Resist Page 6

  I suppose that’s fair. Slate allowed after a moment to consider the information.

  So how would you like to divide the forces, my Lord? Sumnu asked.

  Slate started thinking out loud—in a manner of speaking. Communicating through the Scourgemind was never out loud.

  I think we should take this opportunity to train our forces. The new members of the Scourge will not be familiar with siege warfare. It would be good to let them practice against a settlement like Koral before they have to move on to something as significant as a border fort or the city of Soulreach itself.

  Serena spoke up for the first time. The other members in the room were surprised. She didn’t typically involve herself in these conversations. Sorry to interrupt, but I think the rest of you must realize the Lord Scion is entirely right about the Guardians’ lack of preparation. I was in command of them when we attacked Bastion the first time. We were woefully unprepared for the forces that were arrayed against us. If not for Lord Slate and Lady Shale, we would’ve been destroyed.

  She stopped speaking and looked around the room. She wasn’t interested in talking more, and yet she had found the information necessary enough to share with the gathered leaders of the Scourge. That, more than anything, made the others consider her words.

  Slate continued after nodding to Serena gratefully.

  Keeping that in mind, we should take most of the Raiders, most of the Enticers, and most of the Mystics. A small band of Lurkers can be brought along for scouting and sabotage. I want Sumnu, Fidem, and Matek to come with me to Koral.

  He looked over at Shale.

  As for the other party, I think it should be Shale in command, with Lucelynia as her assistant. Their forces should consist of mostly Lurkers and Mystics with a few Enticers to heal and enhance their powers.

  He looked around the room to see how the suggestion sat with his advisors. He could see them running the situation through their minds before finally accepting the plan.

  I know you’re not necessarily asking us, but I agree with you, my Lord, Sumnu stated. Standur was an educational experience for our forces, and the coming battles are only going to grow more complicated. If we don’t take the opportunity to train, then we’ll always be surprised by our enemies.

  Sumnu looked over at Fidem. Your Enticers have been among the people. How will they feel about the Scourge leaving them once more?

  Fidem smiled beatifically. The people know that the Scourge fights on their behalf for the glory of the Lord of Light. They will accept the situation readily enough. We won’t be pulling many of the Guardians this time to fight in the conflict now that the Scourge has the requisite number of warriors.

  Slate found himself chilled at the First Enticer’s confidence. He wondered just what kind of fell powers the priesthood possessed that he could be so confident he could smooth away any doubts the people would rightly have. Slate wasn’t uncomfortable at the thought of his people being manipulated by the priests, per se. He was more disturbed by the idea that the Enticers could reach into a person’s mind and change how they fundamentally felt about important issues. Slate considered that his worst fear was not being in control of his mind. It made him doubly wary of the First Enticer.

  While we’re on the subject, Fidem continued. I don’t think the Scourge should be going anywhere. Any day now, the first snows will fall, and it would be more profitable for the Scourge if we remained in Bastion and consolidated our power. The Enticer glanced between Slate, Shale, and Serena. It would be a far better use of your time create more Scourglings so that we can grow the Scourge naturally. It costs significant amounts of Lucidus’ power to keep transitioning Guardians into members of the Scourge. It is wise that we do not take her blessings for granted.

  Surprisingly, it was Shale who spoke up after that, I agree with the First Enticer. Lucidus has granted us a reprieve. We still have time until the army arrives. We need to grow the Scourge by any means possible. Shale carefully did not meet Slate’s eyes and instead looked at everyone else at the table.

  Slate rubbed his chin. On one level, he was happy that his advisors had not agreed with one another—or him—automatically. It meant that there was enough diversity of thought that he should be able to make better decisions with their counsel. On the other hand, he couldn’t do everything they wanted. He needed to focus his efforts in a single direction. If he tried to do a combination of the various avenues presented to him, he would likely fail at them all.

  He looked around the room. His voice took on a sense of gravity and the aura of command. It made everyone sit up straighter.

  In two weeks, we’ll launch an attack on Ithicus. I would like to attack sooner and thereby leave them outside of the city, but I don’t think we possess the capability right now to reach the city and seize it in time to prevent more Collective forces from arriving. By the time we arrive later, the Collective’s forces should have occupied the town, and we will pin them there over the winter. In the interim, we will capture—not destroy—the city of Koral. We’ll use this as a means of training our forces, strengthening the Scourge—and by extension, Lucidus—and removing the threat of a pincer maneuver.

  The members of the Scourge knew that the Scion had made up his mind, and it wouldn’t be changed. A chorus of “aye, my Lord,” resounded through the Scourgemind. Slate could feel the moment when his advisors spread the order to the rest of the Scourge through their respective channels. He could feel the roar of approval coming back to him. The Scourge were eager to go to war.

  Slate stood up, and the rest of the council stood with him. He looked over at his queen and gave her a wink. I guess we should do our best to make more Scourglings.

  Shale gave him a coy look. Yes, we should. She said as she grabbed one of his arms. Serena came around the other side of his body and gripped the other arm. Slate was startled and looked between the two women. He found Cheshire grins on both of their faces.

  He frowned in thought. Something happened while I wasn’t looking.

  All other thoughts were chased from his mind as the two women led him back to the palace bedchambers and onward to the future of the Scourge.

  CHAPTER 04: THE ENCHANTRESS GENERAL

  IT HAD BEEN a full week since General Bludtyr had gone on a savage killing spree in the city of Crosstyr. Now she had approximately an additional two-hundred and fifty soul-forged creatures in her entourage. The flayed men and women carried her on a well-insulated palanquin that she had appropriated from the former high lord. Additionally, she had approximately two thousand regular forces at her command. Roughly half was her original army, and the other half was conscripted on the road from Fort Noctus to Pineforge.

  Her scouts were scouring the surrounding territory for any hamlets and communities from which they could steal more men. The General approached the task with an almost religious fervor. She could sense that she would still be too late to put down the hated Scourge forces. She knew the longer it took to reach the city of Bastion, the more time the Scourge would have to build their strength.

  “They breed like disgusting vermin,” she snarled, referring to the Scourge, but without any context, her aide de camp riding alongside the palanquin to look away awkwardly and pretend he was studying anything but the General.

  Bludtyr looked his way and considered whether she was vexed enough to flay the man. It would serve no other purpose but make her feel better. In most cases, that would be enough reason for her to do something. She wasn’t interested in denying herself pleasure if she didn’t have to. Oddly enough, since her aide had witnessed what happened to the high lord in Crosstyr, he was no longer nearly as curious about her methods of leadership.

  She smiled to herself. At least that trip was good for something even if I didn’t get any sense of fulfillment from it.

  That part was correct; the General had killed every living soul in High Lord Inod’s bloodline. It had been a delectable distraction. She had gotten the bath that she wanted and a bevy of new s
ervants, but Inod had not lasted long enough for her to truly pleasure herself. She left Crosstyr disgruntled and unsatisfied. Since then, she had been traveling through the countryside, picking up new warriors for her army. Most she allowed to join the vanguard and the reserve forces. Some, the pretty ones, she took for her service. The entire military was afraid of becoming her next plaything.

  At last, they were approaching the gates of Pineforge. The settlement was a small outpost on the way to Ithicus from Crosstyr. It was little more than a fishing and mining village, but it served as another important logistical hub for this part of the Collective. It often functioned as a much-needed shelter and harbor against the Sturmian Sea’s notoriously temperamental waters, which the local fishermen had learned to navigate. It was here that she would be meeting up with her counterpart, General Grievum.

  General Bludtyr didn’t enjoy working with the clod, Grievum. He only understood direct force and brutish violence. He didn’t understand the intricacies of warfare or the elements of influence.

  I wonder how shaken he is from seeing the destruction of Standur, Bludtyr mused silently to herself.

  Whether the Scourge knew it or not, they had won an impressive victory when they destroyed Standur. Bludtyr recognized when the Patriarch was running scared, and Mors was terrified. Based on Mors’ decision to send both generals to deal with the Scourge, it appeared he was more concerned with the new threat in the southeast than he was about their northern border being overrun by the Ignatum Empire. If she was in his position, she would have done something similar. The Ignatum Empire was a foe the Vallyr understood and that they had fought many times before. Their spectral flame could be a nuisance—it could pass through most barriers—but the Scourge were something entirely different. Additionally, the Scourge were a threat from within the Collective’s borders—and one that was capable of razing cities and killing Vallyr at will.

  It had been centuries since the Vallyr had to face their oldest foe, the Scourge. It was a task that Bludtyr both relished and feared. She enjoyed the opportunity to prove herself against a capable opponent—she would have never risen to her current position without a measure of ambition. Conversely, she was afraid. She knew the fear stemmed from the unknown, and that’s what allowed her to continue. She had read histories and legends about the Scourge, but that wasn’t the same as meeting an opponent on the battlefield. Bludtyr had found that the best way to get to know someone was to flay the flesh from their bodies and peek at the workings underneath.

  She was pulled from her thoughts as her army stopped in front of the closed gates of Pineforge. The officers in her army began to get the men moving again to set up their bivouac site for the evening. It was no easy task to get two thousand warriors to set up their camp in a reasonably organized fashion. Bludtyr was thankful that she was far removed from the days when she needed to worry about such matters.

  As the forces began to disperse and set up camp outside the city, General Bludtyr was guided forward one her palanquin by her aide de camp and her soul-forged defenders. They approached the gates, which remained closed. A sentry stood on the wall.

  “Halt! Who goes there?!” The sentry demanded.

  A look of scorn crossed the General’s face.

  “Who the fuck?” She asked out loud. The aide de camp’s face turned pale at her words. He turned his horse slightly so that he could address the General in her palanquin.

  “One moment, General. This is surely some sort of mistake. We sent scouts ahead so they would let you in immediately. There’s been some sort of miscommunication.”

  The man watched the General’s face for some sign of validation, but it remained impassive. He was hoping this trip through Pineforge wouldn’t end in the same manner as Crosstyr. He had seen lesser races treated with the brutality and savagery displayed, but he had never seen a Vallyr—much less a high lord—treated in such a manner.

  “No,” the General snapped. “I’ll take care of this.”

  In a blur of rapid motion, the General exited the palanquin and moved to the front of the formation. Her soul-forged minions didn’t respond, but her aide de camp was stunned by how quickly she had been able to move. He had never seen a faster Vallyr. He knew she must be experienced and powerful. He felt like a rabbit watched by a hawk, and the only thing saving it from certain death was the hawk’s full belly.

  “You there!” The General’s voice cracked like a whip. “Which high lord runs this shithole?” Her tone was commanding and filled with the threat of an inescapable and painful death.

  The sentry wasn’t a Vallyr warrior. Instead, it was merely a human man. He was considered one of the lesser races by the Vallyr overlords, and so he was hesitant now that he was talking to one of his masters. He gulped.

  “My lady, this city is under the direction of his Grace, the High Lord Erud dal Greene.”

  General Bludtyr snorted. I guess word travels fast. The dal Greene family must have a spell in place to know when one of their number has died.

  “A high lord, you say?” The General said mockingly. “I have one of those.” Bludtyr put two fingers up to her lips and whistled like one would summon a hound. A low groan rolled through the army toward the General. One of the flayed men shambled forward on bloody feet. Around the creature’s neck, a golden chain hung and displayed the crest of the dal Greene family picked out in emeralds.

  The man at the gate widened his eyes in shock. During his time under the Vallyr, the man had seen plenty of soul constructs. However, he had never witnessed something as gruesome as the flayed creature before him. There had always been rumors of Vallyr cruelty, but it always seemed to be something that happened to someone else—usually to some race that didn’t matter to the human. Even in Vallyr society, there was a hierarchy that the “lesser” races embraced. Watching the shambling corpses with their amethyst-colored eyes, he thought about what happened to the gnomes in Pineforge the year before.

  Erud had dictated that there was a secret conspiracy among the gnomes in the city to overthrow the Vallyr. Most, if not all, of the other residents had believed it. After all, everyone knew that gnomes liked to hoard their wealth in their underground homes. They would hold on to a wooden coin painted with gold before they allowed a real coin to leave their grubby fingers. It was especially galling when other races were starving and begging in the streets of Pineforge, and yet the gnomes refused to help them.

  It was common knowledge that the poor and the destitute would soon be forced to leave the streets. The Vallyr didn’t allow their cities to become clogged with the ill and the poor. It was a public service, they said. Erud told the people of Pineforge that the gnomes paid him to keep the streets clean. He said there was a cabal of gnomish financiers running much of the kingdom, and he was afraid of crossing them. Soon after that, he placed the gnomes in charge of collecting the taxes from the rest of Pineforge.

  Humans in the city began to hate the gnomes. Their long ears, blue skin, and large heads became a source of ridicule. People who were thought to be spies for the Vallyr were said to have “a pair of gnome ears.” Gnomes became synonymous with vile parasites feeding off of the backs of hardworking men and women.

  The year before, when Erud had told the people that conditions in the city had worsened because of the gnomes, the sentry had been one of the first to bash in the heads of his gnome neighbors. He had searched their basement for their stash of gold, but he couldn’t find any. He supposed they had hidden it elsewhere. Erud encouraged the lesser races to root out any sign of the Gnomish plot. In the process, there had been a mountain of evidence that many gnomes were members of the secretive merchant guild, the Circle. Erud claimed it was proof of gnomes selling out their own countrymen.

  The sentry still remembered how the gnomes were flayed and hung up every couple of feet on Pineforge’s walls. It had never occurred to him that the Vallyr could be treated in such a manner. It was unthinkable that the Vallyr could be defeated, much less by another Vallyr. Usu
ally, their soul-forged creatures were enough to keep the peace.

  “Are you fucking stupid?” The General addressed the sentry at the gate.

  The sentry snapped out of his study of the soul-forged soldiers. “Y-yes, mistress,” He replied.

  “I mean, no, mistress.” He paused uncertainly. “Lord Erud has ordered that this gate remain closed.”

  The General sighed and looked around at her troops. They were already beginning to unpack and set up camp. She glanced over to her aide.

  “Tell Mors’ Fist to don their armor,” Bludtyr stated calmly. “We’re taking this city by force.”

  She allowed her voice to carry. “Let the men know that anyone who voluntarily joins my forces will live.” She trailed off. “Anyone who decides they want to fight for Erud will become like them.” She pointed at her platoon of walking corpses.

  The sentry felt his bladder void itself. There was something in the woman’s voice that felt like a promise; It wasn’t the idle comment of the helpless. This was a woman who had all the power and knew it. The sentry wasn’t prepared to become another one of the flayed men. He glanced around, looking for his compatriots. There was no one to be found. He moaned out loud in frightened desperation. It took at least two men to raise the portcullis and, even if he was able to lift that one, he would need to keep it open as the gate was naturally weighted to be down. After that, he would need to raise the second gate in the gatehouse. There was no feasible way to accomplish that before the General lost her patience.

  He called out. “Mistress! I am alone in the guardhouse; please allow me a moment to grab another sentry to grant you entry.”

  He saw the General give him a considering look. “You’re by yourself?” She chuckled humorlessly. “Well, we can’t allow that.”

  She snapped her fingers, and the man watched as four of the flayed creatures turned and sprinted toward the gatehouse. The sentry was confused. There was no way the beings could reach him within the gatehouse.