Apocalypse: Regression

Merzifonlu tensed, his icy rock-fur bristling. His ten-inch-long claws, engraved with the magical enhancement of rending, idly carved lines on a small boulder stone as he stood and looked down on the crystalline city. It would be the shining jewel of his conquests, a gateway to infinite power and potential. He knew the moment he broke the wall, crushed through the enemy defenses, and reached the portal, the war would be won. His hordes would eat for decades, bellies filled with the millions of weak, fleshy, furless fiends that populated the invader’s realm.

Therefore, despite the fact that the city only had ten to twenty thousand soldiers and even fewer civilians, he hadn’t hesitated to dedicate the entirety of his force to the assault. He had brought tens of thousands of soldiers from every clan, and over a hundred thousand cattle— humans and plant eaters—to feed the army.

Yet, as the siege dragged on, that supply train dwindled. The food they had brought for the cattle to graze on had run out, and the troops were getting antsy. The vulpes, cunning as they were, saw the big picture, but the disobedient mutts and mongrels didn’t. They were hungry, waiting on the next supply shipment, wanting to rush the walls and tear out the throats of the defenders, but Merzifonlu knew better. He knew the moment that happened, it was over.

The witch was too crafty and well fortified to fall that easily. She had set up walls that looked weak, but when they were broken their splinters proved poisonous to his troops’ paws, punishing any who tried to climb over the wrecked forward palisades. She had diverted the river once on them, and she had even used diversionary tactics to lay explosive mana mines and lure the wolves into them—more than once. She was tricky and had dozens of different tactics he’d never seen before.

But, he knew that, for all her cleverness, she only had as long as her food lasted, and that had to be drying up any day now.

"Another repelled assault," his subordinate reported, nervously eyeing the general’s bristling fur. "But our losses are—”

“Irrelevant,” the commander interrupted, his voice a low rumble. "The Black Witch's forces dwindle with each engagement. Time is on our side. You need only keep the troops happy and the city encircled.”

He turned abruptly to his subordinate, eyes glinting like shards of ice. “But, in preparation for the final assault, what progress have we made on our special operation?"

The smaller beast shifted uncomfortably. “The broc continue their work, Great One. They've made significant progress beneath the western wall, but . . ."

"But?" The commander's tone held a deadly edge.

"They fear discovery. The tunneling is slow, careful work. If the defenders were to locate them—"

“Ha ha ha!” the bear laughed loudly. “If I am patient, why can’t my troops be too? Tell them to dig at a human’s pace for all I care. So long as the operation proceeds, the troops will have reason to wait, and we will have one more day’s strength over that wicked witch.”

“Yes, yes great one. I understand. I’ll convey your wishes immediately,” the little critter, bowing and genuflecting with every motion, said before turning to run away.

As the subordinate scurried away, the commander turned his gaze back to the besieged city. Despite his outward confidence, a kernel of doubt gnawed at him. It scratched and clawed at the recesses of his mind as if warning him that time was running out despite how well he was wielding it as a weapon. He knew there was no reason for his unease, however. The Black Witch had proven resourceful, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she had some hidden advantage yet to reveal, but there was nothing he hadn’t planned for. There was no future where she would be able to crack the magic of the mages.

Still, he thought it better to check as he crushed the rock he had been carving with his nails before lumbering away to consult his mages.

When he reached the top of the small hill where the masters of the arcane were working he was immediately greeted by the six unnerving eyes of the vulpe staring at him. “You come again,” Ibrahim, the vulpe, cackled, its tails moving in a hypnotic twirl as it talked. It was a sign of a fear that Merzifonlu had seen more than once when one of the soft-furred vulpe were terrified. It was as if they were trying to cast a spell to calm him without him noticing. “Do you think those tailless humans would ever match us, we who have several tails, in power?”

“I am worried that what they lack in power, they make up for in schemes. Have your troops discovered anything?” Merzifonlu asked, studying the movements of the tail, wondering what news the vulpe had that it wished not to share.

“We discovered a few scouts. They looked like they were going to attack, only to flee like the cowardly cretins they are.” Ibrahim’s tongue licked the corners of his mouth as he talked. “A shame really . . . I’m getting quite hungry. We could have used the feast from a good fight.”

Hungry . . . He’s hungry? Merzifonlu thought, narrowing his eyes at the words.

“Why don’t you eat something then, mutt?” he asked, raising his paw, the claws extending out as if he might swipe at any minute and rip the jaw off the arrogant fox.

Ibrahim pretended not to notice, but the way he shifted his front paws and backed up showed that he clearly understood what might happen should Merzifonlu change his mind.

“I . . . The troops should be fed first, and—”

“We should have had five shipments of meat, each twenty thousand pounds, arrive today. Surely that’s enough food for even a dog like you to eat,” Merzinfonlu said, laying out a verbal trap. He knew if the term “dog” didn’t set off Ibrahim, then something was serious. The only time the prideful mage would avoid a confrontation is if he knew the situation was truly bad.

“Well . . . you see, umm . . .”

The situation is bad, Merzinfonlu concluded, his eyes opening wide as he realized the truth. “Spit it out now, or I’m going to rip your tails off one at a time and feed them to your replacement.”

This threat caused Ibrahim to yelp in fear as he lowered his head further, rear in the air like he was bowing down. “The supply shipments were destroyed. Every one of them. Even the last one . . .”

“Those shipments should have been guarded by Abaza himself, my brother in battle and one of the most fierce and powerful commanders of the iron fur battalion,” Merzinfonlu said, unable to stop himself from growling as his anger at Abaza’s likely death built within him.

“Not only was he lost but Pasha as well . . . He went on a mission to find out what was happening to the supply chains, and he too did not return,” Ibrahim confessed, gulping.

“This . . .” Merzinfonlu felt his mind reeling from the news as he tried to process everything he heard. With as many troops as they had, they needed food. They needed it regularly. It was the one and only requirement for running the campaign.

“What about our skirmishes? Have we any meat from recent battles?” Merzinfonlu finally asked, trying to get a good grasp on the situation.

“None,” Ibrahim said. “I suspect the cowards have somehow managed to locate the supply shipments.

“That’s impossible, we send them from different directions each time to avoid this very situation!” Merzinfonlu roared more than spoke as he slammed the ground with his front paw so hard it broke and cracked the rocks beneath him.

“We’ve tried every form of magic we can, but we haven’t been able to divine how they have located them . . .” Ibrahim was slowly backing up, ever so slightly increasing the distance between him and Merzinfonlu with each movement .

“So you’re saying that tailless human’s sorcery has surpassed yours?” Merzinfonlu snarled, looking around at the camp. Sure enough, without him even realizing it, half his troops were going to start starving soon.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go though. The witch and her followers were supposed to be starving, not him. Not his people.

“I know what you’re concerned about, but we have more shipments coming, and . . .”

“And if they kill them too, we’ll be in the same boat as our prey. We’ll both be fighting on empty stomachs, but their endurance is better suited for starvation, the weak and fickle creatures. They lack the muscles to even need that much meat, we’re the ones who will be shorted in the struggle!” Merzinfonlu swallowed his anger as he turned his attention to the tunnels.

“General Merzinfonlu?” Ibrahim hesitantly queried, still backing up as if Merzinfonlu couldn’t see the coward’s retreat.

“Send out new orders. Have them triple the efforts on the tunnel breaks. A day or two without food will shatter the troop’s strength. If we can push the engagement up, we can win. If it takes longer than expected, we can eat those who fail to deliver on the new timeline to regain muster before the engagement,” Merzinfonlu said, licking his teeth as he eyed the castle in the distance.

He knew that, normally, without supply chains, the right move would be to retreat until he could secure them. He could also split his army and try to use half of it to secure the supply chain, but he wasn’t going to. The witch in the crystal castle had waited ages to make her first move and had only just now begun to act.

He could tell she had a plan, she wanted him to split his forces, to reinforce the supply chain so she could sally out and fight half the foes, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. Whatever desperate plan she had concocted, he would shatter it. He would break her dreams, crush her castle, and scatter her soldiers across the snow as he stole away any hope she had left.

Just you wait, Black Witch, he thought. Your tricks won't save you for long. Soon, the portal to your world will be ours, and all your world’s resources will be ours to harvest.