BT IV - Chapter 33

Micah’s horse fidgeted underneath him, spooked by the giant war lizard to his right.  He wasn’t sure whether or not the monster was a mutation of something natural or dungeon-born, but now that he knew what to look for, it was clear that it had a faint taste of Elsewhere on its ponderous body.

Atop the creature sat a palanquin made from rare wood and silk.  Micah didn’t have a good angle to see who was inside, but the officer who had called him over had been incredibly nervous which meant either the Empress or her mother, and whichever of them it was, she was in a terrible mood.

“Micah Silver!”  He looked up at the layer of gauze that separated him from the speaker.  He couldn’t see inside, but her voice was too distinct to leave him with any doubt.

“Yes, Empress?” He asked, letting his gaze drop to take in the lizard’s mountainous bulk.  From snout to tail it was almost 50 paces long, and the peak of its back was almost 10 in the air.  It was practically a hill of meat and muscle, more dangerous than any of the war beasts he’d seen twisted by the Durgh.

“Do you know how many soldiers we lost at the border?”

So it was going to be one of those conversations.  Their attack had already hit its first stumbling blocks and the Empress wanted to vent.  Perfect.

“I’d estimate 300 to 500 dead,” Micah replied.  Nearby a unit of soldiers with Common blessings marched by in heavy armor, pikes over their shoulders.  “Almost none of them had protections against soul attacks or reality warping so the casualties were pretty bad before I was able to arrive.”

“419,” she hissed in reply.  “419 soldiers from any two battalions is a catastrophe.  That’s almost 25% of their fighting strength.  But from some of my most elite units?  It’s absurd.  There isn’t any way we will be able to maintain the army’s morale if I keep forcing them to shove their heads into the mouth of a lion.”

“And we killed the entire border guard that sallied out to attack us,” Micah responded, shrugging.  “After your generals cycled the first and second battalions out from the front, the first legion destroyed the skeleton guard in Pereston’s border fortresses in under an hour.”

“Even if we win this war, we do not wish to rule over an empire of corpses.”

“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” Micah said, trying to bite back some of the bitterness and frustration.  “This was never going to be a clean war.  The last timeline is dead, but by the time Pereston’s neighbors had realized that Baron Hurden was a madman bent on world conquest and allied against him, the entire country was dead.  All but the most loyal segments of their nobility and army were sacrificed, their souls fed into the great machines or sacrificed to summon daemons.”

“We lost Empress.”  His voice dropped, almost to a whisper.  “I lost.”

“The allied armies were crushed at Barnook Canyon,” he continued.  “And that doesn’t mean that they took 10% losses and retreated like in most battles.  They were destroyed.  Maybe 2,000 people out of 60,000 escaped.  Of that group, the most elite banded together with me for one final strike on Pereston’s leadership.  The remainder sacrificed itself in order to make sure our team could make it to the castle used by the Baron.”

“I was the last survivor,” Micah finished bleakly.  “My brother died to buy me enough time to escape into the past.”

“The entire army-” she began, only for Micah to interrupt.

“Yes, the entire army.  Ask your guardian spirit.  It knows the enormity of what we’re fighting.  The stakes here aren’t conquest and subjugation or losing some border territory.  It is the entire planet being consumed by the Third Prince and the Dragon along with it.  Given the weapons and tools the Prince has developed, 25% casualties is fairly light.  Remember, you are expressing grievances over a victory.”

She fell silent.  Micah could feel her communing with the Dragon.  Finally, she spoke up, her voice was quieter, more subdued.

“They’re really all going to die aren’t they?”

He sighed.  As much as Micah wanted to give the monarch a happy answer, he wasn’t going to lie to her.

“This isn’t a fairy tale, your majesty.  We’re outmatched, and our only hope is to sacrifice blessed on a scale that will make the historians blanch, solely so that there will BE historians left to study our time period.”

Once again the conversation lapsed.  For almost 5 minutes, there wasn’t any sound but the creak of leather and the chuff of the giant lizard’s breath as it labored ponderously along the desert road.

“We are going to win this war, Micah Silver.”  The Empress’ voice was harder now.  She had her edge back.  “And you are going to be the point of the spear that will strike the heart of this monster.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied with a smile.  “I might not be enough to bring the Prince down, but I am more confident now than I have ever been.  Even if I don’t succeed, I can guarantee that I will die trying.”

“We do not want you to try Micah,” she continued insistently.  “We need you to succeed.  I have consulted with my husband and the ancestor, and the plan is set.  The army will cross the pass and spend the night in Pereston.  At dawn, we will march toward their capital.  Now that we have a better idea as to their capabilities, your guild will no longer be in the vanguard.  Heroes with the weapons you created from the daemon glass will take up your role.  Instead, you will wait by my side until the Prince reveals itself.  When that happens, your guild and the ancestor will attack together.  Win or lose, our army will buy you the time you need to fight the Prince.”

“Thank you.”  It felt strange, but Micah actually meant it. He hadn’t really expected Sandrovok’s royal family to actually understand the gravity of what they were doing.  That was a large part of why the war had always been cast in terms of a genocidal aggressor that was working with the daemonic cults rather than one of the Princes itself.

He would have done his job regardless.  His friends, family and the entire world depended upon his victory after all.  Somehow, having someone realize the magnitude of what he was trying to do and support him despite that?  Even if the Empress had to be dragged to that realization kicking and screaming, it just meant more.

“We are assigning our daughter Gwendolyn and that… fellow that was overly into her, Baron Harris, to your guild..”  Above him the silk curtains of the palanquin shifted slightly, the barest hint of a woman’s hand visible as the Empress released the fabric.  “When the time comes, they will join your attack.  Between young Harris finding the quickest path through the enemy forces and Gwendolyn’s additional firepower, it is our fervent wish that you will have the best possible chance to bring this entire matter to a firm conclusion.”

“For what it’s worth,” Micah replied, digging his heels into his horse to get it moving.  “I don’t think there’s any noble that I’d rather fight a world eating daemon with.”

Her chuckle carried on the desert wind as he rode away and rejoined his guild.

There wasn’t much more for him to do but march and talk with the guild mates.  Some of them had been wounded in the surprise attack at the border, but most of them hadn’t even made it to the first battalion in time to support it before Micah had destroyed the forgotten forces.

That said, most of the blessed were on edge.  They had arrived just as the battle finished and had born witness to the piles of soulless dead being buried beside the hardened flesh slurry created by the diamond as it melted its way through the imperial formation.  By now, every member of the Silver Wolves was strong enough to serve as a sergeant or squad leader in the elite battalion, Drekt and Micah’s training regime had seen to that, but the number and manner of the deaths had unnerved the blessed.

Micah spent most of the remaining march chatting with his followers.  Even after they set up camp, he made sure to make the rounds, spending some time with each and every guild member to remind them that as horrifying as the battle was, they had won.  Their enemy might be strong and have access to unfathomably strange magic, but so did he.

The next morning, they were steadier.  He still saw some jumpiness, especially in the squads that didn’t have much experience in forgotten suppression.  They hadn’t been able to rotate all of their newer teams into position to kill the cultists, especially when the daemon followers caught wind that they were being hunted.  As such, at least a quarter of the guild had the levels to fight anything short of a Royal Knight, but they simply didn’t have enough actual experience fighting a human.

It was one thing to kill a shade ogre, but another entirely to look a human being in the eye as you ran them through.  All too many blessed hesitated the first time, and given the inhumanity of their foe, Micah was worried that a ‘first time’ might be all that they would get.

Still, there wasn’t any time.  Adrian Harris and Gwen found his tent while Micah was finishing off breakfast, and shortly thereafter they were on the march again.  Gwen road a palanquin of her own atop a war lizard, but unlike her mother she kept the silk curtains pulled back so that they could actually talk.

The journey was a lot easier now that they were in Pereston.  Almost the second the army crossed the mountains, the dry heat of the desert changed into cool mists and thick forests.  Trevor spent most of the time roaming their guild’s ranks, cracking jokes and playing small pranks to keep the blessed at ease.

It worked.  At least until the first explosion echoed through the forest.

Micah glanced up at Gwen, but she could only shrug.  Members of the royal family were spread throughout the army along with a number of elite warriors, but none of them had a good way to communicate with each other.  The hope was that Micah’s rejuvenation ritual would give them an edge against Pereston.  Even though their northern neighbor had a similar number of monsters hiding out of the public eye in their old age, renewed youth could only make them more powerful.

Gwen motioned with a hand, sending one of Harris’ scouts off to get information or orders from the nearest general while Micah mulled over the plan.  Ultimately, he doubted the ritual would be enough on its own.  Sandrovok could likely field twice as many elite blessed above level 70, and those individuals would all be armed with the heavily enchanted glass weapons that had been crafted from their own temporal energy, but those numbers barely meant anything.

One greater daemon would likely require 2 or 3 elites to stop it, even with specialized weapons.  That wasn’t even taking into account whether or not the enemy had any more of the combat gems he had fought at the border.  Each of those would require the intervention of an elite, or at the very minimum someone equipped with glass weapons.

They had an army capable of contesting Pereston’s seemingly unstoppable forces, but without some serious help, it didn’t seem like it would be enough.  All they could do was force a battle and battle to the last, hoping to draw the Third Prince out into the open.

If Micah could defeat the daemon prince in open combat, he wasn’t sure that its banishment would end the war, but at the very minimum its thralls would become powerless, instantly weakening the vast majority of its army.  Ultimately, anything left over wouldn’t represent the came calamitous threat as the Prince.  Even if Pereston won in the wake of his battle with the daemon, it would be a simple conquest.  Karell would survive and historians would try to piece together the cause of the brutal battle that was about to take place.

“Princess!” A courier was shouting, barely slowing her horse as she approached the cordon of scouts and guild members that surrounded the noble’s war lizard.  “I have word from your royal mother.”

Micah waved his hand, ushering his subordinates aside to make a path for the woman.  She shot him a tight nod before turning her focus back to the armored princess sitting atop the huge reptile.

“The enemy has taken up position along the banks of the Ekarke River where our soldiers caught them trying to destroy the bridge.  The vanguard has managed to stop their sappers and establish fortifications around the bridgehead but they have come under heavy attack.  The Empress has ordered that your unit advance 6 leagues north and 3 to the west where you will find a small hill overlooking the battlefield.  Once you are there, you are to engage at your own discretion.”

Gwen inclined her head slightly, accepting the orders before she dismissed the courier with a wave of her hand while Micah mulled over the strategy.  It made sense.  If Sandrovok let themselves be moved from the north bank of the Ekarke River, they could lose thousands in an attempt to cross a second time.  By the same token, Preston would do everything they could to unseat their army in order to force such an occurrence.  So long as both sides fed additional blessed into the fray, this battle easily had the potential to snowball out of control.  Exactly as the Empress wanted.

“Baron Harris,” the Princess called out.  “We have our orders.  Have your soldiers begin blazing a path.  We have a hill to squat on.”