“Sorry I'm late, Council,” he said. “The name's Laurentinus. I'm the new head of the guard. We've been finding the last of the deserters and kicking them into uniform, but we're still at a quarter strength.”
Liam nodded.
“Now, Vanderbilt,” Laurentinus said, “Borin's army is a mercenary army. They're paid by loot, mostly. They don't sail down from Ra's lands and then march along the coast for a week to come to a city to turn around and head home. Specially not if Ra wants his prize plum back while we're weak and shitting ourselves.”
Liam frowned. “We're going to need to recruit more people.”
Laurentinus snorted. “They won't be any good in a fight, not with three days of training.”
“I know,” Liam said. “But we've got the walls – that gives us a defensive advantage. And we don't need to destroy the enemy army. We just need to disable the Eye of Ra so they need to attack the walls. Then we've got a shot.” He grinned. “And I just so happen to know how to disable the Eye of Ra.”
The Council all looked very pleased with themselves.
Then Liam told them his plan.
They looked somewhat less than pleased.
Vani sighed. “It's Alexander the Great all over again, isn't it?”
* * *
Tethis unrolled a scroll of paper in the vast master bedroom of the palace.
Of my palace, Liam thought. But no matter how many times he tried to think that, it never stopped sounding like a sick joke. So, instead of trying to wrap his brain around the idea that he was nominally in charge, he leaned forward and cupped Tethis' butt playfully. The gobliness grinned at him.
“You know this plan is insane, right?”
“Every plan we make is insane,” Meg said, nodding.
Looking at what Tethis had sketched, though, gave Liam hope. Tethis had lived in a Coptic city for most of her life, and had been a scholar for a great chunk of it. Most of her time had been spent on archeology, trying to discover more about the shrouded past of Purgatory – without record keeping and due to the constant exaggeration of gods and devastation brought by wars, it was remarkably hard to know more than the vaguest hints about some chunks of Purgatory's past. But the Eye of Ra, fortunately, remained one thing that had shone clearly throughout history.
The fact it was a semi-portable death ray might have had something to do with that.
“The tower in the schematic I found is really just wood,” she said. “The actual eye is this part.” She tapped the upper edge. “But all of the magic and all the alchemical reagents are useless without a priest of Ra to actually channel his power into the Eye. So, we find the priest in the camp, then we take them out.”
Meg nodded. “Shouldn't be hard.”
“Why not?” Liam asked.
“He'll be a human-eagle hybrid,” Meg said, smiling.
“Right. Wait, can't you be a priest and not one of the Chosen?”
“Well, yeah,” Meg said, wings spreading in a shrug. “But the Chosen are the best priests. Why would Ra send anyone but their best?”
“Good point,” Liam said. “So, Meg, you and I will drop behind the army camp. You wait off for a commotion – if one happens, come and pick me up. But hopefully, this.” Liam held up his slave collar. “Will let me go unnoticed until I find the priest.”
The other two nodded.
“Still no news of Liv?” Liam asked.
“None,” Tethis said, rolling up the scroll.
“Damn it,” Liam rolled away from the bed and came to his feet. He turned from the bed to the large desk that was currently cluttered with a load of papers. He shook his head. “Is it bad that half the reason why I want to do this mission isn't to save the day? No, it's to get away from the paperwork.”
Meg smiled.
Together, the three of them set out from the palace. Tethis wove the spell with one hand as they walked, while Liam tried to deal with the collection of aides and attaches who followed them out of the palace.
“Take the message for the bronzewights and tell them that they can keep their rights when it comes to trading – I don't care who makes the profit, I just want the weapons made.” Liam shook his head. “The glaziers need to cede their access to those mines, that material is needed for the alchemists. Yes, there are supposed to be explosions, tell them to be more careful with fire.” He shook his head as the messengers went rushing off.
The back of his head hurt.
Meg ruffled his hair, smiling at him. “You're pretty good at that.”
“I am?” Liam asked.
“Well, I think so.” Meg grinned. “And I am completely and totally unbiased.”
The crowd parted as they walked onto the dais, Liam saw a familiar face. Mary was standing out there, surrounded by a few other men and women bearing the ichthus. Liam smiled, walking towards them. He took Mary's hands. The days since the orgy had left the lilin nun more confident and more strident. She had been, according to reports that Liam had been given, gathering a great deal of support among people disillusioned with how the gods had failed them in the occupation.
“Mary,” Liam said. “You're a sight for sore eyes. I've been meaning to talk to you.”
“Oh?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Not about that,” Liam said, winking.
Mary laughed – and the fact she was laughing about it eased a few tiny tensions that Liam had been carrying in his back since the orgy. They were small, next to the fear of the oncoming army and the dangers of a city still riven with religious strife, but it still felt good.
“The city's guard has been badly damaged. Not a lot of people want to join – I need to find soldiers, fighters, people who know how to use a weapon. And, well, you've been getting a load of contacts among the city,” Liam said. “Can you use those contacts to find people who know what they're doing when it comes to fighting and just collect them?”
Mary pursed her lips. “If you can guarantee a lack of persecution for-”
Liam blinked. Then he slapped his hand over his face. He turned and saw that at least one messenger was waiting beside him for orders. He snapped his fingers. “Bring a message to the Council – I want them to vote on a law guaranteeing the freedom to worship any god and to make laws against religious persecution. We'll work out the paperwork when I come back.”
The messenger nodded, then turned and sprinted off. As he ran away, Liam turned back to Mary.
Mary smiled. “I'll find you soldiers, even if I have to scrape the bottom of the barrel.”
Liam squeezed her hand. Mary squeezed back, then sauntered off. As she left, Meg watched her go.
“Do you think she has strictures against sapphism?” Meg murmured.
“I honestly do not know,” Liam said. “Come on. Let's go save a city.”
Six
The army of Borin the Black, from what Liam had learned, hadn't marched the entire way from Ra's city to the City of the Dead Gods. If they had, there'd have been a good third less of them, and Liam would have had a far, far easier time of getting close to them. They had taken ships along the coast, surviving off the villages that they rowed past, and avoiding the danger of piracy by sheer dint of numbers.
Now, almost the whole army that had set out from home was here, right on Liam's doorstep.
The army was neither the organized, gridlike pattern that he remembered from pictures and news stories of modern deployments nor the wild ramshackle that he might have expected. There were clear latrines, demarcation lines between regiments, and centralized locations for the storage of supplies. But there, organization broke down. He could tell, from a distance, which part of the encampment was run by which kind of regiment, as each one seemed to be organized in a different way, with different levels of rigor.
“So,” Meg said, “I count almost two thousand infantry, half that in archers, and a quarter of that in cavalry. That makes just under four thousand bad guys – plus any camp followers, priests, mages, and what not.” She snorted. �
�If we had a half decent army on the walls, this would be a walkover.”
The two of them crouched on a small ridge that overlooked the broad expanse of badlands that the army had set up camp in.
“What about the Eye of Ra?” Liam asked.
“What about it?” Meg asked. She turned to face him, remaining low and using her shoulders to shrug, rather than her wings. “The Eye of Ra is a single weapon. Any battle plan that relies on a single weapon is throwing the dice. When you're fighting a war, the last thing you want to rely on is dice. And with the Eye of Ra and a decent army on the walls, I'm still betting on the walls.”
“We're throwing the dice here, aren't we?” Liam asked.
Tethis clucked her tongue. “Don't remind me.”
Her hands finished their arcane gestures as she finished renewing the symbols for their disguise. Liam looked down at himself – and once more wished that he could see if he was unnoticeable. Walking into a city had been nerve wracking enough.
“So,” Meg said, “I'll drop you there.” She pointed with one hand. “Then Tethis and I will wait. Signal us when you need it – or if there's a big ruckus - and we'll come and swoop you up. Easy peasy.”
“Peasy maybe,” Liam said. Then, frowning. “Did you pick that up from me?”
“I think I learned at least half a language in vocabulary from you,” Meg said. “It's the third best thing about you, Liam, your rhetorical flourishes.”
Liam grinned. “Ask not what your relationship can do for you, but what you can do for your relationship.”
Meg puffed up her chest, then grabbed Liam around the belly with one arm. Her wings spread and she tensed. A moment later, the night of Purgatory slammed down around them. The darkness was as shocking as ever – and it seemed to raise grumbles loud enough to be heard even from a few miles off. The three of them had spent a day observing the troops, and had noticed a pattern. Unlike a city, where there were whole guilds of people who were dedicated purely to making sure that lighting was as uninterrupted as possible, armies had to rely on their soldiers for that task.
And these soldiers?
Not quite up to it.
The lights in the camp flickered on in staggered confusion as soldiers fumbled in the sudden near pitch blackness of Purgatory's night. Crystals glowed among the wealthier regiments almost immediately, but Meg swooped down in the darkness and set Liam down in the midst of a collection of tents where the loudest sound was vociferous swearing in Latin.
Meg kissed Liam's cheek, then shot into the air. He waited until he couldn't hear the beat of her wings – not long, considering how loud the swearing was – then struck the tinder on the torch he had brought. Light flared around him and the swearing was replaced by a cheer from every tent. Blinking, irritated looking soldiers came from the tent, and seeing Liam's slave collar, didn't even bother thanking him. They just held out their torches.
Up close, Liam was momentarily surprised at how normal the soldiers looked. Then he kicked himself.
Of course they looked normal.
They were just people.
This regiment seemed to be primarily made of short, lean soldiers with olive brown skin, black hair, and dark eyes. They spoke Latin like sailors and they all carried a bladed weapon, even the one who wandered out of his tent buck naked and started admonishing his friends. He picked his fingernails with his knife as he said: “Why are you all getting excited about lights? We are sleeping in an hour, fools!”
The soldiers muttered under their breath but Liam saw a few of them standing at something that a very generous person could have called attention. The nude man stalked towards Liam. He looked him up and down and whistled quietly.
“You are the largest slave I've ever met,” he said, quietly.
Shit, Liam thought. He coughed and said. “Hodor.”
It was the first thing that sprang into his head.
The leader – Liam immediately wanted to call him a lieutenant, no matter what his actual title was – blinked slowly. “Excuse me?”
“Hodor,” Liam said again, nodding.
“Ah.” the leader pursed his lips. “I'd heard there was a dim slave in the baggage train. But not one this dim.”
“Nah, sir,” one of the men spoke up. “I think I recognize him. I never heard him talk more.”
“Who cares if he can talk if he's that big all over” a woman whispered, grinning as she elbowed her fellow soldier. The lieutenant's glare fell on them all equally and they all shut up.
“Get back to your duties,” the lieutenant said, scowling at Liam.
Liam bowed his head. “Hodor,” he said.
Then, turning, he hurried away, trying to look purposeful. As he walked along, he put his fingers to his collar. Apparently, the spell worked at least a little. He gulped. Thank you, G.R.R.M, he thought. Thank you so very much. Okay. Now, let's activate the reflective vest and clipboard of the ancient world.
Liam had once been in a tabletop roleplaying game where his friend Ted had played a character who had lacked magical abilities, spectacular kung-fu skills and James Bond-esque stealth. But that character had been able to infiltrate anywhere because he had a reflective vest and a clipboard. Bearing those items and looking like he was heading somewhere important had let him bluff his way past dozens of guards.
And so, Liam paused by a small tent – the sound of eager, vigorous, and quite happy lovemaking coming from within – and grabbed a bucket that had been left beside the entrance. He paused at the entrance.
This is just to make sure neither of them is the Priest of Ra, he thought.
He leaned down and opened the tentflap.
Within, he saw two beautiful Coptic women, their heads shaved completely bald. Both of them were completely naked, their dark bodies pressed together, hands caressing one another. The one on-top, more muscular and sturdily built than the other, leaned back and gasped. She drew her hips back and Liam saw a bright, golden dildo shining between their bodies. He nodded slowly, tore his eyes from the view, and checked the rest of the tent.
Arrows.
Bows.
Swords.
Maps.
Armor.
I am going to go on a bet and assume neither of these are priests. I mean, they don't even have robes, he thought, letting the tent flap swing shut. Then, glancing around to make sure no one could see him, he allowed himself a moment of being a young man and thought: Niiiiiiiiiiice.
Then he turned on his heel and headed forward, bearing a bucket with a serious expression on his face.
Thus disguised, he was able to scout the army base for an hour without a single person asking him what he was doing, where he was going, and who he was.
It was obvious, wasn't it?
Liam paused by a tent, taking advantage of the shadows, to listen.
“The Eye will be ready, yes?” That gravelly, rough voice sounded pure evil. Liam tried to not stereotype based on voice, but he hadn't heard a man sound as calculatingly bastardly in quite some time on Purgatory.
“Yes, Borin,” a tired female voice responded. “Though, I hope it won't be needed.”
“It'll be needed,” Borin said. He sounded like he relished it.
“Humph.”
The sound of footsteps made Liam draw back further into the shadows. He froze as still as he could, holding his breath. The spell would help, but it was still nerve wracking. Bucket or no, lounging around near the commander's tent of an army in the eve before a battle was verboten. It was verboten on Earth, and on Earth, you weren't technically allowed to torture people before killing them. Then the tent flap swung open and his breath stopped and his heart froze for entirely different reasons.
The Priestess of Ra brushed her hands along her head and stood, illuminated by the light that came from within the tent. If she had known Liam was there, he would have believed she was modeling for him.
She was a fusion – like all Chosen – of human and animal.
And like all Chosen he had met
, this fusion was exquisite.
Her face was tipped by a delicate, curved beak. It looked lethal and beautiful at the same time, colored a pale gold, with a small red tip. Her head was covered with a light down of white fur, while the back of her scalp was decorated by a gorgeous crest of brown feathers. She had added paint to the feathers, adding red and golden lines to accent them. Her shoulders had two more tufts, while her arms were a curious fusion of arm and wing, with feathers sleeting along her back, giving her the same aspect of a woman wearing a cloak. Her breasts were firm and small, straining against the blue breastband that she had wrapped around her chest. A slender silk kilt surrounded her thighs, which were just as furred as the rest of her. Her legs, though, at the knee, became scaled in gold, ending in clawtips.
Her hands, too, were scaled. Taloned.
Liam gulped. His mind had immediately gone to the bedroom on looking at her – danger tended to bump his thoughts in that direction – but the idea of those claws next to his cock made said bodypart shrivel. The priestess' feathers ruffled up and she hissed, then clicked her beak and stalked off. As she strode away, he heard Borin's voice again.
“The cavalry will lead the sack,” he said, dryly. “Those Tuatha maniacs need their blood gold.”
A chuckle responded – female again. “Borin, you know there's a reason they call you the Black.”
“And here,” Borin said, his voice filled with a brutal kind of fatalism, “I thought it was because of the burns.”
The other female voice clicked her tongue. “Ra won't be happy if you give his city back burned to a cinder.”
Borin snapped his finger. “Like I care for Ra.”
“True, his gold pays no better than-”
“Shht!” Borin hissed. A quiet creak sounded as the people within the tent shifted around, their positions moving. Liam wished he could see through the thick canvas. Instead, he just remained perfectly still. “Be silent. Now. Let us give the orders – remember.” There was a faint sound of finger tapping chest. “The Samaritans are to be kept to the flank.”
The Cross Guard (Purgatory Wars Book 3) Page 12
