The Vitalis Chronicles: Steps of Krakador

by Swanson, Jay

  “I'm afraid I must agree with my tribunes.” Rendin turned to Rain. “Divide your outriders into seven squads, and send them to discover the source of the smoke.”

  “Brother,” Rain protested quietly. “Please, trust me. That is where it will be.”

  “I've made my decision.” The king turned to face his counselors. “The scouting parties will leave at daybreak. We will mobilize the army to be ready to follow on their heels. The van will secure the pass, and when the location of the fortress is discovered we will move the rest of the army into the mountains and strike.”

  The rest of the logistics and planning blurred past Rain. She felt sick to her stomach. Betrayed. Even though she knew it was her brother's right and responsibility to make the decision, she knew it was the wrong one. Something was afoot with Hembrody, their supply line was threatened from within, and now they were marching blindly into the enemy's controlled territory. She feared there was more going on than met the eye, and they were ignorant to its presence. Finally Rendin was dismissing everyone save Sir Bramblethorn and Sir Beldin.

  “I want one of you to keep watch over Hembrody for me,” he said quietly. “I don't know what he intends, but I fear I can no longer put my faith in him.”

  “I don't think you ever truly could,” Bramblethorn laughed.

  “I will go,” Sir Beldin offered up.

  “No.” Bramblethorn put a thick hand up. “I'll go. You need to lead your men into those mountains. I'm old and fat, and sitting around heckling Hembrody sounds like just the way to spend a war for an old man.”

  “Just keep an eye on him,” Rendin said. “Report anything suspicious to me.”

  “And if he steps over the line?”

  “I can't imagine that it's even remotely possible.” Rendin's words lacked conviction. “But if he were to betray us...”

  Bramblethorn smiled. “I'll replace that stick up his arse with something much sharper.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  “THE CENTRAL HARBOR IS BASICALLY A FUNNEL,” ANDERS KEATON EXPLAINED AS THE TRUCK ROLLED CLOSER TO THE DEFENSES. “The Magi didn't raise cliffs across it, but pushed them out into the ocean and then raised them up onto shore at an angle until they came within a few hundred yards of each other. From the beach to the top of the slope it's roughly a half mile, but from the entrance of the cliffs out at sea it's almost two.”

  “You've been there before?” Saltman asked from the driver's seat.

  “I've just read about them. No one's actually manned them in decades.”

  “So what are the defenses that everyone talks about then?”

  “They're basically reinforced artillery bunkers, designed to shield the gun crews while they unload on the boats and soldiers below. They ring the cliffs all the way out into the water.”

  “And that's where the Demon invaded?”

  “His admiral had no choice. The Magi could see where he was headed and opened the way for him there so he wouldn't even try going anywhere else. I don't think the monsters he had on board exactly kept well at sea, and he probably didn't know just how bad the snare was.”

  “But Silverdale knows.” Saltman shook his head. “Why on earth would they land their ships there? It sounds like a death trap on an apocalyptic scale.”

  “They aren't going to sail past it without being noticed, for one, so any attempt on Brenton will have no element of surprise, and they'd clash with Brenton's coast guard long before they ever made the Delta. No one had been keeping the defenses up until recently, in any case, so odds are that they don't even believe the emplacements to be fully functional.”

  “They could march north,” Saltman said.

  “Which in a way I hope they do, but carrying troops by sea will be faster, and if they do it, we can just surrender to them after we take out Merodach.”

  The long, gray structures appeared on the horizon in the early morning haze as the truck lumbered on down the road. Keaton had decided expediency was more important than the risk of their hidden truck being discovered. There would be enough trucks heading this way soon as it was, seeing the early movements of engineers prepping to continue their repairs.

  “Blowing defenses like that sounds stupid, especially if they won't accept our surrender.”

  “We'll only blow the bunker that Phelts marks as the one Merodach is in.”

  “Still, setting live charges in all of them sounds risky. What if the one we blow sets off the rest?”

  Keaton pointed to where he wanted Saltman to hide the truck. “It's a risk we'll have to take. Killing Merodach is our first priority at the moment. If he stays in power for much longer, there won't be anything left to defend no matter how things take place.”

  They pulled over to a natural draw in the rocky terrain that surrounded the cliffs along the coast. The nine men in the bed of the truck got out and unloaded their gear before Saltman rolled it down into the draw to hide it. The last of the Hunters... Keaton couldn't help but feel a sadness to think it. I hope there are others somewhere. They threw a tattered weave of gray cloth over the top to conceal it from any curious eyes, and began the long hike to the defenses.

  The cliffs were spectacular things that Keaton had only seen in person a handful of times in his life. At certain points they soared to well over two hundred yards above the ocean, the sheer face of them inspiring awe simply because they had been drawn straight up out of the earth. Keaton wished he could afford the time to walk along them, to feel the breeze and stare into the hypnotic rhythm of the sea. The relaxing aspects of the world had evaded him, and would continue to do so. This was the life he had chosen and had willfully maintained to defend his city and fight her enemies, and that demanded he sacrifice the clean and peaceful life that he fought to provide others.

  It was a cost he had always been ready to pay, but he was only now recognizing just how steep of one it truly was. In the midst of his prime, in the fights and struggles and endless sense of betrayal in the past few months, he had rarely thought of anything outside of this life he had taken for himself. But now as he walked the last few miles to the sea, he couldn't help but think of how things could have been different. How in another life he could have even lived near the sea, fallen in love, done anything he wanted to do. But danger was the only woman Khrone's courted. That was what they pounded into new recruits, and that was what he had sworn to.

  What set him moving now wasn't just his duty, or even the resounding sadness in his soul over the peaceful life he could have led, but the desire to ensure that a peaceful life could be had by those he would hand his city over to when all was said and done. All Anders Keaton wanted from life now was to know that his city was safe, and all that stood in his way was Pompidus Merodach. It was time to end this.

  The miles passed all too quickly, and soon the abandoned stone structures of the Central Harbor's defenses were well within view. A cursory glance showed no life, and even more reconnaissance indicated that no one was present yet. That came as a relief to Keaton, the risk of discovery already being too high for his tastes as it was. The sun was well over the horizon by the time the Hunters went to work hiding their charges in each of the stone structures.

  “We won't have enough for all of them,” Grimes said as they walked the line of low structures along the heights of the cliffs. “There's got to be over a hundred guns dug in here.”

  “One hundred and forty bunkers, over twice as many guns,” Keaton said as a matter of fact. “We just need to rig the center line to blow. He'll spend most of his time close to the trucks when he comes. I can't imagine he wouldn't come to see it, but I can't imagine him walking the entire line.”

  Each bunker rose only a few feet from the tops of the cliffs, designed to look from a distance just like the rest of the rocky ridge lines across the horizon. But each was dug ten feet down and secured with two massive pieces of artillery that could swing in forty-five to eighty degree arcs over their predetermined territory within the trap.

  Many of the guns
were rusted, but annual checkups had kept most of the decay at bay, and what hadn't been wrapped in protective rags was dismantled and kept somewhere more stable. Some of the guns had been brought up to fighting condition since Liscentia had been taken, and it looked like it should only take a day to get the rest up and running with a concerted effort. But the majority stood useless among their peers.

  “And what if he doesn't keep to the center?” Grimes asked for the second time. “Sir, there's no guarantee that he'll wind up in any one of them.”

  And that's when Keaton knew what they had to do. He looked up at the center of the harbor, where an unnaturally tall column of rock jutted out of the water over one hundred and fifty yards in the air and carried with it a newfound inspiration.

  “Forget the charges.”

  “What?”

  “They might stumble on them in any case, and if that happens it's all over.”

  “Sir?” Grimes was taken aback by that. “Forget the charges? How are you suggesting we kill him then?”

  “Well,” Keaton smiled as he looked at Grimes. “We'll still blow him up if that's what you're asking.”

  QUINN PHELTS HAD NEVER BEEN A NERVOUS MAN, BUT THE PAST WEEK HAD CHANGED THAT ENTIRELY. As if the stress of attempting a coup hadn't been enough to put holes in his stomach, the stress of having the coup routed by what seemed to be a defeated enemy only served to leave what was left in tatters.

  His desire to see Merodach dead was not well known beyond the circles most loyal to the same cause, at least those that were left, but now he had the superstitious feeling that everyone could see his true allegiance like a brand upon his forehead. He couldn't sleep at night. Every knock on his door or footfall in his office threatened him like the guarantee of a bullet through the temple.

  Now he was first in the line of succession that Merodach had quietly put aside. It hadn't been invalidated so much as silenced until needed, thus his position along that line gave him no added benefits or power. He simply hoped that it also gave Merodach no added reason to watch him. In all of his short career as a public servant, since leaving his successful practice in finance, he had never wanted much more than to see Elandir thrive.

  Merodach managed to stand in the way of that prosperity time and time again, putting his own desires and interests above those of the people he was sworn to protect. It had been obvious to Phelts for some time, among others, that Merodach needed to go. The problem was that Merodach had done such a good job sowing mistrust and envy among his subordinates that no one knew who they could really trust and who was working to subvert and betray them.

  He had found the right people in time, however, and their conspiracy to undo Merodach had grown and gained momentum even faster once the Council placed Phelts as second in line for Merodach's seat. Now that he was first, it was time to act, and with the providential appearance of Khrone's famed Hunters, it was probable they would succeed and even more likely that they could get away with the entire thing unscathed.

  Phelts had heard a lot about Anders Keaton, though he had never met the major until the weeks before. The man was as upstanding and dutiful as his reputation made him out to be, and his actions thus far matched the legend he had created for himself. Now they would see if he could pull off the greatest possible feat of all: committing high treason and getting away with it.

  For now, Phelts focused on forgetting his fear. Sitting in the same car with Merodach as they approached the Central Harbor left him ill at ease to say the least, in spite of the detachment of soldiers and engineers they accompanied today. There was only one man with them who he felt he could trust, who was also in on the plot to kill Merodach today. Other than that he suspected and feared everyone he came into contact with.

  He hid it well enough – at least he hoped he hid it well enough – but he knew that if they didn't kill Merodach, and very soon, it was only a matter of time before his plot was uncovered and he was executed like the rest. The thought of dying wasn't the most terrifying part, though that certainly had its hold. For Phelts, the idea of Merodach continuing to destroy his beloved city and the rest of the people on the Continent was what made him sick.

  That was why he liked Anders Keaton, and it was why he trusted him. They both believed in Elandir and wanted only what was best for her. It was the reason he knew that Keaton could be trusted to complete his mission today. And thanks to Keaton he knew that it would all turn out for the best, because the man was willing to make such a massive sacrifice.

  The only issue now was signaling the Hunters to alert them to Merodach's whereabouts at the right moment. A given signal hadn't been completely determined, and now that it was too late to communicate with the Hunters, he had to hope that they would be able to see whatever he came up with from wherever they were. It added to his nerves to know that he had to do something conspicuous in an inconspicuous manner, then wander off without drawing attention so that he too didn't get reduced to a red mist when they set off their charges.

  As long as I survive the day, I'll be happy. It was the small victories that he had to shoot for right now. He had been overreaching for the bigger ones, and they had paid the cost for that in blood.

  “Isn't that right Phelts?” Merodach was laughing about some story, and Phelts had no idea where the conversation had been let alone where it was going.

  “Yeah,” he smiled from the front passenger's seat.

  “You see?” Merodach was apparently lecturing Cram, who sat next to him in the back of the car. They were riding in the center of the small convoy.

  “I don't think forcing Silverdale to pay reparations is justified, sir.” Cram's jaw was set. It seemed that Merodach's ideas of justice were beginning to grate on the colonel-turned-temporary general, and Phelts had to admire that much in him. It took a rare spine to stand up to Merodach in Elandir, especially after everything that had happened recently. “I find it hard to swallow that we're doing it to Liscentia either, to be frank. They need that money to rebuild.”

  “Nonsense!” Merodach slapped his knee and winced. “Desert rats need to give me that money so I can spend it on repairing the damage they did to Elandir. They can afford it, right, Phelts? Though they'll say they can't.”

  “We'll see,” Phelts offered as evenly as he could. “I haven't had a chance to actually start looking into their economy yet.”

  “You're both fools,” Cram grumbled. “They'll resent us for it and then we'll never have peace. And Silverdale won't pay.”

  “They will when we've crushed their military. They have no navy, just transports that we'll sink in droves when they try to sneak on shore.”

  “I have a hard time believing they'll just wander in here like this.” Cram glanced out the window briefly. “It would make more sense to approach over land.”

  “It doesn't matter what you believe. I want these defenses up and running, and that's that.” Merodach grinned at the sour general. “Are you always this miserable, Cram? We're about to finish off an entire war in a matter of weeks. Even the Magi couldn't claim to accomplish as much!”

  “We both know that Liscentia never started this war.”

  That caught Phelts off guard. He knew Merodach had been accused of fabricating Liscentia's attack on Elandir, but Cram's blunt certainty frightened him. He fought the rigidity that entered him with the fear.

  “The people don't need to know that.” There was an edge to Merodach's voice now. “It's too late in any case, and it was what needed to be done.”

  The lead truck pulled off as they reached the cliffs. Each truck parked in a line with Merodach's car stopping at the very center.

  “Whatever you say, sir.”

  “You're damned right, whatever I say.” Merodach's bile was returning quickly. “Don't forget how close to the edge you're standing, Cram. You know too much, and you're disposable, a bad combination for longevity around here. Get out of the car.”

  The three men stepped out of the car and stretched as soldiers jumped out of
the backs of trucks. The engineers were already unloading crates filled with the necessary parts to put the inactive guns back in working order. Phelts looked from bunker to bunker, half expecting to see the black masks of Khrone's Hunters hiding in wait among the shadows. He was glad in that moment that Merodach believed the Hunters to be seeking him out in Elandir.

  “How long until your boys finish bringing the defenses up to speed?” Merodach leaned on his cane as he tried to stretch a little more.

  “They say with a full detachment of engineers they could get it all up to speed tonight.” Cram looked like a cornered dog to Phelts. The last thing he needed was for the soldier to do something stupid and ruin the entire plan.

  “Well, show us around then.” Merodach waved his cane and started walking for the bunkers. “I almost hope the bastards show up while we're here so I can watch you sink a few.”

  The three men walked towards the nearest bunker as the soldiers worked to aid the engineers in carrying supplies. These were the only men that knew Merodach wasn't in Elandir still, and even though they had known since they left camp a couple of hours before, they still gave him surprised and uncomfortable glances whenever they saw him. Merodach was rarely seen outside of his tower, let alone the city, and he wasn't well-loved by the military after everything that had transpired. It almost lent a comedic sense to Merodach's assertion that he was here to boost morale as much as oversee the end of the war. But Phelts wasn't laughing.

  The bunkers directly in front of them were roughly fifty feet wide, housing two large artillery guns each and separated by a gap of about one hundred feet. From here, should someone walk between them, they could actually continue on down to the ocean along the gentle slope that ran about half a mile. The bunkers really did blend well with their surroundings and would be invisible to an approaching navy.

  They walked down the steps in the rear corner of the bunker where two engineers were busy putting a gun back together. The inside of the bunker was dark and mostly empty, save for some ammunition and the various components for the gun. The majority of it looked like it hadn't been touched in decades; many of the smaller pieces were being reassembled and lubricated on the floor beside the gun. The two men jumped to their feet as soon as they realized who was approaching them.