Fortress Al-Mir

Arkk stood back, supervising a trio of lesser servants as they assembled an idea that Savren had come up with.

The Evestani Sultanate had marched their army far further in two weeks than Arkk—or even Hawkwood—had thought possible. Aided by holy magics keeping them safe from the elements and assassins targeting the leadership of burgs in their paths, opening the gates for the invading armies, they had managed to cross a quarter of the Duchy before Hawkwood rallied and assembled White Company to act against them.

Smaller villages in between the larger burgs had been raided. Their storehouses, full at the start of the winter, had been taken by the advancing armies to fuel their march. Refugees fled eastward, putting strain on every burg and village they crossed. A few villages had tried burning their stores at the first sign of the approaching armies but Arkk, watching through crystal balls, could only say that a handful had been successful. The rest had been saved by sudden squalls that he could only describe as divine intervention.

Given the golden glow protecting the armies from the elements, those storehouses being saved probably were divine intervention. Or at least holy magics worked by the Golden Order’s miracle men.

But all that momentum was going to stop here.

In the shadows of the Twin Elm Peaks was a large and normally prosperous burg that went by the name Elmshadow. The mountains did not span the entire breadth of the Duchy by any means but they, and Elmshadow’s valley, stood in the most direct path further eastward, toward Cliff and the Cursed Forest. It was possible to navigate an army around the mountains but that would buy time for the Duke’s Grand Guard to make their way here. Hawkwood was already out west, doing his best to stall the advancing army for just a few more days.

Long enough for Arkk to finish his task.

It was a trying battle for him, Arkk well knew. Unlike their opponents, Hawkwood and White Company didn’t have the holy protection against the elements. White Company had a few priests and abbesses on retainer but none knew how the Evestani army was doing what they were doing. They were on hand for healing and other minor miracles only.

“Have I mentioned how creepy this is?” Edvin called out from where he sat at the head of a cart.

Arkk looked up at him with a frown before shaking his head. “Only once per hour,” he said, moving to the back of the cart. Peeling back a tarp, Arkk revealed an array of skulls. Looted from the barrows not far from Langleey Village. Taking two of them, one in each hand, he crossed the short distance to where the lesser servants had finished dragging over piles of stones. Vague stone mausoleums stood out at the mouth of the valley in a long line. These latest constructions extended that line clear to the base of the other mountain.

It was sloppy work. The lesser servants couldn’t work their construction magic out here like they could in Fortress Al-Mir. Nonetheless, they were still adept builders even while using stone brought over from Stone Hearth Burg’s quarry.

They were his only option at the moment. Everyone else was back at the fortress, preparing, training new recruits, or otherwise engaged in vital tasks necessary for the continued existence of Fortress Al-Mir.

It was a bit harrowing. Based on the reactions of the assassins at the Duke’s party to him and Vezta, Arkk had a feeling that their end goal wasn’t actually the Duke or Cliff City but him.

Tucking a skull under his arm, Arkk reached out and planted a hand on the ritual circle one of the servants had inscribed on the roof of the squat, four-pillar mausoleum. The intricate design pulsed once with a sickly green light before going idle. Taking one skull, Arkk slid it underneath the circular roof of the mausoleum and let go of it at waist height. It bobbed twice but remained floating in the air.

Slowly, it swiveled, peering out from between the pillars to face him. Ominous violet light filled the skull’s empty eye sockets.

Arkk felt the talisman hanging around his neck heat up for just a moment before cooling back down. The skull, losing interest in him, turned away and sought out other targets.

“You know,” Edvin said, tremble of obvious fear in his voice, “my mother always said not to mess with the remains of the dead. That’s how you get cursed, that is.”

“Your mother was probably far wiser than I am,” Arkk said absently, moving to the next mausoleum to repeat the process. “But I’m hoping that these skulls of our ancestors would rather their remains be used to keep the Duchy safe rather than curse us.”

“And you trust that Savren guy? Mother always said you couldn’t trust a necromancer because it doesn’t matter to them whether you are dead or not.”

Arkk paused, considering. He hummed a moment and then, in his most diplomatic tone, said, “I trust Savren about as much as I trust you.”

Edvin blinked once and straightened his back, looking proud of himself. “Be that as it may,” he said, trailing off at the end.

“Savren isn’t actually a necromancer,” Arkk said, taking another pair of skulls from the cart. “And despite what it looks like, this isn’t necromancy. It is mind magic. Anyone not wearing these talismans will be struck with such an intense and utter terror that the entire army might just drop their weapons and run back to Evestani.”

“You think it will be that easy?”

“Of course not. Despite Savren’s confidence in this magic penetrating the golden magic used by Evestani, it is a delaying tactic at best. Buying a little more time for reinforcements from Cliff to arrive. Maybe even the King’s army from Chernlock, if they’ve even heard of the situation.”

Arkk had no idea what the greater situation was in the Kingdom. He barely knew what the Duke was doing and that was only thanks to Hawkwood passing information to him. Ilya was still at Cliff but she was in no shape to spy or otherwise engage herself with the goings on there. The healers had seen to her but the emergency healing Arkk had provided had messed something up that couldn’t be healed normally. The same was true for Hawkwood.

Although both might have died if not for Arkk using that spell from the black book, something about it negated proper healing. It took all Arkk’s willpower to not rush back to Cliff and try to figure out how to undo what he had done. If he couldn’t check in on Ilya and see that she was sitting up and occasionally walking around for short bursts of time, he probably wouldn’t have been able to resist.

“You have much greater faith in the officials of this land than I, my friend.”

Arkk didn’t agree in the slightest. Hawkwood was someone he trusted. Master Inquisitor Vrox, even—though that was more of a ‘trust in the man to act in accordance with his duties’ sort of trust. As much as Arkk didn’t trust Edvin not to stab him in the back if the man saw some way of profiting from it, he probably still trusted the conman more than the Duke or any of the Duke’s advisors.

Which… That lack of trust in Edvin was most of the reason he was here.

Dakka, Rekk’ar, and Olatt’an were training the new recruits. Arkk wasn’t about to throw them into war without making sure they could survive. The rest of his orcs were split up, some running tasks around the Duchy to try to evacuate villages or shore up defenses. Zullie, Vezta, and Savren were finalizing the ritual—hopefully still on schedule to be performed in about a week. Agnete and the gorgon—the latter of whom weren’t enthused with leaving the warmth of the fortress outside Agnete’s presence—were evacuating small villages that might be targets of Evestani’s resupply raids. Lexa, Lyssa, Alma, and a few of the other recruits who could handle themselves were helping with the civilians while Larry had a full team working the kitchens.

Everyone was busy with an important task. Arkk, the only one aside from Vezta able to direct lesser servants, had to be out here as well. That only left Edvin.

“I trust in the nation’s officials to desire the continuation of the Duchy and the Kingdom, if only so that they might remain in a position of power,” Arkk said eventually, taking a leaf from Vrox’s book. In only a few words, the inquisitor had given him a different perspective on how others could be trusted even if Arkk didn’t trust them on a personal level. “Evestani threatens that.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

As soon as Arkk placed the final skull into its holding spot, it and the three nearest skulls all swiveled in place, aiming at a distant shape coming out from the cover of the trees on one of the mountains. An elk froze, staring for a split second before its legs thudded against the ground. Sliding on the snow-covered ground, it slipped and went tumbling down but that didn’t stop it from getting right back up and bolting off into the treeline.

That was as good of a test as any. “In any case, we’re done here,” Arkk said, hauling himself into the now-emptied back of the cart. The three lesser servants oozed into the cart alongside him. “Get us back to Elmshadow.”

Two armies meeting each other in open battle was not a common occurrence. Not now, not during the war thirty years ago, not ever. The simple fact was that most people didn’t want to die. Hawkwood knew that as well as any competent commander. White Company, gathered and assembled from across the Duchy, four thousand strong, were no different. Most of them weren’t even active soldiers. A company like White Company paid the majority of its members a small retainer for them to show up in situations like this but otherwise, they were simple farmers or regular peasants.

They were trained. Hawkwood made sure everyone in his organization not only received training upon signing up but also organized training camps throughout the duchy that members were expected to attend bi-yearly or risk expulsion. They also had equipment. Part of the retainer was meant for weapons and armor. Not everyone had the same make, style, or quality. The core of White Company, made up of about four hundred, weren’t even identical in uniform, let alone the rest of the masses. Nevertheless, inspections had been performed and everyone present outside Elmshadow Burg had worthy gear.

So, while prepared and equipped, now called to perform the task they had signed up for, actually rallying the men into battle was a near impossibility. From the last war, Hawkwood knew well how hesitant armies could be. They might talk big in the camps but put them on the battle lines and everyone was perfectly happy to shout and jeer at the enemy from the safety of a distance. Even once they started marching forward into actual combat, one army would more than likely turn tail and rout. Should two opposing armies actually meet, it still took hours of psyching people up, rallying cries, speeches, invoking the Light, and other tactics just to get people to march the last few paces into melee.

Hawkwood hadn’t bothered with any of that. White Company stood strong, showing a force, well in advance of the Evestani army. A protracted battle was not a victory condition at the moment. Nor was victory likely if they did charge into open combat.

Evestani’s army numbered upwards of ten thousand. They weren’t all gathered together right here, the opposing force was spread across the Duchy. White Company was still heavily outnumbered. Not to mention the miraculous magic on display, another penalty to the morale of his troops.

Thankfully, even despite their greater numbers, the same hesitance that White Company suffered from also affected the enemy. Just by moving his troops out here and planting them in the middle of the road, they had slowed the lightning-fast advance of Evestani. It wouldn’t last forever. Nobody wanted to rush into combat and take a blade to the skull. The Evestani army’s leaders would have a far easier time rallying their men into battle just by pointing out the numbers difference and the magic they wielded. White Company had its own spellcasters but their efforts toward battle were far less obvious than the golden light that suffused throughout the soldiers of Evestani.

It wouldn’t last forever.

In fact, Hawkwood doubted it would last another day. There had already been some advancements from Evestani. Only his archers and spellcasters had kept them from crossing the gulf that was the wide-open plains in the shadow of the Elm mountains. He had already given orders to be prepared to make an organized retreat should Evestani start charging.

This was why he almost collapsed in relief when the Swiftwing harpy dove out of the sky, spreading her wings right at the last moment to slow her descent. She touched down, taloned feet gripping the ground as she fluttered her wings. A few of the jumpier soldiers in their midst let out cries of alarm. The hard men of the group quickly calmed the others with no input from Hawkwood.

Harpies, like about half of all beastmen, lacked humanoid hands. They did have sharp claws on their wings. Combining those claws with a specially designed harness allowed the harpy to retrieve a thin letter, sealed with a violet-hued wax bearing a compass rose on a maze-like pattern. “Message for you, Sir,” the harpy said, voice scratchy like most of her kind.

“Thank you, Talan,” Hawkwood said, wasting no time in snapping open the seal.

It was a short letter without even a proper greeting. Just a few words, in fact. The defenses around Elmshadow Burg were ready.

“Adjutant,” Hawkwood called out.

Neil, ever at his side, stepped forward. “Sir?”

“Order the retreat. We’re falling back behind the Elmshadow defenses. Make sure that everyone has their talisman equipped.”

With a salute, Neil turned to carry out his orders, delegating to the various squad captains and everyone else who needed to know. Everyone should already be ready to move. By nightfall, four thousand of White Company should be back behind the defenses Arkk had cooked up. Hawkwood hoped that they worked but wasn’t going to count on them holding out forever either. Or even for a short time.

Falling back to Elmshadow was still the best option. The Evestani army was not hauling siege equipment. No catapults, trebuchets, battering rams, or breaching towers. It was likely they had magical bombardments but there had been no need to use it thus far. That had surely been one of the factors in their swift advance through the Duchy. They couldn’t have moved as fast while hauling heavy siege engines. They didn’t need any of that when their assassins could take out key figures in the guard and leave the gates wide open.

Hawkwood and Arkk had found two assassins lying in wait at Elmshadow, both discovered thanks to the efforts of one of his spellcasters’ proficiency in the anathema that was mind magics. Even if they had missed an assassin or two, it would take a lot more to take out White Company. Those gates wouldn’t open as long as one of his officers yet lived. Given its strategic location, Elmshadow Burg held several cannons and ballista for fending off attackers. Combined with Arkk’s new defenses, any siege should fail. Evestani would have to take the long treks around the mountain if they wanted to continue their advance.

By then, the Duke’s Grand Guard should arrive in force.

Evestani’s scouts would notice the activity. They had to hurry. Fighting while attempting a retreat would lead to unacceptable casualties.

“Talan, take to the skies and warn us of any—”

“Incoming!”

Hawkwood’s eyes widened as he turned in the direction of the shout. Evestani had launched the occasional volley of arrows in their direction but never without the scouts warning them that archers were assembling. White Company’s spellcasters were already filling the air with a haze, well-trained as they were, but it wasn’t fast enough.

Gaps in the haze over the army let golden arrows pierce through. Shouts and cries of pain and distress sprung up throughout the army. Shields went up and metal clanked against metal. The falling arrows lasted only a few seconds but the effects carried on.

“Casters!” Hawkwood bellowed. “Keep the skies clear! Clerics to the wounded! Have every man—”

Lethis, struck through the gap in between his helmet and his breastplate by a falling arrow, started screaming a dozen paces away from Hawkwood. For a moment, he thought it was the pain or the shock only to realize that something else was going on. Molten gold leaked from the seams in his armor, spreading out and coating the painted white gear. It ran down the outside of his gauntlet, forming a sword of gold to replace the one he had dropped when struck.

The screams stopped abruptly and Lethis stood. He jerked and jittered. Someone started to approach only to jump back as that golden sword lashed out.

A cleric cried out elsewhere. Hawkwood could only see his back and the golden sword pierced through. The sword ripped back through his body but the gold remained, spreading across the cleric’s back and clothes, slowly coating the thrashing man.

“Get away from anyone hit!” Hawkwood shouted over the fresh wave of shouts of alarm. He raised his shield, blocking a blow from one of his own men, now turned to a gold statue. “Shields up! Knights get between those golden soldiers. Everyone else, fall back to Elmshadow!”