“Perhaps,” Johan replied, his voice light. “But we leave in five. Get your knife or whatever you have ready. It's going to be a fun walk.” He turned slightly. “Garm?”
“Sir?” the scarred man asked.
“If things go south on us out there, if it looks like we aren't going to make it, then you have my permission to...conclude your affairs with the Underking here in a manner you best deem fit.”
Garm's eyes lit up, and a genuine smile the likes of which Ryker had never seen broke across the man's face. The Underking's mouth gaped at Johan's words and, though he had a grayish complexion, Ryker swore that what little color remained in the sifar's face drained away. Johan walked towards the garrison.
“Holy hells,” Ryker muttered. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
Johan shrugged again. “I'm just a man sick of being here. Now I'm going to sit down for the first time in ages. Just...give me a minute or two in peace. Please.”
Ryker slapped his friend on the shoulders and gave him some space. As he walked over towards the other Outriders, he wondered if anyone managed to hear his cry for help. But then, the way things were going, Ryker found himself seriously doubting if anyone had heard it at all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Miles north of Bellkeep, a massive figure in ancient armor, leaning on a staff as black as obsidian, watched from a grassy hilltop as his engineers and scholars busied themselves around an ancient obelisk, partially unearthed in a massive excavation effort. Merely a fraction had been unearthed, but already it was an enormous structure. Fifty feet across at this small exposed portion. The obelisk was a smooth, reflective gray material, with unknown writing, pockmarked by means that had baffled his brightest minds. But they were confident that given enough time, its true function would be determined. Intrigued, he had opened the treasury to begin the recovery effort.
A sudden psychic ripple passed through what could have been considered his mind, and his vise-like grip on his staff intensified. The eye sockets of the three skulls that acted as the staff head glowed a dull orange as his mind deciphered the psychic message. A few of his acolytes at the excavation site, with varying degrees of Power themselves, paused momentarily as they sought to make sense of the message.
A fully armored knight standing next to him, resplendent in jet plate armor and carrying a glittering spear, looked up at his master through the visor of his helmet. Though the psychic wave had washed across him as well, the knight was almost as stalwart as his master. To show weakness was to court death.
“Lord Akvan,” the knight said. “What was that?”
The Akvan slowly turned his head to the south, as if trying to pierce the clouds and sky to gaze upon Bellkeep itself. He had decoded the message in an instant, turning its meaning over and over in his mind. There was only one path to take. And of course, that path led to Ryker.
The Akvan looked back at his lieutenant.
“Go. Be my eyes.”
The figure bowed in acknowledgment and then vanished in a shimmer of orange energy.
A few days ride northeast of Bellkeep, a large man rolled out of a lavish bed. Throwing aside the embroidered blanket and scattering the velvet pillows, he reached for his trousers, not caring to soften his movements. The two women in his bed mumbled in their half-asleep dozing. Walking across his chambers, the Weaver Leonid stopped at the small basin provided and splashed water on his face. He had just had one of the most vivid dreams in his recent memory, and he tried to replay it over in his mind. Something about demons, or monsters, stalking the streets of some city as bells continued to ring. There was something extremely familiar about it, but in a more personable way, not that strange dreamlike familiarity that made things like talking pumpkins or upside down puppies seem familiar while you sleep. It was almost as if someone he knew had told him the dream. But it, like the dream itself, began to fade.
Leonid's thoughts briefly went to his friends in the Outrider Legion, with whom he had made an effort to keep in contact with since meeting them. Perhaps they were in his dreams? The dream had nagged at him so badly that he was about to ready a clarity spell to dive back into his own memory when a long, delicate arm draped over one of his shoulders, a large bottle in the small, painstakingly manicured hand that held it. A second arm appeared over his other shoulder, this one holding grapes.
“Come back to bed, handsome,” a languid, female voice purred behind him. “Your room is paid for until after lunch.”
“Well I'm never one to argue with a professional,” Leonid laughed, all thoughts of his dream pushed out of his mind by much more pleasurable thoughts.
Leonid was about to have a far better morning than Ryker.
Far to the east, past the glittering city of Tethis, beyond the shared border with its rival Melcara, Regent Ebizar sat upon his throne. The Regent's gnarled hands clutched the stone arms of his throne as a drowning sailor clings to driftwood. His eyes were glazed over and vacant as he sat, alone but for four blindfolded guards at each corner of his bare throne room. A pair of small torches attached to pillars providing the only illumination. In the weak torchlight, one would almost have thought him dead, or a lifeless puppet made in imitation.
There was a soft series of footfalls at the chamber entrance, and a hooded and robed figure, a leather band around its forehead bearing thick metal studs its only decoration. In its gloved hands it carried a delicate-looking device resembling an astrolabe, but constructed out of thin, pink crystal. A soft light was being radiated from the device.
“My lord Regent,” the figure breathed, “our wards have located it.”
Ebizar's still body slowly shuddered to life. His glassy eyes blinked once, twice, then a third time. A thin, black liquid dribbled out from under his eyelids as he did so. He looked down at the newcomer, his neck moving stiffly, like a dead tree slowly toppling in a scorched forest.
“Where?” the Regent whispered, his voice a faint death rattle.
“Past our sixth ward, to the west. The Phaedra medium was used to send a psychic message, but it was far too faint for our agents in the Dominion to decipher it.”
“Not in Tethis then,” Ebizar whispered.
“No.” The figure consulted the device in its hands. “Further. Bellkeep, or possibly Havenward.”
Ebizar slowly raised his head upwards to the darkened ceiling, where the torchlight feared to shine.
“Go,” the Regent said. “Find my Phaedra. Return it and bring the vessel that stole it to me.”
Four shadowy beings suddenly poured down from the ceiling, silently coating the four guards as if made of thick tar. The black fluid slowly congealed into the features of the men trapped beneath, and the four figures quickly glided across the floor towards the figure at the chamber entrance. One glistening, jet figure reached out and took the delicate pink device from the attendant as it moved past. The glazed look of the four figures slowly faded into a deep, empty black that seemed to absorb all light as they flew through the hallways of the Winter Palace.
With the crystal device cradled in one of their arms, they raced westward, towards the source of the psychic signal.
Towards Ryker.
Others of no less importance, simply of a less interested mindset, also heard the call. Though they had varying degrees of curiosity, they did nothing to investigate. Little did any of them realize the importance of what was transpiring within Bellkeep, or else perhaps they would have moved to intervene. Regardless of who went and who didn't, Ryker was sure to be miserable. And really, that was all the gods could ask for.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The long, dangerous march from the Bellkeep garrison to the Copper Gate had begun somewhat smoothly, Nerthus thought. Which instantly made her brace for tragedy. She had to concede, however, that between Johan and the Bellkeep Captain Garrey, they were in excellent hands. Johan, she knew, would pull out all the stops to ensure as many innocent people survived as was humanly possible. And Garrey didn't seem too much different. It was a s
trangely comforting thought, especially considering her innate mistrust of almost all people in authority.
While the main force of soldiers, with Johan's Outriders, escorted the near thousand Bellkeep citizens through the streets, a strong group of archers, crossbowmen, and engineers, armed with unfamiliar siege weaponry, kept pace along the wall above them, providing cover. It was really the best they could hope for.
The last of the survivors were scurrying out of the garrison courtyard when an onslaught of flaming boulders began peppering the entirety of the garrison and its surrounding yards. As Nerthus looked back, she saw a single blue crystal arc across the early morning sky and slam into garrison. Upon impact, instead of an explosion, there was a massive cloud of condensation, and a sheen of ice spread across the reinforced structure. A handful of seconds later a barrage of flaming stones slammed into the frozen portion of the garrison, and it shattered as if made of glass. Shards of thick, frozen stone rained down, crushing and slicing the stragglers still fleeing the garrison itself. That hellish combination of ice and stone would decimate the garrison before long.
“I don't know about you,” Edda's voice said from beside her, “but I'm getting pretty damn sick of all these near misses. Can't we just for once get out of here in peace?”
Nerthus snorted in agreement and looked at her friend. The glitter of Edda's new gold necklace dangling over her Edda's newly changed into leathers caught her eye. “Where did you get that?” she asked.
Edda cupped the small gaudy locket at the center of the thin gold chain. “Alek got it for me,” she smiled. “It's really...hideous.” Edda chuckled. “Who knows where the lug found it, or how much he got fleeced to buy it. I'll probably wear it until we get out of here, then it's going into one of my packs. To the very bottom, never again to see the light of day.”
Next to them, in their slowly rolling Consortium wagon, the two green-skinned Forn held the reigns of the horses. The wagon itself was full to bursting with children and the injured. All of the wagons that the soldiers could seize were now carrying those who couldn't keep up with the main group. Poor Clyde was one of them. Bastard had lost one of his legs defending the people within the Steel Bells. When they got back to Tethis, Nerthus felt some small comfort knowing that the Praetorian Umbra would provide a generous pension to the man. It made sense to reward good operatives.
And keeping pace with them some distance away was Johan and his Outriders. He and Garrey had agreed to keep units of men positioned around the column of civilians to be ready-action teams for when the City Watch engaged them. The sight of them would normally have been a comforting thing, but among them walked Jurgund Kinnese, an assortment of angry-looking women, a cliché-like evil old man, and that sifar. While Nerthus still didn't know the story behind the sifar, she knew plenty about Kinnese. It would have been better to have lopped the traitor's head off there and then than let him walk, armed of all things. What the hells was Johan thinking?
They marched like that for what felt like an eternity. Nerthus was so on edge, expecting attack at any moment that her jaw had begun to ache from being clenched. Occasionally another blue crystal would shoot across the sky towards the garrison, followed by a hellstorm of stones. The garrison was being ground into dust and ice. It would have been pure horror to have been caught in that.
After what she reckoned was almost an hour, Nerthus heard a faint din from ahead of the column. Though it began faint, the sound quickly began to intensify. Distant shouts and clangs of metal drifted through the air. The rustle of movement above caught Nerthus' eye as the shapes of men on the walls began to hurry ahead. Suddenly a flaming orange spout of glowing fluid licked down from the wall into the distance ahead. Liquid fire. Nerthus found herself grinning. Those monsters weren't going to like that one bit.
“Pike me,” Edda whispered. “Looks like its starting.”
“Yeah,” Nerthus agreed. She looked over to the Outriders. Their scout, Toma, was pointing at something far ahead of them, and he handed a spyglass to Johan. Nerthus pulled her own glass out from one of her pockets and did her best to follow Toma's finger. Far ahead of them, standing on the roof of a four-story building, stood Felix Titus, the doddering old Custodian of the Purse. Next to her, Edda did the same thing.
“What the hells is he doing here!?” Edda blurted out.
Titus stood upon the roof of a house, still wearing the finery from the ball at his mansion. Gone was the seeming indecisiveness and general weakness he had displayed before. In its place was a stern malice for those seeking to flee his city. He was flanked on either side by what Nerthus could only assume were mutated mages. Even through her spyglass Nerthus could make out the leaking sores and discolored drool leaking out of their mouths. The three figures watched the chaos begin to unfold below them as Garrey's men began to fight through the traitorous forces standing between them and the path to their escape.
A hundred feet away from Titus stood the outer wall. The outer wall was actually composed of two walls built into each other, the lower one twenty feet high, with the upper wall fifteen feet higher than the first, providing two wide walkways that extended around the entire city. From the lower wall another volley of liquid fire lanced out from the Bellkeep engineers and their equipment, bathing watchmen and monster alike in searing death. Nerthus watched as Titus pointed at the engineers and the two twisted mages began readying spells. The two mages, with Titus joining them, raised their arms in unison and there was a bright flash of yellow-green light, momentarily blinding Nerthus and Edda through their spyglasses. Once the green spots were out of her eyes, Nerthus saw that Titus and the mages had somehow transported a large group of watchmen, bolstered by a handful of the abominations, onto the lower wall where they began to engage the few knights stationed to defend the archers and engineers. There was a second flash of sickly light, and another group appeared on the walls almost immediately next to them.
“This is...not good,” Nerthus gulped, her wit abandoning her.
To her left, Johan began barking orders, and Nerthus watched in awe as Alek and Kinnese nodded and rushed through the crowd of panicking people and began scaling the wall to engage the monsters above them. The Outrider Commander kept yelling, now pointing towards Titus and his mages. Toma, the brunette witch that had accompanied Kinnese, and Egveny of all people began to run ahead. Toma gestured and they darted down one of the side streets and were gone.
Johan pointed at the three girls remaining, yelled to them, then pointed to Nerthus. He turned to her briefly, their eyes meeting.
“Keep the people moving!” he called to her, waving his hands forward. “If they stop, they die!” he shouted before taking his remaining Outriders, plus the silver-haired woman and two of Egveny's golems charging towards the front of the column where the pitched battle had begun.
“Did...did we just get ditched?” Edda asked suddenly.
“I really don't know,” Nerthus said, her voice wary as the three apprentice mages hurried over to them.
“We are to remain with you and help protect the people,” one said.
“We are to answer to you,” a second said.
“Can you fight?” Nerthus asked.
The three of them nodded, albeit a touch of uncertainty was on their faces.
“We're not helpless,” the first girl said.
“Good,” Nerthus nodded. “Each of you pick a wagon. The people who actually are helpless are in there. I don't care what you have to do, or how you do it, but let no harm come to these people. Understood?”
Again the three girls nodded simultaneously and they scattered through the column. The heavy footfalls of the left-behind golem surprised Nerthus, and to her surprise it saluted her in Legion fashion.
“Commander Else told me to stick with you,” the golem replied, it's deep yet tinny voice making her uncomfortable.
“Uhh okay,” Nerthus replied. “Keep any, uh, hostiles from getting too close to the...perimeter.”
“I was in the
Legions before this,” the golem replied. “No need to speak to me as if I were a cinder block.” The golem saluted again and began walking with the column, urging the people in its odd metallic voice to hurry on and to remain calm.
“Come now,” the Forn woman called to them from their wagon as it slowly trundled on ahead. “Do not stand still. There is plenty of feet left to walk.”
Edda drew two of her long knives from somewhere about her dress. “You heard our driver,” she chuckled as she began to keep pace with the wagon. “Plenty of feet to walk.”
Kinnese found his mind racing as he parried the blow of one watchman while punching a second in the face. He marveled at just how quickly he had responded to and followed Else's orders. He had no loyalty to the upstart Commander. And yet, when the heat of the moment was upon him, he knew the man was doing the right thing. Despite hearing something resembling his master's voice yelling at him to stop, he was almost smiling as he fought. For a brief moment, he was an Outrider again, and things made sense.
Next to him was another marvel. Aleksander, the man who had somehow killed Samnusen and had struck such fear into Pela, had dove into the mass of watchmen and abominations before even drawing his sword, brawling with them all like some burly sailor smashed on rum. The man had no finesse, no skill, Kinnese noted with some disdain. But after watching Alek take a cudgel to the head and not even flinch, he had to concede that maybe the man didn't really need any.
As they fought to push back the teleported forces, Kinnese again saw that the monsters were behaving differently than before. They were far more focused. While the City Watch had engaged the handful of soldiers on the wall, the abominations went straight for the engineers and their small artillery batteries. The small, mobile scorpions that the engineers were pushing were still too slow and bulky to be brought to bear on the sudden attackers drawing so close, so the engineers had fled across the wall, letting the monsters destroy their equipment. So focused were they, so strongly imprinted in their minds were their orders, that the creatures actually ignored the fleeing engineers and their escorts as they ripped apart the artillery pieces. That was a small mercy, as it actually gave Kinnese and Alek some time to dispatch the less dangerous, relatively speaking, watchmen.
Chasing Down Glory: The Outrider Legion: Book Two Page 43
