The Empress of Beasts, page 31
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
“We will slow to let Nerrhavia’s forces pass. Armsmaster, break for a meal.”
“Yes, Magus-Crafter.”
The man clapped a hand to his left shoulder. Metal struck metal as Femithain turned. He raised a staff, concentrated. The Golems next to him slowed their pace, came to a stop. In his army, he knew, the other [Artificers], the mages specializing in Golem-creation and -control were ordering their Golems to slow. The Human [Soldiers] came to a stop smoothly and the wagons unloaded. They took their ease more or less comfortably, for all they were in enemy territory. After all, their Golems were standing sentry.
Femithain stopped where he was, and pulled a chair from his bag of holding to sit. It was, perhaps, unmilitary of him. And as his [Armsmaster] returned, he saw the man was uncomfortable.
“An issue, Armsmaster Dellic?”
“Not as such, Magus-Crafter. Will you allow me a seat?”
“By all means.”
The [Armsmaster] produced his own seat from his bag of holding. If it was odd for a commander and the leader of a nation to be so casual, well, there was reason for it. The Illivere Federation elected its Magus-Crafter and it was made of smaller states; hardly the same as a monarchy. Femithain could be a normal citizen if he failed to be elected next year. He had held his position each year for the last eleven years however.
In the same way, Dellic was hardly a mere soldier. He was certainly educated; the Illivere Federation required a leader to have passed through their education systems. It made Dellic something of an outsider to many officers, as well as his odd rank, however, and Femithain was aware of the conflicts that had already arisen.
“Tell me what troubles you, Armsmaster Dellic.”
“Not much yet, Magus-Crafter. We have received…correspondence from Savere’s [General]. She protests our slow pace.”
“In those words?”
“No.”
Femithain nodded sympathetically. Savere, the nation that bordered Tiqr, ruled by the Siren of Tides, was often thought to be lawless. Certainly, they allowed more criminal elements to infiltrate their armies and even sponsored raids against other nations. They held their power because of their relationship with [Bandit Lords], [Pirate Captains], and so on. And the fact that the Siren of Savere was not to be trifled with.
“We were first to march, Armsmaster. Inform Savere’s [General] that our pace is unavoidable. We will take to the front if they wish it.”
Dellic nodded, casting a glance back at the Golems. It wasn’t just them that made Illivere’s army so slow. Golems could march all night, after all. In truth, Illivere’s army was moving slowest of all the nations that had sent armies against Tiqr, their army the smallest. And their leader, Magus-Crafter Femithain, the most troubled. After a moment, Dellic cut in delicately.
“Magus-Crafter, you do not need to be at the front. I am capable of leading in your stead. Even if Tiqr is outnumbered, risking your life is not necessary.”
Femithain glanced at Dellic. The man was of the same opinion as the rest of the world. Tiqr was doomed. Ultimately, Femithain had no doubt of that, but he had met Nsiia. And he could not imagine she would roll over after seeing even Nerrhavia’s army. He shook his head.
“Illivere has voted to bring war to Tiqr. As Magus-Crafter, I am bound to lead my nation in the attack.”
“But you argued against—”
Dellic began, but shut his mouth. Femithain rose. He had heard it too. Illivere’s [Soldiers] looked around and then got up. They stared.
In the distance, another army was approaching. At first, it appeared to be a tiny force. But it kept growing, kept streaming forth. Dellic paled and ordered Illivere’s army to move back, giving the other army space. Femithain only watched. He saw the chariots first, and then ranks of marching soldiers. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Over two hundred thousand.
The Stitch-people of Nerrhavia’s Fallen had arrived. Nerrhavia’s chariot-led armies streamed past Illivere’s slow march, thousands of chariots driven by the impossibly beautiful, almost radiant Stitch-warriors whose bodies were made of silk. They practically radiated the sun and their skin had a luster and attractiveness to it that matched, well, silk. Their flesh seemed to have been just oiled, smoothed without age or wear to detract from it.
The drivers and riders whooped and called out to Illivere’s army, some flirting, others laughing at the Golems or Humans. A few broke formation until their officers called them back, riding around the Humans. Femithain did not move, standing flanked by his personal Golems. Dellic shifted until a silk-flesh officer rode towards them.
He was beautiful, worthy of being a model in another world, just like his kin. He called out as he swung himself down from his saddle.
“Magus-Crafter, our regards! We thought to see you further along!”
His voice was condescending. Femithain nodded towards him calmly, ignoring Dellic’s shifting posture.
“Our apologies, First-Chariot Bereid. Our pace has been slowed due to our Golems. We will recover the ground over the course of the day. I will attend any meeting of the coalition’s leaders tonight, regardless of the location.”
The First-Chariot officer blinked, unarmed by Femithain’s knowledge of his rank and title. He adopted a more diplomatic tone.
“We appreciate the message, but I doubt we will require a formal meeting. [General] Thelican, he wishes to deliver Tiqr to Queen Yisame by the end of the week! We look forwards to seeing you on the battlefield! Our hope is that we can all join the first battle together! If you would wish it, we would be honored to have your company on our march!”
“It would be my pleasure. But perhaps at a later time. Tender my regards to General Thelican.”
Femithain bowed his head. The First-Chariot officer gave him a sweeping bow, and then leapt back on his horse, racing back towards his command. Dellic made a disgusted sound.
“Magus-Crafter—”
“I know. Be quiet, Dellic. Some may be listening.”
In silence, the two watched the army pass them by. Nerrhavia’s army was certainly a sight to see. The beautiful chariot-drivers were leaders, but as they passed, Femithain saw a different type of Stitch-person appear.
By contrast, the foot-soldiers marching in the dust generated by the chariots were crude, their skin rough, callused-looking. Closer to hide than skin, in fact. Dellic made a sound as he watched them pass, seeing some of the bright silk officers shouting at them, hurling insults.
“I’ve never seen Stitch-people like that before.”
Femithain had. He spoke quietly, motioning one of the Golems to block their conversation.
“The warriors are what I understand to be Hemp—or some variety thereof. The strongest materials go into making them, which leads to their rough appearance. Nerrhavia—no, String-people’s society is caste-based. One of the few societies that practices such systems. The islanders do, and perhaps Lizardfolk and Drakes, to some extent. Not so uncommon, then.”
“Minos or Drath?”
Femithain didn’t respond. He was too busy watching the Hemp [Soldiers] marching. They looked tired. Nerrhavia must have pushed them hard to have made it all the way here so quickly.
Theirs was not the only army that Femithain witnessed that day. Not by far. Dellic had been informed that Savere’s forces were already ahead of them, but one of their forces nearly ran into his army. Dellic called a halt, aghast, as a band of riders several thousand strong raced past theirs.
There was no organization in this group, or noticeably, supply wagons. They could have been using bags of holding, but—Femithain noticed the disorganized appearance of the riders, listened to their jeers as they raced past. Dellic looked at him. Femithain watched them go.
“Savere’s irregulars. Pitch camp away from them.”
“[Bandits].”
One of the mage-officers in Illivere’s army looked disgusted. She flushed as Femithain looked at her. But he just nodded.
“Or [Pirates]. [Rogues], perhaps; keep an eye on our supplies. Savere’s raiders will not hesitate to poach from our stocks to keep themselves fed.”
Their army moved on. Savere and Nerrhavia were the two powerhouses along with Illivere who had gone to war with Tiqr, but theirs were hardly the only armies. Nearly half a dozen smaller nations had contributed their forces. Femithain greeted Deimos’ [General], leading a group of camel-riders and lightly-armored infantry.
That was fine. Pleasurable, even. Deimos’ [General] was delighted to dine with Femithain that night. He had brought a large number of slaves with his army, to serve them. Femithain, a leader of a Golem-state, had none, but was accustomed to the practice of lounging while everything was done for him.
“I worry our armies will hardly have the chance to make the first strike, Magus-Crafter. We are marching quickly, but Nerrhavia and Savere seem determined to make the first strike. To the victors the spoils, but my [King] wishes at least a piece of Tiqr.”
The [General] confided in Femithain over a cup of wine. The Magus-Crafter drank sparingly, shaking his head.
“I believe you will have your chance to war, General Heic. Tiqr will not surrender easily.”
“You believe so? I would have tendered my resignation if I were defending against all this.”
Heic waved a hand to indicate the armies currently camping in the outer regions of Tiqr’s borders. Femithain paused.
“It is true that Tiqr has little chance. Even if the King of Destruction should move—”
“Dead gods perish the thought. We’ve left more than half our forces at home just for that eventuality.”
Heic shuddered. Femithain nodded. So had Illivere’s forces.
“Even should he move, the odds still favor the coalition. But if Tiqr should resist despite the odds—”
“Why would they do that? It will be a slaughter.”
Heic looked bemused. Femithain took his time in replying.
“Empress Nsiia is known as the Empress of Beasts. And she is much like her people, General Heic. I have no doubt she is aware of the odds stacked against her. But—you speak of surrendering? Tell me, have you ever known an animal to surrender?”
“I’ve seen some roll over.”
“In a fight to the death?”
The [General] paused.
“No. Never that.”
“Just so. Have no fear, General. Your time will come. And I do fear Tiqr will fall. If not easily.”
He’d said too much. Heic was silent, watching him. Femithain sipped from his cup. Even he had no idea how prophetic his words were.
——
“Alright. I see there’s a lot of armies moving in.”
Erin was nodding. It was barely a few minutes into her talk with Pisces; she was getting a refill of blue fruit slices. He levitated one out of her bowl, speared it on a fork.
“Indeed. The armies were marching on Tiqr’s capital, plundering outlying settlements—mainly Savere’s doing.”
“[Raider] jerks, right?”
“You have a remarkable ability to distill the information down to the fundamental points. Yes. Meanwhile, the world waited on Reim to move.”
“And did they?”
“No. As I said, the King of Destruction swore an oath. Oh, he kept some forces on the border, but Nerrhavia blocks Reim from moving. And as I said, King of Destruction or not, his army does not match the man himself at the moment.”
Pisces tapped the map. Erin nodded. It was like…Risk. Not chess. She stared at a note.
“Standing forces on Nerrhavia’s border at least twelve thousand strong. About one thousand of Reim’s [Soldiers] spotted on their borders, led by Mars the Illusionist. No movement on either side.”
——
The land between Reim and Nerrhavia was owned by local tribes, smaller cities, even claimed by other nations. But no one stopped Nerrhavia’s forces from setting up across from Reim’s borders. It was a small force, at least, in terms of what Nerrhavia could field. But it wasn’t there to do battle.
Just threaten. The Stitch-warriors were resplendent in their armor, camped across a flat expanse that separated their army from Reim’s borders. If they had had the chance, would they have advanced? Dared to cross into Reim, to test the King of Destruction’s mettle?
Perhaps. Perhaps they would have. Nerrhavia was bold. But a small force had camped opposite theirs, across the no-man’s land that was in fact, someone else’s land. But no one would have angrily protested this small force’s presence either. For the thousand or so warriors were led by a woman dressed in glittering armor.
Mars the Illusionist. She wore purple hair today, and she strode down the line of her soldiers, a smile on her face. Mars, the [Vanguard]. One of the King of Destruction’s Seven.
It was enough to make Nerrhavia wary; they’d reinforced their lines twice already, until they had over ten times her number. She could see them in the distance, far out of bow-shot or even most mage spells. They were waiting. Waiting to see if the King of Destruction would come to Tiqr’s aid.
“And if he does, are you going to stop them?”
Mars sighed as she drank from a bottle of wine. She was bored. This was guard-duty, plain and simple. Flos hadn’t ordered her to do anything other than provoke Nerrhavia. It was necessary, but she wished she were with Orthenon in Hellios, quelling dissent, or with Flos himself in Reim. She envied Gazi. But she wasn’t about to poke out her own eyes so she was crippled. Who had poked Gazi’s eye out, anyways? Some [Innkeeper] in Izril? How?
It boggled the mind. Mars sighed as she heard a distant sound, blown by the wind. They were doing it again.
Across the gap, Nerrhavia’s forces were making noise. The String-warriors blew on their horns, a wailing, mocking call that reached across the no-man’s land. From this distance, it was impossible to make out any one individual voice, but the distant chanting and cheers were still audible. They were taunting Reim’s forces, the third day in a row.
Reim’s [Soldiers] shifted uncomfortably. They might have shouted back, like they did on the first day, but they would have been drowned out. A young [Lieutenant] looked at Mars. She was antsy, unhappy with facing off against the vaster, contemptuous String-warriors.
“Lady Mars?”
The [Vanguard] looked up. She had a headache. She tossed the bottle of wine onto the ground and yawned. Only then did she look over at Nerrhavia’s elites.
“I hear it. Looks like they’re trying to make music. Keep calm, girls and boys. Nobody scare them or they’ll stretch their shiny silk backsides.”
The [Soldiers] around her laughed. They relaxed, and Mars headed back to her tent.
“At ease. Let me find a drink and we’ll do some sparring. You all might as well level. Don’t bother with formations, [Lieutenant].”
The woman looked uneasy.
“Lady Mars? Is that wise?”
The [Vanguard] looked back at her. Nerrhavia was making more noise, unhappy with Reim relaxing its ranks and setting up for training. Mars scratched her head.
“What?”
“What if Nerrhavia attacks us? Shouldn’t we keep some kind of guard?”
The [Lieutenant] looked nervous. Mars just stared at her, and then back at Nerrhavia’s soldiers. They were jeering even louder. Idiots were using a spell to make more noise. She smirked.
“You mean, if Nerrhavia attacks Reim, provoking His Majesty?”
The young woman blushed a bit. Mars grinned too.
“They’re only here to run away if we attack, [Lieutenant]. If I run at them, they’ll probably run away and come back with a real army. Let them attack us. It would be hilarious.”
She laughed, and the [Lieutenant] laughed, relieved, relaxing. Mars smiled all the way into her tent. Then she paused, and the smile faded. She looked blankly at the wine bottles scattered on the floor of her tent. Tiqr was going to war. And here she was. Reim was silent. They had to be; her [King] had explained it to her. But still. That bothered her far more than all the jeering.
——
“Tiqr’s forces meet a joint-army led by Savere and Nerrhavia at the edges of the Reen Plains. Both forces withdraw at sundown.”
Erin read the first mention of battle slowly. She looked at Pisces.
“What, no numbers? Who won?”
Pisces shrugged.
“These are basic snippets of information, Erin. [Mages] reporting facts to their rulers might know more, but this is what was factually confirmed. However, we know the winner. See?”
He pointed to another entry. Erin read that one.
“Tiqr’s army cedes Reen Plains. Savere, Nerrhavia, occupy. Illivere, Deimos…joining…okay. They won.”
The [Necromancer] nodded.
“Exactly. Not that it was a surprising result. As we stated, Nerrhavia’s forces alone could push Tiqr’s entire military. Now, see how they’re occupying other areas? Slowly taking Tiqr?”
“Yeah. They’re pushing in from all sides.”
Erin nodded absently. She didn’t like strategy games like this. She’d tried videogames, but she really was a board-game type of person. Real time strategy got too real for her. But she could see more reports. The Mage’s Guild didn’t list battles won, only who was retreating. And it was all one-way.
“I guess Tiqr just kept losing and losing.”
“Yes, but by increments. Note how it took two days for the first battle to resolve. They put up a stiff defense. Commendable, in its own way.”
“And there were no, uh, [Mages] watching the battle? Doing that thing like when the Face-Eater Moths attacked?”
Pisces paused. He shook his head slowly.
“I believe neither side wished to reveal their movements to the world. Moreover, if a [Mage] was present, their abilities would have best been suited in battle. Wistram would not be interested in ah, sending observers either. They are opposed to Flos, and a view of the battle—”
“Might make it seem like Tiqr was being attacked by a bunch of people who just want to invade it?”
“Precisely. Well, and there is the possibility of embarrassment. No ruler wants that. Tiqr lost, obviously. However, if they had a moment or two of victory?”
