Fortress Al-Mir

“Horrik! Unleash the cannons!”

“Aye, Lady Katja.”

The hammering thumps resounding in Katja’s chest as alchemical explosives detonated in series was music to her ears. According to one of the former Duke’s advisors, who now served Katja, Cliff had only once come under attack via sea. That had been nearly a hundred years ago in yet another conflict with Evestani—or rather, the empire that was their predecessor.

But that didn’t mean that the local guard had neglected the defenses. Powerful turrets occupied strategic spots along the harbor, utilizing magically augmented alchemical explosives to launch volleys of destruction out into the sea. Accuracy wasn’t the guard’s strong suit, unfortunately. All of the streaks of fire came down nowhere near the ships out on the water, instead setting the water itself aflame.

It would have been an impressive sight, the water literally burning, were it not for the utterly unharmed ships. “Horrik!”

“Working on it,” Horrik said, readjusting some part of the nearest cannon even as he shouted commands down the rest of the line.

These cannons hadn’t been used, even for a test, in at least a decade. Perhaps longer than that. It didn’t help that a number of those who knew how to operate them had… well, they hadn’t exactly agreed with Katja’s newfound position as head of the city. Even if they had been around, they would have been rusty beyond belief. That would change after today. There would be regular drills to ensure those manning the harbor cannons could wield them effectively.

Assuming the Prince didn’t behead her upon arrival.

The Prince’s arrival was imminent. She knew exactly where the Prince was.

He was just outside the city. Katja had ordered the protective barrier active knowing he was right there. This attack could very well be intended to kill him. If it was, she was perfectly willing to let them do what they had come here for. If Prince Cedric died at the hands of an enemy attack, she could hardly be held responsible. And then she wouldn’t have to deal with him.

The problem was that they were attacking her city. Either they hadn’t noticed the Prince on the long path down to the main city of Cliff or they were here for her. Or some other objective.

So, she had to defend the city. If there was a silver lining, it was that she could hopefully demonstrate some level of competence that Prince Cedric might appreciate.

Well, she supposed that depended on whether or not they managed to do significant damage to the city. Appearing competent did require some level of competence.

“Stop trying to hit them and hit them!” Katja barked out as she started pacing back and forth along the harbor. She had to pause to keep her balance as a fresh volley rumbled into the docks.

“Wind coming in strong from the east!” Horrik shouted, his voice almost lost in the cacophony of explosions. “Pull the shots to the right!”

The dome cracked as a return volley from the ships struck. Katja flinched, heart pounding, wondering if coming out here in person was such a good idea. She wanted to give a good show of it and demonstrate her leadership in person, be seen by those who might still have doubts about her station in the city. But she was at the front lines. If an attack from the ships made it through, she would take it to the face.

A resounding boom, different from all the rest, shuddered the docks. For a moment, she thought something had made it through the protective dome. But no.

This time, the impact was undeniable. The lead ship took the hit directly to its stern. It didn’t make it onto the deck, but flames coursed all along the side, eating into the wood and forcing the enemy crew away from their cannons. A ripple of water magic erupted along the side, rushing down from the bow to the back, dousing the flames as it moved.

The damage was done. A gaping hole in the rear of the ship started taking on water.

Cheers broke out along the harbor as Katja’s forces saw the first real sign of their efforts bearing fruit.

“Don’t stop!” Katja shouted, emboldened by the victory as much as anyone else. “Again! Focus on the lead ship!”

A fierce grin spread across Horrik’s face. He shouted his own commands, relaying directions down the line. They adjusted the cannons, clumsily refocusing. Katja wasn’t sure that Horrik’s commands were the best. He didn’t know how to use these cannons any better than a fresh rookie. But, emboldened by the successful strike, everyone was eagerly hoping for more.

The ships fired their salvo. The protective spell shuddered, cracked, and shattered.

In an instant, the elation among the troops turned to terror as the protective spell fell and the bombardment from the enemy seared towards the docks. Katja, heart pounding and adrenaline surging, slammed her hand onto a younger boy’s shoulder.

“Roland,” she hissed. “Now.”

The boy, eyes wide and fearful, slotted his hand into a small groove atop a pylon she had placed on the docks. The signet ring he wore easily slid into a matching depression and, with a turn of his wrist, it clicked. Katja, a hand on the boy’s shoulder, flooded her magic through him, filling the ritual circle he had made whole.

A surge of magic pulsed out, ripping through the air. It collided with the incoming projectiles, creating a barrier of shimmering light that deflected them back toward the sea. The force wasn’t enough to capsize the ships, but it kept the docks safe. For the moment.

Katja was a spellcaster of little renown, but this relied on the Duke’s signet ring, not on her power or that of Roland.

It was also not something that could be used with any frequency. It was a last-ditch attempt at staving off an attack. Originally, the pylon was meant to protect the manor. But she had moved this pylon from the manor out to the docks, just in case. There were other such pylons in the manor, but none that were both mobile and would assist with this situation.

Now that it was done with, she stared out, feeling sick. The protective dome hadn’t come up yet. Her men were still ducking and covering as if that would aid with anything instead of returning fire. And the second of the three ships was readying its volley.

Katja took a step back, grimacing. Her eyes flicked to the side. “Horrik—”

The ships erupting in cannon fire cut Katja off. Eyes wide and heart pounding, she threw herself to the ground, dragging Roland with her in an attempt to use his body as a shield.

Silence crushed the docks. But no explosions. No pain of splintering wood, no fragments of stone, and no heat of flames. Not even a splashing of the water as the attacks fell short. Katja, on the ground, slowly lifted her head, wondering where the pain was.

A black streak cut across the sky. No, not black. A void of space sliced through the air in front of the docks, broken only by tiny twinkling lights. Flames burned the sky along the edges, steaming the surface of the water and reaching up into the sky, but the attacks didn’t make it to the docks.

Katja had never seen magic like that before. Granted, having lived her life as a slave and then as a bandit, she didn’t have the widest breadth of knowledge. But this, the way it hung in the air filled her stomach with nausea. It was unnatural.

And she knew what it was. The Duke had left reports behind on the terrible fissure in the sky. The Abbey of the Light had met with her, impressing upon her the necessity of action primarily because of that fissure. She hadn’t seen it happen because she had been underground, within Fortress Al-Mir, at the time. But she knew just who the Abbey suspected was the cause of that incident.

The haze of the protective dome shimmered back into place, cutting just ahead of that fissure in space. As soon as it was in place, the fissure vanished. Whoever was manning the ritual circle at the garrison took far too long to get new ritualists in place. That would undergo some drills in the future as well.

For now, teeth clenched, Katja shoved herself off the ground. “Back in action!” she barked out. “Get these Light-less dirtbags out of my harbor!”

“You heard the lady!”

The men, startled and shaken but not yet out of it, jumped back on the weaponry. Alchemical might flung out to sea after the ships. Katja wasn’t sure it was necessary anymore.

“Y… You tried to save me?”

Katja looked down at where Roland remained curled into a small ball. He looked up at her with fresh respect.

She just shook her head and turned her gaze back on the battle.

In the few moments when that fissure had been active, the ship captains must have decided that they weren’t prepared to deal with that unnatural magic. Their sails billowed as they turned to catch the wind, a clear sign of retreat. Aside from the lead ship taking on a small bit of water, a negligible amount in all likelihood, they hadn’t suffered any real damage.

Did they not want to try to break through another of the protective domes while weathering attacks? Or did they fear something a little more volatile from the unnatural magics than a mere defensive barrier?

“Katja. What are you doing out here?”

Katja didn’t turn to face the speaker. “Demonstrating competence,” she said, absolutely certain her quiet voice would be drowned out by the slapping of the water against the docks, not to mention the cannon fire. She hoped the frustration was drowned out by it. Saved by him? What part of that was competence? “And what of you, Arkk? I thought we were to keep our association a secret?”

“To a point. I’m not going to let you die. Or anyone, if I can help it.”

“How altruistic,” she said, trying not to sneer.

“They’re leaving.”

“So it would seem.”

Katja watched as the ships picked up speed from a sudden gust of wind coming directly from their rears, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of seeing her end approach, only to be saved at the last moment. The harbor was a mess of emotions; cheers and cries of relief mixed in with the crackling of fires that had made it to shore.

“Evestani is on the march again,” Arkk said as he stepped closer. “This time, they are backed up by well-equipped soldiers bearing the same emblem as what is on those flags.”

“Any idea who they are?” Katja asked, glaring at the retreating ships. “Or the reason for the attack—I assume they’re trying to kill the Prince? Or any way to blast those ships out of the water before they get away?”

“I could try slinging lightning bolts or a specific flame spell, but I don’t think they would do enough damage before they got too far away. As for the who and why, I was hoping you might know.”

Katja shook her head back and forth, half turning away from the retreating ships. She was about to say something along the lines of how the hell would she know who they were? Her upbringing hadn’t exactly included vexillology tutoring. She had been a slave and a bandit.

But some part of her mind stuttered to a stop as she caught sight of Arkk.

“You look ridiculous,” she said to the man wearing a heavy black cloak with the hood fully up and over his head. He had some kind of wooden mask, plain and blank except for two dark circles where the eyes should be.

“I’m trying to be inconspicuous about our relationship.”

Katja couldn’t help her laugh. “And you thought this was the best way to remain inconspicuous? The magic you used wouldn’t make it obvious enough? I’m sure many, many eyes are on the docks right now. Everyone will have seen that.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use it,” Arkk said, grabbing the mask and pulling it off his face. He had a glower for the ages on underneath.

“Well, you did. And everyone saw. Damnit,” Katja hissed. “The Abbey is going to come knocking again.”

She wanted to kick them out of the city. It would be better for everyone if she didn’t have them hovering over her shoulder. But they were experiencing the same benefit that Katja had used to instigate her little revolution. They were popular among the populace. Both because of the general religiousness of the average citizen as well as their goodwill whenever they came out to heal, put out fires, or otherwise assist with everyday living.

The general public didn’t know that they were the primary driving force behind the Duke’s alliance with the Evestani. It was honestly inspiring how well they had come out looking like the good guys. Their public relations were something Katja strived to emulate.

“Good work!” Katja shouted, turning away from Arkk. She needed to focus on the here and now. “We’ve got them running. Horrik! Ensure they truly leave the port and aren’t just moving out of range.”

Horrik looked at her, raising a bushy eyebrow. He didn’t want to undermine her authority by questioning her orders. At the same time, she could read the question on his face. ‘How am I supposed to manage that?’

Cliff didn’t have its warships. It did have plentiful fishing vessels, from small skiffs to larger, ocean-worthy ships. Katja would have to commission something worthy of defending the harbor if this was how this new enemy wanted to fight. Until then, retrofitting one of the fishing vessels with all the magic the garrison and the academy could shove on it would have to do.

Even that would take time.

“Get whatever bombardment magic you can and chase them as far as the range allows. Then find the largest ship in the harbor, requisition it from its owners, and start getting it outfitted in case they come back.”

“Aye.”

“Now,” Katja said, lowering her voice. “What are we going…” She trailed off, hearing something. It was a faint sound, something just barely carried on the wind. She turned back to the harbor, worried it was coming from the departing ships. Some parting surprise.

They were deploying something from the backs of their ships. Large barrels. But they weren’t the sound she was hearing. The barrels made plopping noises.

What she heard was something more… musical in nature. Except not quite. It lacked a melody.

“Trumpets?” Arkk said, cocking his head to the side, hearing it as well.

He was right. Now that he said it, the sound clicked in the back of her mind. Trumpets weren’t an instrument she was too familiar with. There were a few among her crew who had enjoyed playing music at Porcupine Hill, usually anytime there was something to celebrate. Flutes, lutes, and drums, mostly. Things that were easy to make out away from civilization. Trumpets required a bit of knowledge to manufacture.

Katja started to grin, only to freeze her expression in place. She quickly covered the momentary smile with a look of confusion.

Arkk looked just as confused as she was. Staring at his face, she could see the moment the realization hit.

“The Prince,” she hissed, cursing under her breath for the show of it. “He must still be outside the barrier?”

It was good that he hadn’t gotten inside. Now, with the trumpets blaring, perhaps he thought himself in a bit of trouble. She looked out to see, noting the ships. They were readying the cannons even as they angled away from the bulk of the city.

Reaching under his cloak, Arkk produced a crystal ball. Katja hurried over as an image shimmered inside, showing the narrow pass that led down to Cliff proper. The haze of the protective dome separated the city from an army.

There were two parts to the army. Hawkwood’s men were easily distinguishable by their white banners and surcoats, bisected by a black chevron. They were, for the most part, on the outsides of the main convoy, protecting their sides and rear. Not that there was much room. They were practically in single-file lines on either side of a small group of red and yellow armored soldiers, both mounted and foot soldiers. The Prince’s colors.

At the center of it all was a carriage made entirely from metal. Rugged and thick metal. She could tell just from a glance that it wasn’t thinly plated. Drawn forward by two massive manticores, beasts made up from a mixture of animals, and covered in protective magic circles, it was the dominating feature of the caravan.

“He’s here early,” Katja spat, forcing the irritation to maintain her innocent look. “Is he an idiot? Sounding his trumpets in a situation like this?”

“They must have seen the attack and hurried along.”

“Now they’re not moving at all… on the outside of the barrier.” It was stopping them from entering. Just as she planned. “I need to get them inside before those ships decide they’ll be a good target. If something happens to the Prince, it will be my head that will roll… Horrik!” she shouted. “Handle things here!”

“Aye!”

“Keep on them, don’t let them even think of taking a shot at the Prince!” Katja shouted as she vaulted over a railing. She had retainers a distance away, keeping hold of a horse-drawn carriage for her. Unhitching the horse from the carriage and riding it alone to the gate was the fastest way to get there.

“What’s your plan?” Arkk called, chasing after her.

For a brief moment, Katja thought he was talking about her hopes that the Prince would take a cannonball to the face. But no, he was asking what she planned to do about the Prince being on the outside of the barrier. She didn’t bother glancing back. “You think I have one?” she snapped over her shoulder.

She had everything planned. A grand welcoming, both theatric and befitting of someone of Prince Cedric’s standing. Uncertain of the Prince’s personality, she had plotted out two avenues to proceed from there, all based on her first impressions. In one plan, there was to be a feast, lavish gifts, and entertainment enough to last for days. In the other, a serious and detailed meeting where she would be able to go over the exact state of the Duchy, providing statistics, deployment patterns, updates from Arkk and her own guard, and anything else he might ask for. She had spent days and nights compiling all the information, going over it backward and forwards to ensure she knew everything the Prince might possibly ask.

And now this?

Katja didn’t know who these interlopers were, but if they killed the Prince, they would be a blessing in disguise. If they didn’t, she could simply go back to her previous plotting.

The horses were skittish and uneasy. Not surprising given all the noise of the battle. Katja’s retainers started getting the carriage ready upon spotting her approach. Katja brushed them off, unlatching the horse’s harness herself before slinging herself up and onto its bare back. Slamming her heels into its sides sent the horse bolting, leaving both her retainers and Arkk behind.

Riding bareback wasn’t comfortable or fun at the best of times. Trying to direct an upset horse through the streets of Cliff still wasn’t the worst she had had. It was faster than walking. Still, she was relieved when she made it to the garrison without getting bucked off its back.

She tore inside, glad that a good number of the guards had been replaced with her men who recognized her without any trouble. “Shut it down,” she shouted, barging into the central ritual room. She couldn’t act any longer, not while maintaining plausible deniability. If the Prince wasn’t dead already, it was too late for that.

Three inquisitors of the Abbey and a spellcaster, all with strained faces, looked up.

“Shut it down!” she repeated. “The Prince is outside the barrier with the barbarians!”

That got a reaction. One of the inquisitors, a woman with tinted round glasses, reacted first, pulling back from the ritual circle. Without her to support the magical reaction, the other three were swiftly forced to stop. The inquisitor, unsteady on her feet and looking drained, started toward Katja with questions on her lips, but Katja didn’t have time to sit around answering them.

As swiftly as she came, Katja hurried back out.

The garrison was built into the mountainside right next to the main gate leading into Cliff. It took mere minutes to get to the gatehouse. “Open the gates!” she shouted, utterly baffled at the incompetence of the guards stationed there.

Yes, the gates should be kept shut in an emergency but the Light-damned Prince was on the other side.

She climbed the stairs to the wall, half expecting to have to pull the locking lever herself. The moment she reached the top and looked out, she saw it.

Bright pinpoints of light all along the broadsides of the ships in the harbor.

She couldn’t do anything but watch, her heart filling with a slurry of dread and hope, as those pinpoints turned to arching streaks that sailed into the air, trailing fire in their wake. A dozen of the streaks slammed into the Grand Old Church with a vengeance. The large temple to the Light shielded much of Cliff, helping out even in its demise, but it did not stop the streaks of light aimed toward the main route into Cliff.

One struck the mountain overhead, shredding the cliff wall and showering rock and stone down on the Prince’s caravan. People below dove for cover. Katja watched one unfortunate crushed entirely by a rock as large as a horse. One of the manticores reared back and swung its snake-like tail around. The viper maw opened and caught one of the fireballs before spewing it back in the direction it had come from. Its defense was, unfortunately, imperfect. Another flaming ball sailed true, rocking the armored carriage far enough to tip it onto its side even though it didn’t penetrate the metal.

More rocks, sheared off the cliffside from flying fireballs, fell, collapsing on the now upward-facing side of the carriage. It might not be able to get through the armor, but the Prince wouldn’t last long if the mountain fell on top of him. At the very least, he would run out of air.

Before Katja could come up with anything to rectify the situation, the door to the carriage slammed open, flinging the heavy stones that had fallen on it off into the distance.

A black and white blur erupted from the open carriage straight into the air. It was little more than a flicker in the corner of Katja’s eye. She barely managed to track it as it reached a pinnacle high in the sky. Only her intense concentration on the situation let her follow it.

Instead of arching back down the way a projectile might, it hung in that apex, a dark flicker against the blue sky. As quickly as it reached that apex, it aimed straight at the lead ship, crossing the distance in yet another flicker of movement.

For a brief instant, nothing happened. Katja stared at the ship, expecting an explosion or some sign of damage from whatever magic the Prince had launched.

The ship crumpled. From the distance she was at, it looked like it collapsed in on itself. Like two giant hands had clapped together, crushing it the way a farmer might crush an annoying mosquito. Even the water around the boat sloshed together, meeting in the middle where it spewed upwards in a geyser of water, splinters, and metal shards that reached higher than the crow’s nest of the following ship.

The other two ships vanished immediately after. They didn’t collapse like the first. One moment they were there, then, with a light snapping sound in the air, they simply weren’t. Sea water rushed into the vacancies left in their absence.

Katja fell into a stupor. She was a spellcaster of some ability. She had spent time in Arkk’s magical fortress. But she had never seen anything like that. What manner of magic was it?

Slowly, she turned her head back. Most everyone who wasn’t in immediate danger was stuck looking out to sea, likely feeling exactly as she was at the moment.

What was Arkk thinking? Was this another day for him? Or was he staring in shock as well? He had that spell that had protected the harbor, but could he do something like that?

Katja cocked her head to one side and slowly started to smile. Her eyes settled on the metal carriage that the large manticores were carefully righting.

“Men!” she shouted, startling the guards on the wall with her. “Get out there. Assist anyone in need and escort everyone else inside the walls! Then get the protective magics back up and running.

“We have a Prince to welcome to the city.”

If he survived.