Fortress Al-Mir

When Arkk had been told that the slavers were held up in an old military outpost, he had expected some kind of fortress. Like the garrison at Cliff, with tall stone walls and observation turrets at the corners, or even like the bandit encampment and its imposing spiked defenses and tall wooden walls. Instead, he was greeted with a squat brick wall that he could probably see over just by jumping—Ilya and the orcs wouldn’t have a problem in the slightest. The wall wasn’t even thick. Shoving his shoulder against it a few times might not make it move but gather up three orcs and put them in roughly the same spot? They would knock it over in a few seconds.

Although the wall was unimpressive, it was a large compound. In the war, it must have been used as a staging point. A whole army could fit inside those thin walls. Given the wide open area lacking in buildings, they likely would have been expected to use tents. That was what the slavers were doing now, in any case. There were a few actual structures, all of which had been built into the walls. It was within those that most of the slaves were being kept.

Scrying on the camp for the previous day got them some information. There were about one hundred and fifty slavers present, all outfitted for combat. They had about an equal number of slaves crammed into the buildings. Most were occupying floor space but there were a number chained to the walls—presumably troublemakers.

Out in front of the outpost, which sat on a fairly flat plain covered in a light dusting of snow, was something Arkk had never seen before. Four great beasts, each towering over the rest of the outpost. Their massive bodies, covered in thick, rough hide, looked like they could crush an orc and barely notice what they stepped on. Even from his vantage point well away from the outpost, Arkk could feel their steps as they meandered about their makeshift pasture. More imposing were the large spiked horns that jutted up from their snouts.

Despite their awe-inspiring appearance, they didn’t look like they were used in combat. The pasture was right next to four equally massive carts. He wasn’t quite sure how big they were—the size of the beasts nearby was playing havoc on his sense of scale—but each of those carts contained twelve rectangular metal cages. Judging by their profession, those cages were probably the size of humans, if not orcs.

“Rhinos,” Olatt’an said, unprompted. “I’ve encountered the beasts before. They look frightening, but they are surprisingly docile. Unless you provoke them. In that case, you’re going to have a bad time.”

“I bet,” Arkk said, lowering the crystal ball to look across the plain with his own eyes. Despite the size of the beasts, they weren’t quite as easy to spot. Their black hides blended in with the night too well. “They’re why we’re approaching from the opposite side. It’s just that feeling the ground as they move… Avoid them if possible.”

“And if it isn’t possible?” Rekk’ar asked.

Olatt’an snorted. “Run.”

“Can the gorgon stone them?” Arkk asked, looking to Zharja.

The black-scaled gorgon let out a long, thoughtful hiss before slowly shaking her head. “Their eyess are on sseperate ssidess of their headss.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yess,” she said, offering no elaboration.

“As I said, they’re not aggressive beasts. Make noise and they’ll likely scatter,” Olatt’an said. “The ones you have to watch out for are the slavers whipping them into a frenzy.”

“Right. Lexa,” Arkk said. “Change of plans. You’re going to protect the rhinos. Take out anyone who looks like they’re trying to get them fighting us. Can you manage?”

“Sounds easier than what you wanted me doing before,” the gremlin said with her sharp-toothed grin.

“Good.”

“Mind if I head out? Bit of a trek to the opposite side of the outpost with these short legs of mine.”

Arkk nodded his head. “If things seem calm or you take out everyone heading to the rhinos, go back to the original plan, if possible. Otherwise, just cause as much havoc as you can.”

“Righty-oh,” Lexa said, tapping her fingers to her brow in a sloppy salute. Turning, she hurried off into the night, making even less noise than Ilya as she ran.

Arkk watched her go for a moment, frowning.

“Can we trust that one?”

Arkk shrugged at Rekk’ar’s question. “She accepted a coin, so she is a proper employee.” This meant that Arkk could watch her no matter where she was, though that was a secret he was still keeping from everyone except Vezta. “If she does turn traitor, I imagine it will be as a spy for Katja later on. Katja wants these slavers gone. I doubt we have to worry about her sabotaging us right now.”

“I’ll be keeping an eye on her.”

“You keep an eye on a lot of people,” Arkk quipped. “Running out of eyes?”

“And you’re too trusting. Even with one eye on others, I’ve still gone one to watch where I’m going. If you take a knife in your back, that’s your only back.”

Arkk pressed his lips into a thin line, staring at the green-skinned orc for a long moment. It took a moment to parse that analogy and he wasn’t sure that it was any good. Even if it was, it didn’t exactly apply to him. The power of Fortress Al-Mir let him observe his employees from anywhere at any time, effectively granting him an infinite number of eyes. Even that wasn’t necessary given that the Heart should alert him if anyone tried to betray him, much as it had warned him that a prisoner bond broke. Technically, he hadn’t tested that feature yet.

Yet…

Looking over Rekk’ar’s shoulder, Arkk found Edvin gesticulating wildly as he chatted with a nearby orc. From the way he was acting, the highwayman was regaling the orc with a tale of intense battle. Probably a very tall tale.

Well, there was a first time for everything.

Testing that betrayal warning was half his reason for keeping Edvin around at this point. Nobody had a positive word to say about the man and Arkk felt betrayal was inevitable, just as soon as Edvin felt he could get away without being chased down. Perhaps during a bout of intense combat.

Which was fine. The man had no important role to play this evening. As long as he didn’t try to literally stab Arkk in his back during his flight from their organization, Arkk was content to use him as a test.

Movement drew Arkk’s eyes away from the potential deserter, back toward the outpost. Ilya, long silver hair tied up in a small bun to keep it out of the way during the fight, came running up to their encampment. She gave Arkk a sharp nod of her head, fingers tightening around the grip of her black bow.

“The watch has been taken out,” Ilya said.

“No one noticed?”

“Not yet.”

“Good,” Arkk said, standing and turning.

Twenty orcs stared back. Almost every orc from the fortress. Six gorgon stood among them—the four he had originally brought along with two more he had invited over just to make sure everything went smoothly. Vezta wasn’t present. Neither were Savren or Zullie. After discussing the strategy with his advisors, they judged their presence unnecessary. Arkk would rather have them working on making the adjustments to the ritual anyway. It seemed like it was going to take longer than expected so the more time they had to work on it, the better.

Agnete hung close to him, the heat she put off strangely comfortable in the chill night air. She hadn’t said much and didn’t look like she was going to say much. Somewhat like Edvin, this was a test for her. Arkk had the little ice marble safe in his pocket, just in case, but was hoping he wouldn’t need to use it.

There was one additional member of their group tonight. One who had only been made an employee this morning. Standing hunched over just apart from the rest, a werecat with mangy orange fur had her lips parted in a permanent snarl. Although her face was mostly humanoid, her sharp teeth and heavy breathing had the orcs nearby shooting wary glances in her direction. That wasn’t helped by the way the moonlight gleamed off her orange eyes, making them glow bright despite the lack of any other light source.

She wasn’t fully healed. The end of her tail and one arm were wrapped up in white linen. The arm that wasn’t bandaged had a thick chain dangling from her wrist. Thus far, she had resisted any attempts at having it removed. Her body was far thinner than Arkk had seen among the few werecats around Cliff City, making him think that she still needed to eat a lot more.

She didn’t talk much. At least she wasn’t trying to attack them. Arkk had a small doubt in the back of his mind that Savren’s mind magics had a permanent effect but the warlock insisted that he had only calmed her. Prying out her name, Lyssa, had taken some effort which did serve to reassure Arkk. The only thing she wanted, as far as Arkk could tell, was a chance for revenge.

As long as her feral fury was aimed at his enemies, Arkk was happy to facilitate that revenge.

“Everyone knows their roles,” Arkk said, looking over the orc-dominated group. “I’d give a rallying speech but you don’t want that, do you? Watch each other. Help each other. Come back alive. That’s all I’ll say.

“Olatt’an. Get your group in position. Rekk’ar, Zharja. Get moving. Dakka, Agnete, with me. Everyone, wait for my signal.”

Orders given, the three groups split off from one another. They weren’t going far, but they had a plan. Olatt’an was in charge of a handful of orcs who wielded crossbows, Ilya as well. Rekk’ar commanded the majority of the orcs this time instead of Dakka, solely to make sure that he had an important role. The gorgon followed Zharja—Arkk felt that having one of their own give them commands was for the best—but they were mixed in with Rekk’ar’s group along with both Edvin and Lyssa.

Arkk with Dakka and Agnete as bodyguards were on their own for the moment.

Each corner of the compound, while lacking tall brick turrets, did have elevated wooden platforms that allowed guards to keep watch on their surroundings. With Ilya having taken out all the guards on watch on this side of the compound, Arkk had little to fear from simply walking right up to the wall. It was even more pathetic up close. How long ago had it been abandoned? Thirty years or so? Some parts of the crumbling wall looked like they had been patched up recently. Even still, it was in a sorry state. Maybe the slavers didn’t intend to stick around. Maybe they just hadn’t gotten to it yet. In Arkk’s opinion, securing the outpost would have been among the first tasks he would have ordered unless something truly vital was needed. Like food.

Given how many people were inside the walls, maybe securing a source of food was a dire problem.

Whatever the case, the decrepit architecture worked to his advantage tonight. Over the years, the windswept plains had piled up dirt at the base of the wall, giving him even easier access than he would otherwise have. It took no effort for him or Agnete to vault over the top. He was a little worried that Dakka, being much larger than they were, would break the wall and cause a bunch of noise when she followed. She did stumble a bit but a steadying hand from Arkk kept the noise to a minimum.

Neither said a word. Arkk remained silent as well. Not now, not this close to their opponents. They simply nodded and moved.

The inner compound was a field of tents. Varying sizes of canvas-covered dwellings covered the empty… was it a courtyard? Given the lack of buildings, except for the two built into the one wall, this must have been how it had been used during the war. A hastily constructed outpost to serve as a waystation or logistical stopping point. Not a permanent dwelling or fortification.

Arkk had memorized the route he planned to take during the day’s scrying. He slipped between a few smaller tents, took a circuitous route around the array of barracks tents, and finally stopped at one of the larger tents toward the center of the compound. He held open the flap and let Dakka duck inside. Tossing a glance around, making sure nobody had seen them, he followed.

Dakka had explained a little bit about how she and the other orcs operated while raiding. Everyone had their own gear and weapons, mostly looted, and never parted with their belongings. They each maintained their blades and armor to the best of their abilities. Sometimes, heavier damage might require going to someone who knew more, but it was best to have something valuable to trade. Otherwise, anytime they did part with their gear, they were at risk of having stuff stolen by the others. Though she had admitted that maybe that was something unique to her situation, being the runt of the group.

Here, among the slavers, the situation seemed different. In this large tent, several wooden racks contained a vast plethora of weapons and armor. Chains, whips, swords, pikes, bows, quivers and arrows, and plenty more besides. Arkk was sure there would be plenty of weapons among the sleeping slavers but if they could deny this communal armory, that might result in a whole lot more people surrendering. The more who surrendered, the less likely something would go wrong.

Pulling out a moderately sized metal rod, Arkk started dragging it through the dirt. It wasn’t the most complex of arrays. The tracking spell was probably at a higher level. Still, it was something he wouldn’t have been able to create before Zullie’s lessons. It wasn’t something he had just copied from a book. Rather, he had specifically designed this ritual just for tonight. That alone made this a bit more special.

Especially with what he was about to do next.

Agnete simply watched. Although magically powerful, she didn’t actually know much about magic. Her flames were more akin to beastman magic. Rather than require incantations or complex designs to use, her flames were more instinctive. And limited. No matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t be able to conjure a lightning bolt. As such, her curiosity over the pattern he was drawing was understandable.

After dragging a line from the circle at the center of the tent to each of its corners, he quickly approached the front flap. Dakka, who had been peering outside from a thin crack, gave him a nod of her head. He couldn’t see her face, hidden underneath her imposing black helmet, but the nod was enough.

Darting outside, he quickly ran to one of the exterior corners and started dragging the line out to another tent. This tent held more weaponry, some of a much higher quality than the others. He figured the leaders of the slavers would keep the best gear for themselves—and, importantly, on their persons—but getting rid of this would help.

It was a bit of a shame that he couldn’t take them for himself. He didn’t need the weapons and armor, not right now, but while Company Al-Mir had started as a front for getting into one of the Duke’s parties, the idea of running a mercenary company had grown on him. Arkk actually felt like he was doing good out in the Duchy, unlike some other elements he could name. Sure, he still planned to get rid of the Duke if he could and then there were the complications of tying his company to the fortress—not to mention Vezta and the Calamity stuff—but the thought of expanding Company Al-Mir into a proper mercenary force did appeal to him and weapons would help with that.

It was a bit disappointing that they had such little luck in recruiting from Moonshine Burg. Most who were capable of mercenary work were already employed with the garrison and didn’t have much interest in traveling. A few, Arkk had turned away simply because they looked more like accountants than proper fighters.

Finishing the ritual circle at the smaller tent, Arkk returned to the main armory tent and dragged out two more lines to either side of the largest barracks tent. He worked in silence, taking even more care here to not wake anyone on the other side of the thin canvas wall. This part of the job did have him feeling a little conflicted. He wouldn’t describe any fight he had been in as glamorous or honorable. Those were words for bards and stories. Still, fighting someone in proper combat was a far cry from what he was doing. Then again, thinking about the state of Lyssa or those slaves over in the buildings across the compound offered some solace.

Arkk started back toward the armory tent for the final line when a footstep that wasn’t his or Dakka’s ground against the earth.

“Hey! What are—”

Turning, Arkk made it just in time to watch a headless body thump against the ground. The decapitated head, flung from the blade of Dakka’s axe, slid along the ground until it caught on the canvas of a nearby tent.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Arkk didn’t even breathe. As he listened to his surroundings, he did a quick check-up on all the others through their employee links. Olatt’an and the others in the ranged squad were perched atop the actual buildings, ready to support those on the ground while also keeping slavers from going after the slaves in retaliation or for hostages. Rekk’ar, Zharja, and the others were over the wall at the end of the compound, just awaiting his signal. Lexa was in the process of wiping blood from a short dagger on the body of a man who had his throat slit. Some kind of magical haze surrounded her. It wouldn’t render her invisible but combined with the dark of the night, she might as well have been.

In the tents in Arkk’s immediate vicinity, he could hear rustling. Stirring. Whether it was the man’s words or his body hitting the ground, Arkk doubted they would have long before the entire camp was on high alert.

“Hurry,” he hissed, taking off in a run toward the large tent. Far less concerned with stealth and far more concerned with speed, he dug the metal rod into the ground and continued running, marking a trail behind him. Dakka, wearing armor, was much louder than he was. It wouldn’t matter much in a few moments.

Reaching a safe distance, Arkk quickly swept the metal rod around in a hasty circle. He inscribed symbols into the dirt out in the open, not far from the same wall he had climbed over to enter the compound. Already, shouts of alarm were going up in the distance. Torchlight started flickering against the edges of the tent canopies.

Finishing the last sigil, Arkk flung the metal rod aside and stepped into the circle. Taking a deep breath, he flooded his magic into the ring.

A bright violet light lit up around his feet, infusing all the markings he had just drawn before darting off along the line he had dragged in the direction of the armory tent. He couldn’t see it but he knew it was doing the same thing there. The light would spread through the large circle before it darted off to the three other circles he had drawn. And then…

The ground shook and a brilliant red-yellow column of twisting fire erupted in the center of the camp. A rush of wind followed the light, blowing tents over as it passed. Even Arkk, expecting this result, found himself knocked backward. He hit Dakka’s breastplate, letting out a grunt of mild pain. The orc, larger and sturdier, did not stumble or stagger. She simply clamped a hand on his shoulder, steadying him as he had done for her at the wall.

“Beautiful,” Agnete whispered, her eyes wide as she stared at the tornado of fire.

Arkk shot her a look before shaking his head. “Let’s meet up with—Electro Deus!” A bolt of lightning slammed into a man who had climbed out from under one of the toppled tents nearby. “Let’s get to Rekk’ar.”

“I… am allowed to purify anyone who gets in our way, am I not?” Agnete asked in a wispy cadence. She reached a hand toward the tornado, siphoning off a thin stream of fire, twisting it in the wrong direction of the spinning column of flames. It wrapped around her hands and arms, burning away her long cloak’s sleeves.

Arkk, nervously wondering if he should have used a different spell to take out the armory, slowly slipped a hand into his pocket. The icy touch of the marble brought some reassurance that he would be able to handle the situation if the purifier went berserk. “Just don’t harm our own or the slaves.”

“I… often lose control in the presence of intense fire… but…” It took obvious effort to tear her eyes from the flames in her hands. Those glowing embers slid into place, locking onto Arkk’s bright red eyes. “Something is different this time.”

She flicked her wrist, sending a stream of flames in a lazy arc at a screaming man wielding a spiked cudgel. His screams turned from anger to pain. The fires gained a bluish hue and the heat intensified. The man crumbled as he burned, cries cutting off abruptly.

Arkk grimaced at the likely painful death. Even Dakka shifted in obvious discomfort. Agnete simply flicked her wide eyes over to the body before flicking them back to Arkk.

“I shall endeavor to keep control.”

Resisting the urge to lick his heat-dried lips, Arkk nodded his head. “See that you do.”

“And I thought the gorgon were unnerving,” Dakka muttered barely loud enough for Arkk to hear. “You ever think about blinking once in a while?”

Arkk nudged the orc with his elbow. He hit hard armor but Dakka would still have felt it. Agnete didn’t seem to have heard anyway. Or, if she had, she wasn’t paying the quip any mind. Her eyes were scanning the collapsed tents, looking for any other threats. Any others for her purifying flames.

Taking a breath, Arkk nodded his head. “Let’s move.”