Category: Monday Fiction

One aspect of Cull’s early successes that warrants closer examination is his exceptional talent for recruitment, particularly his ability to bring influential figures into the fold of his cause. Much of the existing historiography has focused on the role of Cull’s cadre of fanatics, who were instrumental in his overt confrontations with the Heroes. Similarly, attention has been given to his calculated use of the enigmatic agents known as the Red and the Black, both in orchestrating the infamous Night of Fire and Blood and in their pivotal roles during the climactic confrontation with the Heroes. However, these analyses often neglect the broader infrastructure underpinning Cull’s ascendancy: the extensive network of covert sympathizers he cultivated over the years. This network, composed of individuals from various walks of life, proved indispensable to his ability to influence events from behind the scenes. Cull demonstrated an extraordinary proficiency in forging alliances and subverting loyalties, integrating key figures into his conspiracy with a precision that suggests a deep understanding of human motivations and vulnerabilities. Indeed, a review of accounts from the Heroes’ perspective reveals the extent of Cull’s success in this regard. It appears, almost hyperbolically, that every third prominent figure had some allegiance to Cull, whether overt or covert. This pervasive reach not only facilitated his manipulation of events but also compounded the challenges faced by those who sought to oppose him, underscoring the multifaceted strategies that defined his campaign for power. – Scholar Grel Tamar, excerpt from “Examination of the Traitor Cull”

RIN

Rin stormed into the Imperial Suite with Morelli and Pallus right behind them. The sitting room was completely empty. Even the servants were gone. A sudden wave of fear filled his connection with Illana, but he couldn’t tell where she was. She was alive. That fact allowed him to keep his sanity.

“What under the Protector’s gaze is going on, Pallus?” Rin asked, in a barely controlled tone.

“I don’t know. She was supposed to be here with Lady Sonya and her guard,” Pallus answered. Rin stormed towards Pallus, but the elf didn’t even look at him. Rin wasn’t sure if he was impressed or enraged further.

“Sweet Goddess,” Pallus said as the thought struck him. “They went to the Iron Room.”

“Where?”

“Lieutenant Vol must have taken Sonya and her highness to the Iron Room,” Pall answered.

“Why would they take them to this Iron Room?”

“It’s a fallback position if the Crystal Palace was ever under siege. A place the Guard could hold out.”

“Why would he take them there?”

“If there were more Purists than he felt his group could take on and keep the princess safe.”

“So, where is this Iron Room?” Rin asked. Pallus pointed at a part of the wall.

“I was wondering why the carpet was scuffed there,” Morelli said. “Secret door?”

“Yes,” Pallus answered, as he walked over to the wall. He eyed the young ranger cautiously. Facing the wall, Pall pushed in a pair of the crystal bricks. A segment of the wall melted away to reveal a small passageway. As the three stepped into the passage, the crystal bricks above them lit up just enough for them to see. After ten meters, the passage ended in a tight spiral staircase.

“The Iron Room is below. Follow me,” Pallus said as he strode quietly down the stairs.

“Protector’s blood, move!” Rin urged impatiently.

“Rin, if you are correct, it won’t do Sonya or the princess any good to rush into an ambush,” Pallus replied, with a touch of annoyance. Rin grimaced. Pallus was right, as usual. As the trio exited the staircase, Pallus led them down a side hall. At the end was a large steel door. A pair of Crystal guards stood at attention in front of the door.

“Open the door Devin,” Pallus ordered. The two guardsmen traded looks and Rin’s instincts screamed warning.

“Lord Pallus, would you please return to the Observatory?” Devin pleaded.

“I gave you an order guardsman,” Pallus said, gripping his sword hilt. Devin and the other guardsman drew their swords, but Pallus was already moving. He closed with the second guardsman and slammed the pommel of his sword into the man’s throat. Pallus slipped under Devin’s strike and drew his own sword. The ring of steel on steel filled the hallway as Pallus deflected the strike. Pallus rode the blade down and with a flick of the wrist, knocked Devin’s blade away. Without hesitating, Pallus drove his sword deep. Devin screamed in pain and tried to flail at his former commander. Pallus contemptuously batted aside the guardsman’s blade before slashing open the man’s throat with a single sweep of his own sword.

“Are you done playing with them?” Rin asked.

“You could have taken that one,” Pallus observed, pointing his sword at Devin as the man gasped and bled out.

“I’m not going to shoot at a man standing in front of a big metal door.”

“What’s the problem with that?” Pall asked, pulling a heavy key from Devin’s belt pouch.

“I’ll explain the concept of a ricochet after Illana and Sasha are safe,” Rin said.

“Stop calling her Sasha,” Pall said, “Her name is Sonya. You’re not helping her be who she needs to be.”

“What under the Protector’s Gaze does that mean?”

“Just stop calling her Sasha, Rin.” The iron door slid into the wall revealing a long curving hallway. Three elves in Crystal Guard tabards and holding long halberds sprinted into view.

“Well, now. Who under the Goddess are you three?” Pallus asked, in a mocking tone. Rin took that as a cue, shouldered his rifle, and shot the center elf. In the blink of an eye, Pallus was between the other two elves. Two quick slashes and both were lying in pools of their own blood.

“Are you going to take all day reloading that thing?” Pallus asked, as he nonchalantly walked down the hallway. Rin and Morelli trotted up next to him.

“Those three weren’t part of the princess’s guard?” Morelli asked.

“Those three weren’t even in the Crystal Guard,” Pall answered. “I fear Lieutenant Vol is a traitor and staffed the princess’s guards with fellow conspirators.”

“Brilliant deduction, Pallus. Someday you could be a patrol constable,” Rin retorted.

“Which of us killed more traitors in the last few minutes?” Pallus replied, coolly, “And did so without deafening us and alerting our opponents?”

“Are you two always like this?” Morelli asked. Before Rin could reply, a half-dozen elves in heavy armor clanked into view. The armored elves drew their swords and formed a semi-circle.

“Work the left,” Pallus ordered. Rin snapped his rifle to his shoulder and shot the far-left elf as Pallus charged the next in line, ducked under the elf’s slash, and cut open the inside of the man’s thigh. The next tried to flank Pallus, but Morelli touched off of his grapegun. The elf slumped to the ground bleeding from a dozen holes. Pallus stepped into the fourth and severed his arm before kicking the man’s legs out from under him. Pallus was about to take on the fifth man when a red blur savaged the elf with a flurry of stabs. Sasha turned her fury and knives on the last elf, who just gaped as Sasha skewered him with a long, thin dagger.

“It’s good to see you relatively unharmed,” Pallus said. Her dress was torn and blood-spattered. A nasty bruise was forming on her right cheek and her wrists were raw and bloody. She looked ready to kill the next Purist they came across.

“Your guards have no clue how to bind prisoners,” Sasha said.

“I’m no longer sure they are my guards.”

“Whoever they are, they fortunately don’t know how to properly search their prisoners either.”

“Glad to see you’re back in form, Sasha,” Rin said, handing her a sword.

“Did you have to let everyone know you were coming with that thing?” Sasha asked, pointing at the rifle.

“It made sense at the time.”

“How many are with Princess Illana?” Pallus asked.

“About a dozen or so more,” Sasha answered, unlatching the breast plate from a guard. “Pallus, help me with this.” He carefully draped the plate over and tightened it into place.

“I was worried about you,” Pallus said as he ratcheted down the fastenings on the breast plate.

“I’m fine, Pallus. Just a little worse for wear,” Sasha answered. She looked up at him. “You’re not going to do something stupid like telling me to stay here or go back to the Imperial Suite?”

“Why would I do that? You’re too good of a warrior and too stubborn of a woman,” Pallus answered, “Would you try and be a bit careful since you don’t have your normal armor and sword?”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

“We need to move before they kill Illana,” Rin said.

“Vol is not going to kill Illana,” Sasha said. “He needs to take Princess Illana to the Acolytes for purification.”

“That’s not what Ela said,” Rin replied. Sasha froze as she was strapping on a pair of bracers.

“What do you mean ‘that’s not what Ela said?’” Sasha asked.

“Ela’s the Edess Kul. She’s one of the Acolytes.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I saw her last night. She told me I needed to get back to Illana before her people killed her.”

“Let’s not let them,” Sasha said, picking up a sword. The four walked down the corridor. After another twenty meters, they came to a dead elf with several stab wounds.

“Your handiwork?” Rin asked Sasha. She nodded.

“They didn’t find the dagger strapped to the inside of my thigh,” Sasha answered.

“Why there?” Morelli asked.

“I’ve been forced to wear dresses and gowns for the last ten years. It’s the only place I can stash a proper weapon.”

“I’ve never seen you carrying there,” Pallus said.

“It’s not like you were looking that hard at the time,” Sasha answered. Pallus uncharacteristically blushed.

“How do you walk so naturally with a blade strapped there?” Morelli asked.

“Practice.” Sasha turned to Rin, “Just so you know, I taught Illana how to carry one there as well.”

“I’ve never seen her carry one there,” Rin said, “At the moment, I just wish she had something more than just a dagger.”

“I think I have a spare box pistol I could give her when we’re done here,” Morelli said. “I think it’s just the right size for her hand. I won it from a prostitute back in Marei City in a dice game.”

“Why would you even consider giving the princess something you received from a prostitute?”

“Why not? She said she used it on more than one of her customers that got too frisky.” Pallus stared at Morelli for a long moment before continuing down the hallway.

The Iron Room was a large circular room some twenty meters across. The normal crystal walls were sheathed in sheets of burnished steel. Light globes at regular intervals along the wall bathed the room in soft light. At the far end of the room, Illana was sitting on a smaller version of the Imperial throne. She looked unharmed – thank the Protector. He felt her anger burning in their connection. Lieutenant Vol was standing at Illana’s left in full scale mail. Five more crouched in front of the throne behind heavy tower shields with crossbows. To the right and left sides of the room were half-dozen strong teams of guardsmen. Rin stepped in front of his friends and trained his rifle on Vol. Pallus, Sasha, and Morelli fell in on his flanks.

“Drop your weapons and surrender,” Vol said, “Even you are not fast enough to take out five crossbowmen before they cut you down, Hero Acciaio.”

“You might be surprised.”

“Do you want to make Princess Illana watch you die after the two of you have just reunited? If you surrender, I will ensure you stay with the princess until we hand all of you over to the Acolytes.” Rin lowered the rifle and locked eyes with Illana. He felt her confidence and her trust.

“Fine, Vol,” Rin said, letting his rifle clatter on the ground. As Vol and his troops relaxed, Rin’s hands dropped to his side and flicked his duster aside. The revolver was in Rin’s hand before his mind registered the weight. He kept the revolver at his waist and held down the trigger as his other hand repeatedly slammed down on the hammer spur. The Iron Room reverberated with sound as Rin gunned down the five crossbowmen in one stream of gunfire. All five elves were lying on the ground without having fired a single bolt.

Morelli touched off his grapegun as Sasha and Pall attacked. Rin spun towards one of the guardsmen just in time to sidestep the elf’s slash. Rin cursed as the elf quickly recovered and attacked again. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to get to Illana. Rin stepped into the elf’s lunge, letting the blade bounce off his duster’s thick denim. Rin’s shoulder flashed with pain, but Rin ignored it. Rin pistol-whipped him with the barrel of the revolver. The elf’s eyes rolled up into his head before slumping to the ground.

“Stop!” Vol yelled. All battle ceased. Satisfied he had everyone’s attention, Vol stepped down off the dais. The elf pointed at Rin.

“You act like the princess’s champion, so why not prove it? Let’s you and I finish this in the traditional way. Single combat.” Rin glanced up at the princess. Illana gave Rin a predatory smile, which warmed and chilled him at the same time.

“Fine, but let’s hurry this up,” Rin said. As soon as the words were out of Rin’s mouth, Vol charged. The elf moved fast in the heavy armor. Rin snatched his rifle off the ground, but Vol was on him before Rin could bring the weapon to bear. Vol slashed down, forcing Rin to block with the rifle. The wood stock splintered as the sword bit deep. Rin ducked under Vol’s next swing and shoved the rifle butt into the elf’s midsection. The elf gasped and backed up a few steps. Rin dropped his rifle and drew his scimitar.

“You are going to fight me with your sword?” Vol asked, with a malicious amusement in his voice, “I’ve been trained by both Heroes Parn and Madrigal. Do you really think you have a chance against me?”

“Can we get this over with? Illana’s giving me her impatient look again.” Vol’s face went puce with indignation at Rin’s nonchalant tone. Rin barely managed to knock the Vol’s slashing blade away. Rin let himself be pushed back as he watched Vol’s pattern. Elven sword work was a set of patterns – dances – that worked to anticipate and overwhelm an opponent’s defenses. Most elven swordfighters knew three or four different dances. Masters may have a dozen in their repertoires. Marteen was so fearsome because he knew nearly fifty different forms and could switch between any of those patterns fluidly and flawlessly. Marteen taught Rin several during their time on Kurt’s farm. Not that he planned on using any of those.

Rin stepped into Vol’s attack with a pair of lightning parries. The sudden attack forced Vol to shift dances. In that fraction of a second, Rin drove in hard. He pushed Vol’s blade away with his own and stepped up into Vol’s face. The elf was so shocked at the breach of traditional dueling etiquette he never saw Rin draw his knife. Rin drove the knife into Vol’s side. Vol blinked at the unexpected pain. Rin twisted the knife before yanking it out and punching Vol in the throat with the handguard. Vol stumbled back. His sword clattered to the ground as Vol grabbed at his neck desperate to breathe. The room went still as everyone watched Vol flop and thrash as he slowly suffocated. Rin ignored Vol and casually reloaded his revolver.

“At least finish him so he can be at peace,” Pallus said

“I don’t owe that traitor a damned thing. Not even a quick death.”

“You are a barbarian.” With one fast sweep of his sword, Pallus slit Vol’s neck. Vol went still as his blood pooled around him.

“The rest of you, drop your weapons,” Sasha ordered, having to shout for everyone to hear her. The remaining guardsmen let their weapons fall to the floor. Sasha motioned for the prisoners to line up against the wall.

“Morelli, bind them,” Pallus ordered. The younger ranger walked up to the Purists and touched off his grapegun. Three fell to the ground as Morelli drew his revolver. The last five prisoners died in a quick series of gunshots. Pallus and Sasha stared at the dead in shock, but Rin didn’t feel any of that from Illana.

“Are you insane?” Pallus screamed at Morelli. “Even in the Republic, they don’t just execute prisoners without a trial!”

“They were traitors and fanatics in league with the forces laying siege to the city. We have no duty to keep them alive, much less try them,” Rin said.

Illana stood up and walked down to Rin. She gently caressed his cheek. All the panic and rage he was fight since confronting Ela evaporated at her touch. She was safe. He could feel whatever was between him thrum with pleasure. Illana pulled Rin’s head down to hers and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“I knew you would come,” Illana said. Her warm eyes suddenly turned stormy. She pointed at the bodies against the wall.

“Do not do something like that again without asking me. Murdering prisoners goes against Imperial law. I cannot be seen flouting that.”

“I understand, your highness.”

“Good, now escort me back to the Observatory. We are taking back my city.”

A Mareian finds a thousand uses for a boat—and, on occasion, the same ship sees them all. – Old Mareian proverb

KURT

Kurt bit back bile as the ship heaved again. He thought river boats were bad, but this ocean-going was so much worse. How did sailors do this for months at a time? He gripped the railing as the Silk Trader rode another swell. Looking around, Kurt cursed at sailors walking with ease around him.

“Pleasant day for sailing,” Captain Marnel boomed as he walked up to Kurt. The tall, burly man was one of the hairiest humans Kurt ever laid eyes on. Thick black hair seemed to merge seamlessly with a beard that would have done a dwarf proud. Even his arms looked like they were covered with a black pelt.

“How can you say that?” Kurt grunted.

“Lisandra Bay is always so calm this time of year,” the captain said.

“This is calm?” Kurt managed to reply while keeping his guts from rebelling. Captain Marnel let out a hearty laugh. The man laughed like he wanted the God of Iron to hear.

“Don’t worry, Hero Volker, we’ll have you across the bay to whatever that is in no time,” Captain Marnel said, pointing at the rising wooden tower. The tower dominated the hills to the east of the city. Despite the tower’s crude construction, the Purists managed to get it up to fifty feet and were still building. It could be an observation tower, but the location didn’t make sense. It wouldn’t be able to see far enough into Lisandra. And why were they building four?

Sailing across Lisandra Bay was much faster than trying to sneak through the city. Smoke from fires hung over Lisandra like a miasma. The booms of cannons and muskets drifted out over the water. At least Rin was back behind the Aponte Wall. Kurt was so relieved when he felt his son’s pulses moving through the city. When Kurt looked back, the captain was gone and one of the junior officers was standing in his place. The boy looked little more than fifteen years old. From the easy gait, Kurt wondered if the boy was born on a ship.

“Hero Volker, the captain asks you join him on the quarterdeck,” the officer said. The boy looked little more than fifteen years old. From the easy gait, Kurt wondered if the boy was born on a ship.

“Where’s the quarterdeck?” Kurt asked. Sailors used too many strange terms. Kurt wondered if how they talked shouldn’t be considered another language. The look on the boy’s face clearly said he didn’t understand how anyone would not know where the quarterdeck was on a ship. He pointed at the raised section at the back of the ship. Kurt suppressed the temptation to pat the boy on the head before trudging along the deck and up the stairs.

The ship was maybe five hundred yards from the east end of Lisandra Bay. The captain was looking at something on the coast with his spyglass. Whatever it was, it made the captain lose his characteristic smile. That alone sent a chill down Kurt’s spine. Wordlessly, the captain handed his spyglass to Kurt and pointed at a pair of figures standing on the edge of the bay. Kurt brought the spyglass to his eye. Kurt recognized one as an Acolyte, but he couldn’t remember the man’s name. He was the one who was that traitorous Lord Kalen’s associate before disappearing. Amar Haltis. The other elf was dressed in the brown shirt and trousers of a Purist soldier.

“Why are they just standing like that?” the captain asked.

“I doubt it’s anything good,” Kurt answered. His combat instincts screamed something was wrong with the pair, but for the life of him, Kurt couldn’t figure out what.

“The reverend says the bones are worried,” the captain said, as if Kurt would know what that meant. The captain took the spyglass back from Kurt and looked at the Acolyte again. After a moment, he thrust the spyglass at Kurt.

“I don’t like the idea of putting you ashore near those two, Hero Volker,” Captain Marnell said. The captain shouted in rapid-fire Mareian to his crew. Kurt understood most of the words, but he had no idea how they fit together to form coherent orders. What did tacks have to do with sails? What did a heel have to do with ships? The crew clambered up the ship’s tall masts and ran about the deck. In a few minutes, the ship slowly turned away from the edge of the bay. The captain was aiming at a more southerly point to land Kurt.

“Sweet Protector!” the ship’s first mate swore. Kurt snatched another sailor’s spyglass to see what happened. The Purist soldier was laying in red-tinged sand. The Acolyte pointed a bloody dagger at the ship. A dull thump shook the ship. Hundreds of splinters rained down on Kurt and the crew. Heavier wood shards struck him like fists, but none penetrated his armor. From the screams, some of the ship’s crew weren’t as fortunate. Kurt stood up and surveyed the damage. Two of the heavy beams were on the deck. Sailors were being dragged from under the wreckage. Blood splattered the deck. Kurt looked up at the center mast and saw the highest sails missing.

Captain Marnell barked orders over the screams. Something about going to a star on board and running guns. The dark-haired first officer saluted with his uninjured arm and rushed into the bowels of the ship.

“What are you doing?” Kurt asked.

“You didn’t see that?” Captain Marnell asked, his bushy eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“See what?” Kurt asked.

“Purple lightning from that tower! It hit the main mast” Captain Marnell answered. Kurt was sure he would remember seeing something like that. Then again, something tore the beams off the main mast.

“What are you going to do?”

“I can’t run from lightning,” Captain Marnell answered, and gave Kurt a predatory grin, “In that case, the only thing to do is fight!” Cheers rose up from the crew as the captain yelled the last part.

“Fight? At this range?” Kurt asked.

“I might have a dozen or so ten-kilo guns belowdecks,” the captain said, before quickly adding, “Strictly for defense against pirates. They range out a good thousand meters or so.” Kurt tried to do the math in his head but was quickly frustrated. Why did humans have to use such screwy measurements? Why couldn’t they use perfectly good Imperial measurements? Was a kilo the same as a pound? Kurt couldn’t remember.

The bowsprit exploded. Not as many splinters, but thick ropes lashed out in all directions. The captain gritted his teeth as more of his sailors screamed in pain or wouldn’t scream ever again. Kurt was deafened as the Silk Trader opened fire. Kurt gripped a railing as the ship shook from the thunderous roar. The entire side of the ship was encased in thick black-gray smoke. As the ship sailed away from the smoke cloud, Kurt raised the spyglass. There were several large, ragged holes in the wooden tower. Dozens of Purists lay around the tower unmoving, while more ran around with bloody wounds. If this was what a Republican merchant ship could do, what would one of their naval vessels do?

The last thing Kurt heard was a booming explosion before the deck heaved under him and threw him into the water. Kurt thrashed to get his armor off before it dragged him to the bottom of the bay. Stars exploded in his eyes as something heavy and hard hit him on the head. He looked over to see part of the mast floating next to him. There was blood smeared on the wood. Was it his? What happened to the ship? He rolled over to where he thought the ship should be. The dwarf glimpsed the Silk Trader burning furiously before the blackness consumed him.

How dare you say Trennis did not deserve the title of Hero! Because he wasn’t there when we went into the cave? We would not have made it to that cave if not for Trennis. Not just because he selflessly sacrificed himself to save us from those bandits Cull paid to kill us. Do you think it was only because of Selene we knew where to go? Selene knew the prophecies, but Trennis knew people. He knew who to ask and how to ask to get the information we needed to find Cull. Beyond that, it was Trennis who kept us together during the dark times. He motivated us, comforted us, counseled us. He kept the boys from killing each other on more than one occasion. – Lady Sonya, overheard in heated discussion with Lord Fal

PALLUS

Pallus watched the battle raging through Lisandra’s Outer City. General Lopanes and his staff were pleased with the steady advance. His formal training told Pallus he should be pleased as well, but his instincts were telling him something was wrong. Pallus moved the viewing crystal back and forth to different parts of the battle, hoping to find what was bothering him.

“Not happy with the course of events, Colonel?” Colonel Umbretti asked. Pallus considered the Mareian officer. Umbretti was reputed to be smart and insightful. He might see what Pallus was missing.

“Call it the professional paranoia from commanding the princess’s guards,” Pallus answered, dismissively. “With everything going as we expected, I keep waiting for the nasty surprise.”

“You think those things the Purists are building are part of a trap?” Umbretti asked, motioning to the wooden towers.

Pallus started to answer but was cut off by crashing sounds from the stairwell. Pallus felt Rin coming up the stairs through their medallion. Why was that fool here? And why was he making such a ruckus? Then came the unmistakable sound of someone clubbing one of the sentries just outside the Observatory. The officers in the room tensed and hands went to weapons’ hilts. Rin stormed into the Observatory with Morelli a couple of steps behind. Both men were dirty and bedraggled, but there was fire in their eyes.

“Rin, where have you been?” Pallus demanded. “Princess Illana was terrified something happened to you.” Rin stalked around the Observatory.

“Rin, what are you doing?” Pallus asked.

“Where is Illana, Pallus?” Rin asked. Pallus’s eyes went wide at the cold lethality in the human’s voice. He remembered hearing that same tone the night Rin put an arrow into Ela’s eye.

“She’s not here,” Pallus answered.

“I can see that. Where is she?”

“The Imperial Quarters,” Pallus answered, “She wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed there this morning.” For the longest moment of his life, Rin said nothing. As Pallus looked into those cold eyes, fear went down his spine like a serpent. Without another word, Rin spun on his heel and walked out of the room with Morelli right behind him. Almost against his will, Pallus followed him.

“Rin, what under the Light is going on?” Pallus asked as the trio marched across the courtyard to the palace.

“We ran into the Edess Kul when we went to capture Shafford,” Rin said.

“What? Why didn’t you kill her?”

“Because she told us the Purists have people close to Illana. They have her and they’re going to kill her.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Pallus said, “The Edess Kul lied to you.”

“Ela’s never lied to me before,” Rin said. “I don’t think she’s lying to me now.” Pallus nearly stumbled as he realized what Rin said.

“Ela? What are you talking about?” Pallus asked, “That’s impossible. The Purists killed her. We buried her.”

“I don’t know who you buried, but it wasn’t Ela. The Purists didn’t kill her. They recruited her. Think about it. What does this battle feel like?” Pallus stopped and thought. Suddenly, his misgivings about the battle came into sharp focus.

“Goddess damn it all. It feels like one of Ela’s traps. Make them look at one thing while you go for your real objective,” Pallus answered, flatly. “What are you planning to do?”

“Find Illana. Kill anyone who tries to stop me,” Rin said.

“Some of those might be my Crystal Guard,” Pallus said.

“If you don’t want me to kill them, then order them to stay out of my way,” Rin replied, his voice just as dangerous.

“And if I stop you?” Pallus asked. Rin stopped and spun, which caught Pallus by surprise.

“Do you think I would hesitate to put a bullet in you?” Rin asked. “The only reason I haven’t is because I promised Trennis I wouldn’t kill you unless I was damn sure you needed killing.”

“He made me swear the same thing,” Pallus said. The two men stared at each other for a long moment.

“Sergeant, we don’t have time for this,” Morelli said, breaking the stand-off.

“Fine,” Rin spat out.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Over the past year, our casualties inflicted by the Purists have risen markedly. Initial hopes that the Purist element had been eradicated have proven to be unfounded. The recent decrease in their activity coincided with the emergence of an individual known as the Edess Kul. The true identity of this figure remains unknown; however, our limited intelligence suggests that he is responsible for the significant enhancements in the Purists’ tactical operations. While the capture or elimination of Edess Kul is of paramount importance, it is unlikely to yield an immediate reduction in the effectiveness of the Purists’ assaults. Intelligence indicates the presence of a robust leadership cadre within the Purists’ military structure. It is of utmost urgency that we deploy every available Territorial Army regiment to this region if we are to dismantle and neutralize this insurgency. As much as it is difficult to admit, it may also be prudent to seek the assistance of the Mareian rangers. Their formidable record in dealing with similar operations is well-documented. Even the presence of a few advisors could significantly bolster our efforts against this threat to the Empire. – Communique from Colonel Mi Dalan, 10th Territorial Regiment, to General Youl Jo, Commander Territorial Armies

ELA

A familiar peace settled over Ela as she slid the black leather hood over her head. Following her ritual, Ela took a last look in the mirror before placing the metal plate over her face. As she fastened the mask, the memories of her old life were pushed back in her mind. The pain of losing her one true love. The betrayal of those she once called friends when they sided with the bitch against her. Putting on the mask let Ela channel all those feelings in her goal to destroy the person responsible for her pain. Ela buckled on her sword belt. She wasn’t the sword dancer Marteen or Pallus was, but she was among best among the Purists. She looked back at the mirror. Yes, she was the Edess Kul, and this day she would finally deal with that bitch Illana.

The Faithful guarding her tent saluted as the Edess Kul stormed out. The Faithful were her elite. All were veterans of the Reclamation War. All mercilessly drilled with the new muskets until they were the equal of any Republic or Kingdom soldiers. The Faithful were the core of the trap the Acolytes were going to spring on this day. Her forces would crush the Capitol Army and whatever was left of those ragtag defenders that bitch managed to throw together.

Two of the Faithful flanked Ela as she made her way through the camp. Both didn’t bother hiding their scowls. The Faithful were not happy about being ordered to let Rin and his little friend slip into her tent. Ela was ecstatic when she learned Rin was back in the Empire. After the bitch, Rin was the one person she wanted to suffer. Everything was coming together even better than Tanus laid out when he explained the plan all those years ago…

Tyrell stood with the other Acolytes halfway up the central tower. Workers swarmed over the wooden tower. The Prior overseeing the construction assured the Acolytes all four towers would be completed in time. Ela motioned for the Faithful to wait at the base of the tower. The less people on this monstrosity, the better. As she walked out onto the platform, the Acolytes moved to open a clear walkway. She looked out at Lisandra. She hated this city. She hated it the first time she came here. She hated it even more now. The smoldering fires in the city warmed her.

“As we expected, the Capitol Army returned in force,” Tanus said, handing Ela a spyglass. “The Chancellor is nothing if not predictable.” The mask made it harder to look through the spyglass, but Ela managed to focus on one of the skirmishes. Her musketeers were trading fire with the green-uniformed soldiers of the Capitol Army. This was probably the first time elves used muskets on each other in battle. Finally, the elves would break free of the chains binding them since the Daemon War. The Purists would bring that same freedom to the dwarven lands and the human lands. All peoples, purified of their destructive traditions, forged into a new harmony with each other and the world. This battle was just the next step in that goal.

“Everything is going to plan,” Tyrell said.

“Part of the plan was having our people in the Crystal Palace seize the Crystal Blood and hold her for purification,” Remi said. “Why did you alert the Heroes to our insiders?”

“It’s a gamble,” Tyrell said.

“The Faithful could have just killed them,” Tanus said.

“We would have lost too many of the Faithful accomplish our goals. Rin was terrifying with a bow. He will be even worse with those new guns the humans are using,” Ela said. “Rin may get back in time to stop our people. If that is the case, we have other means to ensure the bitch ends up where we need her.”

She turned back to watch the battle. Tyrell stepped closer to her. Ela frowned beneath her mask. Normally he was very careful not to do anything that would even hint at their relationship. The other Acolytes knew, of course. The Acolytes kept no secrets from each other. Still, none of them wanted to find out how the common Purists would react.

“Why are you standing so close?” Ela asked.

“Rinaldo Acciaio,” Tyrell answered.

“What about him?” Ela asked. Her scar ached with familiar pain.

“It’s the first time you’ve encountered any of them,” Tyrell answered. “You played your part beautifully last night, but we both know that you weren’t ready to confront one of them.” Ela gripped the railing and took slow, deep breaths.

“Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Because you refused to talk to me when we were in private, and I don’t want you to lose control today,” Tyrell said, a hint of concern in his voice. It was the most he could show in public. Ela looked at her lover for a long moment.

“I am in control. The Capitol Army is falling into our trap. We will end this day celebrating over the corpses of Illana and Rin and the rest of the so-called Heroes,” Ela said, through gritted teeth. The pain grew. It felt like Ela’s head was going to split at the line Rin’s arrow drew on that horrible night. The night they all chose the bitch.

“You’re not in control,” Tyrell said, “I can feel my spell fracturing.” Ela’s hand darted to the hilt of her sword. The pain was horrible. She wanted it to stop. Blood would make it stop. Tyrell put his hand on the small of her back. The pain lessened as he reinforced the failing spell in her head.

“You’ve done what’s needed for the moment. The troops saw the Edess Kul. If you’re suffering, please go back to your tent. Tyrell can join you there after a discreet time,” Tanus said.

“Yes, we can direct our people for the next few hours,” Remi assured her. Ela looked at her fellow Acolytes. The camaraderie she felt for these men was very different than what she had with those who betrayed her. Different, but just as strong. She didn’t need to pretend to be invulnerable with them. They knew her problems, but they tried to help her instead of just locking her away in some castle hundreds of miles away.

“Thank you,” Ela said, and strode off the platform as though it were her idea. She turned to one of her Faithful guards.

“Send a runner to Prior Jutus. He needs to withdraw faster if we’re going to have the Capitol Army in place at the proper time.” The Faithful saluted and sprinted away. Ela walked back to her tent at a leisurely pace. It wouldn’t do for the common troopers to think anything was wrong with their revered leader. The thought buoyed Ela as another wave of pain wracked her. The Purists revered her. They didn’t care the rest of the world thought she was too broken to be allowed in proper society.

Her tent was deserted except for Tyrell. She dismissed her Faithful guards and stepped into meeting room of the tent. Tyrell waited patiently as Ela removed the mask and hood. He smiled at her with a hint of lust in his eyes. That warmed her. Ela was surprised the first time she saw that look, and even more surprised when she let Tyrell seduce her. Ela was still unsure about why she let this human into her bed. It was different than with Ral, but there was something comforting about being with this man.

“How bad is the pain, love?” Tyrell asked as he took her head in his hands.

“Manageable, but getting worse,” she answered. “Why is it hurting so soon?”

“Seeing Rin fractured the spell worse than I anticipated,” Tyrell said, “Damn that man for doing this to you.” Ela surprised by him by chuckling.

“What is so amusing?”

“I always think of Rin as a boy,” Ela answered, “It’s strange to hear you refer to him as a man.” She couldn’t stop the groan of pain.

“Sorry, love. Let’s get you fixed up,” Tyrell said. He drew a knife from his belt and opened a cut on the top of her arm. He let the blood well up before dipping his finger in. She felt him trace blood along the scar.

“This will be worse than normal,” Tyrell said, looking deep into her eyes, “I need to clear away the old spellframe before setting the new one.”

“Do it,” Ela said. The blood on her face and arm burned as Tyrell used its power to amplify his own magic. He murmured in Old Republic and the world went black.

The dream began. First the cave. The bitch on the table surrounded by Ela’s traitorous friends. And Ral. Her love. Her soulbond. Something was wrong in their connection. Something Ela never felt in the years she and Ral shared the bond. But she couldn’t focus on that. They were surrounded by Cull’s Red and Black. Almost two hundred against nine. Cull was talking. What was he saying? Ela couldn’t remember. She remembered holding the arrow on the Black leader. Anguish and sorrow from Ral flooded their bond. Ral stabbed Jevin in the back. Their leader went down from the poisoned blade. Ral grabbed the bitch and sprinted towards Cull. No one could do anything. No one, except Ela. She moved her arrow just six inches. Pain flooded their connection as the arrow sank into Ral’s back. He dropped the bitch. Ela couldn’t believe what she did. She shot her soulbond. She expected anger and betrayal through their connection. Instead, all she felt from Ral was love and forgiveness. And pride? She couldn’t handle that. She shut all of it away, knocked another arrow, and started killing Cull’s fanatics as Rin ran towards the bitch on the cavern floor.

Ela’s eyes snapped open as the hated memory faded. The odd sensations of Tyrell’s magic crawled through her mind. It didn’t take away the memories but pushed them into a small part of her mind where she didn’t have to deal with them. Tyrell’s face was suddenly in front of her.

“I’m sorry love,” he said, “From the way you were thrashing, it must have been bad.” Ela thought about it for a long moment.

“Yes and no,” Ela said, “Painful, but it made me remember exactly why we must purify this city.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

I’m often asked how we survived our journey to rescue the Crystal Blood when we were often outnumbered by our enemies. Most of the time, it was Hero Volker who noticed we were about to walk into an ambush. There would be some tiny clue that anyone else would miss. A leaf on the trail. A scent that didn’t belong. A sound that wasn’t native to the land. Ela was our tactician when we were laying ambushes, but Kurt was the one who found those laid for us. I asked him many times why he was so proficient. He never answered me. His silence made more sense upon our return to Lisandra, and I stumbled onto the rumors of his younger years. I could never confirm his involvement with dwarven independence, and I would never jeopardize my friendship with rude questions. – Colonel Pallus Parn, lecture at Imperial War Academy

KURT

Kurt crouched behind some rubble as the Purists fired another volley. Musket balls whipped around him. From the screams of pain, some of the deadly little metal balls found Capitol Army soldiers. Major Agnelli stood up and fired at the Purists. The senior ranger was nowhere near as fast as Rin, but his aim was just as deadly. The street filled with the gray, foul-smelling smoke as the Capitol Army soldiers unleashed their own volley at the Purists. As the smoke cleared, Kurt saw the Purists retreating. The Capitol Army soldiers advanced up another street.

“What’s wrong Hero Volker?” Major Agnelli asked.

“Is it just me, or are the Purists a bit too organized in their retreat? Especially doing so in the face of the sudden return of the army?” Kurt asked. The major pondered while the pair jogged behind a Capitol Army platoon.

“That could be training. After all, the Edess Kul is supposed to be very good,” Major Agnelli answered as he crouched down. The Purists and Capitol Army soldiers were forming lines for another skirmish. He waited as Agnelli took aim and fired. A Purist slumped to the ground. If the elves learn anything from this battle, Kurt hoped it was how even more deadly the humans were since they fought during the Reclamation War. From everything Kurt gleaned from the previous day’s fighting, the rangers killed many times their own number.

“The way this battle is going is bothering me. Like we’re missing something.”

“You think they’re laying a trap?” the major asked as he reloaded his rifle.

“They gave up their forward positions too easily,” Kurt answered, “They could have turned those building into gristmills for the army. Instead, they pulled back with very little fighting.”

“Your Capitol Army raked those buildings with several volleys of canister before sending in their own troops,” Agnelli pointed out, “That does tend to take the fight out of most men.”

“Soldiers, yes. Levies, definitely. Fanatics? From my own experience, they are rarely so easily dislodged,” Kurt said. The major mulled over the dwarf’s words.

“You may have a point,” Agnelli said as he fed another cartridge into the rifle. “You need to tell Colonel Parn your suspicions. Maybe he’s seeing something from his vantage point that we can’t from down here. I will go forward and investigate on my own.” The two men shook hands before separating.

Dwarves, despite their stocky builds, were fast runners. They didn’t have the long gaits of elves or humans, but they could pump their legs like the pistons of a human steam engine – fast and unstoppable. It was a trait the dwarves used to great advantage when the elves invaded their homelands. If the dwarves weren’t outnumbered by an order of magnitude, they might have thrown the elves out instead of just fighting them to a standstill. One of the legacies from the War of Annexation was elven soldiers learned to get out of the way of a running dwarf. Cries to clear a path echoed as Kurt sprinted up the street to the Aponte Wall. It was at the immense crystal structure where Kurt was brought to a halt by Selene.

“What in the Goddess’s Grace are you doing here Kurt?” Selene asked.

“I need to talk with Pallus. I think the army is walking into a trap.” Selene led him to a wooden gate arch. It looked remarkably like the one Selene used to bring them to Lisandra. From the pulsing crackles under the gate, it was active.

“When did this arch go up?”

“Robar and I put it up this morning. This will take you to Eldar Court,” Selene explained. “It’s too far for messengers to run between the Crystal Palace and the Aponte Wall. Be careful when coming out so you don’t knock down any of the army’s runners.” Kurt nodded and trotted through the gate. He swallowed hard as his stomach twisted from the rough gate magic. Getting his bearings, Kurt screamed at the army personnel around him to get out of his way. Even after years of being in the elven lowlands, Kurt still had the muscle memory for furious climbing. The guards at the top of the Gold Spire leapt out of the way as he charged into the Observatory. Nearly a dozen frowning faces turned to look at him as Kurt skidded to a stop.

“Why are you here, Kurt?” Pallus asked, pulling the dwarf off to the side. “You’re supposed to be assisting the army down there.”

“Pallus, the Purists are leading the army into a trap. I can feel it,” Kurt said. Pallus pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“I need your opinion,” Pallus said. He pulled Kurt over to a viewing crystal. Pallus pointed at the Purists’ camp east of the city. The Purists were building a wooden tower. Kurt swept the crystal to the other camps. Similar structures were also under construction.

“Pulling back so they can grind the army against those?” Kurt asked.

“They look too fragile to be fortifications. I doubt they would be able to stand up to cannon fire. Maybe the Purists have some new weapon requiring those structures.”

“If that was the case, why wait until now?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know,” Pallus answered, “I advised the general we need a closer look at them. The general doesn’t think they’re important enough to waste resources investigating them.”

“So, what do you need?” Kurt asked.

“Could you take a closer look at one of those?” Pallus asked. “I have a similar suspicion that the Purists are about to spring a trap, but I need more to take to General Lopanes.”

“I wish Rin was here. He would be better for that,” Kurt said under his breath as he looked out at the city.

“As much as it pains me to admit it, I wish he was here as well,” Pallus said. “Unfortunately, we must work with what we have, not what we wish we had. Excuse me.” Pallus walked over to the group of staff officers. Kurt walked over to the map of Lisandra spread out over a large table. Red and green wood blocks marked the Purist and Capitol Army positions. He studied the map for several minutes trying to decide the best route to one of the Purist constructions.

“May I offer a suggestion, Hero Volker?” Kurt looked up to see one of the Republican officers standing next to him. The man was older with more white in his hair than black. For all the wrinkles, the man’s brown eyes were sharp.

“Of course,” Kurt answered. “You are?”

“Colonel Umbretti, formerly of the Twelfth Legion. I overheard your discussion with the colonel. If I was asked to investigate those towers, I would go to the docks. From there, I could take a ship across Lisandra Bay to this tower.” The colonel tapped the main Purist encampment. Kurt pondered the suggestion.

“What about these cliffs?” Kurt asked, pointing at the maps. “Climbing those would be difficult.”

“Why would you need to climb those cliffs?” Umbretti asked. “Whatever those structures are, they can’t be good. I would just confirm they aren’t some kind of hospital and then ask the ship’s captain to destroy them with cannon fire.” Kurt’s eyes went wide as he fully understood what the human was offering.

“Those aren’t just merchant ships, are they?” Kurt asked.

“Per the Treaty of Friendship and Trade, the Mareian Republic cannot bring commissioned warships into Lisandra Bay without the express permission of the Diet,” Umbretti answered with a sly smile. It reminded Kurt of the smiles Rin used as a child when he was up to no good.

“Of course, those merchantmen in your harbor may also be naval auxiliaries. Just in case there’s a repeat of the Night of Fire and Blood.” Umbretti’s eyes twinkled dangerously. Umbretti slid a slip of paper to Kurt.

“This is very generous,” Kurt said, reading the note.

“The Republic has always considered itself a friend to the dwarven people. Even if we couldn’t always provide tangible proof,” the colonel said. The human officer walked back over to the elven staff officers as Kurt hurried back down the stairs.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Great Northern Kingdom was always a land shaped by its environment—a kingdom of frost and desolation, forged in the image of its bleak tundra. Its dukes, stern and uncompromising, embodied a chilling practicality, veering dangerously close to outright cruelty. But this was a cruelty with purpose: the rigors of the taiga, they believed, demanded a certain severity. And so, as their disciplined armies surged out of the frozen woods into the endless steppe, they brought with them an order that many, weary of chaos, grudgingly accepted. For the feuding towns and scattered bands of the steppe, the Great Northern Kingdom’s rigid hierarchy must have seemed a welcome antidote to the violence of anarchy. Yet peace, as history so often teaches us, rarely comes without a price. Insurgencies flared from time to time—idealistic cries for freedom in a land where survival itself often drowned out such lofty notions. But the kingdom’s unyielding rulers proved adept at quashing rebellion, their iron grip tightening each time danger loomed on the horizon. It was during these uneasy moments of reasserted dominance that the kingdom was at its most vulnerable. Power, after all, is never more precarious than when it appears most secure. It was against this backdrop of fragile stability that a shadowy figure emerged—Lord Tyrell Shafford, a man of obscure origins and even more obscure motives. A minor noble from the kingdom’s lower peoples, Shafford seemed an unlikely candidate for upheaval. And yet, as the annals of history remind us, revolutions are often fueled by such unassuming figures. How Shafford assembled his band of conspirators remains a mystery. What we do know is that, one fateful night, he and his allies breached the impenetrable Keep Diwen and carried out an audacious massacre—eliminating the King of the Eastern Reaches, nearly all the archdukes, and their families. The audacity of the act would have been astonishing enough; its consequences, however, were catastrophic. With the kingdom’s leadership decimated, its populace turned not to introspection but to civil war. Whatever secrets Shafford held, they died with him—or rather, were buried beneath the chaos he unleashed. The Great Northern Kingdom, it seemed, had not been conquered from without but shattered from within. – Marcus Regelli, writing in “Reflections of Modern Times”

RIN

“Is it just me, or was sneaking in here too easy?” Morelli asked. Rin grunted in agreement. The pair snuck into the edge of the encampment just before dusk. It took them a few hours to find Shafford’s tent before hiding in a small supply tent. Rin pushed his exhausted mind to think over Morelli’s words.

“The last Purist camp didn’t impress me with the quality of their guards. Maybe that’s how they all are,” Rin said. They were so close to Shafford. His tent was only a few meters away. Rin wanted to deal with Shafford and get back to Illana.

“Maybe, but I’m not liking this.”

“Just keep your grapegun handy in case we need to shoot our way out of here,” Rin said with a smile. “I can’t kill them all by myself.”

“Whatever you say, Sergeant,” Morelli said. Rin recognized the tone of a junior not openly disagreeing with a senior. “How are we going to get into Shafford’s tent?” Rin peeked out of the supply tent. He studied the scene for several long minutes.

“There’s a single guard on the tent,” Rin said. “I’ll take him down quietly. You go in with your grapegun. Don’t shoot unless necessary. We’ll snatch Shafford and smuggle him back to the embassy. If we have no other option, we’ll kill Shafford and gun our way out.” Morelli looked skeptical but didn’t object. Wordlessly, the two snaked out of the supply tent.

Rin butt-stroked the guard with his rifle. The guard collapsed with a satisfying thump. Both rangers scanned the area to make sure they were still undetected. Satisfied, Morelli slipped into the tent as Rin dragged the limp body just inside the tent’s main flap. Pulling a few short lengths of rope from his belt, Rin hog tied and gagged the guard. Lanterns hung from the tent’s crossbeams. Just inside the flap was a meeting room with camp chairs placed around a large brazier. Opposite the flap was a thick linen curtain. Behind that was probably the sleeping area. Rin slung his rifle and drew his revolver. He parted the curtain just enough to allow Morelli to slip through before following him. A single candelabra provided faint light, leaving most of the room darkened. Shafford was sitting up in a large bed with a bemused look as Morelli kept his grapegun trained on him.

“Shafford, you stand accused of eighteen counts of murder most foul. You are bound under the Codex Juris to answer the charges. Any resistance by magic or violence will be met with deadly force.” Rin paused as he finished the formal words of the arrest and gave Shafford an evil smile. “Please resist.”

“I win the bet, dearest,” Shafford said to someone in the darkness. Rin spun at the female laughter coming from the shadowed corner.

“I will glad pay after we’ve finished our work,” the woman said in a husky voice, “I will admit he surprised me. The Rin I remembered would never place his duty above his love. He has grown up.” The elven woman stepped into the candlelight. Rin nearly dropped his revolver. Her lithe, athletic form was barely covered by the sheer robe. Her strong beautiful face was marred by the angry, red scar from her left ear around her face and ending in the milky whiteness of her dead left eye.

“That is because you do not understand Mareian rangers,” Shafford said, amused, “They have a deserved reputation for being a determined lot.” He unconsciously stroked the creasing scar on his head.

“I won’t doubt you again on such things, beloved.” Rin finally found his voice.

“Ela? How can you be here? You were killed by the Pursits,” Rin said as his mind raced to catch up with what his eyes were seeing.

“Killed? No, liberated,” Ela said with a malicious smile. “They freed me to take up to my new role.” She held up the black mask in her left hand.

“The Edess Kul,” Rin said Ela let out a hauntingly familiar peal of laughter. The sound shook Rin to his soul.

“Such a wonderful disguise,” Ela said, “Not even my dear brother recognizes me.”

“He thinks you’re dead!” Rin shouted, “He grieved for you. I grieved for you. You were our sister! How could you be working for the Purists? Be in bed with him? He’s a sorcerer and a murderer.” Ela’s face contorted in sudden rage.

“You dare call me sister? After you did this to me?” Ela shouted, pointing at her dead eye.

“What did you expect me to do?” Rin shouted back. “You were holding a knife to Illana’s throat.”

“It’s her fault Ral is dead!” Ela said.

“How? Ral betrayed us. He betrayed you. He broke your mind when he forced you to put that arrow in his back. Not Illana.”

“You’re too blinded by that little bitch to see the truth. She’s cursed. We were on the wrong side, and Trennis, and Jevin, and Ral paid the price.” A slow smile spread across Ela’s face. “Now, it’s her turn to pay.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Rin said, placing the front sight of his revolver on Ela’s good eye.

“Are you sure you want to do that brother?” Ela asked, twisting the last word with hate. “Kill me and the guards outside will cut you down before you can save your precious Illana.”

“What do you mean about saving Illana?” Rin demanded, his stomach clenching. Ela and Shafford were too calm.

“Why do you think we allowed you to come into our camp?” Ela asked.

“To kill us? No, you would have done that already,” Rin said as he contemplated Ela’s words. “Shafford knew someone was coming for him after the murders. You figured it would be me. You would need something to hold over me so I don’t kill the two of you.” His stomach plummeted in terror. “You have people inside the Crystal Palace.”

“I told you he was bright,” Ela said over Rin’s shoulder to Shafford. “He always picked up my lessons faster than any of the others.” Ela turned her attention back to Rin.

“Before I came in, I sent the signal to them. They should have Illana in their custody. If they don’t see another signal from us in a specified time, they will kill her.”

“So why didn’t they just kill her instead of capturing her?” Morelli asked.

“They need her for Cull’s ritual,” Rin answered. A memory flashed into Rin’s mind. Illana on the stone table waiting to be sacrificed by Cull. She looked so forlorn, just waiting to die. Rin never wanted to see that expression on Illana’s face again.

“Close enough,” Shafford said. “Cull didn’t understand the prophecies as well as he thought.”

“But you do?”

“Yes,” Shafford answered.

“And if your infiltrators kill the princess, doesn’t that ruin your plans?”

“It would be a setback.”

“So, why don’t we just kill you and then go rescue the princess?” Morelli asked.

“You picked a good one for your partner,” Ela said as she gave the younger man a predatory smile. It sent chills down Rin’s spine. He never saw such an evil look on Ela’s face. Not even when she was holding a knife to Illana’s throat.

“This tent is surrounded by our best followers,” Ela said, “If either of you shoot, they come in and kill the both of you. You’ll probably kill us and a lot of them, but you will die. Then, our people will kill her.” Rin barely controlled his rage. He needed to focus. Ela smiled wickedly at Rin’s expression.

“Or we let you leave, and you can try to save your precious princess,” Shafford offered.

“Morelli, lower your weapon,” Rin said after a long moment. He looked hard at the woman he once called sister.

“This isn’t finished Ela. We will stop you.” Rin turned back to Shafford. “How did you know it would be me?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out who managed to give me this?” Shafford asked in response, tracing the pink crease across the top of his head. “Imagine my surprise when I found out it was you? I have so many reasons to enjoy what is about to happen to so-called heroes.” Rin knew there was something behind Shafford’s words, but he didn’t have time to beat it out of the man. Without another word, the two rangers retreated out of the tent and made a mad dash back to the Crystal Palace. Rin prayed he would get back in time.

Chapter Thirty-Two

In a significant development, representatives from both the Diet and the Mareian Republic convened today to sign the Treaty of Friendship and Trade. This landmark agreement is the result of months of meticulous negotiations following the Republic of Marei’s petition to the Diet for the opening of trade routes within the Empire. The Treaty grants the Republic of Marei limited trade opportunities at the port of Lisandra. In exchange, the Republic has committed to curbing the smuggling of illegal goods into the Empire. Additionally, the Republic will provide essential materials and advisors to assist in the modernization of both the Capitol and Territorial Armies. Notably, the Treaty stipulates that all goods will be channeled through elven trading houses, presenting substantial opportunities for the Lisandra merchant community. This arrangement is anticipated to bolster the local economy and strengthen ties between the Mareian Republic and the Empire. The Chancellor of the Diet hailed this accord as a milestone in fostering economic cooperation and enhancing security measures within the Empire. – Announcement from the Diet on the signing of the Treaty of Friendship and Trade

PALLUS

Pallus studied the Outer City from the Golden Observatory. With the Barrier raised, the view was like looking through orange-tinted water. A large swath of the Outer City was glowing from the remains of the fire. Stopping the blaze required destroying dozens of buildings to make a firebreak. The damage was only going to get worse when the Capitol Army attacked in the morning.

Pallus turned as he heard the boots stomping up the steps. The first man to emerge was General Lopanes. The commander of the Capitol Army was a tall man with salt and pepper hair that complimented his lined face and sparkling dark eyes. There was a small hitch in the general’s stride from where a human musket ball shattered then-Colonel Lopanes’s hip during the Reclamation War. The clerics at the time did their best, but the wound never healed properly. Behind the general were the commanders of the Capitol Army’s four standing regiments and the general’s small staff. Finally, two Mareian advisors joined the staff officers.

The treaty reopening trade between the Republic of Marei and the Jeweled Empire required the Republic to assist in the “modernization” of the Imperial Army, including advisors to teach how to use all the new weapons. Pallus was surprised at how quickly the Mareian diplomats agreed to the Empire’s terms. Then Rin returned carrying those metallic cartridge weapons. Pallus wondered if his father realized the Mareians used the treaty to dump their now-obsolete weapons – and obsolete officers – onto the Empire. At least the two advisors were competent in how to manage a musket-armed army.

“Well, Colonel Parn, your cobbled-together force performed far better than I thought possible,” General Lopanes said, walking over and shaking Pallus’s hand.

“Thank you, General,” Pallus said, managing a small bow at the compliment. The volunteers and constables held the Purists a few blocks from the Aponte Wal, but at great cost. Three-quarters of the volunteers were either dead or so badly wounded they may not survive the siege. The casualties among the constables weren’t much better. Only those forces Pallus kept on the Aponte Wall took no losses. Even the rangers lost two of their number in the fighting with several more seriously injured. Not counting the missing Rin and Morelli.

“We should be able to sort this out in a day or so,” General Lopanes said. “I’ll have fifteen thousand fresh troops ready by dawn, with the rest of the Army forming up during the day. I doubt this Edess Kul can stop four times her number.”

“With respect, General, that may be more difficult than you expect,” Pallus said.

“Explain,” the general said, walking over and looking out at Lisandra.

“From what the constables and volunteers have reported, the Purists’ lead elements fortified these buildings here and here,” Pallus said, sweeping his hands over several blocks in front of the Gold and Silver Gates. “Clearing those will be difficult.”

“You may be right,” General Lopanes said. “Gentlemen, start revising based on the colonel’s input.” Pallus went back to watching Lisandra and half-listening to the discussions between the senior officers. The clanking of heavy armor on the steps of the spire brought Pallus’s attention back. Two Crystal Guards tromped into the observatory, followed by Princess Illana, the Suprema, the Chancellor, and Major Agnelli.

“Your highness, we weren’t expecting you here,” Pallus said, mildly. By the impish smile on the princess’s face, she heard the underlying Why are you here instead of in bed?

“Her Highness decided she needed to see for herself what the Army is planning,” Chancellor Parn said, with perfect neutrality. “As the leader of the Diet and the Sacellum, the Suprema and I decided it would be best to have one briefing instead of several that would just take up the general’s valuable time.”

“Thank you, Chancellor, but I’m capable of answering Colonel Parn myself,” Princess Illana said, in a warm voice that belied the flashing anger in her eyes.

“Of course, your highness,” Chancellor Parn said, tonelessly. Pallus noticed his father didn’t actually apologize. The Suprema ignored the entire exchange.

“Lady Sonya would have come with us, but she’s with Hero Madrigal at the moment,” Princess Illana said.

“What is his condition?” Pallus asked, keeping his own consternation out of his voice. From the smug grin on his father’s face, Pallus wasn’t as successful as he hoped. Damn it, why did Sonya always rush to that man’s side after he broke her heart so many times?

“Not good,” the princess said, giving Pallus’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Selene was barely able to save him. Sonya’s keeping watch on him so Selene can help with other wounded.” Pain haunted Princess Illana’s eyes. “We have so many wounded. So many dead.”

“Rin?” Pallus asked. Princess Illana bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

“The sergeant hasn’t returned,” Major Agnelli answered. “My best guess is Rangers Acciaio and Morelli are taking advantage of today’s events to sneak into the Purist camp under the cover of darkness.” Pallus bent down next to the princess.

“I wouldn’t worry yet, your highness. Knowing Rin, he’ll show up a little worse for the wear, and wondering why everyone is fussing over him,” Pallus said in the most comforting voice he could manage. She arched a skeptical eyebrow in a manner she must have picked up from Rin.

“You despise Rin,” Princess Illana said, coldly. Pallus saw the strain in the princess’s eyes. Damn it, the princess was so pale. Why wasn’t she in bed?

“Yes, I do. I also spent two years fighting alongside him,” Pallus said. “I trust his abilities. I also know how he feels about you.” The princess nodded slightly.

“Your highness, you honor us with your presence,” General Lopanes said, bowing deeply. “Our plans are still in the infant stages, I’m afraid.”

“A brief overview would be fine. Plus, the major may have some insights,” Princess Illana said, motioning to Agnelli.

“My staff and I would gladly accept any suggestions from you Major,” the general said, nodding to the Mareian. The general was very good at maintaining a professional demeanor, but Pallus was his father’s son. The barest hint of disgust flashed through the general’s eyes. The general led the princess over to the viewing crystals, but the commander of the Capitol Army shot covert looks behind him to the Chancellor.

“I’m surprised you let the general talk with the princess,” Pallus said quietly to his father.

“After the fight your little militia put up under her banner, I didn’t have much choice,” Chancellor Parn said, with a hint of genuine respect in his scornful tone.

“Pity,” Pallus said.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, son,” the chancellor said, “Her actions were a setback, not a defeat.” The chancellor smiled maliciously. Pallus mulled over the possible schemes until a small cough brought him back to the present. Pallus looked over to see Princess Illana waiting patiently in front of him.

“What can I do for you, your highness?” Pallus asked, with a slight bow.

“Pallus, will you escort me back to the Imperial Quarters?” Princess Illana asked.

“Of course, your highness,” Pallus answered. The two walked down the staircase side by side while the Crystal Guard followed them.

“It was fortuitous the Capitol Army decided to return early from their exercises,” Princess Illana said, her voice neutral. “I suppose someone managed to get a message out, but I am surprised by how well organized they were coming back to Lisandra. It’s almost as if they were planning on when to show up.”

“Yes, your highness,” Pallus said, as he prayed to the Goddess the princess didn’t press the issue further. He wouldn’t lie to her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to bring about the fall of his House. The Goddess must have heard his prayers, because the princess didn’t speak again for the rest of the walk.

Chapter Thirty-One

It was none other than Sasha the Mercenary who, in a most unexpected twist, ascended to the role of regent for the Crystal Blood, adopting the esteemed name of Lady Sonya. Once a soldier of considerable renown and an exceptional swordmaster, albeit not quite in the exalted leagues of Hero Marteen Madrigal or Colonel Pallus Parn, she was known among her former employers for her unwavering loyalty, though her disposition was often described as rather reticent. Who could have foreseen that this formidable warrior, devoid of any maternal inkling, would step into the role of guardian for an orphaned princess? Who could have imagined that she would navigate the treacherous labyrinth of elven politics with such finesse? Whispers abounded regarding a possible maternal bond between Lady Sonya and the enigmatic Hero Acciaio, but alas, no confirmations were forthcoming from any of the Heroes. Despite a few initial missteps, Lady Sonya has deftly mastered the art of maneuvering through the murky waters of the Diet, ensuring the protection of the Crystal Blood’s interests. In her role as a parental figure, she has done admirably well, given her circumstances. Yet, one cannot ignore the unfortunate burdens she bears—a steadfast loyalty to a capricious Crystal Blood and an affection for a lover of questionable manners. One can only speculate how much more formidable she might have been, had she not been so encumbered by these demanding influences. – Irjin Tindi, society matron, excerpt from an interview for “The Lisandra Times”

SASHA

Sasha looked down at Marteen as Selene and another cleric desperately worked to keep the swordmaster from bleeding out. From the grim expressions on their faces, they were losing the battle. Sasha had seen enough battle wounds in her life. It was a minor miracle Selene managed to bring Marteen inside the Aponte Wall alive, much less keep him alive this long. It didn’t lessen her frustration.

The Goddess damn the man, Sasha thought. Why did he have to go and nearly get himself killed? Doesn’t he know how much we need him? How much I need him? Sasha’s head snapped up at the last thought. Sasha was so damned sure she put that damned man in her past. So, where was all of this coming from? Sasha felt a warm, soft hand in hers. She looked down to see Princess Illana standing next to her. The princess was wearing a dark hooded cloak to blend in with the mass of people at the Gold Gate. Princess Illana looked up and gave Sasha a comforting smile.

“What are you doing here?” Sasha whispered, barely keeping herself from adding the “your highness” honorific. Her Crystal Guard weren’t anywhere around, and Sasha didn’t have her own weapons to protect the princess from a Purist sympathizer or a disaffected volunteer.

“Being selfish,” Princess Illana answered, with an unusual meekness. “I was hoping to see Rin when he came back.”

“The cleric told you to stay in bed,” Sasha said.

“I’m feeling better.” The princess squeezed Sasha’s hand as she looked down at Marteen. “It hurts to see him like this, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sasha managed, “It will be a devastating blow to everyone if he dies. They all look up to him.” The princess looked at Sasha with knowing eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret,” the princess said, in a far too preceptive tone.

“I should go. There’s things that need to be done to help with tomorrow’s push,” Sasha said. The princess’s grip became crystal-hard.

“I’m sure Pallus and Dalan can manage right now. You need to be here with him.”

“But I can’t do anything!” Sasha snarled. “I’m just standing here helpless as he–” Sasha refused to say the last part of the sentence.

“You can stay with him,” Princess Illana said. She looked across the street as a half-dozen rangers walked through the Gold Gate. With a desperate look of her own, the princess crossed the street. She pulled one of the rangers off to the side and talked with him for a few terse moments.

Sasha mentally kicked herself. At least Sasha knew where the man she loved was. She shook her head. Damn it all, where did that come from? How many times did she tell herself that she was finally over Marteen? Her feelings about Pallus were confusing enough without throwing this into the fire.

She watched as Selene tended to Marteen. After a tense few minutes, Selene leaned back and almost fell over onto the street. Breathing hard, Selene wiped the sweat off her forehead. Sasha knelt next to Selene and cautiously put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. Selene looked up and gave Sasha a tired smile. Sasha felt a heavy weight lift off her shoulders.

“He’ll survive,” Selene said, “Beyond that, I don’t know.” She motioned to the other cleric. “Take him to the Crystal Palace. Not the hospital. They have enough on their hands right now.” The man nodded and ordered over a stretcher team. The three carefully lifted Marteen onto the stretcher before sprinting down the street.

“I’m guessing you’re not as over him as you thought you were,” Selene said, watching her friend. Sasha managed a slight nod, not trusting herself with much more. Selene let out a tired sigh. “He does have the nasty habit of getting back in your blood.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Sasha said. Selene gently embraced her friend.

Princess Illana walked back to join them. Her steps were stilted and her face even paler than normal. Small streaks ran down her cheeks. Sasha’s relief at Marteen’s survival vanished as she saw the princess’s expression. Selene reached out and pulled the princess into a tight hug. There was an instant of resistance, and then the princess melted into Selene. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. After a moment, Princess Illana pulled away from Selene.

“Rin?” Sasha asked, quietly. She was terrified of the answer.

“They don’t know,” Princess Illana answered, almost biting off each word. “No one has seen him or Morelli since this morning.” She took a few deep breaths, and the scared girl was replaced by the calm look of the elven empress-to-be.

“The gates are closing for the night so the Sacellum can raise the Barrier. The Goddess or Protector willing, Rin is alive out there somewhere.”

“He’s alive,” Selene answered. “We would have felt it in the medallions if he wasn’t.”

“Princess, you should go back to bed. The cleric recommended as much rest as possible. There’s nothing we can do tonight.”

“We should meet with General Lopanes and decide how to take back my city,” Princess Illana said.

“As you told me just a bit ago, Pallus can do that,” Sasha countered. “Why don’t we walk back together?”

“That would be good,” Princess Illana, sounding just a bit like her old self. Sasha was willing to let that slide. They started walking back to the Crystal Palace. Princess Illana barely made it a dozen steps before she stopped and turned back to the Aponte Wall. The princess’s calm mask slipped, and Sasha could see all the princess’s fear and anxiety. It was just the briefest of moments, but her expression broke Sasha’s heart. The moment passed, the calm facade came back up, and the to women walked back to the Crystal Palace.

Chapter Thirty

Ah, but let us speak more particularly of Kurt Volker, the dwarf whose name scarcely warrants a whisper amongst the tale of the Heroes Journey. A dwarf, seen as nothing more than an oddity—a second-class subject fulfilling his duties. But mark my words, and read the interviews with the Heroes themselves, and you’ll soon discover that it is Hero Volker who stands at the very heart of this band. It was he who, through bonds forged in the fires of loyalty and perseverance, united this motley crew. It was his unyielding spirit and tireless effort that held them together through the fiercest interparty clashes. Listen well to the accounts of the surviving Heroes. They speak of Hero Volker not merely as a comrade, but as a father. Yet the tale does him no justice. Why, you ask? Because the Jeweled Empire, with all its arrogance, could never bear to admit the debt it owes to a people it so ruthlessly subjugated. Regrettably, Hero Volker seems at peace with this reality. For years, he served our great Lord Ranier and risked his life time and again. Who am I to reproach him for choosing the comforts of a quieter life? Perhaps, it is for this reason that we no longer hear of Hero Acciaio. But take heart, for when Hero Volker’s son emerges, perhaps we shall find the rallying figure we need to rekindle the flame of independence for the Dwarven Kingdom. – The Masked One, leader of the Iron God’s Own dwarven independence movement

KURT

Kurt leaned against a jagged wall of a destroyed tenement house. Kurt wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. It didn’t help much. His clothing was soaked with sweat. These long battles were far more physically draining than he remembered. The thick smoke hanging over the city didn’t help. A person couldn’t catch his breath.

The fire started around midday. Kurt wanted to blame it on the Purists, but it could have just been easily a knocked over lantern. In the heat of battle, no one realized how bad the fire was until it burned out the shops and businesses in Low Market. The last Kurt heard it was working its way through the Alsoin and Promenade districts. Pallus was forced to send a couple hundred volunteers as an impromptu fire brigade. Much to Kurt’s surprise, the Purists weren’t attacking anyone busy fighting the fire, even if those fighting the fire were armed. Small favors.

“Two more blocks and we hit the Aponte Wall,” Chief Constable Dalan said, joining Kurt behind the ruined building. With Marteen missing, the chief constable was now the senior officer in the field. Dalan spent the better part of an hour leading a force of constables and some veterans against a probe by Purist heavy infantry. The Purists took heavier losses than Dalan’s men, but they could afford them. Kurt guessed the volunteers were down to maybe a third of their numbers, while the constables were closer to half. Kurt could see the strain in Dalan’s eyes of losing so many of his constables.

“Did you really think it wouldn’t be this bad?” Kurt asked. Dalan shrugged his shoulders. Battle cries echoed a couple streets over from yet another push by the Purists. The Edess Kul didn’t believe in giving the defenders any quarter if she could help it. Kurt heaved himself off the wall and trotted to the growing sounds of battle. Dalan ordered the few constables nearby to follow. By the time Kurt, Dalan, and the half-dozen armored constables reached the fight, the combat was little more than a general melee between Purists and volunteers. Kurt surveyed the scene for a moment and motioned for the constables to form up on his flanks. If they pushed back one corner, they might be able to roll the Purists back.

Kurt raised his shield and charged a Purist. The elf was too focused on trying to kill the volunteer in front of him. He never saw Kurt’s sword as it came down on his collarbone. As the Purist collapsed, the constables flowed into the small hole Kurt made. The hole was forced wider as the constables cut down Purists and the volunteers joined the momentum. Kurt kept himself as close to the front of the line as he could. Much to his chagrin, the volunteers fought harder when a Hero of the Empire was alongside them.

Kurt let his mind dwell on that thought an instant too long and the Purist in front of him took advantage of it. Kurt felt the Purist’s axe ride down along his shield before coming back up and biting deep into his side. The leather and chain kept the axe from opening Kurt’s flesh, but his ribs cracked under the weight of the blow. Kurt stumbled back and the elf pressed his attack. Kurt tried to open the distance by stabbing out with his sword. The Purist pivoted and came down with an overhand strike. Kurt barely managed to catch it on his shield with a ringing block the dwarf felt all the way to his shoulder. The Purist smiled and then screamed in pain as a sword punched through his torso.

Selene wiped the blood off her sword as the Purist collapsed into the street. Her armor was blood-splattered, but at least it looked like none of it was hers. She sheathed her sword and ran her hands over Kurt. He grunted as she touched his side. With a grimace, Selene spoke a prayer under her breath. Warmth spread across Kurt’s body. As it subsided, his pain went from intense to bearable.

“Not that I’m not grateful, Selene, but what are you doing here?” Kurt asked.

“Pallus’s orders. Everyone is to pull back to the Wall before nightfall. The paladins and I were sent out to bring back anyone I could,” Selene answered. She nodded to the fifty men in the green armor of the paladins tearing through the remnants of the Purists.

“I thought you were up at the Liopasto with Robar working at the hospital,” Kurt said as he followed her back to the Aponte Wall.

“My husband ordered me out of the hospital when the runner came looking for paladins,” Selene said in a flat tone. “As he eloquently stated, I’m needed here.” She stopped after a block and looked back at the burning city.

“Kurt, the Gold Gate is open,” Selene said. “Pallus wants you to report in at the Golden Observatory. I need to continue pulling people back to the Wall.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kurt said. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a sad smile.

“Sorry, but Pallus specifically said when I found Marteen or you, I was to send you along to report to him as soon as possible,” Selene said.

“Be careful out there Selene,” Kurt said. “It’s worse than any of the fights we were in during our last adventure.”

“Don’t worry Kurt, I’ve got plenty of experienced paladins with me. I fully intend on not getting in their way.”

Kurt motioned for the constables and the volunteers to follow him back to the Gold Gate. When the Wall was spun, the artisans left no openings. Instead, eight gateways were etched into the crystal of the wall. Even when the humans sealed away the world’s natural magic, the intricate gateways kept enough of their intrinsic magic to stay open. The Gold Gate was the largest and allowed the Boulevard of Light to continue into the Inner City. Kurt saw the sparkles of yellow energy that gave the gate its name a block before they reached the gate. Ragged and worn volunteers and constables trudged into the Inner City. Keeping order in front of the Golden Gate was a line of twenty musket-armed Crystal Guard. A stern-faced female paladin directed the detachment. Kurt guessed she was this Etan. She certainly looked competent enough. Kurt followed the line of defenders through the gate. Just inside the gate, the Knifehand pulled Kurt and Dalan aside.

“Thank the Goddess I found the two of you,” the Knifehand said, “Follow me.”

“Selene said I needed to go to the Observatory to talk with Pallus,” Kurt said.

“He’s not there. He’s at the Arrival Courtyard,” the Knifehand said.

“What’s he doing there?”

“You need to see for yourself,” the Knifehand answered, looking both relieved and worried at the same time. Kurt and Dalan traded confused looks.

“Mortan, why don’t you stay here for when Marteen shows up?” Kurt suggested. “Assuming Selene doesn’t fillet him when she finds him.” Arrival Courtyard was only a few blocks away from the Gold Gate. The Inner City’s side streets were remarkably clear of pedestrians.

Kurt paused as they neared the Arrival Courtyard. Pallus stood at the entrance with a man in the formal green and black uniform of the Capitol Army. Four gold arrowheads glittered on the man’s epaulets in the setting sun. A major, if Kurt remembered Imperial Army ranks.

“Where’s Marteen?” Pallus asked.

“I don’t know. The last time I saw him, Marteen was leading the firebrands to attack the Purists musketeers on the Boulevard of Light,” Kurt answered.

“Of course he would do that.”

“Who’s your friend?” Kurt motioned to the army officer. The officer braced to attention and saluted.

“Major Tark,” the officer introduced himself, “I am General Lopanes’s aide. He sent me ahead to coordinate the Capitol Army’s return with the Lisandra authorities.” Kurt’s eyes went wide.

“The Army’s returning?” Kurt asked.

“The Capitol Army will be coming through the gates starting at midnight. Every gate in the Inner City,” Pallus answered with a detached tone. “Our forces need to hold the Aponte Wall until morning, to give the Army time to organize.”

“Then we’re going to punch right through these motherless bastards and kill that Edess Kul bitch,” the major said.

“Yes, just so,” Pallus said, as if a child said spoken. “Chief Constable Dalan, would you please work with the major on the logistics of moving the Capitol Army through the Inner City?”

“Of course,” Dalan answered, flatly. “Major, let’s go talk with what’s left of my senior constables at the Imperial Gardens. They’ll have a better idea of the conditions right now.” As the two men walked off, Pallus turned back to Kurt.

“Shortly after the major came through the gate, the Diet declared a state of emergency,” Pallus said, “With that declaration, the Suprema sent the paladins to assist us. Unfortunately, we can’t raise the Barrier while any of the Aponte gates are still open.” Pallus looked back at the Wall and grimaced.

“Kurt, you should head back to the Crystal Palace. Get some food and some sleep. I’ll need you to help the Capitol Army when it pushes out into the Outer City. If there are any of the volunteers or the constables you recommend as scouts, please let me know. After you’ve had a chance to rest.” Kurt studied Pallus for a long moment.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Kurt said. “Something about the convenient return of the Army.”

“Yes,” Pallus said. Kurt didn’t press the issue. First, because it was probably something to do with elven family politics. Kurt made it a point to stay out of those. Secondly, because he suddenly realized exactly how hungry and tired he was the moment Pallus mentioned food and sleep. Kurt hoisted his sword onto his shoulder and walked down the street to the Crystal Palace.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The tale of the Heroes is one of extraordinary tenacity and resilience, particularly when you consider that their number was a mere ten. Among them was a cleric, bound by sacred vows from bearing arms, and a courtier, whose proficiency with a sword left much to be desired. Against formidable odds, they persevered through skirmishes with ruthless bandits and relentless ambushes orchestrated by the fanatical followers of Cull. These confrontations were not merely unfavorable; the Heroes faced adversaries who outnumbered them by three to one, and on occasion, as much as five to one. Despite these overwhelming challenges, the Heroes prevailed, driven by their diverse talents and unique strengths. Each member’s distinctive nature contributed to their collective triumph, enabling them to endure the perils and ultimately emerge victorious in that fateful cavern for their final showdown. – Scholar Den Dal, answer to student question during her seminar, “Lessons From The Heroes’ Journey”

MARTEEN

Marteen closed his eyes as the squire dumped the water bucket over his head. The sudden chill was refreshing. Marteen hated wearing crystal. The heavy armor slowed him down. Even during the Reclamation War, Marteen only wore hardened leather. Damn Sonya for insisting he wear the suit. Worse, he knew she was right for insisting. Marteen couldn’t stay in the back directing the combat like Pallus. If he was going to be in the fight, he might as well be a beacon to his troops. It didn’t make the armor any easier to wear. A waterskin was thrust into one hand with an odd food in the other. It was two pieces of toasted bread with a slab of ham in between. Marteen smelled onions and mustard.

“What’s this?” he asked the squire.

“A panino,” the boy answered. “It’s Mareian.” Marteen took a bite. Not bad. Simple and tasty. Why hadn’t an elf come up with something like this? Marteen wolfed down the food and washed it down with a long swig from the waterskin. Damn – just water. Kurt and Sonya were making sure he wouldn’t get a drop of anything stronger. It was just as well. He didn’t need drink to keep his memories from haunting him. Killing the bastards who murdered Ela did that just fine.

“Here you are,” Kurt said, exasperated.

“Why are you so annoyed at me?” Marteen asked.

“You’re supposed to be leading the defense of the Outer City,” Kurt said.

“I am leading the defense.”

“How? You’ve been too busy fighting to do any leading,” Kurt countered.

“I need to be in the middle of it,” Marteen said. “I need to be out there. I need to feel the flow of the fighting if I’m going to know how to fight these bastards.” Kurt let out a long breath.

“Feeling the flow of the battle is all fine and good, but you’re not making decisions out there. You’re just fighting,” Kurt said, “Dalan is moving people around to plug the gaps, but he doesn’t have your experience in real combat. He thinks like a constable, not a soldier.”

“Dalan’s doing fine. We’re holding the Pursits,” Marteen said. Kurt grabbed the front of Marteen’s armor and yanked the elf down to his face.

“I know why you want to be out there, but Princess Illana ordered you to lead the defense, and you told that girl you would do so.”

“I made a mistake!” Marteen yelled at Kurt. “I thought I could stand back and direct like Pallus, but I can’t.” Marteen growled with frustration. He couldn’t explain to his friend how much he needed to feel the Purists fall under his swords, watch them die, and know he was paying back the debt he owed to Ela for leaving her in that place to be killed by these monsters.

“Hero Madrigal!” yelled one of the squires, pointing at a pair of bloody constables staggering into the square. Marteen and Kurt walked over to the two men as others brought healing supplies.

“Hero Madrigal, the Purist musketeers broke through,” reported the less injured constable as he dragged his comrade into the square. “The humans are slowing them down, but they’ve pushed through our companies at Anolim Street.” Marteen nodded at the news and motioned Kurt off to the side. The dwarf looked grim, but he always looked that way during a battle. Dwarves always thought the world was caving in on them.

“If the Purists are already at Anolim, they will roll us up to the wall before we can stop them,” Kurt said. Why did Kurt always have to state the obvious? Marteen gambled the Edess Kul wouldn’t risk her musket-armed troops in the mess of the Outer City. Well, that turned out wrong, so now it was time to try another gamble.

“Get the firebrands over here,” Marteen ordered one of the squires. The boy sprinted out of the square.

“Why under the God of Iron would you want those fools?” Kurt asked. “We pulled them off the line because they were causing problems.” Marteen smiled at Kurt. The dwarf didn’t understand. Marteen didn’t pull them because of the complaints. He pulled the firebrands because he wanted to save them for an occasion like this.

“Kurt, tell Dalan to regroup as many constables as he can around Mill Street,” Marteen said, “Axe will need to pull the volunteers out of Marketplace to shrink the line enough. He’s not going to like it, but at least we’ll have another dozen blocks or so before hitting the Wall.”

“Why am I telling them and not you?” Kurt asked.

“Because I’m taking the firebrands and stopping those troops.” Much to Marteen’s surprise, Kurt didn’t even argue.

One of the nice things about having Dalan directing things was that the old constable understood the need for clear avenues for moving around. Although, it was still slightly disturbing to see the normally bustling streets of the Lisandra completely deserted. Marteen led the firebrands towards the sound of the gunfire. Finally, he found the spot that felt right.

Marteen raised head just above the roof’s ridge. The Purists didn’t use the colorful uniforms like the human armies, but they certainly had the precision in their march. He saw far too many formations like that one when the Republican and Kingdom armies tried to hold back the Army of Reclamation. Marteen was willing to bet Reclamation veterans were leading those firing lines.

“They’re coming just as you said they would, Hero Madrigal,” Kann Lykal said before crouching back down behind the slope of the roof. “Two lines of twenty. Just about fill the boulevard.” Kann was typical of the firebrands. He was the third, or maybe fourth, son of one of the northern lords, and desperate for glory. The thirty or so lordlings scattered along the rooftops with Marteen were all trying to earn renown in the Battle of Lisandra. They didn’t have the patience to stand in the line of battle with the other volunteers, they were too untrained to lead. Yet, they were all proven fighters. They just needed someone to give them a little guidance and a target to fight in their unrestrained manner.

“Wait until those bastards are under us,” Marteen said to the firebrands. “Any of you get too eager, and you’ll give them a chance to use those muskets. Believe me, you do not want to get hit by one of those.” The young men around him nodded like he said something truly profound. Then again, maybe he did, in their eyes. He certainly thought his leaders back in the Reclamation Army were wise and profound instead of the proud fools they turned out to be. Marteen ducked back down and drew his two swords. He counted down in his head.

Five, four, three, two, one! Marteen leapt, slid down the roof’s tiles, and pounced on the Purists below him. The firebrands followed him into the fray. There were no screams of battle. Battlecries had their uses, but there was something disconcerting about warriors who killed wordlessly. Another trick Marteen learned from the humans. Two Purists died as Marteen landed. The Purists screamed in surprise and tried to bring their muskets down to fire. It was too late. The firebrands were already among them. Marteen badly wanted to surrender to the dance and tear through the Purists, but he needed to keep his clarity for a little longer. In less than a minute, the firebrands slaughtered the Purist musketeers. Marteen looked back and smiled. The next group of Purists stopped to bring their muskets down.

“Grab them,” Marteen commanded, pointing at the dead. Marteen stood in the middle as the firebrands held up their shields of dead men. Muskets in the Purist firing lines wavered as they saw the firebrands coming at them from behind the cover of what had been their comrades. It didn’t last long. Thunder sounded, and the boulevard filled with thick, gray smoke. Marteen heard the cracks of musket balls whipping by him and the thuds as some of the balls hit the corpses. One of the firebrands screamed in pain as a musket ball found a target.

Marteen reached the Purist firing line without being hit. That was surprising. The Purists’ muskets were supposed to be much better than those he faced during the Reclamation War. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he stepped in front of one of the Purists. The familiar rage filled him, and Marteen danced. First the Southern style. His paired swords spun, cutting down the Purists. As the firebrands joined him in the fighting, Marteen switched to Mountain Reach. Much better for close quarter fighting. The two Purists in front of him were caught flatfooted by the sudden switch. Marteen cut them down as if they were the strawmen he practiced against when he was a boy.

CRAAACK! A ragged volley came down the boulevard. Two firebrands fell to the ground screaming. Marteen spun to the firing lines down the boulevard. Well, that didn’t take as long as Marteen expected. He thought his little band would get through the third firing party before the Purists decided to fire on their own people.

“Forward!” Marteen yelled, sprinting at the Purist firing lines. The key to fighting muskets was getting in close. Speed was life. Distance was death. Several firebrands sprinted by him. One was cut down by a Purist who was quick on his reload. The firebrands slammed into the firing line with swords slashing.

“Cut through them!” Marteen yelled as he spun and slashed. “Get to the next line before they set up!” Four Purists lay bleeding on the ground. Marteen looked back. That didn’t seem right. The next lines were farther back than he expected – and there were more than there should be. Realization flashed and Marteen realized his error.

“Scatter!” he screamed. The firebrands finished their fights and dashed to the buildings lining the boulevard. Some of them reached doors and alleys before the Purists opened fire. Marteen had the briefest instant to wonder if the crystal plates would shatter before dozens of musket balls hammered into him.

Chapter Twenty-Eight