The Mayor nodded. “But the people of Estori won’t allow it.”
Scarlett just shook her head. “Since they want to destroy the monument, they either have to come up the main road—which would give us the advantage of fighting from our homes, and involve many more people—or come through here.” She pointed at a spot pincered between tall, rolling hills and a rocky crumble that led to the Edge of the Abyss itself, then gestured over her shoulder at the actual landscape. “And from what I know and what I scouted, that’s the direction they’re going to come from.”
“So we stop them.” The Mayor nodded again, his face set and determined.
“No, we let them.”
He blinked at her, taken aback.
The Overseer smiled at his confusion. “You see, they expect us to try to stop them. So we won’t. Instead, our hunters will lay what traps they can: physical, explosive, alchemical, whatever. When they pause to deal with it, then we strike.”
“Won’t they expect that, too? As soon as the traps go off?”
“Of course.” Scarlett nodded. “That’s also the point. As soon as it happens, tension and adrenaline will spike. Have you ever been in a real fight, Bertram?”
The Mayor managed a chuckle. “Yes? With fists. About thirty years ago.” He rubbed thoughtfully at his trimmed beard. “As I recall, neither of us knew what we were doing, and I ended up with a bloody nose.”
“That doesn't count.” She shook her head and moved pieces across the map. “The point is that during the fight, training takes over. Before the fight, you worry. We let them worry, exaggerate what’s coming in their own minds.” She stabbed a red-nailed finger at a spot on the map. “Then we strike. Their backs are against a choke; more stress to erode their training. An orderly retreat will be possible, but slow and difficult. An advance will send them directly into our traps.”
“Or what’s left of them, since we don’t actually have that many.” He sighed and forced a smile. “Thanks for seeing this through, Scarlett. If not for your training and knowledge of the inner workings of the Elizabethian Empire…”
“Don’t condescend to me, Bertram. This is my job. I made a promise to these people when I took it.”
“It’s just...as glad as I am—as Estori is—to have you, you could just leave. Go somewhere else and disappear. I could direct the militia in your place.”
She glared at him. “Yes, I’m sure I’d make a wonderful bandit.”
“So you insist this is futile, and you won’t leave?”
“Yes, because it’s my job.” The Overseer gave him a hard stare. “Quit testing my loyalty, Dietrich. Besides, you need me, or this plan will fail before it even gets going.”
The Mayor managed to shrug off her glare and offered her a smile instead. “Sorry. It’s just...you’re a hard one to figure, Officer Carlyle. Half the town hates you because of the title in front of your name. You profess loyalty to both sides. And on the surface, it looks like you might have a death wish.”
“You’re just going to have to deal with it.” She folded her arms behind her back and stared down at the sweating recruits until the hard lines etched into the mask of her face finally faded away. “I’ve met them both, you know?” She said quietly. “I doubt many living people can say that.”
“Both? You mean Jonelise, and…”
Scarlett nodded. “I met Eternal Queen Elizabeth once. Years ago. Not alone, but as part of a commendation ceremony. She was...beyond my meager ability to describe.” The memory of pride, of blind devotion, still lingered sharply in her mind’s eye. Still stirred her soul. Had it really been so long? “I still believe wholeheartedly in what she wants, in what she stands for.”
She turned back to regard the Mayor: her ally, associate, and rival of over a decade and a half. “But after more than two centuries, corruption has spread its wings throughout the system.” She spun the second chair around and sat. “Something needs to change. Something has to give. I believe Jonelise’s revolution can do that. More, I think they could each see the value in each other. Come to a resolution. Neither side of this struggle is going to just go away. Someone or something else will always take its place. So I suppose you could say that I believe in both of them.”
He watched her, thoughtful. “It’s an admirable dream, Captain.”
“But you think it’s stupid.” Scarlett chuckled. “And maybe it is.” She shrugged. “But that’s okay. I’ve known for over a decade that I’d go to my grave a fool. I’d hate to be wrong right at the end.”
- - -
Scarlett Carlyle stood in the rain, allowed it to drip from her shapeless cloak, to soak into her nondescript tunic and leggings, a set of flexible, tight clothing colored and tailored to blend in to the terrain.
She waited outside the mouth of the small cave, a little hiding place along the Edge, away from prying eyes but close enough to allow the militia to act promptly when the time came.
Which would be soon.
She listened to the Mayor speak just inside, trying to rally the troops, but she didn’t hear the words. She wasn’t nervous, not really. She’d faced death many times before. And with much more on the line to lose.
She frowned. The thought wasn’t a fair one. Not to the people in her charge. While her own life might be at the end of a decade-long downward spiral, there were still people depending on her to do her best.
And so she would.
Voices rose from within the cave, emphatic oratory and cheers of support. She rolled her eyes and stepped inside.
“Mayor.” She took Bertram by the arm, stumbling his speech to a halt. “I know you want to be inspirational, but you have to keep it down.” She tried to keep her own voice low, but nearby villagers shot her dirty looks anyway.
The Mayor blinked, then nodded and resumed smiling. He was nothing if not a good spokesman, and far more manipulative than most of his citizens realized.
But with far better intentions than most people I’ve known. Scarlett stepped out of their space and press-checked her steam-powered longrifle one more time as the Mayor resumed speaking, this time with more measured words and tone.
Adain stepped up to her shoulder and shared the rain with her. “It’ll be alright, Captain.” He smiled broadly, optimistically, heavy pack slung over one shoulder, uncomplaining.
“You think so?” Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say, Corporal?”
The youthful soldier opened his mouth to respond, then stopped and grinned. “If I tell you, Capitan, you’ll be disappointed in me.”
She grunted. “Spit it out.”
“It’s just that it’s nothing logical, Captain. It’s just...faith, I suppose.” He nodded, wiping away rainwater that matted his hair and trickled into his eyes. “In the justice of our cause. In Mayor Dietrich. And yes, even in you.”
The Overseer shook her head. “In that case, yes. I’m disappointed in you. I certainly didn’t train you to be an idiot.”
“Must have come naturally then, Ma’am.”
She sighed and finally returned his smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that the young man likely wouldn’t survive the day.
Time to do my best to change that.
The Mayor’s speech wound down inside. “This is our home!” Growls of agreement echoed through the cave mouth. “And we will not yield any part of it easily! Not today, and not ever!”
Quiet cheers masked their fear, some more so than others. The Mayor did a final round of making certain that everyone in charge understood their roles, but it was mostly for show. The ones actually responsible for the militia’s actions were her own finest guardsmen, and Scarlett had already drilled her plans into their skulls over and over again, until the handful of men and women could state their roles in their sleep.
If they messed it up now, they’d better hope she died today.
“Ready?” She asked as the Mayor finally stepped back out into the rain. Her top three halberdiers followed, and she shared a firm salute with them
.
“No?” he responded with a quiet chuckle. “The most I typically use my magic for is to light the fireplace. This is a bit of a sudden step up.”
Scarlett started walking. The trio of guards fell in behind, and the Mayor hustled to keep up. Grass crunched underfoot, crisp and green and soaked with the continual steamy drizzle of rain. “Remember; I need you where you are, but you’re a symbol first and foremost. Don’t go crazy today.”
“Crazy? Me? I think you have an exaggerated opinion of my sense of adventure, Captain.”
She couldn’t repress a chuckle, but didn’t respond. Mayor Bertram was obviously more than willing to put his life on the line for his people, or he wouldn’t be here right now. The Overseer let it drop and trudged onward in silence, taking in the clouded, beautiful scenery of very early morning Estori one more time.
Figures it’d be raining. Not like I’ve caught a break in the last fifteen years, or anything.
They reached the top of the same hill that had hosted their impromptu tactics meetings, and she started giving orders and setting up. The three halberdiers took up defensive positions, concealed from view around the back of the hill. The Mayor disappeared as well. Scarlett herself laid on the damp grass at the crest and found a solid, stable position for her rifle. From there, Adain hustled about and did most of the remaining work, readying her spare ammunition and checking everyone’s concealment.
Then she waited.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and put a bullet through Xander’s skull. Stop this before everyone gets themselves killed. She suppressed a chuckle. And maybe garm will learn to pilot ships.
Time passed her by. The sky slowly lightened. The others shifted; she didn’t. It might have been a long time since she’d last held an overwatch position, but the patient action still fit her like a glove.
Soon enough, the invaders arrived.
They trickled slowly in through the dip between hills; with a quick scan, she counted between three and four score, as expected. They crept in quietly under the cover of a barely breaking dawn, with the Sisters’ light still behind them, leaving them shrouded in the long shadow cast by the terrain at their backs.
Was that to minimize her own effectiveness? Probably not. More likely, it was simple good judgement, as she would have done the same herself. Either way, it didn’t matter.
Scarlett breathed in, shallow and slow, and invoked magic lent to her by the Mayor. Her vision sharpened, enhanced to a crystalline clarity, one more trick she’d learned in the Order.
She stared down her rifle, through the polished lenses of her scope. Slow, shallow, steady breaths, in and out in a predictable rhythm. Comfortable. Familiar. She watched small figures through her sights as her crosshairs danced from head to head, each person below moving about, each completely unaware that they were a hair-trigger pull away from sudden death.
Her sights wavered over Kaitlin’s face for a moment, then moved on. Why are you here, Kait? Scarlett frowned. Why are any of you here?
None of this made any sense to her. Not in the grand scheme of things. She’d once been buried about as deep in the Elizabethian power structure as one could go, and many of the Empire’s recent actions...the didn’t feel like the Queen Elizabeth she’d come to know.
And maybe it was a hunch, or wishful thinking on her part, or even a different flavor of the same stupid faith she’d just scolded Adain for. But Scarlett also knew how vast the Empire was, and how hard it was to keep an eye and a grasp on everything. What if the Arcadian rebellion had shaken things up in more ways than one?
Was the Queen she supported for so long finally changing, or was someone else pulling the strings when she wasn’t looking?
Doesn't matter. She cleared her mind, smiled grimly. Took slow, measured breaths. The moment was almost upon her.
The enemy force crept forward. They knew something was amiss; Xander had even more experience in the field than she did so that was expected too. She scanned the group. Over half were armed for close combat, while the rest were a mix of crossbowmen, marksmen, combat alchemists...and Inquisitors. She counted two more, aside from Kaitlin; probably both arcanists. That made four total, or it would when—
Scarlet spotted him. She grinned. Xander Machevis. She hadn’t recognized him at first because of the onyx-visored, heavy tritanium helmet he wore; Inquisitors didn’t typically wear helmets. They didn’t typically need to. Still, she’d served with the man for far too long not to know his shadowed silhouette, the tone of his body language as he gave quiet commands.
Now the helmet? That definitely was for her. Her quiet chuckle washed away in the drizzling rain. Precaution meant worry; worry meant that she was a threat.
And the thought of Xander worrying that one of her bullets would find its way into his skull made her just a tiny bit happy.
Time to see if it works.
A swordsman took a step forward onto the wrong patch of grass, and it exploded.
The hill shuddered and shook. Soldiers cried out as one of their own abruptly disintegrated, liquid fire splashing and clinging to his closest fellows.
She took smooth, rhythmic breaths, and didn’t fire.
The chaos of the explosion was limited. Combat alchemists were quick to purge the flames from the survivors, and the group was too well-disciplined to rush into further traps. The front line fell back to regroup, and a trio of heavily armored Elite knights took point instead, heavy shields angled at the ground as they advanced.
At her side, Adain shifted and took a sharp breath. To him, it would look like her plan had failed before it even started.
But he’d be wrong.
The enemy force pushed forward, silent, controlled.
Scarlett took a slow breath in...and held it. Silent, serene, controlled.
Her crosshairs found a home on one of the Arcanists’ faces. He looked familiar, perhaps someone she’d once worked with, trained with.
She squeezed the trigger, and his head disappeared in a generous spray of red.
The other Inquisitors scattered instantly. They ducked low, went for cover. She still shot the next one in the gut to make him scream, then tore the face off of the most alert-looking marksman sentry. The cry of alarm went up; she shot the speaker in the throat and watched him tumble to the grass, grasping futilely at one of his comrades.
Boom. Boom, boom, boom.
The sound echoed from between the two hills, multiplied and masked by simple physics. Soldiers screamed and looked everywhere.
“Ammo!” she snapped, exhaling her wisp of breath as she discreetly discarded a cartridge, her fingers moving on their own. Adain passed her another with shaking hands. She sucked down another breath.
Steam puffed from her longrifle as she continued her bloody work. She pulled the trigger as quickly as she could settle the recoil, finding each morsel of lead a new temporary home. Bullets tore into shoulders, thighs, abdomens—lesser wounds that would kill slowly, if they killed at all.
After all, she wasn’t shooting to kill. She was shooting to panic.
The crowd below milled, frightened but unbroken. Her longarm belched steam as she discarded another unpressurized cartridge. Below, a louder shout went up as someone finally spotted her.
The soldiers broke and split, desperate for cover.
One took a single step too far in the wrong direction, and the ground erupted in flames beneath him.
Chaos followed.
Her fingers took the next cartridge from Adain and slipped it into place, as smoothly as if she’d never stopped, her actions an island of serenity amongst the spreading panic below. Every fraction of a second counted. More explosions triggered on the back of the first, rocking the wet, grassy earth. She put her eye to the brass scope and zeroed in once more.
Kaitlin had already disappeared.
The instant of hesitation cost her. She put a bullet through the head of another soldier, but reacted too slowly as a barrier of black ice blossomed from behind enemy ranks. Xander.
His helmet ducked down behind the conjured barricade, onyx visor focused on her location.
Across the distance, she felt their gazes lock and linger for an instant.
An instant too long.
Scarlett instinctively ducked and covered her head as an orb of seething flame congealed above her, conjured from nothing by the arcanist she’d lost track of. Rain evaporated from the air around her, drying her clothes in an instant as the blazing sphere dropped. She winced away.
A gale, razor winds as cold as ice, cut across and pushed the fireball away. Behind her, she heard Mayor Bertram grunt with effort as he shoved it aside; flames burst apart as they tumbled down the hill, vaporizing grass and liquifying dirt.
The Overseer uncovered her face and put an eye back to her scope.
The air in the little valley echoed with another set of shouts: the war cries of charging Estorians. A section of the militia dove to the grass, covered by their fellows with shields, and fired every gun in town at the Elizabethian invaders. Dodging mines, spike pits, and explosions, or with their legs caught in hunter’s jaw-traps, the enemy vanguard was easy prey, even for men and women who’d fired their first shots a week ago.
Scarlett missed her first shot as the hill tore apart in front of her face. Glittering lighting slammed into the earth and carved the ground apart like a giant’s claws. Behind her, Bertram gasped as he barely managed to defeat the Inquisitor’s magic. With a breathless battlecry of his own, he fired back, launching a smaller fireball directly at the black ice bunker.
Xander stood up and snuffed it out with a gesture.
Beside him, the other Inquisitor gestured viciously at the top of the hill.
Scarlett rolled aside as lightning sundered the earth once more though the shock of it knocked her breathless and sent her rolling. The blast sliced across the hilltop toward the Mayor—who stopped it, barely, a foot from his body with a lightning bolt of his own.
Survivors of Arcadia Page 8
