Fortress Al-Mir

After weeks of wandering the desolation of the Underworld, the initial thrill of adventure and comradery had given way to an unexpected sense of restlessness and confinement. Olatt’an was no stranger to travel, long and short, but the Underworld was a different beast entirely. Despite the boundless expanse of the world that surrounded him, a paradoxical feeling of being trapped within an invisible cage had taken hold. The endless orange-hued landscape with no clear distinction between day and night, the distant columns of shadow, the utter lack of any civilization throughout the land, and the monotonous routine of waking, eating, walking, and sleeping, made the vast wilderness feel as restrictive as the walls of a small, enclosed space.

Who knew that the confined space of Fortress Al-Mir would somehow feel more open and inviting than the entire world?

It wasn’t just Olatt’an feeling the internal struggle of physical restlessness. Everyone on their little caravan was facing that urge to move, to escape, yet there was no clear destination unless they wanted to turn around and head back to the portal. Even the horses were growing antsy and irritable.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Olatt’an asked. It wasn’t much of a guess.

The elf, usually the epitome of grace and serenity, now bore the unmistakable signs of a night devoid of sleep. Her usually radiant skin appeared dull and shadows haunted the space beneath her eyes. The silver locks of hair, normally arranged as if she were prepared to present herself to a court of nobles even in this desolate land, hung limp around her face. Even though her movements still carried some of the fluidity and deliberate motions, they were weighed down by a level of exhaustion that wasn’t unfamiliar to Olatt’an.

At his question, Alya simply glared.

Chuckling, Olatt’an said, “Bad dreams?”

“You’ve been having them too?”

“Mhm…” Olatt’an grunted, noncommittally. He hadn’t had dreams in many years, not since he was much younger. But he had heard the others commenting on strange visions in the night. Dark shadows circling them, looking at them, only to awaken and find everything normal.

“Despite my apprehension, I was initially quite… interested in seeing a whole new world,” Alya said, sweeping a hand over her head in an attempt to straighten her hair. It didn’t work. “I am beginning to think that this land is cursed. If this is what the elders of my people believed would happen to our world, their vigil over the cursed forest is all the more understandable. If my failure to protect it causes this,” she waved a hand about, “to spread…”

“Arkk is aware of that potential problem,” Olatt’an said as he chewed at a chunk of hardtack. They had long since run out of the fresher foods. Now they were firmly in the travel ration territory. It was just another thing that was harming the morale of the group. “I trust that he won’t proceed unless he is sure that nothing unfortunate will occur.”

Alya pursed her dry lips in a momentary frown. “He wouldn’t knowingly do such a thing,” she admitted. “But unknowingly? There is too much at stake. Too many unknowns. He should leave well enough alone.”

“I doubt he will. Not with Vezta pushing him forward. But that’s why we’re out here, to gather information.”

“Vezta,” Alya said with an annoyed click of her tongue.

She didn’t continue her thoughts, however.

A Protector approached. It, notably, wasn’t the same Protector that had been with them thus far. It was just a little bit shorter. Still three times as tall as Alya, but not quite as tall as the others. The short thorny spines that adorned its carapace were smaller and less curved as well. Was it a youth?

That made an odd question cross Olatt’an’s mind. Did the Protector reproduce? If so, how? Was it… Did it just… They were all the same being, but… On its own? Or…

Perhaps some questions were better left unanswered.

“We will arrive today, not long after we set off.”

“Really?” Olatt’an perked up. That was good news. He could see the rest of their troupe, all those in the vicinity who had heard, look up as well. “Could have mentioned that last night.”

The Protector’s head twisted on an axis that normal beings couldn’t normally manage. “My memories from Savren indicate that anticipation and excitement harm the efficacy of… sleep,” it said, as if the word was unusual.

“Yes, but I’m sure everyone here would have been willing to march an extra few hours if it meant arriving a little sooner.”

The Protector didn’t respond. It simply stared with those horizontal pupils.

“Never mind. Ready up!” he called out to the group. “We continue in five minutes!”

“If the world were ending today, the oracles would have given more concrete information,” Sylvara shouted as she rushed through the corridors of the Cliff Academy.

“Up until a week ago, the oracles were allegedly paralyzed,” Lui shot back, “unable to see anything. Who can say what oddities might happen in these… strange times.”

Arkk wasn’t sure he liked the look Lui shot him. Whatever this was, it wasn’t his fault. Probably. But she had been sending him looks of ill intent since she first walked through that door, so it wasn’t that strange. If anything, it would have been more worrying if she hadn’t been suspicious of him.

Whatever shook the academy—the mountain that the academy had been built within—hadn’t gone unnoticed among the regular students and instructors. Although there hadn’t been any further disturbances, the corridors were flooded with people trying to get out. Earthquakes in Mystakeen weren’t entirely unheard of. Natural tremors in the earth, often said to be caused by a lack of light since they usually occurred at night, struck every so often. Six years ago, a particularly violent quake took down the storehouse in Langleey. Luckily, nobody had been inside at the time.

Arkk could only imagine the troubles if the entire mountain decided to collapse in on itself. He knew from sending a few of the lesser servants around the academy to see if they could find a Heart that a huge chunk of the mountain was hollow winding pathways and large empty rooms. Without the reinforcement magic that lined the walls of Fortress Al-Mir, he could easily imagine a strong quake causing cave-ins and collapses.

Luckily, four inquisitors still drew attention. Especially when they were rushing through the hallways. Even during an emergency, nobody wanted to get in their way. Arkk, with them, had a clear path out of the academy.

Warning bells tolled all across the city. The heavy, resounding ringing was the first evidence beyond the tremor that something had gone wrong. Some small part of him expected fires torching the city with columns of smoke flooding into the sky, golden rays slicing through the very mountain, and bombardment magic crashing down and leveling the city.

From the elevated exit of the academy, high enough to look over most but not all of Cliff, he could see to the harbor and beyond. There were fires, but hardly the raging inferno of war. A large hazy dome covered most of the city, the same anti-bombardment magic that he and Sylvara had maintained at Elmshadow when Evestani had first assaulted it, except expanded to encompass the entirety of the city of Cliff. It was stretched and oblong, sealing off the city, the harbor, the Grand Old Church, and a good half of the mountainside that gave Cliff its name.

The magic stemmed from the garrison, blooming out from the mountainside building.

Ripples and cracks formed as bright points on the dome flashed in the direction of the harbor. It was only then that he realized where the commotion was coming from.

There were no golden rays, no statues of gold, no Evestani armies marching through the streets.

Out beyond the protective dome, far out at sea, he spotted the source of the commotion. At first, he had thought they were nothing more than large fishing vessels. Fishing was one of Cliff’s main sources of food. The harbor always had numerous vessels coming and going. He had been awed by them upon first arriving at Cliff, but after having been around as often as he had, they were a simple and regular part of the scenery.

Today, those ships were gone. Sunk, perhaps, by the trio of large vessels out in the distance.

These were no ordinary vessels. Even from this distance, Arkk could see that they dwarfed the fishing boats he was accustomed to. They were sleek, dark, and menacing, with bright white sails underneath black flags. All three were angled so that the broadsides of the vessels were aimed at the city. As he watched, bright flashes of light cascaded along the side of the lead ship. Moments after, more ripples cascaded across the dome’s surface.

“What are those?” Arkk asked. “Pirates?”

He had heard tales of the raiders of the high seas from people who passed through Langleey Village. Such stories were few and far between, however. Most mercenaries and travelers who visited the village weren’t the sort to go out on the oceans and, in turn, sailors didn’t often visit Langleey. Still, everyone had heard of pirates.

Had they heard of the troubles Cliff was going through and thought it might be an easy raiding target?

But Lui was shaking her head. “Not pirates,” she said, her voice grim. “The ships are too well armed.”

“It isn’t Evestani,” Arkk said, squinting to try to see the emblem on the flag. Without a spyglass or crystal ball, it was just too far to see clearly. Still, he felt confident in that statement. Not including their base foot soldiers, who Hawkwood suspected were hastily pressed conscripts, Evestani had a habit of slathering gold color on everything.

None of the inquisitors with him offered an answer. They didn’t have anything that would let them see easier either.

“We’ll head to the garrison,” Lui said, “and ensure that they can operate the defenses for a length of time.”

Lui didn’t stick around for any responses. She, the chronicler, and the purifier hurried off, breaking into a hasty jog as they made their way down the street.

For a moment, it looked like Sylvara was going to head out with them. Arkk knew from experience that Sylvara had the magical capacity to keep up with even him while operating a ritual circle. But she hesitated, looking back to the harbor. Or, more specifically, the Grand Old Church. The tall spire was missing entirely and a chunk of the rounded front had collapsed. A column of smoke drifted off into the dome.

Arkk knew he had a bit of a different perspective on the Abbey compared to most but he knew that even if she disagreed with their practices, Sylvara still had friends among the Abbey. “Go,” he said. “Do what you need to do.”

“And you?”

“I assume the city has some way of fighting back on its own,” he said, somewhat uncertain. There were the great ballistae at the city gates, but those were intended to repel an army coming down the relatively narrow pass, not defend from the sea. There weren’t any obvious defenses near the harbor. “I’ll gather who I can from my people.”

Agnete, the spellcaster team—with the bombardment rituals being affixed within the Walking Fortress, they would have to help out with what defensive and offensive magics the garrison had—and all the soldiers he could rally from Al-Mir. If these ships tried to land and drop off soldiers, they would be in for a surprise. Priscilla was nearing the portal in the Underworld as well, carrying Leda and…

Well, Arkk wasn’t too sure how to feel about what those two had been up to. It would be something to figure out once they arrived. But if they could help here…

“Weren’t you trying to keep your relation to Katja a secret?” Sylvara asked.

Arkk pressed his lips together. “I’m not going to stand aside while people’s lives are at stake for pragmatism. Besides, Company Al-Mir has fought to defend the people of Mystakeen. Katja, Duke Woldair. It doesn’t matter who is in charge.”

“Being able to deploy a force within minutes of the attack is going to raise questions. With the Prince’s imminent arrival, your forces occupying part of the city will raise even more. I’m not saying to stand around and watch, but simply to act intelligently about it.”

Arkk hummed, accepting her advice for what it was. It got him thinking, however. “Does this have anything to do with the Prince, do you think? These aren’t his ships, are they? Come to soften up the city before his forces arrive?”

Sylvara looked back to the harbor and slowly shook her head. “I don’t believe so. The flags, the black and white, don’t match with either the Principality of Vaales—who favor red and gold—or the predominantly blue Kingdom of Chernlock.”

“I suppose it is good that he isn’t sieging his kinsmen… But I doubt he’ll be happy to arrive in the city like this.”

“If we were hoping to have him in a good mood—”

Sylvara cut off as a series of large cracking fissures split through the protective dome. The entire spell wavered, flickered, and fell as the cracks merged together. Several more flashes on the sides of the ships, followed by loud, thundering bangs echoing over the city. Fresh fires erupted throughout the streets, shaking the ground. Most seemed focused on Katja’s manor, but a separate magical spell around the manor kept it safe.

As soon as the volley of attacks subsided, the dome over the city blossomed anew. Perhaps Lui had made it and was now standing in place.

Sylvara said nothing more. With a curt nod to Arkk, she took off in a sprint through the city, leaving Arkk behind.

She didn’t want Arkk overtly showing his hand. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be prepared for the worst. Turning, he headed back into the academy. It took a bit of pushing to get through the crowd of people who stepped outside and immediately started gaping at the sight of the city being attacked. Without the inquisitors clearing the way, he had to do a bit of pushing and shoving. At least for a moment.

His anger must have gotten the best of him. A red light tinged his surroundings. Once that happened, everyone did their best to clear his path. He considered trying to calm himself down, glowing eyes were a bit notable even in the chaos, but it was too useful.

The crowd thinned out and, before long, Arkk found himself back in the winding corridors that had been left vacant for centuries. He walked past the room that they had been using for their meeting and to a long corridor without any apparent doors. Apparent doors being the keyword.

Utilizing a small bit of mind magic, courtesy of Savren, nobody would see anything amiss with the large blank wall. They would walk right past it. Even Agnete on the hunt wouldn’t notice.

Arkk pushed into the wall, opening a door to a room containing a teleportation ritual circle.

In a few quick hops, he was back at Fortress Al-Mir. He quickly checked through all the local employees, their current readiness state, and any other assets he had available. Both Luthor at Elmshadow and Harvey at Al-Mir were trying to get his attention. He didn’t have to guess what his scrying team wanted to tell him, but he still teleported straight to Harvey.

The flopkin jolted at his sudden arrival but quickly collected himself.

“Sir! Movement at Moonshine Burg. Evestani is advancing across Mystakeen again.”

That removed most doubt Arkk had about the allegiance of the ships at Cliff, though he still wasn’t sure why they lacked the golden eagle of Evestani on their flag. “Toward Elmshadow?”

“Too early to tell. They only set out a short while ago.”

“Keep me updated,” Arkk said. As he spoke, he dropped a small stone beside Luthor’s station at the Walking Fortress. A pre-arranged indicator that he heard the call for attention and was deliberately disregarding it for the time being. Through the employee link, he could see Luthor’s crystal ball showing off the same army movements that Harvey’s was. “I need—”

“There is one other thing, Sir.”

“Cliff? I know.”

“Cliff?” Harvey said, sounding confused. He shook his head, sending his long, rabbit-like ears flopping about his head. “No, this.”

Leaning over the crystal ball, Harvey changed the view to focus on a part of the army that had Arkk scowling in confusion. There were… hundreds of soldiers. But they didn’t look like Evestani troops. They wore solid black armor with long white capes. The armor was high quality. He could tell just from a glance that it was far, far beyond the roughshod armor that most Evestani conscripts received.

Their elite force? Held in reserve until now? It seemed strange that they wouldn’t have brought them out while reinforcing Elmshadow before Arkk’s attack, but…

He frowned, narrowing his eyes. The large pauldrons each wore had a symbol on their shoulders. Nine white swords arrayed around a ring, pointed outwards. None had a single fleck of gold anywhere.

Arkk reached out, taking control of the crystal ball. He redirected its viewpoint to Cliff, focusing on the ships assaulting the city. Harvey made a slight squeaking sound upon seeing the attack, but Arkk ignored him. He focused on the flags over the battleships.

Black with nine white swords arrayed around a ring.

“Well,” Arkk said. “That answers that.”

“That’s it?”

“What were you expecting, elf? Everything in this world lies in ruins. You thought this would be different?”

Alya narrowed her eyes at Olatt’an, but he brushed it off.

They were here. They were finally here.

The lost city of Iuzz’ovra. Said to be the homeland of the orcs. Legend held that it was once a grand and beautiful land. Now it sat in silent desolation. Iuzz’ovra was designed to be in harmony with the peculiar environment of the Underworld. Similar to the cathedrals of the Cloak of Shadows or the towering mobile fortress that Arkk had moved to the portal entrance, its buildings were crafted from stones that seemed to absorb the faint everlasting twilight of the realm.

He could only imagine what it had looked like in its prime.

Time and fate had not been kind to the once-thriving city. Like much of the Underworld, pillars and buildings had crumbled and fallen. The roads had been buried beneath a layer of the wasteland’s sand and dirt. Hulking metal monstrosities, vaguely shaped like humanoids, sat rusted and broken throughout the city. A fortification stood tall as the dominant feature of the city’s skyline. Once upon a time, it might have rivaled the grandeur of the Bastion City in Chernlock or Cliff’s own Grand Old Church. Now, a full quarter of it had crumbled completely and the remainder stood at a precarious lean, feeling as if a slight breeze might send the rest of it tumbling to the ground.

That crumbled portion of the fortification allowed him to see something that stood behind. A great crystalline archway that peeked just around the side of the fortification. A silvery, rippling surface like a pool turned on its side occupied the interior of the arch.

Years, decades… eons of lost lore and history. All that cultural enrichment unfortunately paled in comparison to the archway.

“Well, elf. You told me of your people’s legends. Perhaps it is time to find out if my people’s legends hold some truth. Perhaps I can still succeed where you failed.”