by Mark B Frost
“Miss Lathria Grielat, yours is next. As much as I hate to perpetuate the old stereotype of the cowardly mage, I’m forced to admit that this staff is too useful to pass up.” He delivered to her an oaken rod, with a large egg-shaped pearl adorning the top. “This is the Pearl Staff. As far as sorcery goes, it provides the same services as any spellcap rod, though with an above average capacity and a slight enhancement to spell strength. The Staff has only one secret technique. When activated, it encases you in a powerful barrier which will lift you up and carry you to the place that you consider the safest. In your case, no doubt that place will be Felthespar. With proficiency the transport can be controlled with finer precision.”
Lathria examined the weapon she had been given for a few moments, then moved on to examine the weapons of each of the other councilors in turn, as Kinguin handed out the last. “Now Zynex Traval, I have a special gift for you.” He unwrapped another layer of the cloth and revealed the most magnificent longbow the archer had ever seen. It was seven feet long, made of an unrecognizable wood that had long ago been dyed a smooth gold. Just above the rubber grip was a series of notches in the wood, each painted a different color. “This is the Bow of Traval. Apparently it belonged to one of your ancestors long ago, before your family moved to Jegan. The first three notches represent the basic elements—blue for ice, red for fire, and yellow for lightning. If you use enchanted arrows, they will be endowed with the element of whichever slot against which you align them, and you’ll find yourself with far more devastating projectiles. I already have a team of heralds working on your first quiver. It should be completed shortly.”
Zynex raised a curious eyebrow. “There’s a fourth notch here you didn’t mention. A black one.”
“That notch is supposed to be capable of firing arrows infused with shadow magic. You’ll notice that as you move up the notches, the spells become more powerful, but in order to fire them you have to increase the tilt of your bow and the shots become increasingly difficult and inaccurate. I don’t know how powerful a shadow bolt might be, since there’s no record of one ever being fired, but I imagine that they’re quite terrifying. Good luck with that.”
Having completed her own inspections, Lathria also had a question. “These weapons are engraved with the tiniest runes I’ve ever seen. How is carving runes this small even possible?”
“One of the mysteries of the Arocaen era that we have yet to unravel, my dear. Since only the highest ranking heralds are given access to the weapons due to their incredible power, studies are slow and little progress is made. Another feature to these weapons which we haven’t been able to reproduce, or even comprehend, is that they don’t use power-words to activate their abilities. The control has to become an instinct, and with practice you can attain a high enough affinity with them that they will respond immediately to your will. That being the case, if you will each come with me now I’ll take you over to the Emle training grounds and give you more detailed instructions on how to use your weapons. General, we take our leave of you.”
Kulara returned a friendly bow and watched as the councilors followed Kinguin out. As soon as the last among them exited, Cildar and Myris stepped into the tent, having waited outside for some time.
“Gentlemen,” Kulara greeted them, “always a pleasure. Anything particular bring you here?”
Cildar nodded. “Derris Phare has been slain.”
Kulara was taken aback. “What? When?”
“Just last night. Myris challenged him to a personal duel and finished him.”
The General glared at the shorter man. “I wasn’t aware of these events. You should have come to me with this information beforehand. I would never have allowed you to confront the man alone like that. You are more invaluable to our efforts here than Derris was to the Cainites’.”
Myris glanced to his side. “This is how it had to be. If Derris and I had not faced one another we could not have continued to fight with honor. Now one of us is dead, and the survivor can proceed with dignity.”
Unconvinced, he shook his head in displeasure. “There’s nothing I can do about it now. But I don’t want any repeat performances of this. You understand, Phare?”
“Aye, sir. My apologies.”
“Accepted. Now what do we do with this news?”
The two knights exchanged glances. Cildar adopted the role of mediator. “Stratas Ezul is in charge of the Cainite troops now. He’s not as levelheaded as Derris was. We need to use this to our advantage, figure out some way to force him into a fault.”
At that moment, the sergeant of the Dragoon Corps rushed into the tent. His attire matched Cildar and Shasta’s, but was primarily black with yellow accouterments. “General, Lord Emle, the Cainites have arrived again. They’re crossing the Ducall boundary even as we speak.”
“What? They just attacked us yesterday. Surely they need time to recover from the first battle as badly as we do.”
The four officers dashed out of the tent, heading for the city gate. As they ran Myris said, “I am sure they do. If Derris were still in charge, doubtless they would use this time for recovery. It is the prudent move. But Stratas likes to live on the edge, take unnecessary risks.”
Cildar grimaced. “Unfortunately this one is a risk that will probably work out in his favor.”
They reached the city wall and Kulara dashed up the stairs to the battlements without hesitation. Cildar checked in with his Dragoons, and Myris grabbed the nearest Child of Cain he could find by the throat.
“Why was I not informed of these movements sooner? What is happening out there?”
“Forgive us, milord,” the man gasped with the breaths he could find. “The report is only now coming in. Late last night Stratas came back to the encampment and announced the death of Derris. He told the army to take the night to rest and mourn. Our spies assumed that this was less than news, so they spent the night there and did not report back. First thing this morning Stratas announced they were moving out. He assembled everyone not busy with the construction of the new city, around eleven thousand, and sent them out on the march. He put a separate troop of his hundred most elite trackers across the front of the army, to make certain no spies could come or go. One of our men finally got through, but we received the news too late to do us any good.”
Cildar had wandered back over in time to hear the end of this report. Myris released his officer, then turned to his comrade and shook his head slowly. “Stratas is the kind of leader just careless enough to send his troops into battle without any preparation. But I did not think he would be able to seize authority so quickly.”
The paladin pulled the Trine Lance from his back and gave it a few powerful practice swings, loosening his arm up. “It’s a bold risk, for certain. Sadly we don’t have the manpower to use it to our advantage. The suddenness of this will favor the Cainites.”
“I agree. It would be best for us to keep our gates shut and fight this battle from the battlements. They cannot tear down Felthespar’s walls with their bare hands, and we can easily hold them off.”
Kulara hopped down from the wall, bracing his thudding landing with grey magic. “It looks like they want to have another one of those little conferences. Stratas has pulled forward about two hundred soldiers just on the other side of our gate. The rest of the forces are lingering in the distance, at the southern end of the Ducall region, and don’t seem to be making any sort of move. Cildar, grab a hundred of your Dragoons and let’s go see what they want.”
“Is it really a good idea to meet them? Maybe we should stay in here and just bide our time.”
“I know the risks involved, Cildar, but he seems to have something to say. I want to see his hand before I commit to anything. If his forces make a move, we’ll retreat back to the city.”
The Lord of the Phoenix nodded, then clapped and made a few hand motions over his shoulder. A hundred of his troops separated themselves and formed a ten by ten rank behind him. Kulara signaled for the front gates
to be opened and they headed out. Kulara, Cildar, and Myris took point, and the small force of Dragoons lingered slightly behind in case they were needed. As soon as they were clear, the gates slammed shut.
Kulara started things off in his usual brusque manner, making no pretense at diplomacy. “What do you want, ya’ Cainite bastard? Why are you back at my city so soon?”
Stratas waved a disapproving finger. “You do understand that we’re invaders, right? We’re here to take over your country. Why shouldn’t we attack you again today?”
He grimaced and spat at Stratas’ feet. “You know good and well why not. Your soldiers need as much rest as mine do. Time to regroup, time to recover. We’re the besieged, but that means we hold the defensive position. If you attack us every day, you won’t overcome us anytime soon and you’ll wear yourselves out.”
Stratas smiled and adjusted the bandages wrapped around one of his arms. “I do so despise siege battles. You sit happily in your little castle and I throw my forces at you over and over again, hoping to someday make some headway, maybe even get to kill one of your officers. It easily takes years, even up to decades. I don’t think that either of us want this war to last that long, do we?”
Kulara rubbed his chin and eyed his antagonist cautiously. “I think it’s fair to say we’d all like this war to be over as soon as possible, and you and your people off our land.”
The freshly appointed Lord Commander raised his hand for silence, refraining from exchanging taunts with Kulara. “Now the smart thing to do would be for me to play by the rules and standards of war, move my army back a safe distance and try to starve you out. Or at least let you stew long enough to lower your morale. That’s how Derris would have handled things. But I hated the way Derris handled things, and if for no other reason than that, I have come up with an alternative method for us to handle this war.”
“I’m listening.”
“My army’s strength is offense. We have your troops badly outnumbered, almost absurdly so, and so in direct battles you can only hope to last against our onslaughts. On the other hand, your strength is defense, and we can only hope to actually draw you into direct confrontation. So I’ve decided, instead of pitting our strength against your strength, we will pit your weakness against ours.”
“I’m forced to admit that I don’t quite follow.”
Stratas’ smile broadened. “My soldiers will sit where they are, at the southern end of this wasteland you created. Every day your forces will make an attempt to attack us. No, I’ll be even more generous. Every other day will suffice. We sit vulnerable out here on these plains, undefended, yet you don’t have the manpower necessary to crush us. So you’re going to have to fight smart, and we’re going to have to try to stay one step ahead of you. Which I feel will be no problem at all.”
Kulara slammed his fists together violently. “What kind of fools do you take us for? You’re just trying to lure my troops out into the open so you can surround us and cut us down. We’re not biting. If you want to sit with your troops down there, exposed to the elements and without food supplies, then knock yourself out. We’ll just sit back on our haunches and happily ignore you.”
“I know you’re bluffing, Onion Knight. Staying cooped up in your city with your swelled civilian numbers and limited supplies wouldn’t benefit you. But in any case, I have accepted that you might follow through with your bluff, and so have prepared some extra incentive.”
He suddenly raised both arms, and a strange electricity filled the air. It began to grow misty, and Stratas dashed quickly out of the way. The two hundred troops that had been standing behind him began to melt, turning into a strange black haze and congealing together. The surrounding land became as dark as night, even though the gleaming ball of the sun could still be seen in the sky.
Myris first realized what was happening, letting out a loud, “Shit!” and drawing his Soul Scythe forth in terror. Cildar’s realization was a second later, and he responded by dashing forward with his Trine Lance striking at the heart of the darkness. The cloud split away from the Lance, wrapped itself around the Dragoon’s helmet, lifted him up, and sent him spinning away through the dirt.
Seeing his comrade treated so brutally, Myris unfroze. Thinking fast, he sent his Soul Scythe spinning forward at the darkness. The spinning weapon blocked a barrage of spells that the cloud unleashed in his direction. He ran forward at his fastest, less than a yard behind his Scythe, and used the katana he had procured from Derris to execute the former Cainite’s powerful Fire Draw technique. The flames hovered frozen in the air for a moment, having no effect on the dark cloud, then reversed direction and ripped straight through Myris, crushing him into the ground.
The darkness took shape then, forming into a hunched, robed figure. The figure began to grow, huge clawed hands tore themselves from the robes, and two blazing eyes burned out from the cowl.
Kulara took a step back, in shock that Cildar and Myris had been so swiftly defeated. “A lich. I don’t believe it. They have a lich.”
The unholy nightspawn pointed a clawed finger at the city and let out a banshee’s piercing cry. It took all of Kulara’s strength just to draw his Dual Blade and hold it out in front of him. It was only barely in time, as a ball of solid black energy exploded forth from the lich, tearing a path straight for the General. The Dual Blade survived the impact, but he was thrown hard to the side. The ball proceeded to rip through the Dragoon ranks, incinerating entire bodies, then flew at the front gate.
Suddenly Kinguin Peet was there, coming out of nowhere and leaping down from the battlements. He landed awkwardly at the foot of the wall, twisting his leg badly but maintaining his composure. He let forth a roar uncharacteristic of a herald as he swung his Staff of the Magi at the energy barreling on top of him. Green energy from the Staff clashed hard with the lich’s power, the struggle of magics lasting for nearly half a minute before each side fizzled out.
The lich stared for a moment at its new opponent, slowly tilting its head to the side. Kinguin sat crouched on the ground, body and mind both exhausted from deflecting the immense attack. Myris and Cildar had regained their feet, yet neither seemed sure they were ready to launch themselves back at the monster.
Then Stratas intervened. He stepped in front of the lich and held up a long strip of paper with a series of runes on it, then tossed the strip into the dark robes. The nightspawn exploded into a thin smoke, which quickly blew away on the wind. The land brightened immediately. Cildar and Myris started to close in on the Cainite warlord, anxious to take their rage out on something.
“No, no, no. I wouldn’t recommend it,” Stratas announced fearlessly. “If you kill me, my seal will be broken and he’ll be summoned again. You don’t want to be responsible for the death of more of your people, do you?” Cildar angrily stormed back to his Dragoons as Myris moved to help Kulara back onto his feet. As they were doing this, the Lord Commander continued his speech. “Now that you’ve had a taste of our pet, maybe you’ll be more willing to accept our terms. Every other day you must make an attempt to defeat us, else I’ll summon the lich and send him straight to the residential sector of your city. By the time you’ve stopped him I imagine that at least half, if not all, of your civilians would have suffered horrendous fates. I’m returning to my troops now. Feel free to take the rest of today to mull things over. But be warned—if you have not attacked by tomorrow at sunset you’ll have an unwelcome guest.”
Stratas headed off to the south, as promised. The front gates were opened and everyone was helped back into the city. The medics gave quick inspections. Thanks to a late-cast Slowfall spell, Kinguin’s leg was not quite broken, but there was a nasty stress fracture. Myris’ entire abdomen was burnt, though nothing too severe, and Kulara had escaped with just a few bruised ribs. Of the four, Cildar had suffered the worst damage, with a badly sprained neck and ripped skin along his face and head. He had already begun healing most of the damage with his own potent white magic, but agreed to head to
the Chamber of Life for advanced tissue repair.
The lich had done more than just bang up the councilors. A full score of Dragoons were no more. The dark energy ball had not even left enough of their bodies to constitute a proper burial. This was a sore loss for the Knighthood, since even a single Dragoon casualty was difficult to replace.
Kulara gave the injured herald a pat on the back as his leg was bound by medics. “Now that was something, Master Peet. Never have I seen a member of the Arcanum launch such a vicious attack, not even the best of my war mages.”
The Lord Archmagus smiled at this praise, but his tone remained a dire one. “That was the extent of what I could do against that creature of the night. Liches are highly enhanced mystics with instant access to spells that would take me hours to construct. Had he launched a second energy ball, there’s precious little I could have done to stop it.”
The General scratched at the stubble on his chin. It had been a while since he had shaved and his face was a bit gruff. He shook his head and reminded himself there were too many more important things, forcing his thoughts back into focus.
“Lord Kinguin, where are the rest of my Military Councilors?”
“Somewhere between here and the training quarters at which I left them. I detected the lich and dashed across the city as fast as I could.”
“Myris, collect intelligence from your people, as much as they have to offer. I’m going to go find the councilors. We’ll have a meeting tonight, just before sunset, to decide what we’re going to do tomorrow. It looks like for now, we have no choice but to play this game with Stratas until something changes.”
