hits my brother but me, is that clear?”
“Aye, sir.”
Dale jumped to his feet and hugged Darius. With an embarrassed chuckle, Darius reluctantly hugged Dale back. With his head on Darius’ shoulder, Dale remembered where he was, the people around him and quickly pulled back.
Darius with his hand on Dale’s shoulder gave the men orders. “Take the sandworm and get your men back to camp.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Hey, wait. Dare, he’s with us. Charles is a good guy,” Dale tried on behalf of Valkyrie.
“The Shaldean? He’s with you?”
“He’s no Shaldea. He’s a ranger.”
“So?”
“He killed Balean scouts to save me. I owe him,” Dale pleaded.
“Look, we’ll get this all sorted out when we get back to camp,” Darius replied. To assure him, he instructed the sergeant not to mistreat him. Valkyrie was bound with rope and led onto an unmarked trail with the squad. Darius looked at Dale. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. Dare, you got to let Charles go. You can’t leave him with that guy.”
“He’s going to follow orders. Don’t worry about him. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I came to find you.”
“What the hell for?”
“I don’t know. We heard the Ancile was taken. The wires were down, so I couldn’t call.”
“You wanted to check up on me?” Darius shook his head and looked at his kid brother. Feeling as if he might cry, he wrapped his arm around Dale in a semi-headlock. “It’s damn good to see you. Uncle Turkish and everyone else okay?”
“I don’t know,” Dale replied. “Carnaval City’s gone.”
“So is the country.”
“Pharundelle?”
“An unconditional surrender just a few days after the initial attack. Quickest in history. I’m guessing they lost their will when they saw those flying ships. I don’t blame them.”
“But if Pharundelle surrendered, what’re you guys doing here?”
“No one said we had to take it lying down.” Darius then gave Alaric and Selah a wary look. “What’s going on with them?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. These are my friends. That’s Alaric Linhelm of the Vail Templar and Pr
ioress Selah Evenford.”
“You’ll forgive my men if they’re a bit suspicious of wanderers. We meant the Holy Order no disrespect. Major Darius Sunday.”
“Well met, Major,” said Alaric.
“You are Balean, then?”
“Our allegiance is to the Holy Order of the Benesanti.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Yes. By birth, we are Balean.”
“What brings you this way?”
“We are on a mission to Valorcourt. We intend to appeal to the duke for an immediate and unconditional withdrawal of his forces.”
Darius scoffed. “Good luck with that.” Looking back at his recon team, Darius said, “Let’s get moving, boys. Sir Linhelm, Prioress, if you’ll come with us.”
Darius’ recon team led them through the growth along the unmarked trail. As they walked, Dale asked Darius, “Where’d you find that asshole anyway?”
“Who? Bixby? He’s not so bad. Definitely the kind of guy you want on your team when you go into a fight. He’s a Berserker.”
“That explains a lot.”
The Berserkers were the nomadic tribesmen of the Hesperian Highlands, known for their passion for a brawl, brute strength, and heroism on the battlefield.
“We lost a lot of good men during the invasion. We’re thankful for the ones we have.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you guys.”
“I’m not. In fact, you shouldn’t even be here now. We’ll get you fed and rested. Tomorrow morning, I’m sending you back.”
“Like hell you are.”
“We need to get word to Brookhaven.”
“Send a runner. I’m here to watch your back.”
Darius shot his brother a sideways glance then shook his head. “Stubborn shit.”
CH 41
THE GUERRILLA RESISTANCE
The makeshift camp was a scantily supplied gathering point for a Republican Guard platoon sewn together from survivors of various battalions. In the camp, there were also a handful of irregulars—armed civilians and scattered members of self-appointed militia who were forced to flee from their homes in nearby villages.
“This everyone?” asked Dale.
“Pretty much.”
“No reinforcements?”
“Other than the occasional irregulars, no. Everyone’s rallying in Brookhaven. We heard they’ve set up a provisional government down there under some senator. Can you believe it?”
A young soldier approached Darius. “We’re all prepped, sir.”
“Good. Be ready to move out by midnight. Oh, and Mills, this is my kid-brother, Dale.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Dale.”
Dale saw by the bars on his collar that the soldier was the same rank as he had been when he left the Republican Guard—a lieutenant. Mills’ face was ashen but his eyes had a fire in them. That fire had been long extinguished in Dale. Looking into those eyes, Dale envied this lieutenant.
“Get the templar and cleric situated, will you?” Darius instructed. “The sandworm, too. Post a guard and keep Bixby away from him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Darius then showed Dale into the tent that served as their command center.
“So you’re in charge?” asked Dale.
“The colonel was killed in the assault,” he explained. “We’re keeping rank, but we’re not under the flag anymore. You’re looking at the first resistance.”
“How many, exactly?”
“Twenty-four riflemen and twenty-five light infantry.”
“That’s a full platoon.”
“Forty-nine able-bodied men willing to fight on.”
“Fifty,” Dale replied, gripping his sword.
“We’ll see about that. Lemme see that thing.”
Dale drew his modified sword and handed it to Darius.
“The hell you do to it? Feels light. Incredible balance.” Darius then took his own standard steel sword and offered it to Dale in exchange. “Here, you can have mine.”
“Nice try. Give it back.”
“You gotta introduce me to the smith who did this.”
Dale started to tell Darius about Sparrow. The talk of the sword quickly transitioned to all the strange events leading up to the invasion. Dale told him everything: The Carousel Rogues, being reunited with his childhood friend, the warning, the inquisition. If it was anyone but Dale telling him, Darius would not have believed half of what he heard. Dale went on to tell him about his flight out of the city, how, as he rode out, he saw the skyships.
Then Darius told Dale of the assault on the Ancile. How the skyships had rolled over them. As they tried to make sense of what they were seeing, the Shaldean Riders were already at the gate, followed closely by an overwhelming Balean ground force. He explained how he and his men barely escaped, fleeing into the Wilds—how they’d been on the run for a week before finally regrouping. After setting up a camp, they began to launch attacks.
“Guerrilla warfare. Hit and run. We use the Wilds as cover and attack patrols when we can, disrupt supply lines. But this, this is going to be our biggest operation yet,” he added, holding up a large leaf.
It was part of a crude diagram made up of stones, twigs, and leaves. They marked the position of the Balean forces—checkpoints, patrol and supply routes. Darius placed the large leaf back on the diagram.
“What, a leaf?” asked Dale.
“The skyship.”
“There’s only one?”
“Once the Ancile fell, the rest of the fleet was sent off. Apparently to Carnaval City and Pharundelle.”
“So what’s your plan?” Dale asked.
“We’re going to bring it down.”
“How?”
“We got a good look at it. We think it’s just a boat hanging from a large hot air balloon. So we’re going to pop it.”
“And how are you going to manage that?”
Darius opened a crate on the other side of the tent. “It’s incendiary ammo. Raided it last week. They’re like miniature missiles. Instead of delivering a slug, the bullet delivers a small explosive. Upon impact, it’s supposed to detonate.” Darius closed the crate and returned to the diagram. “The only problem is, it’s currently out of range. We’re going to have to lower it. It’s tethered to a windlass on the west end of the Ancile. If we can wind the winch just enough…”
When Dale had seen the naval ships enter the bay just off of Carnaval City, he had given up all hope for the city. The thought of fighting against the invasion never even entered his mind. With the city’s fall a foregone conclusion, Dale had quickly shifted to thoughts of Darius. For a moment, he had ventured off the path of saving his family to explore the possibility of warning the city at large. The exploration led to nothing but trouble. As he rode out of Carnaval City, he had chastised himself for getting caught up in Mosaic’s idealism.
Once he found Darius, he was confronted once again with the ideals: patriotism, country, honor. Even after the fall of the Republic’s symbol of invincibility, Darius was undeterred. Against impossible odds, he was still leading men. He was still fighting. Dale was inspired by his brother’s defiant attitude.
“So what do you think?”
“Sounds risky,” Dale replied. “Where do you want me?”
Darius chuckled. Then he sat down and took a sip from a tin of cold coffee. “You know, the last time I saw you was before you left the Guard.”
“I know, but—”
Darius held up his hand.
“Let me finish. I regretted not telling you that I’m proud of you. And I know Dad would’ve been proud of you too.”
Dale threw up his hands. “What the hell you talking about?”
“Hey, will you shut up and let me finish? This isn’t easy, okay? You remember what Dad used to say? ‘It’s better to be the head of a hare than the tail of a tiger.’ Well, I think that’s what you’ve become. A leader.”
“Okay, Major.”
Darius glared at Dale. “Tha
t doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a title. I’ve always been the tail. I followed orders, always did what I was told and what was expected of me. But you—you’ve been the head of your own life. That’s why you don’t have to do this. You said you weren’t like me. You’re not a soldier. And you were right. You’re better than that.”
“You got irregulars out there who aren’t soldiers either. This is my fight as much as it is theirs.”
With an expression of resignation, Darius said, “Let’s get some warm food in your belly. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Dare, forget the talk. Just brief me. When’s the strike?”
Darius shook his head. “Tomorrow night,” he relented.
“Good. Where do you want me?”
“Take a seat.”
Darius brought in some hot coffee and meal rations, and laid out their strategy.
“We’re going to stage a diversion,” he continued. “A raid from the east end led by Mills and his squad. My recon team will take the west flank and access the windlass. Once the ship’s lowered to range, all fireteams will unload on the balloon from just outside of the Lowers. The irregulars will be on standby and fill in the holes. Supply, reinforcement, auxiliaries, the basics. That’s where I want you.”
“On standby? No, I’m going in with you.”
“If something happens to me, I need someone who will know how to pull the men back in an orderly retreat. Besides, the irregulars don’t have a field commander. Most of them don’t even have battle experience. You’re a civilian, you lead them.”
“Assign that asshole Berserker to them.”
“I am. In fact, I’m assigning him to you. He’s going to watch your back.”
“Hey, I don’t need a babysitter.”
“It’s either this or you’re on a horse early morning.”
Dale sighed. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll lead the irregulars.”
“Good. As for your friends, none of them are going anywhere until after the operation. I don’t care how close you guys are. At the end of the day, they’re still Balean and an Emmainite. And we can’t risk any leaks. They’re free to move out when we do.”
