City of IF

[Chinaren]

Chapter 14.5 – Descent.







































Somewhere in Neil-so. Pil-gost.

Pil-gost dropped to the ground, heedless of the muddy conditions. The dirt would barely make any difference to his uniform anyway, which was already covered in mud, that of it that wasn’t in tatters.

“By the gods, that was a close one,” said Wan-an, falling down beside him in a similar manner. “They almost caught us that time; we can’t go on like this.”

“I don’t even know why we’re bothering,” said Pil-gost, “we aren’t exactly slowing them down much, if at all.”

“We’re doing it because we’ve been ordered too,” Wan-an said. The Neil-so soldier sat up and pulled his short sword from its sheath. He examined it for a moment and then began to clean the dirt and blood of the blade.

“Throwing our lives away is what we’re doing,” said Pil-gost. He pulled himself upright and looked around at their squad’s pitiful camp. It seemed like he had been living rough forever, yet it had only been seven days since that fateful morning on the border post, where the Karak-Gerwain forces had attacked out of the blue. Since then he, and the other stragglers that had managed to survive those first horrific hours, had been living day to day. Striking at the enemy in hit and run raids, hiding in scrublands and skulking in the shadows of their own country. He shook his head. Even with their attacks, the invaders had barely slowed, rolling over Neil-so like an unstoppable avalanche.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he whipped around, sword in hand. “Halt!” he ordered.

The figure halted, much to his relief, and spoke in fluent Neilian.

“I bring news and new orders from the ruler,” the man said, stepping into the clearing.

Pil-gost looked him up and down, noting his clean uniform, and the epaulets which signified he was of the royal scout regiment.

“What news?” he asked, still wary. Wan-an stepped up beside him.

“It’s for your commanding officer to see,” replied the scout.

“Oh come on,” said Wan-an. “It’s not like we have a general here. Our leader is Sergeant Yin-han. He’s barely higher than us in rank.”

The messenger pursed his lips for a moment, but then shrugged. “Well, why not? The news is not good. The Tzar is dead, they say by natural causes, but there are rumors the invaders assassinated him.” The scout waved his arms. “We may never know the truth. Anyway, the Lord Scribe has declared the forty days of mourning, as tradition dictates.”

“So Lum will be the new heir?” asked Wan-an, speaking of the Tzar’s oldest son.

The scout made a face. “It’s not as simple as that. It’s said that the heir has gone bald. As you know, by tradition if his hair has not grown back within the forty days, he’s ineligible to ascend to the crown. When I left the capital the factions were arming up. I fear civil war, though there are few enough men left to fight it.”

“So who leads now?” asked Pil-gost.

“The Lord Scribe is saying he is interim ruler, but the Sensi is in charge of the armies still. He’s ordered half the forces back from Farn to fight off the invaders.”

Pil-gost shook his head. “I doubt they’ll get back in time at the rate the attackers are advancing.”

“And what about Farn in the meantime?” asked Wan-an. “I heard the uprising there was getting worse.”

The scout shook his head. “We have to look to our homeland first,” he said. “All men out in the field have been recalled to the defense of the capital. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should relay this information to your squad leader.” With that, he pushed past the two men.

Wan-an took a deep breath and looked at Pil-gost. “Interesting,” he said.

Pil-gost nodded thoughtfully. “To the capital? Well, I’ve always wanted to see Golden Bridge. Maybe I’ll go sightseeing eh?”

His friend laughed and slapped him on the back. “Maybe so, I just wonder if we’ll be alive to enjoy the view.”

Pil-gost smiled and sat down again. Whatever their orders were, he needed to clean his blade. He would no doubt need it again soon.

>

Yroth, Uskk, Royal Court – Meeks and Eldra

“Another ambush in the market square my lady.” Meeks stood still as Eldra read the report. The rest of the court was hushed too; nobody wanted to draw the queen mothers’ attention when she was being given bad news.

“Curse it Meeks, why haven’t we put this rebellion down yet?” She rolled the paper into a ball and threw it at him. “Half a squad of men killed, and the attackers get clean away. How is this possible? What is Rull doing?”

Meeks glanced around at the courtiers, who were all listening attentively, and forbore to mention that it was actually Eldra who had revolted. “My lady, perhaps we could discuss this in a more private location? The enemy no doubt has agents among us.”

Eldra seemed to be about to explode again, and Meeks stepped back slightly, but then the queen mother took a deep breath and nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I will withdraw to my study. Call for Rull, I want an account of this latest mess.”

Meeks bowed, as did the rest of the court, as Eldra stood and swept out of the hall, dutifully followed by her private guards. The queen’s assistant sent a runner to find Duke Rull and then walked along the halls to his office. Closing the door behind him, he scanned the room intently. Finding nothing amiss he drew out a small red jewel from his pouch and spoke a short magical cantrip. The jewel glowed slightly, and he swept it around the room carefully. Eventually satisfied he spoke another Word and put the gem away, pulling out a small round black stone from one of his desk drawers instead. He tapped the stone twice and waited.

Eventually a voice spoke from the device. “Report?” it said.

“Much as before,” said Meeks in a low voice. “The insurgency continues, with ever more success. Byrold has caught the imagination of the populace, and they are aiding his efforts. Rull is out of his depth, he’s used to commanding armies in the field, not this kind of warfare. Re-enforcements from Easteer haven’t arrived. Marshal Ren has taken a force from Dram and is blocking their path. Meanwhile more troops are arriving from the southern border to aid Byrold.”

“This is not acceptable,” came the voice. “You assured us of a quick victory. We shall need Yroth’s army to assist us soon.”

“Surely your forces are sufficient for the task?” asked Meeks.

“For now they are, but our seers have foreseen another factor, an old enemy, entering the fray. The balance is too close. We prefer to err on the side of caution. Too much is at stake here.”

“Maybe you can offer Eldra some aid?” Meeks said.

“It is too soon to reveal our hand in this! You must find another way. Ensure Eldra is victorious, or it will go badly for you. Are we clear?”

Meeks gulped. “Perfectly,” he said.

“Good. We expect to hear better news soon.” There was no visible indication, but it was clear the link had been cut.

Meeks heaved a great sigh and replaced the communications stone. Locking the drawer he stepped out of his office and almost bumped into Duke Rull, striding down the passage with several of his senior staff.

“Meeks! What does she want now?” he asked without preamble. “I’m not used to being summoned so abruptly. I was in a meeting.”

“Eldra is displeased with the handling of Byrold’s forces in the city,” he said. “She wishes to know why this trouble hasn’t been put down yet.”

Rull scowled. “Bah, she wishes miracles. Byrold’s forces pop up here and there, they’re like ghosts! My forces strike at empty air.”

“Perhaps you should change your tactics?” Meeks asked carefully. The Duke was known to have a temper, and he didn’t want to find himeslf on the wrong end of the mans’ sword.

Rull’s reply was cut off by the sounds of metal on metal. “Fighting!” he said. “We’re under attack.”

“It’s coming from Eldra’s study,” said Meeks.

The Duke and his men drew their swords and rushed forward. Meeks followed more carefully. Eldra’s office door was broken in, her two guards slumped to the floor outside, blood seeping onto the floor beneath them.

Shouts of dismay came from inside the office as Rull’s company barged in. Meeks peered around the door, to see Eldra backed into a corner, a slim rapier in hand, facing three black clad figures. As he watched Rull decapitated one of the assassins with a giant sweep of his sword, coating the walls, and the people nearby, with blood.

The other two men turned and fought back, using strange double bladed knives held in each hand. One, striking as swiftly as a snake, stabbed one of Rull’s men through the neck. However, he’d forgotten about Eldra, and she made him pay for the mistake, skewering the man from behind.

Outnumbered and surrounded, the final man didn’t last long, and soon the group was standing over three bodies.

“Treachery!” screamed Eldra, holding her side. “Filthy treachery! I never thought Byrold would stoop so low.”

Meeks stepped in. “My lady, you are hurt!” he said, coming to her side and helping her to a chair. “You,” he pointed to one of the men,’ get a physician at once!”

The man nodded and ran from the room.

“This one’s still alive,” said Rull, who was examining the assassins.

“Excellent,” gasped Eldra. “Make sure he doesn’t die. I want to know who’s behind this attack. Whoever it is, they’re going to be very sorry.”

Meeks looked at the man on the floor, and then at Eldra. Perhaps here was an opportunity he could use to his advantage, but how? He thought hard as Eldra’s angry screeches echoed through the palace.

>

South Glormp, just north of the border with the Centic - Muhmmiel Garrundi & General Rufus

Muhmmiel Garrundi looked grim as he surveyed the approaching Centic forces. From atop the rocky spire he had a clear vista for many leagues to the south, and he didn’t like it one bit. As far as he could see, bobbing and swaying like an evil black sea, the insects came, the swarm devouring all in its path.

The ridge the commander was standing on was part of a natural fault line that ran nearly the entire length of the country. No doubt part of the reason the border was here. It formed a giant natural wall facing south, and there was only one natural pass of any significance through it, which his race had been busy adding to since the invasion had begun. Below him, huddled behind the great Approach Wall, the Glormp army sat, waiting for the enemy.

“I rarely thank the Powers that Glormp has little but sand and rock,” he said to Rufus, who was standing next to him.

His General grunted in agreement. “True my Lord. If this were the Elven forests, they would have devoured many acres by now.”

“I wish it were their damned forests, cursed traitors,” snarled Muhmmiel. “What is our border situation with those cowards?” he asked.

“I’ve sent strike squads to both the Iswyle and Elf borders, as many men as we can spare, which isn’t many. Both groups have had some limited success, more than I’d hoped if truth be told, considering how small the attack forces are. I’ve also siphoned off some men from Ki-Ah to assist, and sent ships out from some of their ports with commando forces on board, to try and infiltrate the land from the coastlines. I don’t expect much success on the Elven side, they’re just too good sailors, but the dragons don’t have such a strong navy, some may get through.”

Muhmmiel nodded. “None of which will matter if we are overrun by the Centic.”

“Well, they are also attacking the elves and the dragons, though not in such great numbers. They seem to have selected us for first strike.”

“Because we are strongest, or because we are weakest?” wondered Muhmmiel out loud. “Or for some other reason entirely?” His musings were cut short as a messenger troll stumbled up to them, tongue hanging out as it panted under the hot sun.

“Your Greatness,” he said, falling to his knees in obeisance, “the shamans say they are ready. You have just to give the word.”

“Then consider it given,” said the General. “Begin at once.”

The troll nodded, not replying, but instead standing up and raising both hands above his head.

At this signal the shamans, far below, began their incantations, dancing around fires of blue, fueled with the forbidden herbs.

Muhmmiel watched as the Centic continued their steady advance. “Nothing is happening,” he said after a while.

“Be patient my lord,” said Rufus. “Magic of such power takes time. The spirits of the sky are huge, and thus slow to stir.”

“Well, they better not be too slow,” replied Muhmmiel, “or they won’t have anything to stir for.”

Even as he spoke though, clouds could be seen in the west, darkening the sky as they closed.

Rufus pulled up his face mask as the breeze began to pick up, carrying small grains of sand along with it. “I have never seen such a storm,” he said. “Truly our mages have worked great magic.”

The army watched as one as the winds began to moan, then hunkered down behind their walls as the demons of the sky began to roar, snatching at the insignificant particles on the ground, trying to pick them up in their fury. Some trolls shrieked as they were taken and swept high into the air, where the spirits tore them gleefully into small bloody pieces.

However, the Glormp forces were lucky compared to the Centic, who had no cover to hide behind, and were directly in the path of the rampaging winds.

The magically enhanced storm ripped into the insects, sweeping thousands high into the sky, where they were ripped apart whilst squealing helplessly. Over Glormp a grisly black chitin rain began.

“This is more like it!” Screamed Muhmmiel from his shelter, as a large multi jointed leg landed next to him.

The General’s reply was drowned out by the gale.

However, their jubilation didn’t last long. As suddenly as it came, the storm began to die. It picked up again briefly, but then dropped, though this doomed many Centic who fell through the air to land on their erstwhile colleagues far below.

Muhmmiel stood up and looked out over the plains. “The enemy mages are strong, to counteract our magics so swiftly,” he said as Rufus joined him.

“Still, we have done great damage to them,” the general replied, pointing to the mass of dying and dead black specks far below.

Muhmmiel Garrundi, casting his vision further, shook his head. “Not enough,” he said.

Behind the damaged area the Centic army, seemingly numberless, marched again, treading their dead comrades into the ground as they approached.

Glormp waited.


>>>>>>

Another 'half' chapter there folks, though I know it says it is 15 in my sigpic. It was going to be a 'full' one, but there's just so much happening now, a full chapter would have been about 5,000 words long!

Anyway, some movement on this one finally!

<<<<<<

[dinranwen]

*smiles and rubs hands togther eagerily* I can't wait for the other half to be released! Good work Chinaren. I'm so very glad to see this up and running again.

[Chinaren]

Thanks Dinny, I'll try not to leave it so long next time...

[Jack_D.Mented]

This is becoming quite the little epic, isn't it? Haha.

I definitely like the cyclone spell part.

And I can't help it, but I keep on seeing the Centic as the bugs from Starship Troopers.

Looking forward to more chapters, more battles, and more blood. Muhaha.

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[D-Lotus]

Nice chapter. I agree about the starship troopers, but I seem to remember that China's description of a Centic was very elaborate and probably much better than those other bugs.