by Paul Yoder
Durmont acknowledged the men and ordered, “Report. Where are the other three in your scouting party?”
There had gathered a good number of soldiers in the courtyard, more filing in from the barracks. Revna and her crew were on the inside of the quickly crowded circle, waiting to hear the scout’s findings.
“Sir, yes sir,” the scout stammered, collecting himself for a brief moment before explaining. “We came upon the arisen army soon after full night. We barely had a chance to survey them before…a demon flashed into our ranks.”
Though the court was packed now, everyone held their breath, listening for the news they had all been gossiping over the last night about.
“Demon?” Durmont questioned.
The soldier struggled, trying to explain himself. “It was some sort of knight—a bloody skull. It seemed to jump between places, disappearing and reappearing. He killed Haadee, László, and Akin within moments. We stood no chance. Ubaid and I retreated. Galloped our horses all night to get back.”
At that, some in the crowd softly cursed, and a murmur rose before Durmont quieted his men, raising a hand for silence.
“Those that die under my command do not go unavenged. You all know that. An attack from any nation, any people…any cult, be they backed by gods, good or ill, will be answered and will cower before us to answer for the blood they have spilled on our ground.”
The court was silent once more, drawn in by their quiet leader’s firm declaration, Durmont looking over the crowd of soldiers as he assessed the mood of his men, ending his scan on Revna, holding her eyes a few moments before continuing.
“These saren risked their lives to deliver us news of this arisen army marching freely within our borders. Our scouts have also paid the price to deliver us the confirmation of the threat that we now know is real. We will send riders to Rochata-Ung and Gunnison to call for support. And we will answer this cult of corpses with steel and death. This day, we prepare for war.”
A low murmur rippled through the crowd at his declarations.
“Chiefs, scouts, in my command room in five. Revna and company included if you would,” he ended, lingering on the priestess momentarily before returning up the stairs he had come down from.
There was a mixed reaction from the soldiers filing into the yard. Most had been roused by the captain’s word, excited that their generally peaceful military terms were about to become a lot more lively, and profitable, if the fort detachment did end up answering the call to war first in the region, but the cheers for the call to arms was subdued by most of the veterans who had already seen their fair share of battle, intimately knowing the horrors that were soon to come if they did end up engaging with a force of “demons” as the scout had put it.
The court began to clear, most moving to their quarters to pack their belongings, preparing for deployment and orders. Revna motioned for her companions to follow, and they, along with a few other officers the captain had called for, made their way back up the fort steps leading to the waiting room outside of the captain’s command room.
After a few minutes of idly waiting with the other officers amidst hushed whispers, Scars came out of the double doored room, issuing everyone in the waiting room to come inside, the command room filling up quickly with the five chiefs, two scouts, and Revna’s crew.
Scars closed the door behind the last scout to enter and squeezed his way around the chief’s and Revna’s group to stand at Durmont’s side. After everyone was settled, the captain stood from his chair to address his officers.
All began with a salute upon standing and the shuffling about the room quieted as Durmont cleared his throat preparing to speak.
He looked to the lead scout and asked quietly, “How large are their ranks?”
“It was dark. Only the moonlight shown our way, but from what I could gather, the host was two thousand strong. Possibly more, but as I noted, the conditions made getting an accurate count… difficult,” the scout stuttered out, obviously not used to issuing reports directly to the captain in front of the leading body of officers under tense circumstances.
“Can you confirm this?” Durmont asked, looking to the other scout that stood at the very back of the room by the doors.
“Yes, sir. Could have been closer to three thousand, but it was indeed hard to make out exact numbers,” the other scout confirmed.
“What direction was the host moving?” the captain asked.
“West,” both scouts answered at once.
“And you say there’s closer to four thousand?” Durmont asked, looking to Yozo, Yozo nodding in affirmation.
“Having an exact count on their numbers would be helpful, but as you say you’ve been following them for a while, I’ll trust your estimation,” Durmont said to Yozo, going on to add, “Regardless of how many thousands, it is a number larger than my three hundred men could handle on the open plains. We will need aid from the rest of Tarigannie. We may be able to enlist another hundred or so men from Gunnison along with horses and supplies. They have standing orders to cooperate with us in times of war. It should not be too difficult to raise a militia within a day or two.
“Rochata on the other hand, though I respect the military’s leadership, their High Judges tend to get in the way at the worst times. They cannot refuse aid to a threat like this, but I wouldn’t put it past them to skimp on the size of the reinforcement detachment they send.”
“Lõrinc,” Durmont called to one of the chiefs standing at attention, awaiting his captain’s orders.
“I’ll have no general officer take this task. I need you to entreaty the state to send aid. Make sure they understand the severity of the threat. You are best in dealing with bureaucrats. Send word that Fort Wellspring calls for a detachment capable of meeting the threat of an army of four thousand or they will have arisen running through their streets within the week.
“Take your pick of a stallion, see that you ride with all haste. Is that clear?”
The chief saluted and confirmed the order.
“I will see to your platoon. Take a companion with you. I don’t care who it is, but set out within the hour. You are dismissed.”
Another salute and Lõrinc saw himself out of the room.
“Kaylic, see to it that Gunnison is rallied. Send one of your officers to herald the news,” Durmont said, looking to another chief.
“It will be done, Captain,” Kaylic saluted.
“Now, those are our allies, let us discuss tactics in the meantime while we wait for reinforcements.”
“Your crew has fought this enemy once before. If you choose to fight with us, I will see to it that Tarigannie compensates your heroisms. You shall have your pick of favors,” he said to Revna.
Revna looked to her fellow saren and answered, “We would hunt this evil alone if we had to. Sareth deems his elimination, and we shall carry out her will. We will stand by you in this war.”
Durmont had seen displays of courage from many soldiers through his time as captain—many that were willing to lay down their life for a greater cause. Endless respect he had for those who were wholly devoted to their course. That kind of conviction never ceased to impress him.
“Let us hope this Sareth watches over you,” he calmly replied, though from the casualties from the saren’s last encounter did little to bolster his confidence in the unknown deity.
28
The Ruins of Solstice
“More men along the highway,” Lunt offered, bowing again before the arisen lord.
“How many this time?” Sha’oul asked, once more showing little interest in the report.
“They are keeping well hidden. Ten perhaps. Their numbers could be more,” the hunched over beast croaked.
“Bah,” the large man dismissed, waving the news off. “The ruins are within sight. It matters not if a scouting party happens upon us now.”
Denloth heaved, trying to keep up, sweating terribly under the heat of the Tarigannie sun, having been on the constan
t march for days now. He wondered if the two scouts that had gotten away had sent word to nearby outposts. If it was his Oathbound that slipped up, he knew that Sha’oul would have him pay for it, and he knew his master was not in the mood to forgive missteps.
Large curved needles of stone shot high into the sky, providing a dramatic landmark for all travelers along the road to Rochata-Ung from the southern towns. Few lingered upon the old historical site, it being common knowledge that little remained other than crumbling strange structures along with a pair of spires curving into the sky that could be seen from miles around.
The spires came closer into view as the dead army trudged forward through the dunes. They marched, up and over sand dune after sand dune, until the last one between them and their destination was behind them. Sha’oul was the first to step into the large clearing at the center of the ruins, remaining empty but for him, looking around, inspecting the long-forgotten place, seeing that the ages had not been kind to the expansive remains of the significant religious site Sha’oul knew it once to be.
At his age, knowledge more easily slipped through his grasp the further back his memory spanned, but he had remembered early in life, before his augmentations and hunt for immortality and power had firmly set its hooks in him, he had visited this exact place. Back then, hundreds of years ago, the far-reaching network of structures had been mostly standing, the old people that once inhabited the region having a reverence for historical locations, but now, it was clear it had been vandalized and abused by common passersby.
None of that mattered in the end, other than the slightest tinge of disdain for man in general and their disregard for anything that did not directly affect them.
The only thing he and his god cared for at the location was the curved spires that had withstood the weather of time, looming over the bones of the former structures that once stood below it.
“Denloth. Lunt. Come,” Sha’oul barked, the two hurrying to their leader’s command.
“This was once a great hub. Long forgotten magicks powered this gate to various places across Una, so it was said. Even in my early days, it was only known as a distant legend.
“The Ashen One would have us perform a great ritual here. He will help us repurpose it to open a great rift directly to the Planes of Ash.”
“How long will this repurposing take? The Tariganniens know of our position now. We may not have much time before the nation is upon us,” Denloth questioned, still worried about the failure of his Oathbound earlier the previous night.
“The sooner the Tariganniens come, the sooner the ritual may begin. Through the desert haze Telenth has shown me how the rift may be activated.
“As Telenth has spent many souls in the building of his great Hell Gate, so too must souls be offered up here in Una to help power the rift. A great deal of blood and essence must be rendered for this ritual to be successful.
“The blood bead we have used to commune with our lord in the past will be the link between worlds, and the transfer of souls will be the catalyst used to initiate the rite to open the passage between realms.
“There will be an endless host awaiting on the other side—your brothers and sisters, Lunt—ready to ravage this world, reaping the spoils for the good of our god. All to blood, and blood to ash.”
“All to blood, and blood to ash,” the others droned in reflexive response, offering the prayer that all would soon offer once the land had been dominated and controlled by those few who would be left to survive in submission to their god.
29
The Experiment of Extended Sight
“Cycle the watch,” Kissa said to Naldurn, sending her Shadow off to pick six new scouts to relieve their comrades from duty along the dunes.
The day had come and gone, and all had been ordered to stay put, those few haltia that they did have in their company helping to keep a better eye on the surrounding highways far to the west and south, watching for activity along the roads which had remained clear and quiet.
“Do you think Rochata will pursue? We still have no report of movement north, west, or to the south of us. I had half expected that if they were in pursuit, that we would see some sign of them today,” Kissa quietly asked of Hathos as he stood encircled by his centurions.
Hathos was quiet in thought, mulling over the same problem he had been working on all day, deciding on when to move out, and where to move to. No matter how long he tackled the subject, he could make no firm plans without also knowing the locations of those that pursued them and those they were pursuing.
“Gather Reza and her company. Henarus also,” he announced at length, waiting for Kissa to rush to retrieve the large group.
Filtering in through the makeshift camp, Reza and the others made their way to the widening circle of leading officers, all waiting to see why Hathos had called them forth.
He did not keep them waiting for long. Once Henarus and his priest showed up, Hathos addressed them all, getting right to the point.
“Some of you I know very little about, and that goes with knowing the full extent of your abilities and potential. I need help, and I’m hoping one of you may hold a set of skills useful to giving me needed information.”
Hathos’ gaze turned to Zaren, the old enchanter that Hathos knew Sultan Metus had thought highly of.
“Master Zebulon. It is my understanding that you are an enchanter. Is that correct?”
Zaren grumpily nodded his approval of the assessment, Jadu wearily by his side, the desert heat having sapped him of his usual spunk, lingering through the day in the unforgiving dunes.
“Is it within your powers to scry?” Hathos probed.
The old man laughed, thrusting his open hands forward, exclaiming, “Does it look like I’m carrying a crystal ball with me? No. Scrying is an enchantment that requires many things, all of which would take much too long to go into here.”
Hathos disliked the old man already. He continued, seeing what he could get out of the group.
“Prophet Henarus. Are you capable of sight beyond our current limitations? Haltia can see ten, thirteen miles at most it seems, much further than most of our sight here, but is there a way you can help them focus that sight further?”
Henarus brought a hand up to his jaw, reflecting on the idea, at length answering honestly, “I don’t know. I can petition Hassome. Perhaps further clarity may be granted, but even then, he cannot bend light. The haltia that is touched with the focus of Hassome would still only be able to see what is visible from their location. In other words, they wouldn’t be able to see around mountains or tall dunes that obstruct the path of sight, regardless of how far-reaching their sight can be extended.”
“Bending light—” Jadu mumbled, rolling the phrase over again and again on his tongue.
The prattling of the enchanter’s apprentice halted the group’s conversation, everyone eventually eyeing the little praven as he began pacing, stamping around in the dusty sandbank he was standing in.
“Jadu, settle yourself,” Reza scolded harshly at the little annoyance, but to everyone’s surprise, Zaren held up a hand to her, placing a silencing finger to his lips, quietly ordering all to not interrupt the heavy contemplation Jadu was obliviously engaged in.
“If light could bend, well then, perhaps we could see through what it was bent around. Yes, yes. That study was interesting, even my professors were too dim to understand my thesis, but that’s beside the point. With extended vision, and warping light’s path, one could see, well, around mountains if one had the sight to see that far. Possible we could exaggerate some of these heatwaves to do the trick. Shouldn’t be too hard I suppose.”
All had begun to listen to Jadu’s rantings more closely, seeing that there was a possibility that the small praven might be on to a solution to the problem they all faced, though as to the details of his plan, they were all completely lost.
“You want to see farther than you should?” Zaren asked in a quiet and cryptic tone, snatching back
everyone’s attention. “I could help you see things you search for in ten different ways, but weaving the hex comes with a price, and for this cause, I would not risk it—myself.
“You do have Jadu, however. I’m excited to see how he tackles the problem. He is the reason I am even here with this godforsaken company. He needs real problems to solve, not the fabricated tests I’ve been putting him through all these months in the classroom and in studies. He may be able to help you, but—” Zaren paused, holding up a warning finger, “he is no master of the weave just yet. Proceed with caution. He may fail you—extravagantly.”
“Failing is part of the process. It’s the key ingredient in the path to success,” Jadu quipped, joining in the conversation now having thought through his calculations to a satisfied extent.
All in the large group hesitated to ask how the junior enchanter intended to help them, speculating they might regret utilizing the strange pair’s aid.
Hathos gently cleared his throat, grabbing Jadu’s attention.
“You can make it so that we can see beyond these dunes?”
Jadu held a finger in the air, opening his mouth to speak, but then recalled the thought. Folding his arms and bowing his head, he muttered, “Pretty sure,” looking up to the group, exclaiming, “One can always make the attempt! Without the initial effort, nothing would ever progress.”
Hathos looked to all members in the group, looking for validation for proceeding with Jadu’s mysterious methods—no one offered it.
“Very well, what do you need for this…experiment?” he asked, feeling more unsure of the plan the longer it was discussed.
“The Hassome man—”
“—Prophet Henarus,” Reza corrected
“Yes, yes. The prophet of Hassome. If he can indeed extend vision with his blessings, then he will be key to the procedure.
“Next, a haltia. Their vision is a remarkable innovation of nature. Their lenses are pristine—lovely ocular specimens they are. Using a haltia as our subject will net the greatest results.
