Moral Support (Chapter 5, Part 1)
Traveling the Tamseszén Front by night was even more treacherous than the daytime. On good nights, the utter darkness beyond the dragon tower’s light made it impossible to make out any landmarks over the tops of the shadowy trees. Tonight was not a good night. Within minutes of the squad departing from Fort Jahangir, the Crucible rose.
That black star’s eldritch light cut through the ashen clouds. It didn’t illuminate the road or Gvish’s squad, but the forest drank it in and glowed as if bathed in daylight. Trees transformed into pillars of brown marble crowned with leaves and needles of emerald glass. The thickets bracketing the road were revealed to be shimmering stands of cacti, bile-green steam bristling with silver quills. In shadowed hollows where mushrooms should grow, rainbows of wildflowers blossomed. Patches of polar lichens formed orange and pink splatters that floated along the edges of the black roadway.
Gvish had seen this effect before. It was common for strange plants to grow around the graves of the Archon’s ancestors, producing landscapes that defied the local climate and glowed in the Crucible’s light. However, these graves usually only affected a few hectares. He couldn’t begin to guess how many dead daímōns it took to affect more than ten thousand square kilometers.
The glowing forest allowed them to see the Thunderhead Hill’s lower slopes. These had just emerged from the dark when Euryálē called out, “Tzviel. Levi. We need to stop.”
“Do as she says, Brother,” Bracha barked in Habarzelan.
Gvish relayed the order. Barely had the squad skidded to a halt when Euryálē sprang from the sidecar. He caught a glimpse of a hoof amidst her shadowy skirts – a hoof that was daylit despite the darkness, with black keratin vanishing into mahogany fur – before she dropped into a crouch and splayed a hand flat against the road. Her head cocked to the side.
The engines of the motorbikes stuttered. Gvish’s gambeson abruptly crushed the breath for his lungs. As quickly as it had come, the shockwave passed, leaving the entire squad gasping for breath.
Bracha huffed, “Was that ... necessary … Euryálē? What if … there are orkai … nearby?”
“There are.” Euryálē dusted off her palms and pointed at Thunderhead Hill. “Two of them, on the other side of that.”
The squad stirred and clutched their rifles. The orkai were the warrior-monk elites of Tamseszé, daímōnic entities with the strength of hippos and access to the Laumés’ ancient sorcery. They also were the only Tamseszéns who wore plate armor. It wasn't an unexpected encounter, not when Gvish had requisitioned the chatter bike, but hearing it confirmed was nonetheless a blow to morale. Gvish opened his mouth to offer them a steadying word.
Bracha spoke first. For once, his obliviousness did some good, for his tone was calming and his words mild. “Well, I supposed I can’t say I’m shocked. I did tell them they could remove their dead. We’ll turn back and try again tomorrow, after the Spartoi clear the road.”
“We need to kill them, Tzviel,” Euryálē declared.
“You don’t have the authority to make that call.” Bracha’s voice took that cold edge he’d used with the shamans.
Euryálē arched her brow. “Oh? I was informed that I’d be granted every accommodation.”
“That doesn’t extend to you ordering assassinations of the Tamseszén leadership.”
“Then consider it a tactical observation. I require a hierophant’s staff. Now is an opportune moment to seize one. We have everything we need to deal with two of them.” Euryálē opened her folio and began to rummage through it. “Besides, as you yourself have pointed out, I took the liberty of getting their attention. They felt that shockwave in the Soul. We need to kill them before they alert their compatriots to my presence. Unless, of course, you want them to tighten security on their border?”
Bracha invoked a curse that no faithful Habarzelan would ever speak.
Gvish weighed the options. From the sound of the debate, his squad were doomed to face orkai either way, and loathe thought he was to admit it, Euryálē guaranteed their victory if there were only two orkai. Only the odds of his squad’s survival were in question.
That, and how much we damn ourselves by working along Euryálē.
He pushed that intrusive thought aside. All he had to go on was that Euryálē didn’t have human legs and that she was obviously a few powerful sorcerer. She was a daímōn, yes, but there was nothing unusual about that. The Inquisition ensured that all daímōns living in the Empire were held to the same moral standards as humans. Surely, even Bracha wouldn’t work with something truly soulless.
Archon and Empire. All that matters is getting Bracha, Euryálē, and the squad back to the outpost in one piece. Looking for trouble will just get more people killed.
“Inquisitor? I’m sure this operation is above my pay grade, but am I correct in assuming that your guest is best kept secret from the enemy?”
“You are,” Bracha said.
“Then we should use orkai cowardice to our advantage. They’ll stay and strike a soft target if we give them one. We can hit them hard while they’re exposed.” Gvish gestured to Thunderhead Hill. “I can take a few Rangers and the rotary cannon up Thunderhead. The orkai know bikes will need to stop to go around that tree, so they’ll most likely set an ambush or roadblock there. Give us half an hour’s head start, then continue towards the orkai. The moment they spring out to attack you, we’ll hammer them with the cannon.”
“And then I will finish the job. You can help me as well, Tzviel,” Euryálē purred.
Though she addressed Bracha, her goggle-tinted gaze were on Gvish. He could have sworn there was pernicious glee in her voice. It was like she was trying to get a rise out of him by encouraging Bracha’s pagan excesses.
Truth, that’s probably exactly what she’s doing. It’s not like her kind say or do anything unless they find pleasure in it.
Again, Gvish pushed past that disquieting thought. “Whatever we are going to do, Inquisitor, we should act quickly. One of the orkai might decide to climb Thunderhead Hill to check our progress. The cannon should be under the cover of the canopy before they can see us.”
Bracha slowly exhaled. “We’re going to have words about this, once we reach to outpost,” he warned Euryálē.
“Yes. You’re guaranteed a few conversations like that, with all sorts of people,” was Euryálē’s glib reply.
Naturally, Bracha didn’t pick up on the subtext. He turned to Gvish and spoke in Habarzelan. “Are you sure about this, Brother? If one of them decides to come after the cannon, you and your men won’t be able to escape.”
They were wasting time with this dithering. Gvish indulged Bracha with a little Habarzelan. “We’ll do our duty for Archon and Empire, Inquisitor.”
* * * * *
Gvish felt exposed as he led the way through the undergrowth. He and his chosen team were charcoal silhouettes against the illuminated vegetation that surrounded them. Blending in was impossible. He could only pray that the canopy provided enough cover to obscure them from view.
At least moving quietly wasn’t an issue. It was hard to blunder into thickets and low-hanging branches when they were this visible. Mosses, flowers, and roots made it easy to judge one’s footing. The only danger came from a couple of creeks they had to cross. Here, Gvish risked igniting his lighter, using its flame to guide them across the otherwise pitch-black swatches of water and rock.
That brief firelight had allowed him to gauge the mood of his chosen team. Grim resolve replaced their earlier resignation. Gvish could see it in Eskandar’s tight jaw, Tawfig’s flared nostrils, and the way Specialist Farmani’s free hand clutched her shamshir in a white-knuckle grip. None of them complained, not even as they struggled to navigate the rotary cannon and its tripod through particularly dense undergrowth. They were Rangers, after all. Duty to Archon and Empire called them to walk through the wilderness, into the maws of dragons, if need be.
Gvish checked the summit of Thunderhead Hill whenever they passed a large gap in the canopy. Neither of the orkai climbed the hill to check on the rest of the squad. If they had, Gvish would have been able to make them out against the tarry sky, just as they’d be able to make out the silhouettes of him and his team. The team reached the toe of the hill without incident.
The slope before them was steep. Worse, it was black. Though trees clung to the slope, it was free from thickets, flowers, and lichen, leaving very little by which to judge the best way to climb it. There was a path, of course, but finding would take time they didn’t have.
Gvish looked to Farmani. “You’re up.”
Thank you all for reading! Chapter 5 Part 2 arrives on November 5th!
If you’d like to read more adventures from the Kimian Empire, you can find them here!