We don't actually know that. For all we know, one could be their seat of government and the other could be a restaurant the bearded guy really likes. Also, holy drotz I'm hungry. I haven't eaten in... uh.
I guess they... wait a minute...
Skylar stared at Aymon in disbelief, his mind ticking over. There's no reason for him to ask me. There's six of us, he could vote with either group and break the tie himself. And this whole discussion isn't really about tactics, it's about continuity of government... "Holy skek," Skylar marveled before he could stop himself. "You used to be on the Council." Instantly, he cursed himself; I have got to stop running my mouth.
"Sakpa," Reine spat. "He was invited to the Council. He turned them down." Her gaze shifted to Aymon, and her hard expression softened slightly as Skylar tried to keep his relief off his face. "Instead, he..." Her eyes misted slightly, and she clamped her lips shut and forced her expression back into a scowl. "None of this matters. I say you deserve no vote, but I am not in command."
"Thanks, Reine," said Skylar with legitimate feeling, which she immediately misinterpreted to his delight. "That really helps." He turned to face Aymon squarely. "We have to go to the Gallows. If what Levan and this other guy whose identity I don't know said is true, the entire council could be wiped out if we go to the Stone Throne; the only way that doesn't happen is if the Council splits up and coordinates at a distance. It'll mean a slow response, but at least your entire government doesn't get decapitated in the opening salvo."
"Well spoken." Aymon clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him down; Skylar wobbled and managed to stay upright. "I concur; the vote stands at four to two, and carries the day."
"Great," Skylar shot back, "and now if I had any idea what or where the Gallows or the Stone Throne might be, that would be even more helpful."
Weakly, Erdrym chuckled, a sound like a dying mouse. "We have not... made a good... impression upon you, I see."
"Honestly, it's mostly just that I'll vishnat marry the first person who gives me something to eat," Skylar complained. "It's been a week since I got transported to your part of the world, and I've had nothing but water -- and not even very much of that."
"They didn't feed you?" the bearded man asked incredulously; Levan smirked, and Reine's face became red.
"We were all starving!" she protested, stomping her foot. Skylar crossed his arms and smirked.
"On the road, sure," he agreed, "but after you beat me unconscious and threw me in a cell -- with a cellmate you deliberately had imprisoned for extra time in hopes he'd assault me, I might add -- you then didn't feed me for an additional three days." Carefully, he watched Erdrym's eyes as he spoke; as he'd suspected, the enormous elf's gaze flicked above his head, then focused on Reine with an expression of increasing disapproval. Jackpot. I'm still under the judgment of Lucia -- he's still trying to spot me in a lie. Next, I need to deliberately tell one, so that he knows all the things I've said up until now are accurate too. "And after I saved your life twice in the swamp, too!"
"That's a lie!" Reine predictably cut in; Skylar pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged.
"You're right; I miscounted. I guess I only saved your life once." Erdrym's bloodshot gaze caught this too, and the elf's face began to slowly transition from dissatisfaction to rage. Heh heh. Here it comes...
"I have heard enough," the Councilman coughed, turning away from Reine and moving to stand with Aymon. "It is clear... that we must present... a unified front." Reine blanched at what was obviously a rebuke to her, as well as an implicit undercutting of what authority she had still possessed. "Justiciar... Ruimarilin... you are hereby ordered... to assist."
Immediately, the she-elf snapped a crisp salute; "Yes, Eidraht." She lowered her hand then went into parade rest, eyes locked on Skylar and smoldering with resentment, but said nothing further.
Aymon looked expectantly in Skylar's direction, but Skylar had no intention of stepping up; instead he directed his gaze towards Levan and his teacher and plastered on his most anxious and dumbfounded expression. Aymon held his gaze for a few seconds, then smiled ever so slightly and turned towards them as well. "Master Glim; Master Hardcastle. I assume you have some plan for navigating the journey."
"Sure." Levan crouched down, using his furry fingertip to trace a line between two flooring stones. "If the city's under assault, we want to stay away from big thoroughfares; urban fighting is always the messiest, so troops will avoid smaller spaces between buildings. If we take the Narrows down to the west side, we'll be in Garm's Yard, where the fighting should be mostly confined to the outskirts; from there, it's a straight shot down to the Gallows."
"Stealth will be of great import," the bearded man -- Hardcastle, I guess -- agreed. "My apprentice and I -- as well as the Zuzan, I suspect -- could make it with little trouble, but the Alvatri will cause great disruption and draw much attention." Alvatri = elves? Have they been mishearing "elf" as "alv"? Vark, that's lucky, otherwise they might have caught me as an Incursor almost right away.
"Hey, yeah," Skylar agreed, doing his best to sound as though this information was new to him. "We're all dressed in dark clothes, while all the alvs are wearing glossy armor and white cloaks." Almost like the element in power feels protected by their status and has no need to hide, in contrast to the oppressed demographics. "Maybe we could find dark cloaks for them, too?"
Hardcastle shook his head. "It might help a little, but even if we could find a cloak large enough for the Councilman, their armor will still make a lot of noise. That said, we might need that same armor to protect us if we do get into a battle." He cocked his head, looking upwards as he stroked his bearded chin with his thumb and forefinger. "It's a dilemma."
"Well, maybe we can make it a unilemma," Levan cut in. "Shiny McLargeHuge over there is gonna draw attention no matter what we do, so I say we lean into it." He traced the path to the Gallows on the floor-map once again, pondered for a moment, then extended it westwards by two cobblestones. "Here. If we focus on speed, we can bypass Garm's Yard entirely and go straight for Elmat's Well. Even if that's guarded, they can't actually stop us if we can breach the main gate."
"Except for the part where we plummet to our deaths," Reine disagreed primly. "With the ramps clogged by refugees and potentially enemy soldiers, our only path will be down the shaft itself, which none of us will survive if the lifts are damaged in the fighting. Worse, if enemy forces capture the lift mechanisms, they could cut the support ropes at any time."
"Aymon could do it," Skylar realized out loud, then kicked himself for volunteering again; everyone's attention turned to him, so he reluctantly followed through. "If they're typical block-and-tackle pulleys, Aymon could stay at the top and protect the hoisting machinery, then fly down as a greathawk after we reached the bottom. It wouldn't be easy, but it could work."
"I fear you give... the Ilkon... too much credit," Erdrym panted quietly. "One alone against... so many..."
"Perhaps I could," mused Aymon, casting an amused eye towards Skylar. "We know from past experience my greathawk form is capable of carrying lighter companions; if Skylar accompanies me, our chances of success increase dramatically."
"Me?" Skylar squeaked. "I can't fight! What would I even do?"
"You wouldn't be a liability in a pitched close-quarters battle, for one," Levan pointed out. "There's gonna be a lotta swords swingin' around where we are, and you're all squishy and full of blood."
"Oh my vark." Skylar flapped his hands a little, flustered; in desperation, he turned to Reine. "Do you think this is a good idea, too?"
He expected her to immediately back up the others, just to spite him; but to his surprise, her eyes turned thoughtful, and she crossed her arms and looked up. "If you're asking where I'd deploy you, as a unit in the field..." She pondered for a moment, and then a slow smile spread across her face. "Actually, I agree with you and with Ilkon Letho. You're useless in a fight, but you're cowardly and good at running away; historically, putting you in a bad situation and forcing you to save your own skin seems to work very well for the rest of us."
Skylar let his face fall into his hands and groaned. "Fantastic. From prisoner to conscript, now; what's next, royal concubine?"
"Technique... is more important... than looks," joked Erdrym weakly, then fell to his knees in a sudden fit of coughing; Reine and Aymon jerked forward as if to help, then stopped themselves abruptly as they realized there was nothing they could do. There might be something I could do, though, Skylar pondered suddenly.
"Councilor," he began, stepping closer to the hulking figure, "I can't heal you, but my Anticuary's power might be able to ease your pain a little; is it okay if I try?"
The massive elf waved him away, coughing, but Aymon caught the Interrogator's hand and shook his head grimly; after a moment, Erdrym relaxed. "I suppose... we must try. All our strength... will be required."
Carefully, Skylar took off his coat and draped it around the elf's massive armored shoulders; it looked like a handkerchief despite its heavy weight. But, as he did so, pangs of hunger and thirst nearly flattened him; belatedly, he realized that the coat must have also been protecting him from the worst of his metabolic problems. How many enchantments does this thing have? Placing his hands over the Councilor's armored chest, he gazed into his eyes, knowing now from the fracas in the courtroom that Weir needed eye contact to work. "Here goes nothing. It might hurt at first."
Tentatively, he brought forth the power and imagined a burning ache all along his own esophagus and lungs; like a flame, he stoked it until it was nearly intolerable, then transmitted it to the other man, imagining his pain receptors overloading and shutting down in shock beneath the flood of neurotransmitters before visualizing a cool, dark numbness spreading all along his own nerves. The stupendous man jerked, sucking in a short, harsh breath, but then relaxed; after a moment, he nodded. "The pain is... less, now," he murmured. "Or at least... less disruptive."
Skylar nodded, taking his trenchcoat back and putting it on; at once, his hunger pangs subsided from crippling to merely debilitating. Wow, this is a lot more powerful than I thought. It only transmits stimuli I make myself -- so I have to force anyone I want to see an illusion to hallucinate it directly, and it doesn't work on the same target twice -- but if I got good enough with it...
He gazed around the room, astounded by the implications. I could kill everyone in this room, he realized, awed. I could make Hardcastle hallucinate that Levan was a bad guy, then do the same to Reine and make her take out Hardcastle and Aymon with her stun spell. Then make Erdrym break Reine's neck, and then trigger sympathetic vasoconstriction to make him have a stroke or something...
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"Zuzan!" snapped Reine, startling him out of his daydream. "If you cannot pay attention to the battle planning, at least fake it!"
"Sorry." Skylar shook himself. "What's our next move?"
"As I was saying," the justiciar continued acerbically, "if we are determined to undertake this foolhardy course of action, we must first escape from the Retort." She tapped on a flagstone Skylar assumed represented their current position. "It can be safely assumed that all the primary exits are besieged at best, if not actively under enemy control."
Aymon shifted uneasily. "There are... other... entrances. Some of which emerge in adjacent enclosures, and others which go to the sewers --"
"Not those," Skylar interrupted automatically; Levan raised an eyebrow at him, and he cursed himself again. Drotz, I have to be careful here... "After I woke up in the jail," he began cautiously, "I saw the Professor enter a grate on the street, which I think led to the sewers. That might have been how he got the fish guys -- Kulaku, you called them? -- into the city."
"And you didn't mention this before now?!" Reine demanded incredulously.
"Mention it to whom?" Skylar retorted angrily. "My big fat cellmate who tried to rape me, or the guard who didn't show up to feed or water me for three days? Or maybe the dudes who manacled me to a big chair and told me they'd execute me if they didn't like my story?" Reine's face turned red, but Skylar was fed up with this fratz. "Explain to me exactly where you feel I have a duty to report anything to people trying to kill me, especially if I don't know the relevance or had any idea what he was doing at the time." Skylar crossed his arms and scowled, so angry he felt like smoke might start leaking out of his ears at any moment. "How about you spare me your sanctimonious corfsmot and focus on getting us all out of here alive?"
"He has a point... Justiciar," Erdrym gasped weakly; Reine clenched her fists, but didn't lash out.
"Fine," she grated, "then let us assume we will use one of the Ilkon's secret passages to this area." She tapped a flooring stone slightly to the east of their current position. "From this point, we may make for the Narrows with all speed; but we will face heavy opposition. More Kulaku, certainly, as well as possibly Mukati and perhaps even Humbrites."
"Kulaku and Mukati we can handle," Aymon murmured. "Let us hope we will be spared Humbrites."
Makes sense. "What about more of those, uh, corrupted guards?" Skylar asked when a lull occurred in the conversation. Better not call them zombies. "Do we know how to take them out?"
Levan shook his head. "I've never seen anything like that, but if they're like most undead, they're not big fans of fire. I should be able to handle 'em if... if I have to." The Loathborn's jaw clenched, but he said nothing further.
"Provided they actually are undead," Reine pointed out; Skylar almost fell over with shock. I didn't know she was capable of that kind of critical thinking. She looked around at the other members of the assembly. "Does anyone here even know what they were? Or what this 'Professor' was?" Everyone shook their heads.
"Right," Skylar confirmed. "So we have a couple weird alchemical monsters that we don't know how to hurt or kill, and there could be more..."
I don't actually know if he's a time traveller too -- although that would explain a few things. And I can't count on my future self telling me how to kill the Professor, since that's only possible if A) my future self kills the Professor, B) doing so requires that I need specialized information, C) I have the opportunity to send that information back to myself and a memory of having received it, and D) the assumption that I can trust Amara, which is easily the least plausible portion of this entire list. And that's assuming that I could come up with some kind of way to authenticate a message that my past self could decode -- while not knowing anything about cryptography. I'll start worrying about that when my future self shows up with information that makes a difference; until then, suspicion is probably the best approach.
Thus far we're zero for, uh, everybody fighting him. The only Art that's done anything to him at all is Weir, and even that wasn't very effective... though I was able to use it on him both this time and in the sewers. Maybe it can be used on the same target more than once, but the effect has to be different? Or there has to be some kind of a waiting period? Skylar shook his head. "Well, do we have any way of increasing our firepower, then? Or our access to anybody else who knows anything about alchemy?"
The bearded man everyone was calling Hardcastle nodded. "That's why I think the Gallows is a wise choice; it's the best place to find an alchemy expert -- particularly one who might know about, ah, unusual methods -- as well as all the strongest fighters and logistical experts who aren't already fighting the invaders."
"Yeah," Levan agreed with a nod. "And they'll be the least likely to be trying to evacuate; when you live in the gutter, you've got nowhere to run." His hand clenched around the hilt of his scimitar, which Skylar noted with interest. Maybe he's from there, or something. "Anyway, we've got our objective and all the intel we're gonna get; what's left? Formation?" He turned to look at the man called Hardcastle. "Sarge?"
At this, something complicated passed over the bearded man's face -- an emotion both regretful and resigned -- but he cleared his throat and nodded. "Of course. The justiciar and I will take the vanguard; Levan and the Ilkon, the rear. The Zuzan and the Councilor will occupy the center position; they require the most protection, and the Councilor will draw the most attention." He looked to Aymon. "Eidraht Letho, I'll be counting on you to support them; at need, Levan can handle the rear alone, but you'll need to be flexible." He called him Eidraht instead of Ilkon that time, Skylar noted. The same title Reine called Erdrym. Interesting.
Aymon nodded, his great beard and bald head looking monklike in the gloom. "I am capable. Though I would do better with a weapon -- a spear or a halberd, say, for reach."
"We'll keep an eye out for one," Hardcastle promised.
"I do not need... protection," the immense Interrogator protested. "I can... fight."
"You'll have to," Levan agreed grimly. "The Zuzan isn't going to be taking out any Mukati, let alone Kulaku or Humbrites. You'll need to save your strength, Councilman; you're the only one of us who has to survive, and it's going to be tough enough keeping you alive without you breaking formation." He left it there, but the meaning of what he hadn't said was clear; he'll have to take orders for a change, instead of giving them, Skylar thought. The towering alv grimaced, but did not protest; with a nod, the Loathborn stood up, scuffed out the markings in the dirt with his boot, then nodded to Aymon. "We're ready."
Aymon nodded, then strode to a wall that seemed identical to all the others to Skylar; studying it for a moment, he reached out and pressed a seemingly-unremarkable spot between two identical pieces of masonry, causing a cleverly-concealed door to open near one of the room's corners. "It will be a tight fit," he commented to Erdrym regretfully, who gave a wince in response.
Slowly, the six of them made their way through the cramped and twisting tunnel beyond; at one point, the Councilor became stuck and it took the combined efforts of Reine and Levan to free him, his polished platemail scraping the walls loudly as he came free. But nothing took notice Skylar could detect, and before he knew it, they were out, emerging from a space behind a dilapidated-looking bookshelf into a dusty supply closet. "Be ready," Hardcastle warned them, then swiftly opened the door.
To Skylar's relief, the room beyond was empty; moving methodically, they cleared and advanced through two more rooms and a stairwell before arriving in a lobby on the ground floor. "Things will get dicey from here," Levan warned as he took position alongside the main door, nodding to Hardcastle before turning back to the others. "Stick with my master; if you get lost, you'll probably die, so don't get lost." Taking a shaking breath, he kicked the door open, giving Skylar his first glimpse of the city of Gavispar since the conflict had begun.
The city was in chaos.
Mobs of Kulaku and the short, twisted goblin-like figures Skylar recognized as Mukati were running everywhere, chasing screaming Alvatri and humans in every direction; above and below on the spiraling bridges, Skylar could glimpse guards and even some citizens forming organized defenses against groups of monstrous foes, but the general picture was one of hectic mayhem. He stared, awed, at the calamity, remembering wistfully how the city had glittered like a towering hive of gems only a few days ago.
"Quit gawking and move it, frosak!" Reine yelled, kicking him in the buttocks; Skylar stumbled forward, cursed, and began to run.
They encountered resistance almost immediately; a half-dozen Mukati shrieked with glee and charged them almost as soon as they had left the building. But Reine and Hardcastle worked with elegant, brutal efficiency in tandem; each of them dispatched one or two foes with every swipe of their blades, and in moments, the way was clear. Those guys are a lot less threatening without mounts, Skylar noticed as they hurried on past the bleeding corpses.
The stretch along the exposed streets was brief as the bearded man guided them into a maze of alleyways; Skylar gawked as they made quick progress through the winding passageways, often passing cringing or sobbing civilians who cowered under pot lids or refuse piles. These must be the Narrows, like Levan said, Skylar noted as they wended they way through the mazelike back streets. As the Loathborn had predicted, there was little opposition; the primary fighting seemed to be confined to the more easily-navigable roadways, and what few scattered Mukati and Kulaku they encountered perished almost immediately beneath their blades. At one point, something noteworthy Skylar couldn't see happened behind them, but another massive conflagration of dark flame ended it just as quickly; Skylar felt himself a little jealous of the Loathborn's newfound firepower. Dunno why he's all angsty about it. I'd trade my korskak parlor tricks for the ability to blow up whole packs of dudes in a minute. Far above them, something large was thrown off a bridge and fell howling for thousands of feet, smashing into something in the distance with a crash that shook the whole mountain.
Then, before he knew it, they were through; emerging from the warren of byways, Skylar found himself at the entrance to a huge, triple-wide bridge packed with intense fighting; squadrons of soldiers, most of them alvs, were holding the line against a torrent of Kulaku and more Ubara-mounted Mukati, but the battle was going poorly. Dozens of the defenders were down or dying, and even as he watched, Skylar saw fresh reinforcements of the enemy troops streaming towards them through a massive gate at the top of a large spiraling structure coming up from below. Elmat's Well, he guessed.
With a shout, Hardcastle and Reine joined the fight, shoring up the defenders' unsteady ranks; but behind him, he noticed that Levan and Aymon were busy with some more dangerous threat, working in tandem to fight some combination of enemies he couldn't quite see through the press of combat. "Mister Kass," Erdrym whispered in his ear, making him jump, "we must rally... the troops. They will falter... if we do not."
"So rally them," Skylar snapped, "you're the big strong shiny general guy, right?"
"I cannot... be heard... above this din," the gigantic man panted, his voice barely more than a croak. "Please. I beg of you."
Oh my Gog, this is so cringe. Skylar growled and shoved the alv away, then threw up his hands and turned back to him. "This'll probably get me killed, but sure, fine. Lift me up and try not to get me shot full of arrows, mishkot it."
Suddenly, he was aloft, thrust ten feet above the pavement in the Councilor's surprisingly gentle grip; on either side of the bridge upon which the battle raged, dizzying drops to either side immediately made his stomach churn. I think I've spent more time trying not to throw up than every other activity combined since I came to this sorbnek world. Doing his best to contain his nausea and terror, he sucked in the biggest breath he could and cupped his hands to his mouth.
"HEY, YOU KORSKAK ZUBNAKS!" he bellowed before he could think better of it. "DON'T GIVE UP! ERDRYM IS HERE!"
He thought it would be a complete waste of time -- that either nobody would be able to hear him over the clamor of battle, or that nobody would care -- but the effect was immediate and electric. A great cry -- a massive, powerful outburst, half cheer and half roar -- erupted instantly from the entire mass of troops surrounding them, and the defenders surged forward with a renewed vigor that took the monstrous invaders entirely off-guard. Whole squads of the enemy units were sent screaming over the edges of the bridge as the line of skirmish surged forwards, and Skylar was astonished to see that a huge empty space was opening up before them as the enemy front was pushed back and to either side simultaneously. Wow, it must go halfway to the gate. Maybe we can actually win.
Then, to Skylar's dismay, things went sideways; with a rattling, choking sound that probably would have been a mighty battlecry in other circumstances, Erdrym leapt into the fray and appeared almost without transition at the point of the wedge, laying about him with his mighty gauntleted fists and shielding other troops' more fragile bodies behind his armored bulk. "Hey! We're not supposed to split up!" Skylar whined, trying to hurry forward and catch up; but the press and surge of the battle immediately snatched him up like a wave, and he was lost and adrift in seconds.
Immediately disoriented, he was thrown and tossed about for long seconds, fighting for the sight or sound of anyone he recognized while narrowly dodging the frenzied hacking of weapons from all directions. For a split second, he caught a glimpse of Aymon, wielding a large halberd and whirling it over his head with enough force to make buzzsaw-like noise from the displaced air alone, but before he could call out the press of the battle had swept him away again.
I could slip away, Skylar thought to himself furiously. Link back up after the battle, maybe, or maybe just get the drotz out of here. But he had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't be that easy, which was almost immediately confirmed; without warning, something smashed into him from behind and knocked him forward with great force, and he yelped, flew briefly, then landed and rolled with as much grace as he could muster. For a moment, the world was a somersaulting kaleidoscope of turmoil; then, doggedly, he struggled to his feet and fought to regain his bearings.
The first thing he noticed was that he was, abruptly and unexpectedly, alone; whatever had impacted him had thrown him clear of the main press of the fight into a momentary gap between the two forces, which meant that he was now unpleasantly exposed to enemy attention. The second, and much more pressing thing, was that he was not alone; a mountainous, malformed shape loomed before and above him. Dimly, he recognized one of the crudely-shaped giants they'd been pursued by in the wastelands, but those had been far away and significantly less fearsome as a result; this one was perhaps twenty feet away and looking directly at him.
Oh, fratz. I think that might be a Humbrite.
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-- AMBLE
HELP
