by Swanson, Jay
How did Hevetican find us? But the mystery wasn't so thick to Ardin. They hadn't been moving at much of a pace for some time, and the Truan actually knew the territory.
He rode hard, making up for lost time by running as long as the horses could stand to go. There was no warmth to pour into them, no power to augment their speed, only the raw desperation of his need. The world's need. He thought of Rain, and hoped he could make it to her before it was too late.
RAIN SET OUT WITH THE OUTRIDERS AT THE BREAK OF DAWN. She hadn't been able to sleep, not really, not after she had been given her orders. Hembrody causing trouble wasn't helping. There was no guarantee that that was what was happening, but it was at the forefront of everyone's minds. Branston had betrayed them at one of their greatest moments of vulnerability, and if Hembrody was anything like his son, his own opportunity was dawning.
Bramblethorn would keep an eye on Hembrody though, of that much she was certain. What wasn't certain was how things would turn out if her brash uncle did something foolish, whether or not Hembrody deserved what he got. Bramblethorn had been acting even more peculiar and prickly as they traveled north. He was itching for a fight. She had to do her best to leave those worries behind. There was no hope of altering events she wasn't present for; she had to focus on finding the Demon's fortress.
Krakador. Why it had remained hidden all of these years was a mystery to her. What are you hiding in the desert?
She divided her band of scouts into seven parties, just as her brother had requested, and set them off to investigate each chimney they had spotted from afar. It could take them hours to get to their targets, but for all they knew, each chimney could be in impassable territory. They could wind up out here searching for weeks.
She went with the westernmost group, hoping to cross through the territory she had guessed would house the fortress. There were seven of them with her, all of them wearing reddish-tan clothing intended to blend them into the surrounding terrain. She didn't put much faith in its effectiveness, but at least it gave her men peace of mind.
The canyon they entered the desert mountains through was broad and relatively flat. The mountains themselves soared over them as their sheer sides launched into the sky, only to have their heads cut off hundreds or thousands of feet overhead. Some of the mountains grew out from those surrounding them, but many left broad swaths of land between themselves and their neighbors as the ground steadily rose in elevation beneath them.
Rain turned to the left after passing two such peaks and began the trek west. Hers was the longest path, and it would take her at least a day, if not two, to reach her destination. They left the other parties behind quickly, each taking different courses based loosely off of a map and largely off of their own sense of direction. These men were experts at exploring and reading terrain; she only hoped that most of them would come back alive.
And that was the crux of her anxiety, she realized, the heart of her anger over this whole mission. Her brother was sending small parties of some of his finest scouts out to scour a massive swath of terrain, and there was a good chance that many of them, if not most, would die in the process. They would give their lives chasing down decoys while the Relequim laughed and tortured their souls.
She shivered as the fear that image conjured ran its course along her spine. There were enough horrible ways to die in the world; falling for the Relequim's traps was not one she thought necessary to add to the list.
The walls of the red and tan canyons stood tall and straight around them in almost every direction, shadows falling in grotesque lines across their neighbors. Silence surrounded them save for the lonely whine of the wind as it whirled from juncture to juncture, a ghost lost in its haunt, seeking escape from the prison of the desert halls.
“Creepy place,” she heard one of the scouts mutter behind her. “No wonder no one lives here.”
“Nothing lives here,” came another voice. “I haven't seen a single leaf or twig since we came within three hundred yards of these mountains.”
“Let's just hope you're right,” said the first voice. “I'd rather nothing lived here at all.”
She picked up her pace a bit more, forcing them to follow as she picked her path along the smoother parts of ground between the tall, squat mountains. Better to focus on finding the path than have time to dwell on what could be lurking in the shadows. And there were shadows, strong and dark and everywhere.
The boulders that rested along the base of each mountain seemed almost out of place, causing her to wonder where they could have been dislodged from. The sides of the mountains were craggy, but didn't look like they would dislodge boulders like these. Much of the ground was broken and rocky, but she found that it was almost completely passable no matter which way she decided to take.
The eerie nature of the road-like quality of their path didn't escape her either. That boded well for her brother's army heading into the mountains, but led her to wonder what was intended to pass out of them. There was a sense that something had left these mountains recently. It made her think of the old stories, of her father's war with the Relequim and the horrors they had faced.
The final battle with the Relequim had been more ferocious than even Albentine, for that was where the old Demon himself made his appearance to fight. They had caught his last force on the plains north of Islenda, close to Bramblethorn's estates. There hadn't been many of the monsters left, not in the grand array that had fought them in Albentine, but their master had come to assume control of his forces. His attempt at turning the tide came too late, thankfully, and the Brethren subdued him with the help of the Magi.
The Magi were the one force in the world created after this age had been set in motion. Nothing like them had been made with the help of the Creator on Grandia, and so they were enough to sway the balance, but now they were gone. Even Ardin seemed to be dead and gone. To think of him again brought back the sense of despair that she only wished she could keep at bay.
She had been told the despair had been similar in Albentine, when all had seemed lost in the face of impossible odds. The monsters they faced had come in endless waves of horror. Some served as simple foot soldiers, massively strong creatures the size of men that carried axes and shields and fought at the front lines. Knobacks too, the slow lumbering, beasts with stubby lizard faces and massive, knobby shoulders.
Dunmar drove them all, tall and bulky and terrifying in their presence to both sides. And then the Daemons, of whom no one knew more than that they had adhered most closely to the cult of the Relequim, his own brand of twisted religion. They were his champions, named so similarly for how closely they tried to take on his likeness. They were possibly the most feared, and thankfully the most rare. There were others whose sole purpose was to demoralize the armies of men, though their fighting prowess was thankfully far inferior even to the Knobacks.
Her father refused to speak of them, but her uncle had told her a few stories. One such creature that he had captured near his estate after the Relequim had been defeated had been much like a man in its form, but instead of legs it crawled on some large tentacle like a slug and had something similar in place of its arms. It was skinless, he said, and could only live so long as there was blood nearby for it to absorb. When he found it, the creature had been writhing in pain near a stream, his terrified dogs refusing to approach it but barking from a distance.
He had killed it with a sense of satisfaction at first, he said. It wasn't the first he had seen, though its physical state had been far worse than any he had encountered. But that sense of satisfaction was lost on him, he confided, as it died on his sword. There was something almost human in its eyes, something that made him want to weep as it died. Whatever the Relequim had done to the children of men, however he had created the monsters that made up his armies, none of it was forgivable. That much Sir Bramblethorn knew with certainty, and Rain knew he spoke for her father as well.
Images from those stories haunted her now as they wove through
the mountains and gradually gained altitude. The smoke they were angling for drifted lazily into the sky, where it dissolved and vanished high above the mountains. The road had been so much better than expected; they would be there long before nightfall at this rate.
There must be another team nearby, she found herself thinking suddenly. They can't be too far off; they have to take a similar path to get to their chimney.
She slowed as she became aware of her thoughts. Why was she suddenly concerned with how close help could be? What did that have to do with anything?
Rocks tumbled down the face of the mountain ahead on their right, a few pebbles and a stone clattering their way to the heavily shaded canyon floor. Rain swallowed as her back straightened unconsciously. We should never have come here with so few.
“Highness?” One scout pulled up next to her and spoke in hushed tones. “Something's up there.”
He pointed, and as she followed his finger she too saw something black scurrying along the wall of the cavern. The legs were long and spindly, its body and snout long like that of a wolf. A wolf...
“PARNITHONS!” she screamed as she reined her horse around. “Retreat!”
There was no pretense at stealth for the monsters now, as dozens more rocks dislodged and tumbled into the canyon floor behind her. She paid no heed, pushing her horse to move as quickly as it possibly could back down the way they had come. We're half a day into the mountains already... She glanced over her shoulder to check on her men; thankfully they were right behind her. We're too far from help. So far.
She looked back again, this time at the walls of the canyon behind them. Over a dozen of the black creatures were scurrying along the walls, running almost as if gravity had no hold to pull them off the sheer face of the mountains. Her heart dropped to see them coming, to see them gaining.
“Ride!” she yelled to no one in particular. “Ride for our frie–” but the rally died in her throat as more black figures appeared on the walls ahead of her. No...
She ducked her head, holding onto the hope that she could ride straight through them and reach the other side without getting touched. No sooner had the thought passed her mind than did the first Parnithon drop to the ground a hundred yards in front of her.
The monster was massive, like a Woad in color but longer and leaner in structure. The claws looked webbed, and the black eyes glistened over a long snout lined with rows of razor sharp teeth. Thought to be extinct for a generation, Parnithons were feared far more than Woads, for though they were more rare, they were faster and deadlier. And, unfortunately, not extinct.
Rain yelled as she drew her sword, more Parnithons dropping to the ground before her as they blocked the path of her troop. There were eight of them ahead; how many were behind she didn't know.
“Keep riding!” She shouted over her shoulder. “Whatever happens, don't stop!”
The first Parnithon leaped in the air at her, a high-pitched snarl mixing with its guttural cry to make a carnal roar. Its long legs spread wide as if to wrap around her horse's neck. She veered to the left, swinging her sword with as much force as she could muster. The timing was right, and the blade split the monster's head clean open. The force of the impact nearly drew her off her horse, but somehow she managed to hold on and regain her balance. The next Parnithon was not so easily evaded.
It was already in the air, and it did manage to wrap her horse's neck firmly between its four spindly legs before she could react. The horse screamed in terror as the monster pulled down, driving horse and rider into the ground in a flurry of dust and gear. Rain rolled to her feet as she hit the ground and slid to a halt. She heard her horse scream once more as the monster constricted and bit into its neck, and then it went silent.
The red dust in the air made it difficult to see, but she could hear the Parnithons roaring openly now, killing and feeding in their frenzy. Suddenly a dark figure came flying out of the dust. She took a step back and to the side as one of her scouts slammed into the ground and slid to a stop not feet away. He was torn apart, dead and gone.
Her stomach churned into knots as she gripped her sword with both hands. A Parnithon's howl was cut short, but then so too was the cry of victory that followed it. The noise of the carnage lessened until soon she could see the long dark forms of Parnithons ambling slowly towards her. They grew steadily more clear as they left the dust and fanned out to surround her.
“What are you waiting for?!” Rain screamed.
In response, the Parnithon at the center of the line snarled and rushed forward to the attack.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“CALL FOR REINFORCEMENTS...” Phelts could barely hear himself the first time, so he cleared his throat and shouted at the men behind him. “Call for reinforcements! Get everyone up here, now! Infantry, artillery, whatever and whoever we have, I want them manning these defenses immediately!”
“Sir!” The spindly lieutenant from a moment before grabbed another soldier and ran back towards the trucks, presumably to get on their wireless units to call for help.
“Sir?” The soldier standing next to him was looking from the ships on the horizon to the corpses on the ground. “Should we get the Mayor back to Elandir, sir?”
“No!” Phelts wasn't sure if he wanted to slap his own forehead or this soldier's more. “Get the rest of these guns up and operational, you idiot!” He looked around at all of the dumbfounded faces. These were not the fighting breed, he could see it. “All of you!”
It took a moment for them to get moving, but soon everyone was back to work and busy. They needed to move a lot faster if they were going to survive this. At least that lieutenant wasn't proving to be completely useless. He started to make his own way back to the trucks to remind the young officer of the need for more ammunition for the guns. Most of what had been carted in today had been parts, and they needed something more than springs and gears to shoot at the enemy ships.
“God... damn... you...” Phelts said under his breath as he came to the top of the pit. A truck that he could only presume contained the lieutenant was already speeding off in the direction of the military camp. He let out a long string of black obscenities as he ran to the nearest truck and flipped on the wireless unit under the dash.
“Command, command. This is the Mayor's office. Come in, over.”
“Sir, this is command. Go ahead.”
Thank God someone was actually sitting on their wireless. “The enemy has appeared on the horizon! We need every available soldier you've got right now, over!”
“Copy that.”
The wireless clacked and crackled as if the box itself was uncertain what to do next. Phelts wasn't sure himself, so he raised command again.
“I'm serious, command, the invasion is under way! We need you now!”
“Copy that sir, we aren't really mobilized yet. No one said there would be any training exercises.”
Phelts exploded into the wireless receiver. “THIS IS NO TRAINING EXERCISE! This is the real thing! There are black sails on the horizon, soldier! BLACK SAILS! Do you realize what is happening? Mobilize your troops, or we're all dead! Do you hear me?”
“We copy, sir.” At least the uncertainty in the soldier's voice had been replaced by fear. “The first units will arrive within the hour sir; the rest will follow as quickly as they can.”
“You've got twenty minutes,” Phelts said before he dropped the handset and walked back towards the bunker. He whipped around before taking too many steps, however, and grabbed the receiver from the floor of the truck. “And if the stupid bastard in command of the unit I'm stuck here with can hear this, I didn't need you to drive off! I needed you to communicate this goddamned message!”
Now he threw the receiver down with finality, the coiled cord connecting it to the main unit springing it back up before it came to rest on the floor of the truck. He walked back over to the bunkers, pleased to find that the engineers and remaining soldiers were working double time to get everything prepped and ready.
He let them do their work, and began walking the mile or so out to the northern cliff. It ran straight out into the ocean after curving out from where their choke point was formed, save for the little lip that curved out to form a peak at its end before it curved gently to the north. He walked quickly, his sense of urgency growing in time with the size of the sails on the horizon. They were miles away now, mere miles away, and he had never known they would arrive in the first place.
Phelts jogged out between two of the bunkers to get a better look, halfway out to the ocean-facing cliffs. The pillar at the center of the harbor still smoked, though much of its bunker had collapsed and crashed into the water below. It gave him a sickening chill to look at, the bodies of the men he had betrayed still crushed and smoldering out on that column of rock as he watched.
He turned away, unwilling to look any longer, and focused instead on the horizon. That brought him even less comfort, as it felt like the entire breadth of the ocean was covered in black ships. There must be hundreds... thousands even.
Suddenly, for the first time since Merodach's trial, hopelessness found him. How can we face so many...
Quinn Phelts practically ran the entire way back to the trucks, breathing heavily by the time he swung the door open and reached for the receiver. He could see that the lieutenant's truck was parked back on the other side of this one already. He hoped the moron had enough sense to take a few monsters with him before he died.
“Command!” He was trying to regain his composure, but his breathlessness and rising panic were doing their best to undo it. “Command, come in damn you!”
“Command, go ahead.”
He demanded where their troops were with so many colorful curses that when he ended he was uncertain that they could have even understood his underlying question.
