Book 6: Chapter 8: Old Walls
After the battle, Sarl began to order his cohort to collect samples from the various undead, loot them for valuables, and then gather them into mounds so the Pyromancers could reduce them to ash. When Victor heard him giving the command, he approached the captain and said, “You’re going to burn them all?”
“When dealing with the undead, it’s usually best.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Victor looked over the battlefield, taking in the piles of undead. The soldiers had been quick to gather their fallen comrades, but Victor thought he saw a legion uniform here and there beneath the rotting, gory bodies of zombies. No doubt, they’d be recovered as Sarl’s orders were carried out, but Victor hated to see them, hated to think that people he’d just watched vibrantly marching forth were now cold flesh, spattered with gore, pinned beneath these vile creatures. “How many did we lose?”
Sarl inhaled slowly through his nose, frowning as he followed Victor’s gaze. “Headcounts from the sergeants indicate seventy-four dead, but we’ve only recovered sixty-two bodies.”
“I’m sure they’ll turn up. I’m sorry for your losses, Sarl. Your troops fought damn well, though. I was amazed by those phalanx maneuvers.”
Sarl stiffened his back at Victor’s words, some pride bleeding into his stature. “Thank you, sir. I’m proud of them. We saw great gains after the battle.”
“Damn right. The Ninth is going to be formidable at this rate.”
“As you say, sir.”
Victor watched him walk over to speak to one of his lieutenants, then turned to gaze over the field to where Edeya and Valla stood with Thistle. The vidanii had come around after the battle ended, limping from a deep gash in his left haunch. Valla had been treating the wound, rubbing some healing ointment into the cut, when Victor left to speak with Sarl. Frowning, wondering what had happened to Uvu and how he should broach the subject with Valla, he walked over to her. “How is he?”
“He’ll be fine. Just a scar he can show off to Starlight,” Edeya answered. She was upbeat, cheerful, even. After the battle, she’d announced that she was level twenty-nine, so Victor could see why—it was exciting to be on the cusp of a Class refinement. Valla didn’t look up, still massaging another layer of ointment into the vidanii’s course fur, watching with a satisfied expression as the swollen, red flesh around the puckered scar faded and diminished.
“Edeya, you better chug that racial advancement soon. You won’t be able to advance to tier three without it.”
“I’m well aware, sir.” Edeya’s toothy smile told Victor she probably couldn’t think of much else.
“When we return to the base, then.” Victor turned to Valla and placed a hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing. “I hate to bring it up, but . . . Uvu?”
“I can’t feel him.” She didn’t look at him, refused to meet his gaze, as she continued her ministrations on Thistle’s haunch.
“Can you usually?”
“Always.” She sniffed, then looked up from her work. Her soft, seafoam eyes were bloodshot as she said, “I can ride with you for now.”
“Shit, Valla, I . . .”
“Nothing to be said. He’s not a vidanii. He’s a creature of war and conflict. I’ve been bracing myself for the possibility he’d get himself killed since Rellia gave him to me as a cub.” Victor could see she was trying to put on a brave face, but her voice choked on the last sentence, and he knew she was hurting. He wanted to hug her, pull her close, and stroke her hair, but they were surrounded by soldiers, and Edeya was standing right there; he knew Valla wouldn’t appreciate it—not at that exact moment.
“Maybe he’ll come around.” Edeya squeezed Valla’s hand, interrupting her slow, methodical stroking of Thistle’s course hide, trying to break the gloomy spell. “Maybe something in this mist or a different effect of the invaders’ magic makes your connection to him silent.”
“Maybe . . .” Valla shrugged but offered Edeya a small smile. “Thanks for the thought.”
Victor summoned Guapo, once again using glory-attuned Energy. He liked the Mustang in that guise; he was showy and positive, and his brilliant eyes and the sparks of his hooves helped to drive back the gloom of the mist that kept creeping toward the army. The horse erupted from his weird, sparkling, golden pool of Energy and pranced about, his neck arched and his eyes flashing. “Good boy,” Victor immediately said, patting his muscular shoulder. He glanced at the two women and was pleased to see some light in Valla’s eyes and a broad smile on Edeya’s face as they took in the proud animal.
“Let’s go see what Kethelket was talking about.” He swung onto the horse’s back, then reached down to pull Valla up behind him. Edeya stepped into Thistle’s stirrup and nodded her readiness. Before they left ahead of the army, Victor rode over to Sarl and said, “As soon as you’re done here, Captain, march due southwest until you see the structure Kethelket told us about. We’ll be waiting.”
“Will do, sir!” Of course, he had to snap a perfect salute, which Victor had no way of returning from atop the horse. He slammed his fist into his chest, though, and gave the captain a solemn nod. Then he clicked his tongue, and Guapo leaped down the slope, weaving between the various squads of soldiers as they did their dirty work on the battlefield.
They’d already concluded that the mist, while not exactly harmless, wasn’t much of a risk to soldiers. Victor couldn’t notice anything when he stood in it, but some of the lower-tier soldiers complained of shortness of breath, a certain lassitude of the muscles, and a desire to get back to camp for a good sleep. Still, with the presence of stronger individuals driving them on, none seemed to be at any risk of being overcome.
Guapo and Thistle made short work of the slope, diving into the thicker mists as they thundered over the ground toward the structure Kethelket and his Naghelli were currently securing. Victor looked over at Edeya. “Doing all right?”
“Sleepy.” Her eyes looked heavy, and she leaned forward toward Thistle’s neck as she rode.
“Perk up, chica.” He laughed, leaned down, grasped her shoulder, and gave her a rough jostle. “You’re drinking that racial advancement the minute we get back!”
“I’m okay!” Her voice rose with outrage as she thrust his hand away, steering Thistle so he veered a few feet further from Guapo. Valla was silent through the exchange, her grip steady on Victor’s ribs, and he suddenly felt ashamed for horsing around with Uvu missing. Before he could worry about it further, a dark structure loomed out of the mist ahead. He steered Guapo to the left, aiming to circle the building where, according to Kethelket, he’d find an open gate on the other side.
As they neared the corner, he felt Valla stir, and she said, “Those stones look old.”
Victor eyed the building, noting the smoothly chiseled gray stone blocks and fine dark mortar lines. They’d been cut with precision and were huge; the blocks had to be three feet square. Victor followed the smooth, flat wall upward with his eyes, noting crenellations about forty feet above them. Valla was right, though—the base of the stone wall was overgrown with lichen, and green-leafed vines were trying to climb the heights, though they only stretched twenty feet or so upward. It didn’t look like something that had been built in recent history.
As they rounded the corner, he guessed the edifice was a square; it seemed this new side was the same length as the one they’d just ridden past. “A square, ancient keep.” Valla’s voice was soft and speculative.
“Does it mean something?”
“I wonder if this is part of one of the old empires from before the joining. A castle from one of the worlds that made up Fanwath. It reminds me of a story about an Onaghi empire—they were adept at manipulating earth-attuned Energy even before the System came.”
“Onaghi . . .” Victor let the word trail off, his mind searching the depths of his memory for the meaning.
“There aren’t many left,” Edeya bailed him out, “They don’t look like the rest of us; they float in the air and have kind of translucent skin . . .”
“Ah, yeah! The jellyfish people.” Victor nodded, remembering a group of the strange folk he’d seen in Persi Gables. He turned Guapo around the next corner, and, true to his word, Kethelket waited for them before an open gate halfway along the stony wall. He stood in the swirling mists with five of his people standing in a semi-circle around him, all wielding wicked, gleaming blades.
“Not sure what that is,” Edeya said, responding to Victor’s comment, “but Onaghi definitely aren’t fish.”
“Yeah, my bad.” Victor only half paid attention to her; he was too busy studying the front of the keep and the area before it. Like the side and rear, it rose in a sheer wall of perfectly cut stone blocks, but above the open stone gates, long slits were carved in the wall. Victor wondered if they were meant to allow defenders to launch attacks on enemies who might try to breach those thick, flat slabs. He examined the gates and noted the gigantic, black metal hinges and the massive bolt affixed to the inner side; it seemed they’d be hard to break.
More than that, Victor felt the Energy in the stones around him—this was a place steeped in power, built with magical defenses that he didn’t understand. He wondered why the undead had charged forth to attack him rather than try to hold on to it. As they drew near, he voiced his curiosity to Kethelket. “You didn’t have to fight any defenders?”
“I didn’t say that, Lord.”
“Lord’s a bit much, Kethelket. Call me Victor or, if you want to show respect in front of the troops, sir.”
“My apologies. If I wasn’t clear before, let me amend my report: most of the defenders charged forth to attack you, but a garrison of fifty undead was left behind, along with the mound of . . . undead matter and fungi. We slaughtered them.”
Victor hopped down from Guapo and held up a hand to help Valla. She took it, though he thought he saw a flicker of annoyance in her eyes as she slid down. She stepped away, down a gravel-strewn dirt track that led from the gates into the misty rolling hills, and he saw her staring searchingly into the distance. He wanted to go to her, to ask if she was looking for Uvu or if there was anything he could do, but other things were vying for his attention, things he felt a duty to address. “So, show me this stone you tried to interact with.”
“Right inside, sir, at the center of the courtyard.”
“Take notes, Edeya.” Victor left Guapo standing where he was and started toward the opening, but first, he looked at the Naghelli standing nearby and gestured toward Valla as she walked in a slow circuit around the front of the keep. “Keep an eye on her.”
“I heard that.” She turned to scowl at him, but he could see it wasn’t a real scowl. Some lightness in her eyes gave away the fact that she appreciated his attention.
The Naghelli didn’t respond, but every single one offered him a salute. Kethelket nodded to them, then gestured between the massive stone gates. “Shall we?”
“Yeah.” Victor followed him through, looking up at the impressive stone slabs, noting that the insides were banded with dark metal. The oversized bolt he’d seen when riding up was one of four; three smaller ones were on the inside of the other gate. “Looks like it’d be a bitch to break this gate open.”
“The warding glyphs worked into the stone are of an ancient design. I haven’t seen the like; I believe this keep is from Havah.”
Victor paused in the oppressive stone tunnel behind the gates, looking up at the hundreds of dark holes in the stone overhead. “Havah?”
“The world from which the Onaghi and Bogoli originate.”
“Oh? The little guys who paint themselves? They came from the same world?”
“That’s right. Of all the races who came to Fanwath, those two were known for their high Energy affinity and talent with using it. Well, of the races who were friendly. The Yovashi were similarly gifted.”
“Yeah, I’ve met a Yovashi. He tried to destroy my Core.” Victor turned and continued through the tunnel, imagining what it would be like if some horrible magical fire or molten metal were poured down out of those murder holes. Whether his remark had surprised Kethelket or not, he couldn’t tell; the Naghelli shadowed him noiselessly without comment. When he emerged from the tunnel, Victor was surprised by the brightness of the sky. The clouds above, though pale gray, weren’t obscured by any of the mist that had been ever-present outside the keep.
As he shielded his eyes, allowing them to adjust, Edeya’s voice echoed out of the gate tunnel, “I can breathe again! The mist doesn’t come in here?”
“Not since we killed the defenders. My people carried the corpses out and burned them. A short time after that, the mists receded beyond the walls. That’s when we noticed the stone yonder.” Victor jerked his gaze down from the parapets where he’d been observing the other Naghelli lurking in the shadows of the crenellations. As he surveyed the courtyard, he instantly saw what Kethelket was talking about—a cylindrical stone hovered there. It was maybe two yards high and half a dozen inches thick. It spun slowly in the air, its smooth gray surface interrupted by shimmering yellow runes. They looked like the System runes you could find on any City Stone, like the one at the center of the citadel in Coloss.
“That’s from the System.”
“Yes, I agree.” Kethelket walked toward it. “When I tried to interact with it, the System put a message in my vision saying we needed a larger force to interact. So, we flew forth to help you slay the undead and fetch your army here.”
“Ah, yeah. Do you remember what the System said when it gave us the conquest quest?”
“Chests of Conquest at strategic locations!” Edeya practically shouted.
“Exactly.” Victor stepped toward the stone. He could feel the power in it; it was dense with Energy in a way that reminded him of the Warlord’s cultivation chamber back in Coloss. He’d felt something similar from the City Stones he’d interacted with, but this was different; it felt more volatile, as though it had a certain raw edge to it. He felt like it was waiting for him, and when he reached his hand toward it, the stone stopped its constant spinning, holding still while he rested his palm on its cool, lightly vibrating surface.
***This stone is undefended, but you must have a larger force in the vicinity to interact.***
“Still need more people here. Sarl and the Ninth will be along soon.” Victor turned to examine the courtyard, noting the stone benches here and there, the piles of rotting refuse, some bones and decomposing flesh, and a large mound of decaying plant matter near a broad archway that led into a dark interior. He wrinkled his nose, wondering at the idea that the air had smelled fine to him before he’d seen the bones and refuse. “You’ve cleared the inside?”
“Aye. Nothing but stone remains; whatever wood was present has long rotted away. We slew the undead within and dragged them forth, but there are messes like this,” Kethelket gestured to a pile of bones and rotting flesh, “inside as well. It’ll take a good, deep cleaning, and we didn’t think we should begin while watching for undead reinforcements.”
“How many troops can be housed inside?”
“Barracks for a few hundred, and then there are finer rooms for the commanders or nobility. I’m assuming; I know little of the peoples of Havah.” Kethelket shrugged, resting a foot on a stone bench and leaning an elbow on his slender, leather-clad knee.
“They come!” one of the Naghelli on the wall cried out.
“The undead?” Edeya asked, hurrying forward to put Victor between her and the gate.
“No, no,” Kethelket chuckled, “the soldiers.”
Victor looked at Edeya and grinned, noting she held the Farscribe Book in her arms, hugging it to her chest. “You updated the base?”
“Yes. Lam wants us to return before dark, but they’re waiting to hear from you about this keep.”
“We’ll see.” Victor moved to sit on one of the ancient stone benches, idly drumming his fingers on Lifedrinker’s haft. “I wish these assholes weren’t undead.”
“You’d prefer a different sort of enemy?” Kethelket raised an eyebrow in amusement.
“Well, yeah. They don’t carry much in the way of loot, and my ancestors have little use for their empty husks after we’ve slain them.”
“Your ancestors?”
“He sends them treasures in the spirit realm; it helps them to conquer the new worlds they walk upon.”
Victor looked at Edeya in surprise. “I don’t remember telling you about that.”
“You talked about it for about an hour one night when we gathered in your travel home. Well, you and Valla; she went on and on about the treasures you ‘burned up’ back in that world you two visited.”
“Is she still out there?” Victor frowned, looking toward the gate tunnel.
“I’ll check on her.” Edeya jogged off, still clutching the Far Scribe book, into the shadows of the intimidating keep wall.
“She’s eager to please you.”
“It’s funny ‘cause she used to give me a pretty damn hard time.” Victor sighed and shook his head, a smile touching his lips at the fond memory. “That was a different life, though. Hey,” he turned to make eye contact with Kethelket, “do any of your people have some skill with the spear?”
“Of course. The spear is nearly unrivaled in its versatility. Before I took up the sword, I reached epic proficiency with the long spear. Why do you ask?”
“I’m trying to help Edeya. She uses a spear, but I’ve never seen her training with anyone. I think she could learn a lot from one of you . . .”
“I will train her,” Kethelket spoke quickly, heading off further words from Victor. “I will consider it an honor to help a close companion of yours, Victor.”
Victor stood up and held out a hand. “Thank you, Kethelket.” The Naghelli prince nodded solemnly and took Victor’s hand in his. As they shook, a great roar echoed through the gate tunnel, a roar that Victor recognized—it was Uvu, and he sounded distressed and angry.
The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel