Fortress Al-Mir

“This is it?”

Arkk leaned over Zullie’s desk, frowning at the object clasped between the metal claws. It… wasn’t exactly what he had expected.

His researchers had been hard at work. Since they couldn’t try to connect to the Anvil until the scrying team found another portal archway, Sylvara, Zullie, and the others went back to the binding agent project to oppose the avatar of the Heart of Gold. This binding agent was constructed using items recovered from the Silence. Although several plant clippings had been brought back, the two main items of note had been a hammock and those flowers that put people to sleep. So, he had expected rope or a flower to sit on top of the table. Or, failing that, a skull to represent the Eternal Silence’s other dominion.

Instead, he got… that.

A horrifying bundle of dried twigs and grass, tied with thin strings into a rough, humanoid shape. The entire thing looked like it had been dipped into a vat of molten gold—which might have explained a minor deficit in the treasury—but the dipping job had been poor enough that the somewhat charred plants were still visible at various points and the gold was flaking off. It looked like a haphazard mess, far from the quality he had come to expect from most of Zullie’s work.

Arkk folded his arms, looking around the assembled group. Sylvara sat with heavy eyelids, clearly trying to use pure frustration to stay awake. The witch in the next seat around the table wasn’t even trying. She was stretched back in her seat, head resting on one shoulder. Savren hadn’t shown up at all. Morvin and Gretchen had their backs to one another, both fast asleep. Only Hale was looking at Arkk, frowning slightly but not any more than normal.

“It isn’t affecting you?” the youngest of his research team asked before breaking out into a long yawn.

And when had Hale joined the research team properly? At some point, she had just become a fixture of the group and Arkk hadn’t questioned it. Did she contribute or just observe?

She took in all the magic around her and just made it work so easily? He had struggled for years. It wasn’t until he contracted with an ancient magical artifact that he found himself able to control his magic enough to utilize it. It was true that she had proper books and even a tutor in the form of Zullie rather than just what he had gleaned from passing travelers… If he were being honest… seeing her like that made him feel like he could never compete. There just wasn’t a point in trying further. He really should just lie down and quit…

Arkk’s thoughts jerked to a stop. He looked around the room at everyone’s lethargic state before his eyes settled on the gold effigy. With a thought, he teleported it off to a secure vault down in the lower reaches of Fortress Al-Mir.

The instant it was gone, it was like the air itself became lighter. Hunched shoulders relaxed, droopy eyes picked up, and Morvin and Gretchen shifted but failed to wake.

Arkk looked at Hale again.

She shifted, looking uncomfortable. “What?”

Smiling, Arkk reached out and ruffled her hair, prompting a brief shout and a sudden scramble to get away.

It was a good thing he had checked in on them. Or, rather, it was a good thing Hale had tugged on the employee link. He hadn’t been paying attention to what they were doing. A dangerous prospect. If they had been left to sit in that thing’s presence, who knew how it would end up.

“So,” Arkk said, knocking the tip of his boot into Zullie’s chair, startling her awake. “Apathy? Or sleep inducement?” Arkk looked to Sylvara. “Is that going to work on the avatar? You were fighting it off.”

“It was a test,” Sylvara snapped, her fingers digging into the table’s edge. “If I can resist it then the avatar can too.”

“It’s fine,” Zullie said as she lazily waved a hand back and forth. She was still fully reclined in her chair, not even able to muster the energy to look at anyone else. “I proved it gets stronger with proximity. Couldn’t even get close enough to touch it.”

Arkk pursed his lips into a frown. “If we have to touch the avatar with it, I might as well hit him with a lightning bolt.”

“Ah! But that’s the beauty of it,” Zullie said, snapping her fingers. “Allow me to explain…”

“We should bombard them now.”

Rekk’ar slowly shook his head, lowering the looking glass. The motion made the thin cloak of shadow draped over his prone body shift uncomfortably. He tried to adjust it without moving too much only to find a twig digging into his side in the new position.

“Think about it, all we have to do is move that magic thing out here, activate it a few times, and then run away. Come back a day later and do the same thing. They can’t march while protected by the golden dome so they have to take it down at some point. We slow them down and, by the time they even reach Elmshadow, they’re beaten down to a tenth of what they are.”

“Being out here like this is a risk as it is,” Rekk’ar grunted, pulling the twig from his side. “Maybe it works once. Try it a second time and the bombardment team will be eating one of those golden beams. I guarantee it.”

Dakka scowled, shooting him a glare. With the shadow cloak in the way, her face was little more than a haze against the forest backdrop. He knew her well enough to fill in the gaps. “Maybe once would be enough. Get them wary and sluggish. Wait a few days until they think they’re safe and then do it again.”

“You want to? Be my guest. You have Arkk’s ear. I’m sure you can figure out the words to convince him—if he isn’t already planning something similar on his own.” Rekk’ar grunted as he pulled up the spyglass again. “But don’t come haunting me when you get your name scrawled up on that memorial wall of his.”

The wide open plains made Rekk’ar uneasy. Five steps forward and there would be nowhere to hide even with these shadow cloaks. The army had lookouts specifically on guard for anything out of the ordinary.

The army itself stretched long in several serpentine lines of soldiers, horses, and wagons. All looked out of place in this landscape. Their armor glinted in the fading light as their banners fluttered in the weak breeze. There were two distinct banners among the lines of soldiers. One of Evestani, encrusted in gold. The other were simple black banners bearing a ring of white blades—the so-called Eternal Empire.

The lines began to bunch up as the sun set, all gathering around the campfires that sprung up in their midst. He could make out the figures of soldiers setting up tents in a methodical, practiced way, just as they had every night since invading Mystakeen. A group of their scouts returned, speaking in tones too distant to hear to an individual who seemed to command respect; they were tall and imposing even among the Eternal Empire’s already tall men.

“So?” Dakka said, whispering as the night fell. “What’s your plan?”

“Plan?”

“You didn’t come out here just to watch, did you? I sure didn’t volunteer to join you just to sit around.”

Rekk’ar lowered the spyglass. Peering into those tiny crystal balls strained both his back and his eyes. Seeing things in person had a value of its own. Not that he expected Dakka to understand. “Didn’t ask for your presence,” he said with a grunt. “You want to tag along? Fine. But don’t complain about my job.”

It didn’t help that he didn’t trust those crystal balls. Sure, they worked fine for random scrying, but an army like this knew they were being watched. They weren’t using that white mist to obscure their forces this time, at least not while marching. There wasn’t much point. A blob of white fog or a blob of men, both were obvious.

Information allowed them to plan. The enemy knew that. They wouldn’t march directly toward Elmshadow without a plan of their own. Simple logic dictated that they would try to conceal crucial aspects of their plan just as Arkk burrowed his secrets beneath the ground.

“So what is it?” Rekk’ar grumbled to himself. “Is it a larger army than we expected?”

It was hard to tell the size of the opposing force. Scrying was typically conducted from overhead, allowing them to look down on the entire enemy army. His position now only afforded him a look from a lower angle. Even still, he didn’t think there was a significant difference between what he had seen in the crystal balls versus what he was seeing now.

Was it their carts? There were a number of siege engines in the army. Wheeled catapults and trebuchets capable of launching alchemical bombs or even just stones if the situation called for it. Some of the covered carts were magically protected against scrying, showing nothing more than a black void. Arkk’s current theory was that those carts carried magical bombardment arrays much like the one he had stolen from Evestani in the first defense of Elmshadow. Unless Rekk’ar was willing to venture forth and leave the safety of the forest, venturing straight into the center of the enemy encampment, he wouldn’t be able to ascertain the accuracy of Arkk’s theory.

That was a little too risky. Perhaps the gremlin would manage with her light feet and stealthy spells. Neither Rekk’ar nor Dakka would make it far enough to peek inside those carts, let alone escape with the information.

Even still, that didn’t feel like the answer either. Arkk was likely correct about the contents of most of those carts. If only because of the absence of such magics elsewhere in the army.

“The stars are strange tonight.”

Rekk’ar shuddered as he lowered his spyglass once again. Olatt’an had muttered some words like that before they got themselves into this whole mess. Despite himself, he craned his neck and looked up.

Night had only fallen a short while ago, during their little stake-out. The sky wasn’t totally dark yet. An orange hue struck the undersides of distant clouds, looking an awful lot like the Underworld’s persistent lighting. But directly above, in a cloudless section of the sky, Rekk’ar could see the faint dots of light gleaming down.

He was about to roll his eyes and focus back on the army when one of the stars winked out. That, on its own, wasn’t particularly odd. Stars twinkled. They brightened and dimmed depending on their whims. With the light still in the sky, even if it wasn’t on the ground, he could easily imagine a star being washed out.

But that wasn’t what happened. It had been one of the brightest lights in the sky. Now it was simply gone.

And it wasn’t the only one. Another start disappeared, not far from the first. And another. And another. All in a rough line. There was simply a void where those stars had been.

Except, a short distance back, a star appeared. It popped into existence like it had never left. And another. And another. Even the bright star reappeared after a moment.

Rekk’ar rolled onto his back, staring up with the aid of the spyglass. He aimed it directly at the next star that should disappear if the pattern held up. And sure enough, it did. But it didn’t disappear all at once. Though it was a tiny dot even in the spyglass, he could still see it disappear from one side to the other. As if something crossed between him and the stars above.

Realizing that, he mentally traced out the pattern of missing stars. It was like a leaf. Pointed at one end, wider in the middle, pointed at the other end. Oblong.

Or… not a leaf.

A slight chill ran down Rekk’ar’s spine. That…

That wasn’t possible.

No. Thinking something was impossible was foolhardy. A year ago, he would have said everything about Fortress Al-Mir was impossible. He would have said other worlds were impossible. He would have said monsters like Vezta weren’t possible. Just a few months ago and he would have said giant walking towers were impossible.

“We need to get back,” Rekk’ar said. He had a report to make.

“My father’s armies will finally be arriving within the week.”

Katja tensed, fearing the next words from the Prince’s mouth. Thus far, most of their interactions had been cordial. Even accepting. Which was exactly what Katja had been aiming for.

It honestly felt like she was a slave again, putting on the polite smile to avoid her master’s beatings. The entire charade made her sick. If only the Prince had died like he was supposed to have, she wouldn’t have to suffer through this. The only thing that kept her from snapping was the knowledge that it wasn’t a permanent situation.

She wasn’t a slave. He wasn’t her master. The situation was more akin to that of an employer that she needed to appease.

And the reward for her patience? A chance to take his position. To be named the reagent of Mystakeen, whether that was as Duchess, Countess, or whatever other title she might be able to scramble and scrape for.

But there was always that fear that the Prince or his father might have someone else in mind. And if an army was approaching, so too was the possibility that a less deserving replacement for her was on its way.

The way Prince Cedric was drawing out the conversation did not fill her with confidence. He sat on the former Duke’s throne, surrounded by aides and advisors, of which Katja had effectively become one. She wasn’t quite sure why, but the Prince had seen fit to assign her to a position of effective honor, directly on his left. His right-hand man was, naturally, one of his chief adjutants.

Katja eyed the adjutant with envy. More than once, she had pondered the possible changes to her position should the bearded man fall victim to an assassin from the Eternal Empire. Never enough to engage in any plotting. Given her earlier… actions, she didn’t want to tread through any dangerous waters at the moment. Not when things looked to be going so well.

She held a respected position. In no part due to her intimate knowledge of the territory Evestani currently occupied. Moonshine Burg and its surroundings had been her own territory at one point. What she didn’t know personally, she knew from Arkk. The information he fed her ensured she always appeared ready and competent. Indispensable, in other words. There was no need to vie for a position with the Prince’s clear favorite.

The adjutant—Mack or something to that effect—turned his head toward her and smiled just a little too wide. It was a polite and agreeable smile, but it just widened at the corners of the lips a little too much. He always smiled like that at her. She might have thought he fancied her if not for the look in his eyes. The way he stared always made her feel like she had been speaking her thoughts aloud.

“My lord?” Katja said, prompting the Prince as she looked away from the adjutant. “You don’t sound pleased with that. Is the army a problem?”

With a small scowl, Prince Cedric lowered the letter he had been reading. “Only eight thousand strong. Less than what I requested. With the chaos in Mystakeen, my father wants to ensure that no section of the border between it and Chernlock goes undefended.”

There was something in his words. Some odd hint that he wasn’t quite telling everything he knew. It wasn’t anything big, but Katja had well learned how to spot a liar. “Did you not have your own army in Vaales?” Katja asked, gently prodding. She wasn’t about to call him out for lying. The Prince obviously had his own secrets and she liked her head attached to her shoulders too much to question his plans.

“Only the elites I brought with me.” Cedric drummed his fingers on the throne’s armrest. “Vaales has little need for a standing army. We have other methods for dealing with our problems.”

The adjutant’s smile grew ever so slightly wider at the Prince’s words.

“No,” Cedric continued. “The problem now is what to do with them. I intended to send a detachment about as large as we are getting to Arkk for the defense of the realm, contingent on an in-person meeting with the man. But that plan involved a much larger force that I would direct at my will. With only eight thousand… I either send them all and risk feeding a man with already too much power the notion that he can use them for his own goals, keep them all for myself and risk another incursion through Elmshadow, or split them and potentially fail in all regards due to low manpower across the map.”

He feared lending the full army to Arkk and having Arkk turn around to try to conquer the land with them. Arkk, Katja knew, wouldn’t do that. He had shoved this job off on her, after all, when he easily could have taken it for himself. Of course, perhaps he foresaw the problems that would come with usurping the Duke’s throne right out from under the King’s nose, but, simpleton as he was, Katja doubted that. It was still a reasonable worry for someone who didn’t know the man…

“But wouldn’t the men remain loyal to you? Or your father, at the very least. Just because they would fight with Arkk against Evestani—”

“Company Al-Mir has accrued a large amount of power in a very short amount of time. Not in the least because of a seemingly endless supply of gold that Arkk uncovered somewhere.”

Katja had to hide her scowl. It wasn’t endless. She knew that. A large portion of the gold he used was her gold. Not that she could say that aloud.

“I imagine many soldiers would be loyal. But many more wouldn’t. Never underestimate the greed that lies within the hearts of men.”

“My liege,” the adjutant said. “Why not entrust the army to me? I will march them to Arkk—or rather, to Elmshadow. They will not be under his command, but mine. We will defend the realm, and even continue the march all the way through Evestani until there is nothing left of it.”

“If eight thousand were enough to destroy a nation, no nation would exist,” Katja said with a scoff.

“Eight thousand alone? No. But Eight thousand with unprecedented magical might at their backs?”

Katja pursed her lips into a frown. If Arkk’s fortress could manage that, he surely would have already.

Or perhaps not. Reclaiming Elmshadow had taken about two thousand men. Most of whom had been under Hawkwood’s command, all of whom had pulled back immediately after the battle because of the Prince. Arkk had been left with nothing but his own few men.

Hawkwood, at the moment, was running an errand for Prince Cedric. Katja had not been privy to the details. Another secret. Maybe related to the other lies Cedric was telling?

“If he continues to ignore a meeting with me,” Prince Cedric said slowly, trailing off without finishing his thought. It wasn’t hard to guess at his meaning, however.

Katja slowly drew in a breath. Arkk had been planning on meeting with the Prince. He had sent her letters stating so. But then some emergency cropped up with his men and had been forced to delay. And now…

Katja’s eyes narrowed as she looked to the adjutant. The way he had phrased his plan… March with the magical might at their backs, but not necessarily Arkk. Was he planning on taking Arkk’s power for himself? Katja had abandoned those plans early on in her stay with Arkk, if only because that monstrosity kept killing the men she sent out into the restricted areas of the fortress. It had to be the source of Arkk’s power and it was clearly loyal to him.

A sly grin spread across Katja’s face. If the adjutant wanted to try for himself… who was she to stop him? And if he left Cliff, all the better. She would be here, alone, with the Prince.

“Your adjutant makes an astute point,” Katja said. “Keeping control of the soldiers through a trusted subordinate seems ideal given the situation.”

Cedric turned his head, eying her with a piercing look. “You would nominate yourself?”

Katja let out a short laugh. “No, absolutely not. I am self-conscious of my position. I’m well aware that you would never trust me with an army like that at this stage. But your adjutant suggested himself. I can see how much you trust him. Unless there is a more ideal candidate that I am unaware of…”

The Prince shot a look at his adjutant. Almost a glare, for which he got an even wider smile in return.

Katja made sure to keep her own smile restricted to dainty, no matter what kind of grin she wore inside.