Fortress Al-Mir

On one hand, Arkk felt like a deep burden had been lifted from his shoulders. The Duke was gone. His army was effectively under Arkk’s control. Evestani was broken and retreating. They had a whole nation across the border, so he couldn’t count them out of the fight. Especially not while that avatar was leading them.

But, for the time being, they were not an immediate issue looming on the horizon.

There was the issue of the Prince. Prince Cedric Valorian Lafoar. The Prince lacked scrying protections, allowing Arkk to spy on him with impunity as he set out from Vaales and approached the Duchy. He and his retinue didn’t constitute a full army but they still numbered upward of five hundred individuals, mostly humans with a handful of demihumans mixed in. That shouldn’t be able to threaten Katja or Arkk, especially if they worked together, but the rumors around Prince Cedric and his subjugation of Vaales still had Arkk on edge.

It was also not something Arkk was worrying about at the moment. Vaales was on the complete opposite side of the Duchy from Evestani. There was too much going on here on this side of the country.

“Sir, we’ve found a-another d-detachment.”

Arkk sighed. “Numbers?”

“About a hundred soldiers plus logistic p-personnel.”

“Any sign of the avatar or tattooed pious? Any golden knight?”

“No, Sir.” The chameleon beastman leaned over the crystal ball, peering into its depths. “All regular soldiers by the l-looks of things.” Luthor gave a nervous laugh. “I d-don’t think they know what happened here.”

Arkk wasn’t surprised.

While the bulk of Evestani’s forces had been concentrated in Elmshadow Burg, they hadn’t been solely stationed within its walls. Scout units patrolled all around the burg at varying distances, raiding teams had been charged with scouring the surrounding villages and burgs of their food and supplies—mostly hardy cloth and metal—and even larger detachments patrolled around to secure the land from any opposing armies, whether those be the Grand Guard or even smaller militia made up of farmers, miners, and other regular people.

“They’re heading for Elmshadow?”

“Yes. About a d-day away. I imagine they’ll camp for the n-night and arrive sometime tomorrow afternoon, assuming they don’t stop for any other reason.”

Arkk nodded his head. “If they do deviate, send out Priscilla and Agnete to round them up. Otherwise, no sense exerting effort walking all the way out to them. Let them come to us and have some men round them up out sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Weren’t they down south of the burg? There was that g-group of p-pious…”

Pausing, Arkk quickly scanned through all his minions. He checked their position and current tasks, making sure he hadn’t forgotten things or gotten mixed up. It wouldn’t be the first time. Things had been hectic. Even without a battle going on, it seemed like thousands of different items all required his attention.

He wished Ilya was here. Or Vezta. Both were back at Fortress Al-Mir, keeping up operations there—mostly dealing with the refugees who hadn’t gone back to Cliff. Now that the battle was over, Arkk had sent all the wounded and the medical team through the teleportation ritual circles to recuperate back in the fortress’ safety.

“Richter and his battlecasters are dealing with the pious,” Arkk said. “And Hawkwood should be shoring up the burg’s walls and magical defenses. Agnete is down in the foundry, hammering away at something. Priscilla is lounging at the peak of one of the mountains.”

The dragonoid had constructed a large chair for herself out of ice and snow. She just sat, one arm propped up on the icy armrest, with her head tilted up toward the sky. Or, rather, toward the Stars.

“I’ll let them know they have upcoming duties,” Arkk said, knowing the chameleon wouldn’t be able to hike up and down the mountain in any reasonable amount of time. “Is there anything else of importance?”

“Not that I’ve s-seen.”

“Good. I’m heading into the burg for a time.”

“I’ll alert you if anything c-changes.”

Arkk nodded and teleported.

He didn’t go straight to the burg, however. He stopped at the base of the tower which was currently positioned directly in the center of Elmshadow, on top of the ruins of the old keep.

It… leaned. Lesser servants crawled all over the exterior, trying to seal the shadowy stone that had been hit by the avatar’s golden ray. The stone had held up to the ray, mostly just melting against one side but not wholly vanishing like regular ground or buildings had in the past. Unfortunately, that wasn’t as reassuring for future operations as it felt like it should be.

Turning, he stared at the sharp spike of the mountain that had once hidden the tower from the burg’s direct line of sight. A circular hole had been carved straight through, puncturing a hole that let him look through the mountain. Would the tower have survived if it had taken a direct hit? How much of the avatar’s magical power had gone into boring a hole in the mountain versus into the tower itself?

Arkk doubted the same tactic would work again. Right now, the Evestani remnants were headed toward Moonshine Burg. They were bypassing a few of the larger burgs in favor of that one, presumably to use the entire rest of their nation as support in its defense.

Not only were there no tall mountains to hide behind near Moonshine Burg, but that avatar would have come up with a way to hit him even if he could hide the tower.

If the tower had collapsed, instigating the surrender and routing of Evestani’s fighting force would have failed. They would have likely fought to the end, or at least a lot further. People would have died. The entire battle might have ended differently.

He couldn’t risk it being hit again and yet, he did not doubt that this war would continue unless he managed to kill the avatar. The actual avatar, not the possessed puppets.

Sylvara Astra. Darius Vrox. Arkk didn’t like to pin his hopes on those who might like to see him fall and yet… he really hoped they got back to him with information about possible countermeasures for the avatar’s powers. Either his power of possession or a way of nullifying the golden rays. Both would be best.

“Should you not be celebrating with the others?” Arkk asked, half turning as he heard a heavy set of footsteps approaching. “It was your plan that gave us this victory. You deserve a little rest and relaxation.”

Olatt’an let out a small chuckle. “Plan? That’s a bit grandiose. I merely suggested we play to our strengths. As for rest…” He shook his head, scoffing. “There is much to do, even now.”

Raising an eyebrow, Arkk hummed. He had much to do, Arkk wouldn’t argue with that. But Olatt’an? Most of his advisors were going around, cleaning up minor holdouts or just maintaining order in the rapidly expanding prison system in the depths beneath Elmshadow Burg. Arkk hardly counted that as being busy.

Most of them were drunk on the job. Something Arkk would be cracking down on in the near future.

“Have you got more suggestions?” Arkk asked, wondering what was on the old orc’s mind.

“I would like for you to give me a team to delve into the Underworld a little further. And I would like for this team to include the elf.”

“Ilya?”

“Alya.”

That made Arkk hesitate. Ilya would have given Arkk pause enough but Alya? The elven matriarch had taken to caring for the refugees, handling them with Ilya while Vezta focused on the rest of Fortress Al-Mir. She wasn’t an official minion of Fortress Al-Mir, nor was she considered a prisoner. She did go out of her way to avoid Arkk. It was almost like she had a sixth sense for his presence.

Of course, many of the refugees at Fortress Al-Mir were originally from Elmshadow. Many were eager to return, even if there wasn’t much to return to but hard work repairing the city. There were some of Elmshadow’s original inhabitants still present here, those poor souls who hadn’t managed to evacuate in time, who would be beyond pleased to reunite, he was sure. So perhaps that job was of far lesser importance going forward.

“What do you hope to accomplish that Priscilla or one of the harpies can’t scout out faster?”

“It is a personal request, though I don’t doubt that it might have some benefit for you. Now that the Protector isn’t threatening anyone who ventures through the land, I have some ideas on where we might go.

“You see,” Olatt’an continued, “I believe your servant was correct when she said that orcs might have originally come from the Underworld. The younger generations don’t know much and even I have only heard scraps and pieces from legends passed down. But, having seen what I have seen, some of those legends hold grains of truth.

“I hope to find the homeland of the orcs. During some of my guard postings in the Underworld, I mapped out the mountains and landmarks. I think I know where to find it, assuming the legends are true. The Protector, if willing, might help narrow down those legends into fact.”

Arkk nodded slowly, mind churning over the request. There wasn’t a good reason to deny it. Unless Evestani and the Golden Order had a big surprise up their sleeves, they were on the run. Even if Arkk wanted to chase after them, the tower couldn’t move more until it was repaired and the prisoners relocated out of the large chamber beneath it. The Prince wasn’t likely to cause an immediate problem. Just an eventual one.

They had weeks… potentially months of calm ahead of them.

Arkk wouldn’t plan for months of calm, but he couldn’t deny their possibility. Besides that, Fortress Al-Mir had grown. Losing a team for a few weeks wasn’t as big of a loss now compared to what it would have been before the war.

“Why Alya?”

“She is an ancient elf. She might well know orcish legends far better than even I. Besides that, I think the elf knows more than she has said. You—the fortress, your glowing eyes, and your connection to Vezta—make her hesitant to speak, not wanting to fuel your corruption,” Olatt’an said with a scoff. “A journey like this is an opportune time to pry out those secrets.”

Arkk let out a long sigh. “I don’t want her harmed, despite everything.”

“Calm yourself,” Olatt’an said, propping himself up against the base of one of the tower legs. He crossed his arms. “I know your temperament. She won’t come to harm from me. What do you take me for?”

“The Ripthroat.”

Olatt’an grinned, flashing a tusk-less smile. “That’s an old name. Hardly counts as mine anymore. No, there will be no throat-ripping. Just a long journey with a fascinating new world and little to discuss but topics of the ancient past.”

Arkk mirrored Olatt’an’s crossed arms. Were this Rekk’ar making the suggestion, Arkk would likely have denied it. If only because he wouldn’t trust the more aggressive orc to not harm Alya. Olatt’an, despite his storied past, was far more mellow. More than that, he had never done something to give Arkk cause for worry.

“How soon were you thinking of leaving?”

“As soon as possible. Today even. I only have my legends to guide me, so I don’t have a timeframe for how long this will take.”

“I don’t know about today,” Arkk said with a small shake of his head. “People need time to gather gear. I presume you’ll want horses as well? Food and water?”

“Day after tomorrow, then. That will give you enough time.”

“Doable.”

“Excellent,” Olatt’an said as he reached into his brown leather vest. He pulled out a slip of paper. “I have the names of the ones I wish to accompany me on this expedition.”

Arkk skimmed the list, wincing as he came to one of the names. “Gromm’as didn’t survive the battle.”

“Really? I expected better of him,” Olatt’an said, tone entirely flat. There was no emotion in his voice.

“Everyone else is mostly unharmed. Though Hamm’on took a heavy hit to the leg. Hale healed it up but did so in her way. It has somewhat impacted his mobility. He might decline because of that.”

“Doubt it, but if he does, I’ll come up with replacements.”

“Right. I’ll have everyone else on the list meet you at the teleport back to Al-Mir?”

Olatt’an shoved himself off the wall. “Thanks,” he said. Without a word more, he turned and headed toward the downward-leading stairs at the base of the tower’s leg. Arkk almost asked if he wanted to be moved straight to the teleportation ritual room, but decided against it. If Olatt’an wanted it, he would have asked.

Still, as Olatt’an walked away, it got Arkk thinking. An expedition into the Underworld wasn’t a bad idea. He had bought some space, some relief of pressure. Sending Priscilla and Leda out—maybe a few harpies as well, if they were willing—to some areas of import that the Protector had pointed out would be best done now.

If there were more towers at all close to the portal, retrieving them, bringing the [HEART] here, and setting them up would be invaluable. He could plant Al-Lavik on the western border, blocking further incursions from Evestani, and one on the eastern border, keeping any army Prince Cedric might call for well away from him. A third one could go on the southern border, interposed between Chernlock and Mystakeen.

Arkk closed his eyes, quickly scanning over all his employees. The gorgon made it through the battle unharmed. They could accompany Agnete to subdue the stray group of Evestani soldiers. That would free up Priscilla to leave as soon as possible. She wouldn’t need to carry an entire team’s worth of provisions and wouldn’t have a whole team ready. She could leave tonight.

In scanning through his employees, Arkk spotted one particular employee looking… despondent. Priscilla could wait a few more minutes.

Arkk teleported through the tunnels connected to the Walking Fortress and reappeared just outside the ruined walls that had once encircled the keep. Not far from where Priscilla and Agnete had taken down the avatar.

The city was in a poor state. Once that golden dome had gone down, Arkk hadn’t held back. Every bit of bombardment magic they had came down upon the city. It was a small consolation to know that there weren’t any of the original inhabitants present in the center of the city. They had all been segregated into a small section of slums and effectively left to fend for themselves.

At this point, razing the entire burg to the ground might be better than leaving it in ruins. The tower wouldn’t be here permanently. As soon as Arkk left, he had no doubt that people like Katja would see it as a perfect place to move in. Bandits, the deserters who hadn’t joined up with Arkk, and even whatever scattered remnants of Evestani’s forces that he would inevitably fail to locate. If he stayed long enough to rebuild, it would help, but he wasn’t sure if he could do that.

Evestani’s forces were another problem. He wasn’t sure what to do with them all. Almost three thousand people sat in the depths. Without the infrastructure of Fortress Al-Mir close at hand, he couldn’t keep them fed for long. As it was, he was using their stores that their supply lines had managed to deliver, but those wouldn’t last and there wouldn’t be any more coming from Evestani.

Execution had been brought up among his advisors—Rekk’ar, mostly. It was a fairly standard tactic for combatants deemed a significant threat. Perhaps it was the difference in upbringing between a raider like Rekk’ar and his own, but that didn’t sit particularly well with him. Especially when he took into consideration Hawkwood’s words from before the initial siege of Elmshadow, where he suspected that a large portion of the Evestani army was made up of conscripts who likely didn’t want to be here in the first place.

Then again, Evestani as a whole hadn’t been kind to the citizens of the Duchy who failed to get out of their way in time. Perhaps it was just paying their harsh tactics forward.

A few, the leaders and commanders, might be worth ransoming back. Arkk doubted the income would supplement his reserves that much. Vezta had suggested that her former master was someone who enjoyed capturing favored minions of others and then bartering every concession possible from those who wanted them back.

The idea of recruitment had crossed his mind, but he hadn’t decided to act on it. Though he might be viewing the Evestani as a monolith rather than as individuals, they were far too fanatical for his tastes. He had already executed a small group of priests who had been trying to draw tattoos on another’s head.

The worst-case scenario at the moment would be that avatar popping up right in the midst of their group.

Since that incident, his guards patrolled on the regular and everyone had to submit for inspection—something he lacked the personnel to do effectively.

There just wasn’t a good solution.

Or rather, there was, but he didn’t want to admit that execution was the best option.

But he hadn’t teleported away from the tower to decide the fate of the prisoners. He could put that off for another day or two. Long enough to gather up the remnants from the area. For the time being, Arkk stalked across Elmshadow Burg’s empty streets, between ruined buildings and broken walls. There, near the damaged wall that had once encircled the burg’s garrison, stood about half of an Abbey of the Light church.

Much of the air around Elmshadow Burg smelled foul and rotting. The church was no different.

The entire eastern wall was just gone. The rest of it… didn’t look all that stable. Every few moments, an odd creaking of wood or grinding stone echoed over the otherwise silent section of the burg. If he couldn’t teleport instantly, he doubted he would be brave enough to step over the waist-high remnants of the eastern wall.

A gremlin with fiery red hair and a shadowy black cloak sat on a cracked bench in the middle of the church. The bench leaned at one end, letting her short legs reach the floor. Her elbows were propped on her knees and her head rested in the palms of her hands. She didn’t move even as gravel crunched underneath Arkk’s boots.

“Lexa?” Arkk said, voice soft as he slowly lowered himself to the bench. Broken as it was, it wasn’t a very comfortable place for a fully-grown human to sit. He ignored the discomfort just as he tried to ignore the creaking groans of the wood. Gently, he rested a hand on the gremlin’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She started at the touch, jolting. Her hands rubbed across her face, doing little to clean it. Realizing the futility of the attempt, she stopped and let out a sorry laugh. “I tried,” she said. “I tried so hard.”

“I know.”

“A snap of his fingers. A flash of gold. And they were all gone. I just…” She grit her sharp teeth, clenching her fists. “I keep thinking about it.”

She slowly looked around. The bodies of the children had been removed. It wasn’t much, but Arkk had spared some manpower to dig a few graves.

“I keep wondering what I could have done differently. I thought I didn’t have time to explain why I had to mutilate them. They were already panicked and scared. I didn’t think they would listen. But would things have been different if I had tried?” A crack of frustration broke her voice. “What if I had counted? I was in a rush. Things blurred together. But I could have counted how many I had done. Or just… looked. I knew some of them tried to hide, especially after the first. But—”

Arkk put his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her close, giving her a firm, comforting hug. “It isn’t your fault.”

“It is. I could have been faster. I could have practiced the spell more, spoken it faster, or—”

“It isn’t your fault,” Arkk said, voice far more firm. “It is mine. I ordered the detonation of the alchemical bomb before you were ready.”

“It’s not—”

“It is. I may not have had perfect battlefield knowledge, but my abilities give me a better scope of things than anyone else is capable of. I gave the order,” Arkk said. “I killed these children.”

For a long minute, silence reigned in the broken church. Only the faint creaking of wood and distant wind ruined that silence.

“No.”

“Lexa, it wasn’t your—”

“No,” Lexa snapped, shoving herself away from Arkk. Whirling around, she glared at him. Even with her standing and him sitting, she barely came up to his chest. Yet the fury in her eyes gave her an extra level of imposing. She jammed a finger in his chest. “Promise me.”

“Promise what?”

“When we track down that avatar—the real one, not his… puppets—I get to be the one… I get to drag my dagger across his throat and watch that golden light in his eyes fade.”

Arkk pursed his lips. That wasn’t something he could easily promise. It would likely be him, Agnete, and Priscilla fighting against the avatar. Although the avatar could deflect the bolts of lightning Arkk favored, he wasn’t omnipotent. A distraction could easily get lightning through his defenses, as their recent encounter showed.

But a dagger was far slower than a lightning bolt.

The way Lexa looked up at him, her eyes darting back and forth as she looked at his eyes, made him hold his rejection.

“Alright,” Arkk said.

Lexa didn’t look happy. If that simple agreement could bring even a little comfort and contentment, it was a small price to pay. Even if he had to break that promise in the future.