by Mark B Frost
A few pensive glances were exchanged, as most present had never considered the question. Cildar was the first to give a response. “We have no strengths. The training regimen in Felthespar emphasizes all aspects of combat to be of equal importance and we balance our ranks accordingly, with a mix of knights of various strengths.”
“Exactly.” Kulara nodded and pointed at the paladin. “So our strength is that we have no weaknesses. Conversely, our weakness is that we have no strengths. We must mold ourselves to gain the utmost advantage from our opponent’s weaknesses. So we must ask ourselves, what are those?”
Karice offered, “Their emphasis on speed and magic leaves them lacking in the physical department. We drastically outmatch them in brute strength. Plus, they don’t wear armor or use shields, so they’re lax in defense.”
“Excellent points,” the General responded. “I’d take it a step further than that, myself. It’s fair to say that the Cainites have us beat on offense, but they sacrifice defense to get there. They use speed, magic, and enhanced weapons to make quick work of their enemies before their lack of defense becomes an issue. We have to do what we can to balance the equation here. We focus on our defense, to blunt the edge of their offense. Like Karice said, we’ve got them beat on strength and endurance, so we focus on weathering the initial storm and striking back. With that said, I want everyone who participates in battle at any point wearing armor. No exceptions.” Cyprus started to interject, but Kulara preempted him. “I said no exceptions, Galahe. Find yourself some armor. What else?”
Kinguin found himself exasperated at Kulara’s approach to the meeting. While the Lord Archmagus was accustomed to the fact that Kulara and the Military Councilors were not the most sophisticated thinkers in Felthespar, he saw no reason to take the entire exposition in baby steps. He decided to give the conversation a healthy push along its way.
“General, if you please, I will take over for a moment.”
Kulara bowed and took a step back. “Of course, Lord Kinguin.”
The Archmagus rose to his feet and gave a smug look around the room. “Here is where we stand. We are fighting an army of soldiers who, in battle, rely solely on martial expertise, agile physique, and a potent touch of the arcane. Our war mages are bountiful and adept enough to provide an adequate counter to their heraldric fencing, as I believe it was called. However we still need to match them in physical combat. They’re weak, but fast. They’ll be able to slither past our soldier’s attacks and use quick blows from their weapon magic to strike us down. Most of the battle will be undoubtedly fought in the depths of the Ducall Forest, and as the Cainites are masters of the art of invisibility we will be in constant threat of ambush or fresh waves of unforeseen troops. Furthermore, there is no question that they have the skill necessary to sneak into Felthespar for either information or assassination. Finally, for this war to even end in a draw, every one of our soldiers has to kill two Cainites before he himself is killed. Assuming we don’t feel the need to have survivors.”
Kinguin returned to his seat and Kulara resumed his position in the center of the room. “There you have it, then. Three problems: how do we match them in physical combat, how do we minimize their stealth capabilities, and how do we overcome the staggering odds standing against us?”
There was silence for a few moments as everyone slipped into thought. Eventually Myris shuffled forward. “Though I cannot think of any immediately apparent solution to these other problems, I can give you my personal guarantee that the Children of Cain will see that no Cainite spy steps foot within Felthespar’s city walls. If there is anything that we understand better than spying, it is how to find and stop spies.”
“I’ll leave that matter in your capable hands,” Kulara responded. “Regardless, everyone should take care to watch out for suspicious characters and possible assassination attempts. Be smart and don’t leave yourself vulnerable, even within the comfort of the city’s walls.”
Cildar shook his head in aggravation. “I can’t imagine an easy way to teach our knights to deal with Cainites. I’ve sparred with Myris more times than I can count, and I’ve fought many of his comrades and—no offense Myris—but they are the most annoying creatures I’ve encountered in all my days. It’s nearly impossible to lay hand or weapon on them.”
The Lord of the Cain brushed back a shock of his hair. “No offense taken. We pride ourselves in our annoyance.”
Kulara raised an eyebrow and gave the man a hard look. “Myris, if you weren’t trained in the arts of speed and stealth, but knew everything about Cainites that you do, how would you fight them? What is your weakness in battle?”
Myris opened his eyes wide and tilted his head. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with the question, but he knew the weight of the situation they were in. He took a few seconds to think before answering, “You are not far off with your own analysis thus far, General. A counter-strike offense is indeed the best way to combat a Cainite warrior. The most basic form of the heraldric fencing technique is to slip past your opponent’s defenses and quickly strike them down with a powerful elemental weapon charge. The fencer is most vulnerable after making this first strike. Everything is gambled for the opportunity to kill the opponent immediately and avoid a prolonged confrontation. If the target survives the attack, there is generally about a one-second gap during which a Cainite could be easily struck down.”
“It sounds easier than it is,” Cildar responded, shaking his head. “If this was purely a matter of physical endurance, we could certainly manage that. But the magic element incorporated into their blows is difficult to weather for any except for the most potent grey magic users. Even for those who can survive the attack, it’s difficult to find the composure to take advantage of a window that lasts scarcely a second when you’ve, literally, just been struck by lightning.”
Kulara slid a finger along one of the long scars on his face. “What if our knights had some sort of ward to allow them to shrug off that first attack? Something that could absorb the elemental charge completely, without diminishing their own grey magic barriers?”
“It would give them an edge, for certain,” Myris responded. “But be warned—not all Cainites will follow this pattern. It is the first and most common heraldric fencing technique, but more skilled warriors will not share this simple vulnerability.”
“I get it. We just need a method to give our common soldiers some advantage over their common soldiers. Kinguin, would such wards be possible?”
“Ah, here we run into some rather fortuitous circumstance. Since further production of my Heraldric Automatons has been forbidden, I turned my attentions to developing alternative devices to aid our Military. As a result I have developed a ward such as you describe. It is capable of absorbing between two and five elemental hits before crumbling, depending on the strength of the spell absorbed. From the time you restored authority to the Grand Council and I was told of the Cainites, I have had the Arcanum’s Artifact department working continuously to manufacture them. We have several thousand, but I suspect they will go quickly once combat begins in earnest. Perhaps if you had not felt the need to be so secretive about an impending invasion for so long I could have done more.”
Kulara grimaced at the admonishment. He was about to offer an apology, when to everyone’s surprise Aveni spoke up. “Excuse me General, but a thought has occurred to me. It’s true that the Cainites sorely outnumber us, but I believe you have unfairly discounted our nation’s true strength. When a soldier is wounded our healers can swiftly treat the wound, sometimes even if it is a critical one. The Cainites have no form of advanced healing. When one of them is seriously injured they are as good as dead, at least from a military point of view. I believe this easily offsets their superior numbers. I know you are accustomed to the presence of field medics, but never before have you waged war with the full healing prowess of the Church at your behest.”
“I don’t know if the Church will be able to make up for being outnumbered
twofold,” Kulara responded, “but you’re right to suggest that we need to make the most of it. We’ll need to put emphasis on getting our wounded off of the battlefield as efficiently as possible. That isn’t going to be easy. We can’t turn our back on the enemy, and we can’t have soldiers retreating. We’ll need to have secondary teams of medics, probably mixed with archers or mages, retrieving the injured and getting them into the city.”
“General,” Fujia interjected, “you said the Cainites’ stealth abilities would pose a problem for battling in the Ducall Forest, did you not?”
“I believe it was Lord Kinguin who brought that point up, but yes, it was mentioned.”
“Sir, I was thinking, why do we not then burn the Ducall to the ground?”
Everyone sat absorbing this idea for a moment. Everyone except for Leprue, who was immediately on his feet in outrage. “The Ducall is one of Felthespar’s oldest natural defenses! It runs for miles around the city walls! Setting it on fire would be a tremendous disaster that would rage for days unchecked, ravaging the countryside around us and most likely consuming our city as well. Even if we could endure it, we do not wish to turn our beautiful green woodland into a blackened wasteland!”
At first no one wanted to argue with Leprue. He was the standing Lord Councilor, and his word bore more weight than anyone’s. Kinguin alone was not intimidated.
“There, there, old man, take your seat and unruffle your feathers. I agree that burning down the Ducall seems like an immediately bad idea. But personally I think having the country invaded by Cainites is a bad idea. So why don’t we have someone go out there and tell them we don’t want them to attack us and maybe they’ll go away?” Leprue shot a killing glare in Kinguin’s direction, but the mage had defied the elder statesman for as long as he could remember, and was accustomed to the look. “No? So, since we cannot simply ask the Cainites to not attack, it’s only fair to concede that we’re going to have to undergo some unpleasant things over the next few months. That being the case, I think burning the Ducall is an excellent way to start matters off.”
“Kinguin,” the General interjected before Leprue got an opportunity to retort, “do you think your mages can hold off the fire?”
The Lord Archmagus leaned back and grinned. “If there is one thing at which my Arcanum is adept, it’s maintaining a powerful spell for an indefinite period of time. We could easily set up a magical barrier around the city that would keep the flames a safe distance away and sustain it for however long is necessary.”
Kulara turned to Myris. “How far away did your spies say the Cainite army was?”
“The main army is still under a week away. It would seem that they’re taking their time, trying not to exhaust themselves on the march. Most likely this is to ensure they’re ready to launch the attack as soon as they arrive.”
“Alright then, here’s the plan. Send out the Children of Cain and pick off any Cainites who are already in the Ducall. Make certain it is emptied. Cyprus, Karice, and Shasta, get a brute squad together and start digging some shallow troughs through the forest and fill them with oil, then cover them back up as well as you can. Make sure there are flammable patches that spread all the way to the outskirts of the Ducall. Zynex, keep your archers posted on where these areas are, and have them armed and ready with fire arrows for when the Cainites arrive. We’re going to welcome them in with a blaze.”
Chapter 30.
An Unwelcoming Shore
“Lord Atheme, there’s a continent in sight,” rang a cry from the crow’s nest of the Calvin. Atheme looked up from on deck where he had been conversing with Sinjuin Serene. He slipped his love a quick kiss, then dashed excitedly to the fore of the ship. As they had been sailing south across the Cerulian Sea for nearly a full year now, he felt so stagnated he could barely stand it. He and Abaddon had even been forced to halt their training sessions months ago, when an unfortunate incident had nearly shattered the hull of the ship.
Now the Lord Councilor saw for himself that land truly was within sight and he felt his pulse quicken. While he had logically known the ship was actually bringing him closer to his destination, he could not fight the instinct that he was sitting idly by when there were important things that needed to be done. He knew he would feel better once he was traveling on foot and getting some exercise.
Serene gradually wandered over to join him at the bow, looking quietly at the small speck to the south. “I swear, you men get so excited over so little.”
He gave a broad smile. “It’s often the littlest things that bear the most significance. For ten months we’ve sailed on this damn ocean with nothing but water to show for it. Now there’s finally a sign that we’re actually going somewhere. Isn’t that at least a little exciting?”
She returned a soft smile. “Of course, dear.” Her smile faded into a look of apprehension. “But I am also aware that the difficult part of our journey is about to begin. And at the end of a long road, a trying task awaits us.”
His smile faded as well as he gave his love a concerned look, but he was in too good of a mood to linger on her foreboding words. He turned and scanned the deck, but could not find what he was seeking. “Relm, do you know where Abaddon is? I thought he’d be most excited to know we’re finally about to get off of this ‘godforsaken deathtrap’, as he likes to call it.”
Atheme still had not grown accustomed to using the Saint’s recovered name. “It’s Serene,” she corrected him once more, “and Abaddon is down on one of the lower decks, doing some labor with some of the crew. You know how he hates to sit around while someone else is working.”
He nodded in response. “And I completely relate to him on the matter.” He searched around trying to find a stream of ether, then remembered the ship was moving too fast for him to draw. “I guess I’ll have to fetch him the old fashioned way.”
Just as he started to head to the ladder, Abaddon’s head popped up and he ascended to the deck. Atheme waved him over, and he soon joined them at the bow.
“I thought you’d be happy to know that land has finally been sighted,” the Lord Councilor offered casually.
Abaddon looked across the ocean to where a small dark shape could be seen, then nodded. “I am aware. We ran parallel to an ether stream a few miles back. I was able to tap it and read the area. We have about three more hours of travel time, if I’m correct.”
Atheme gave the man a surprised look, then turned to Serene. “I see you’ve taught him quite a bit about controlling his mysticism.”
“His mastery over ether is quite adept,” she responded.
“She’s an excellent teacher,” Abaddon said without looking at either of them, then turned and headed back to the helm to converse with the captain. Serene blushed at this unexpected praise. Atheme gave her a smile, then stepped next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“What generosity inspired you to teach him to control his magic?”
“I’m sad to say it was no generosity at all. I was hoping that giving Abaddon a more refined control of his own power would better enable him to resist the corrupting influence of Kargaroth.”
“I figured there might be some ulterior motive or another. When we started this journey you were terrified to be anywhere near him.”
“Atheme, we have to take this matter seriously. I’ve said it a hundred times, and it doesn’t seem to get through to you. I know that Abaddon has held out well against the influence of the dark gods up until now, but you have to remember that on this ship they are as unable to gather their powers as we are. Once we get settled on land and they get a fresh supply of ether, Abaddon is going to be experiencing an overwhelming amount of temptation. I still just don’t know if he’s strong enough to resist it for long.”
His face turned somber. “You were not the one who saw the Hell Knight when it was at its true power. You were not the one who saw what it did to the nation of Revian. You were not the one who fought against it and felt it tear and burn your flesh away.
So before you think I’m not taking this matter seriously enough, just remember that I am the only man still alive who has laid eyes on that monster. No one knows better than I how much danger we’re all in.”
Serene leaned her head into the Lord Councilor’s shoulder, and the two rode out the rest of the trip in silence. As Abaddon had predicted, a few hours later found them standing on the shore of the unknown continent, and Atheme could barely contain himself.
Abaddon immediately stalked off into the woods, muttering something about scouting around. Atheme let him go and made plans with Serene and the Captain of the ship.
“I’m afraid the ship can’t stay here,” Serene stated plainly. “This continent is covered with creatures as powerful as behemoths. The crew wouldn’t be safe.”
Atheme was more than a little put off by this sudden announcement. “Where do you expect Captain Yoshim to go? It’s a year’s trip back to Felthespar, and we’re going to need a way to get back once this quest is over.”
She turned her head away but did not immediately answer. Atheme and Yoshim exchanged confused glances, then Serene seemed to come back to herself. She took a sheet of paper out of her satchel, and with a wave of her hand a detailed map appeared on it. She handed it to Yoshim, explaining, “About a week’s travel to the west is a small chain of islands. There are a variety of port towns there that take in lost wayfarers. Some of them are actually pretty nice. You and your crew can go and stay there. Take this,” she reached into her pocket and retrieved a small white crystal. “I can signal this gem from any distance. When it turns red, it will be time for you to meet us here for the trip home.”
The Captain took the map and the crystal and looked them over. “How long should we wait for you?”
Atheme looked to the Saint, but she had wandered over to where the peists had been unloaded and began patting one of them. He turned back to Yoshim. “As long as you can give us. That’s all I know to say.”
