Fortress Al-Mir

“Edvin, get back to Fortress Al-Mir,” Arkk said, lowering his crystal ball. “I want Agnete here immediately. The gorgon as well. Have Vezta show you which ritual circles to use to reach her.”

“Me? Interact with the scary pyromaniac? Are you—”

Arkk turned, eyes casting a red glow over Edvin’s face. “Now,” he said.

“Going!” Edvin said, his voice tinged with forced cheer. He fled, not bothering to hide his rush as he dashed out of Elmshadow’s garrison office that Arkk and Hawkwood had taken over.

They had a teleportation circle in the dark cellar with a lesser servant burrowed beneath, ready to destroy it if anyone unauthorized so much as stepped into the room. Fortress Al-Mir was seven hops back. Arkk hadn’t liked using them before but found them to be too efficient. Now, however, their tactical advantage in moving small numbers was too great to ignore. There were traps and decoys around each actual teleportation circle, other circles were designed to look like a proper teleportation circle but would kill or maim any users. He worried it wasn’t enough. All it would take would be someone scrying to reverse engineer where the teleportation circle went, then they could follow that straight back to Fortress Al-Mir.

It wasn’t so much of a concern with the inquisitors as they already knew where the fortress was—even if he hoped his ruse of moving the fortress was still intact. Arkk didn’t know if that was true of Evestani, however, and fully intended to keep the location as hidden as possible. He didn’t know Evestani’s scrying capabilities but imagined they had some methods of keeping watch on distant matters. He wanted to find out how the inquisitors were blocking his scrying so that he could use the same protection around the teleportation circles. Until he—or, more likely, Zullie—figured that out, he had taken to enclosing the ritual circles in pitch-dark environments, easily constructed with the help of lesser servants.

He did wish there was a way to move larger forces around. Scaling up the ritual circle did not work. It would only transport one ‘thing’ at a time. A person. A horse. A cart. A person could carry another person or things, but there was a limit. A cart couldn’t even be fully loaded. At some point in loading the cart, seemingly at different levels every time they tried, it would just leave behind everything beyond the cart itself. Neither Zullie nor Vezta had an explanation as to why. In addition, for everyone beyond him, Vezta, Zullie, Savren, Agnete, and Hale, activating the ritual circle more than once or twice quickly became magically exhausting. Even they would tire after a dozen or two uses.

Not exactly a feasible option for transporting thousands of soldiers, their supplies and sustenance, and all the support personnel required for running an army.

Which was incredibly disheartening now of all times.

Standing, Arkk turned to the window in the garrison’s office. Elevated above the rest of the burg, it allowed a clear view out between the Twin Elm Peaks, over the wide and currently vacant fields nestled in the valley. Far in the distance, near where he had been setting up Elmshadow’s defenses, he could just barely make out the movement of the approaching White Company, fleeing from a few dozen golden soldiers.

Arkk wasn’t sure what was up with those things. Nor why Hawkwood had his company, four thousand strong, fleeing from no more than fifty of them. They were sluggish and heavy, judging by how deeply they sunk into the ground with every step. When Arkk had first scried on Hawkwood’s fleeing army, they had been much closer. Now, Hawkwood had put some distance between them. Their movements seemed stiff and janky, not at all like how a human would move. When he had scried on them earlier, he hadn’t noticed any flesh under their detailed armor and cloaks, just more gold.

The mausoleum defenses needed minds to target. These things looked more like animated statues. Had that all been a waste?

He hoped not. Even if the golden soldiers got close, the mausoleums should survive. The lesser servants had constructed them to be sturdy enough to hold up to all but the most dedicated of long-range bombardment. They would have been useless if any old archer could have knocked them over. A sword, especially a soft golden sword, would break before the hard stone.

The army made it past the mausoleums without problem. That was one small thing he had been worried about, especially with them being chased, but the talismans were exceedingly simple to make. Just a few quick marks that redirected the specific magic used. They weren’t even magically active themselves, more like an extension of the fear-inducing ritual that didn’t do anything while too far away.

Unfortunately, the golden soldiers followed. They didn’t stop to attack the mausoleums but neither were they turned aside by their power.

A heat at his back signaled the arrival of Agnete. With the temperature rise, she didn’t even need to announce her presence. Khan slithered into the room at her back, a step behind.

“Agnete, can your flames melt gold?”

She quirked her head to one side, sending her wild hair bobbing with her head. “I have encountered exceedingly little that my flames will not consume.”

“Good enough. Khan,” Arkk stepped closer to the pair, crystal ball in hand. “What do you make of these golden statues?”

The gorgon’s tongue darted out of his mouth as if it were possible to taste the statues through the ball. He shook his head a moment after. “They move. Thiss iss not gorgon magicss.”

“I figured,” Arkk said, tone polite yet deadpan. “Can you stone them? Or at least solidify them?”

“Unssure. I have never encountered ssuch creaturess.” He leaned in closer. “Sshow me their eyess.”

Arkk, looking down at the crystal ball, adjusted the scrying angle. Several of the golden soldiers were wearing armor and helmets. Only a few were lacking. He quickly closed in on one dressed as a priest, focusing on its face.

He recoiled involuntarily at the sight of the golden statue. The skin was nothing short of astounding. It bore an uncanny resemblance to human flesh, capturing every intricate detail with perfect precision. Every dimple carved around its lips, every wrinkle etched upon its forehead, and even the faintest scars were faithfully rendered in gold.

What truly sent a shiver down his spine was the hair. The tiny, delicate hairs that adorned the statue’s face. He had a trim beard, minute stubble on his cheeks, and even faithfully crafted eyebrows, drawn up to the golden man’s forehead. It was a masterful display of craftsmanship that Arkk couldn’t quite comprehend. They were being used as soldiers. Surely the artisan wouldn’t have bothered in going quite so in-depth when it was likely the solder was going to take a bludgeon to the face, deforming it all.

And the face… What a face. The expression frozen in such intense detail was an amalgamation of fear and terror. As if the artisan had looked upon a dying soldier and decided to use that pained visage as the inspiration for his construction. The eyes, so lifelike, held a silent scream of anguish that made him shudder.

Tearing his eyes from the crystal ball, Arkk noted his two companions. Agnete, though stony-faced as always, had taken a half step back. Khan looked unaffected. Being a gorgon, perhaps a human posed in such a state didn’t affect him or perhaps his inhuman features were simply better at concealing his disquiet. Either way, Arkk couldn’t help but wonder if there was some magic to these statues beyond simply animating the gold. A fear effect much like what he had tried to erect around Elmshadow would explain why Hawkwood was running instead of just crushing the soldiers.

“Their eyess are not flesshy,” Khan said, startling Arkk into a small jump. “Gorgon magicss won’t work.”

“Alright. Thank you for your input. Agnete, you up to turning these soldiers into puddles?”

The embers in her eyes intensified and the glow in the scars marring her face doubled over. She didn’t say a word but she did nod her head. Arkk could feel the sudden eagerness coming off her in the form of heat.

“We’ll take some of the garrison’s horses,” Arkk said, moving around the two. “Khan, stay ready here. Agnete, let’s ride.”

“I thought you said your fire could melt gold!”

“Give me a gold coin and I will make it flow like water,” Agnete shouted back, one of the few times Arkk had heard her raise her voice.

A gout of flame hot enough to make Arkk dive to the ground surged forth from Agnete’s extended arm. The fire wasn’t aimed in his direction, but rather toward a golden knight bearing the chevron of White Company. Orange flames wrapped around the statue, intensifying to the point of turning a nearly transparent blue. Snow evaporated in an instant, plants buried beneath went up in smoke, and even the ground turned to glass.

The golden knight took another step forward, foot sinking deep into the molten glass.

Although unharmed, that at least gave it pause. Once its other foot sunk up to its knee, it couldn’t move forward. Arkk’s eyes widened. “Stop, stop!” he shouted, hoping Agnete could hear over the roar of the fire.

She did. Agnete quenched her flames. In the absence of the immediate heat, the ground quickly returned to a solid state, solidifying around the golden man’s legs. Arkk watched from his spot on the ground for a long moment. The statue could have easily hacked away at the ground with its sword until the rough glass chipped and broke away from his feet. Instead, the thing merely wiggled back and forth, clearly lacking the intelligence necessary to free itself.

There were other golden statues steadily approaching.

“Can you do the same thing to the others?” Arkk asked, latching on to the solution, even if it was only a temporary one.

Agnete, the sleeves of her long coat completely missing, let out a misty breath of air as she straightened her back. She looked down at Arkk but didn’t offer a hand to help him up from the ground. Arkk probably wouldn’t have taken it if she had. Burns and boils on his hands were the last things he needed right now.

Although all the snow had melted off, Arkk still felt muddy and damp as he stood. Taking a few steps closer to Agnete, who was now aiming a baleful glare in the direction of the nearest statue, solved the damp feeling. Unfortunately, that left dried mud caked all down his front. Brushing himself off a few times, he backed away, letting Agnete have some room as she spooled up the heat once again.

Agnete deliberately waited until the next of the still-mobile statues was a fair distance from the first. Arkk figured that she didn’t want to risk softening the ground under the first’s feet. Once she felt ready, flames surged forth once again, this time focused on the earth. The golden statue walked right into the liquid-yet-viscous earth, sinking clear up to its thighs before Agnete cut off the flames.

Gaining confidence in the strategy, Agnete advanced, preemptively melting the earth in front of an approaching trio. One stumbled from the uneven terrain and ended up knocking the other two face-first into the viscous glass. Their legs and arms sunk in, leaving them stranded even more than the others. Agnete smiled at the sight, a faint red glow illuminating her teeth.

Arkk let her move on, staying behind to get a closer look at the closest of the statues.

Not too close of a look. They had passed Hawkwood’s forces on the way, leaving their horses behind to avoid cooking them alive in Agnete’s heat. While there, they had been handily informed not to, under any circumstance, engage the golden statues in melee combat. They were far stronger than they looked and could turn their victims into more golden statues. Hawkwood hadn’t been sure if it required death or just a grievous wound but he had personally witnessed several fine soldiers turning those golden blades against their own.

“Electro Deus,” Arkk intoned, opening the floodgates to his magic. A thick bolt of electricity hit the statue, lasting far longer than any natural lightning bolt. It did have some effect. The statue spasmed and seized, twitching and thrashing far more violently. Arkk kept the bolt of lightning going for nearly a full minute, stopping just as he felt the beginnings of fatigue setting in.

Fatigue was something other spellcasters had to worry about. Even Agnete, an avatar of the Burning Forge, couldn’t throw around flames continuously for too long. Zullie, the next most powerful caster in his employ, could only manage about a dozen Electro Deus casts of brief, instant lightning before collapsing. A dozen more than before she had entered his employ by still only a handful compared to what he could unleash.

And yet, the golden statue still twitched and jerked. His lightning affected it but what he had just put into the statue would have turned any normal person to ash and dust.

Arkk waited, watching the statue. It continued to twitch and did not resume its smooth yet sluggish movements. He must have damaged some of the spell that was keeping it animate. Zullie had taught him some diagnostic magic that should tell him for sure and might uncover what these things were and what kind of magic powered them as well. That would be the first step in figuring out how to stop them permanently. Unfortunately, that would also require getting far too close.

Perhaps if Agnete managed to trap one on its hands and knees like the trio without any upright nearby, he could try.

However, he had a feeling he knew what was going on. Not exactly and he didn’t know how to undo it or shut the magic down. Still, he had enough information to know that this had to be the work of a miracle passed down by one of the three traitors to the Pantheon. The Heart of Gold, he guessed just based on the name of the deities.

He had suspected before. The assassins suddenly having glowing eyes, the fact that Evestani was home to the Golden Order, and the suddenness and unexpectedness of the invasion, which nobody seemed able to explain. Now these golden soldiers with magic that even Agnete was struggling to defeat.

Arkk wasn’t sure if it was him or something he had done, Vezta or something she had done, or just that they existed at all, but it was clear to him that they had garnered the ire of a god. This, more than anything else, made him sure that Evestani was after Fortress Al-Mir, not Cliff City and the Duke.

Would he still have accepted the power of Fortress Al-Mir if Vezta had mentioned that it would make him an enemy of the only three gods that could access this world? Probably, if he were being honest. The situation at the time had felt dire, the most harrowing event he or Langleey Village had ever faced at the time. The threat of the orcs and goblins and, later, demon summoning had been a very real and lethal threat. On the other hand, gods were some vague and distant entities, only spoken of in terms of vague myths by Abbess Keena during the Suun sermons. The source of power for healing miracles. Not something that could or would bother to affect regular people.

The situation did make him wonder about the traitors and their intentions. The Abbey of the Light, the dominant religion within the borders of Chernlock, likely owed patronage to the Holy Light. So why was the Golden Order of Evestani in the middle of a full-scale invasion while the Abbey of the Light had sent out three inquisitors who hadn’t understood the scope of the situation. Vrox, as he had admitted, wanted to control or contain Vezta and other archaic magics. They hadn’t known anything about what Vezta actually was.

Those assassins at the Duke’s party had been taken over by something. Possessed, or some similar spell. The one that spoke had recognized Vezta and had even used the [CONSTRUCTED LANGUAGE]. Evestani knew. Maybe not the soldiers marching across the Duchy. Their leaders? The one sending them here? They knew.

So what about the Abbey of the Light then? Could they be allies? He had brokered some kind of truce with Vrox. Then again, Vrox, in his ignorance, could have gotten the entire scope of the situation wrong. Maybe he had been imprisoned and was suffering torture or even death for letting Vezta out of his sight. Arkk didn’t know. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Vrox since the night of the Duke’s party.

Looking up, watching as Agnete immobilized the rest of the slow-moving statues, Arkk frowned. It was something to keep in mind. Thinking about it in terms of what Vrox had said, he couldn’t trust the Abbey of the Light because he didn’t know how they would act or what they wanted. The same was true with the Holy Light and the Heart of Gold. He didn’t know what they wanted, other than him and Vezta. He wasn’t even sure that it was possible to know what a deity truly wanted. They were being of such incomprehension that even Vezta, who supposedly knew them better than anyone alive, couldn’t guess what they wanted beyond their stated domains.

“Arkk.”

“Is that all of them?”

“All the ones chasing White Company,” Agnete said, steam roiling from her bare shoulders. “If any broke off… They may find their way to an undefended village…”

“Damn it.” Arkk grit his teeth. She was right. Hawkwood and his army had been focused on not falling to the golden soldiers as they fell back to Elmshadow. He might not know if any had separated. “Get back to Fortress Al-Mir. Have the scrying team focus on the area around here and around where Hawkwood was camped. They’re slow and shiny. Should be easy to notice.”

“Understood.”

“Return here after. If Evestani has more tricks up their sleeves, we might need you.”

Agnete nodded her head. “There is one other thing,” she said, raising a scarred yet muscular arm. The embers in her scars were at a low glow, visible only thanks to the overcast skies.

Arkk followed her pointing finger.

Evestani’s army had followed along in the wake of the golden soldiers. It probably wasn’t all of them, merely their vanguard. Arkk watched as a small squad, mounted on horses, rode across the vacant fields and empty plains. Perhaps, seeing that there were only two enemies out here, they intended to rush forward and take his and Agnete’s heads.

Whatever they wanted didn’t matter.

Their bravery and courage despite witnessing Agnete’s flames vanished in an instant upon approaching the mausoleums. Even from the distance, Arkk heard the blood-curdling screams of terrific horror, the shrill whinnying of their horses, and the violent clattering of armor. Horses threw their riders, falling to the snow-slicked ground before scampering in the opposite direction. The riders scrambled along the ground, crying out in long shrieks of fright. They fled, arms forgotten on the ground, back toward the bulk of the army.

“Well at least that is working,” Arkk said, glad that they had finished the line of mausoleums before Hawkwood had to retreat. He wasn’t sure how long it would last, whether or not those affected would continue running until they collapsed from exhaustion, or if their comrades would be able to bolster their courage once more.

Such was the consequence of using experimental mind magic from a man who had thought it was a good idea to live for months in an abandoned mine, surrounded by creatures who would have killed him in an instant if they knew what he was.

“Come, I don’t want to stand out in the open any longer. Get back to Fortress Al-Mir and return as fast as possible.”

“Shall I fetch Zullie to investigate these golden soldiers?”

Arkk hesitated. She might be able to figure something out. Maybe she knew of some longer-distance diagnostic magics that she hadn’t taught him. But every time he took her, Savren, or Vezta off the ritual project, it just delayed it. She had said one week just a day ago. Disrupting that now…

“No. We’ll have to be enough.”