The Empress of Beasts, page 34
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
However, one thing did keep Orjin up as he tried to meditate, calm himself and order his thoughts before he slept. He kept staring west. He could smell blood on the wind. And it made him restless. But he held his ground, stilled his thoughts. This was not his war.
Yet, he was the Strongest of Pomle. It was a duty. One no one who truly belonged to Pomle wanted, but it was important. He had to guard Pomle. That was the sum of his duties, and Orjin had always thought of it as simple. Remove murderers and those who caused trouble. Kill monsters, sometimes people. Organize Pomle’s warriors in case of an attack.
But what if an army came? Pomle would fight, of course. But this war bothered Orjin. All these other nations attacking Tiqr, which bordered Pomle. They had come for Tiqr as a result of the peace he had helped to offer. Tiqr had done nothing wrong as Orjin understood it. If they came for Tiqr, would those same armies one day march on Pomle?
He was no [King]. But those thoughts weighed heaviest of all. Orjin sat in silence late into the night. He stared ahead blankly. And then he realized there was another invisible intruder in camp he’d somehow missed. It had been a mistake to sneak up on him of all the others. The person might be [Muffled], but they smelled of blood. Orjin got up with a sigh.
——
Tiqr was falling. City by city, part by part. Like a plague, the invading armies took it apart, slowly working their way to the capital city. Now Tiqr’s armies were retreating every battle, moving further and further back.
No one had come to help them. And the other nations were continuing onwards. Why not? They were winning.
“The nation of Reim continues to refrain from movements on any border. Only naturally.”
Pisces read the note, which seemed to emphasize…nothing. But nothing was apparently significant with the King of Destruction. Erin read one little addendum.
King of Destruction appears on southern border with Gazi the Omniscient and Mars the Illusionist. No movement. Nerrhavia reinforces border.
“Gazi.”
But he’d done nothing.
——
By now, the jeering from Nerrhavia’s side was background noise to Mars. But today the chanting went silent. The Stitch-warriors froze. And their [Commander] sent word back on [Message] spell, shouting orders. They formed a double line, setting themselves.
He was here. The King of Destruction. Flos Reimarch regarded the force across his borders. He looked at Mars. His expression was intense. He was not happy.
News of Tiqr reached Reim as well as the rest of the world. Now—Mars looked around. Flos had not ridden here unaccompanied. Three hundred [Riders] flanked him, and Gazi, her main eye closed, had followed him. Flos jerked his head at Mars.
“My [Vanguard]. Ride with me.”
Nerrhavia’s forces reacted as Flos began to ride across the border of Reim. They pivoted, setting themselves, watching as Flos rode—not towards them but perpendicular. Just…riding.
He rode with Mars, Gazi, Venith, and Maresar at his back. Two of his Seven. Three hundred [Riders] followed him. And Nerrhavia’s army was silent.
If he charged, it would be forty-to-one. If you added the infantry, then thirteen-to-one. Still a vast difference in numbers. Some began to jeer, taunting the King of Destruction. He turned his head and they fell silent.
If he charged he’d forswear every oath. Fight a battle against thousands of Nerrhavia’s elite. The King of Destruction rode, turning his head, regarding his land. And Nerrhavia’s borders. In the distance were the garrisons, fortifications of actual stone. Beyond them, cities, garrisons of hundreds of thousands of warriors.
The King of Destruction paused. And he turned his horse towards Nerrhavia. For a moment he leaned on the saddle. And he stared past the army on the border. Then he turned and rode back the way he’d come. Without another word.
None of Nerrhavia’s warriors made a sound after that. The two armies withdrew further in silence. Mars, who remained, stared across the vast distance and leaned on the horse she’d borrowed. She heard nothing from the other army for a long time. They could have laughed. They could have jeered or taunted him. Her [King]. But if they had, neither she nor they were certain he wouldn’t have charged. He probably wouldn’t. But the world still watched.
“Remember that, you arrogant silk handkerchiefs.”
Mars spat in the dust. But she turned. He wouldn’t have charged. Her [King] had made up his mind. He just hated it.
——
Tiqr was falling. And now, Erin could see it. Almost. In the dry, factual sentences, an entire empire breaking apart. People fleeing. An army reeling from—what? Defeat? No, just breaking under too many casualties. Giving ground. Pulling back. The citizens fleeing.
“Tiqr’s alliance with the local [Druid] factions collapses. Mass exodus west towards the Kilalle Steppes.”
Mrsha looked up at Erin. She was sitting on Erin’s lap, now. Watching Erin and Pisces’ faces more than understanding the abstract concepts. Erin looked at Pisces.
“I didn’t know they had [Druids]. Aren’t they solitary?”
“Some. But Tiqr is a place of animals. Why wouldn’t they have [Druids]?”
“They left yesterday. When I was at Esthelm.”
“Yes.”
——
Empress Nsiia sat on her throne. She had not eaten. She had not moved. General Vasraf had taken to the front, to lead a retreat. She didn’t rise as the congregations of [Druids] entered the throne room. Nor when they told her they were leaving.
Thef was dead. Slain. Alked Fellbow, the Named Adventurer, had brought him down. Nsiia only moved once. And it was to look up. Wildkeeper Jvaile looked at her. The woman was a [Druid]. First of her circle.
“You are leaving.”
“Yes, Empress. We cannot remain. Half our circle has perished in this war. We have given all we can. No more. We are leaving.”
The Wildkeeper bowed. The other [Druids] knelt. Nsiia looked at her. Her throat worked; she coughed. Dry from lack of water. A servant hurried forwards and she drank from the bowl. She coughed again.
“Where?”
“The Kilalle Steppes. The Garuda tribes will allow our presence. Further still, perhaps. Empress. We beg your pardon—”
“Good. Take my people with you.”
Nsiia saw the Wildkeeper look up. The Empress of Beasts moved. She looked out of her throne room.
“The herds too. The young. The elephants. All the animals. Take them with you. All that will go.”
Wildkeeper Jvaile hesitated.
“You intend to keep fighting, Empress?”
“Yes. This is Tiqr. We will not yield.”
The [Druid] hesitated. She was no politician.
“I have heard it said Savere extended an offer of surrender to Tiqr.”
“Yes. And Nerrhavia. Our surrender would be absolute. We would give our people to slavery.”
The [Empress]’s eyes flashed. The Siren would see her in chains, groveling. Nerrhavia’s Queen was little better. The Wildkeeper bowed her head. She and Nsiia were of one mind about her answer to that.
“Empress, this war cannot be won. The herds have fallen.”
“Yes.”
Thef. Was. Dead. The [Druid] paused.
“We will take the young. There are young Grand Elephants, and regular ones. They will not end. But—Empress—”
She looked up, meeting Nsiia’s hollow gaze.
“—the elephants have seen the blood. They know the death.”
Nsiia nodded. Elephants remembered.
“The elephants’ memory is as long as ours. Longer, sometimes, I think. This is their home. And they will remember it forever.”
The [Druid] whispered. Some of her fellow Wildkeepers were stirring. They had wept for the dead of Tiqr. Animals. Ah—they had died for their home along with the people.
“Just so. But this war has changed them. Many of the young have felt the death of their kin. If they grow to maturity, they will be wild. They will remember death, Empress. Death, and what people have brought.”
“Mankillers.”
Another [Druid] murmured. He waited for a response. But all the Empress of Beasts did was reach for her side.
The war-mask was cracked. Fellbow had aimed for her head as well. Slowly, Nsiia put it on and rose. She looked down as Jvaile shuddered.
“The herds remember death? Then they remember it properly, Wildkeeper. As I live it. Tiqr will not forget these days so easily. I only hope that some remain to remember it. Go.”
They left. Nsiia walked through her throne room. Her honor guard fell in beside her. Over half of them had fallen. Only a few war elephants remained to Tiqr. The army had been beaten back again and again. Now the last citizens were choosing to fight.
Nsiia stood at the steps of her palace. She spoke from behind her bone mask, looking at each of her warriors in turn.
“If you wish it, you may leave with my blessing. If any so ask, let them go now.”
None of them moved. Nsiia nodded. She looked around.
“This is our home. We cannot leave it like the [Druids] do. For this land has been our home. It is our home. Can we surrender? Give ourselves to slavery? Let all that Tiqr has built fade without fighting to the last?”
No. In the silence, Nsiia raised her hand. She could see the Wildkeepers moving. They had already prepared a caravan. Better they go now. The [Empress of Beasts] raised her hand.
“[Empire: Wild Riot].”
——
A detachment of Nerrhavian [Soldiers] paused as they patrolled Yov Oasis. This area was far from the front lines by now. And it had been taken, almost completely intact. Tiqr’s army had refused to fight near the oasis, refused to destroy it.
All the better for Nerrhavia. It would be some work establishing a foothold in Tiqr, but this oasis was worth more than gold to the Chandrarian kingdoms. It was a source of water, vital and precious. Which was why Nerrhavia had left a garrison here, to claim it before the end of the battle.
The [Commander] was still alert for guerilla strikes, though, for all even they had been pushed back to around Tiqr’s capital. He sat on horseback, talking to another [Mage] of the Silk caste. The [Mage] was frowning at the water.
“Something wrong?”
The [Mage] glanced up at the alert tone in the [Commander]’s voice. He chuckled and shook his head.
“Nothing magical, [Commander]. It is simply—I have never seen the quail-birds flying in that formation.”
He pointed. The Stitch-[Commander] looked and saw there were indeed a number of small quail flying in an odd spiral around the oasis. He frowned.
“Is that truly unusual?”
“Well, only insofar—”
The [Mage] got no further. Both Stitch-men felt the Skill pass through the earth. It was a shudder, a lurch in his stomach. The [Commander] looked around.
“What was—”
Then he heard the shrieks. The quail dove, beaks open. They flew down, attacking his patrol. The [Commander] was so stunned at first he didn’t bring his shield up. Then the first beaks tore at his flesh, tearing at the silk of his body, drawing blood and pecking flesh that turned to thread.
“Dead gods! What’s—”
“Animal attack! Kill the birds!”
One of his officers screamed, and the Stitch-warriors drew their blades. They began slashing at the birds, but they were everywhere and the blades were useless against so many. The [Commander] screamed at the [Mage].
“Cast a spell! Cast a spell!”
The Stitch-[Mage] was trying. He raised a hand and lightning burst outwards. Dozens of birds screamed and the lightning crackled off the [Commander]’s armor.
“[Lightning Bolt]! [Stone Arm—”
The [Mage]’s voice cut off in a scream of agony. The [Commander] turned. He didn’t see where the [Mage] was until he tripped over the fallen Stitch-man. He was dead. His face was torn away, his eyeballs removed. The [Commander] raised his shield.
“Form up! Backs to each other!”
His warriors did. They slashed at the sky, shielding their eyes. Slowly, the birds fell. The last of them lay on the ground, and the Stitch-warriors stomped, cursing. More than one was eyeless. That was only a temporary injury, but their faces had been torn apart. They would need to be sewn together.
But mostly, everyone was shaken. The [Commander] stared around. What had happened? Some—powerful [Druid] spell? A [Beast Master] nearby? Then he heard a shout.
“Commander! The horses have gone mad!”
“One patrol is under attack! From—termites!”
“The birds—”
“One of the pet parrots took the eye of—”
It was coming from across the camp. No—across Tiqr. [Messages] were pouring in of horses going insane, birds attacking—even the insects! The [Commander] listened, and then began to give orders.
“[Mages]. Any swarm of animals you see, destroy at range with spells. Understood? Kill every animal you see. Every last one.”
He shuddered. The Stitch-warriors stared at him. But the [Commander] didn’t have anything else to say. Tiqr had gone mad. The Empress of Beasts—
——
Stood alone. She watched as the last of the animals fled. Not all of them had listened to her Skill. But those that hadn’t were fleeing. It was a choice. It was always a choice.
Like this one. She stood on her palace, addressing her soldiers. They were fortifying the gates and walls of her city, trying to build them up. This would be their last stand. The war elephants blew their trumpeting calls, screams of fury. But not yet. Not yet. The other nations would surround this place. And then it would be the truest end.
They wanted her to surrender. Savere’s Siren had threats of how Nsiia would live. Queen Yisame of Nerrhavia offered more amicable terms. Nsiia left the letters unopened. They had made their decision. And so had she.
“For generations, this has been our land. When he rode through Tiqr with his armies and a force large enough to topple nations, my father sat here. On this very throne. And he dared the King of Destruction to take Tiqr, for we would bleed him to the last. Instead, the King of Destruction offered us an alliance and we followed him to war because he left our home ours. Do we bend now, and let them tear this land apart, each nation devouring a piece? Will they leave anything that is us?”
Her army stood before her. Waiting, knowing the answer. Nsiia shook her head. She raised her headdress. Only the Roc’s feather was left. One last battle.
“Never. Let them crawl over the dead to claim this place. We do not bow to these traitorous monsters. We offered no war. All we did was remember friendship. So let us die. Tiqr will be empty before it falls.”
They screamed at her words. And Nsiia raised her spear. Soon. These other nations would count this victory in the blood of their own. Tiqr would fight to the last before it fell.
But it was falling.
——
The end of the updates was sobering. Erin sat at the table and read the last lines in silence with Pisces.
Tiqr’s army retreats to the capital, Oliphant. Illivere’s army begins a siege. Savere’s army moves to reinforce. Nerrhavia’s army moves to reinforce.
The Laughing Brigade is defeated in battle by a joint attack led by Savere and Nerrhavian forces supplemented by soldiers from Deimos and Relaaquil.
[Druids] fleeing Tiqr confirmed to have left the border. Large number of animals and people in their company. No pursuit given.
That was today. Today, the siege had begun. Erin looked at Pisces. He raised his brows. Reached for a last slice of blue fruit.
It was breakfast. And all this war was so far away. Erin was now caught up on Tiqr. But what happened next? She stared at the parchment.
“So we don’t know what happens next?”
“Presumably, the other armies would initiate the final battle. If not today, then certainly tomorrow. Tiqr will no doubt have a final stand, but they lack the, ah, position for a protracted siege. Few walls, you see, no choke points. I imagine today or tomorrow we will receive news of Tiqr’s fall. Quite interesting that the King of Destruction never intervened. But in the end, I suppose it was not expedient.”
The [Necromancer] sighed as he chewed and swallowed. Erin nodded slowly. She blinked down, and then frowned.
“Hold on, we’ve missed something.”
“What?”
Pisces blinked. Erin pointed at a little note at the very bottom of the parchment.
“It says there was an addendum to the report about the Laughing Brigade. But it was extra and you didn’t pay it. See?”
The young man leaned over the parchment.
“An addendum at extra cost? They bothered to write this, but not include the actual information? What did I pay for? I specifically requested all information! The Mage’s Guild does not decide what is superfluous to my interests!”
Pisces was outraged. He stood up. Erin stood up with him.
“Yeah! What happened with them? Can we find out?”
“I intend to.”
The [Necromancer] straightened his robes huffily. He stalked towards the door to Liscor and Erin followed him. Lyonette looked up.
“Erin. Where are you going? I need you in the kitchen.”
The [Innkeeper]’s shoulders hunched. She looked over her shoulder and then hurried Pisces out the door.
“Ican’thearyougottagoI’mwithPiscesbye!”
“Erin!”
Lyonette got up, but Erin had already swung the door closed. The [Princess] scowled, but sat back down as Mrsha scampered over to her.
“She’s going to be making food all day when she gets back.”
——
“Excuse me. What exactly do you call this?”
The [Scribe] working day-shift at the Mage’s Guild looked up as Pisces thrust the parchment in front of her. She was a Gnoll, which surprised Erin for someone working in the Mage’s Guild—until she saw the ink stains on the Gnoll’s fur. The [Scribe] sighed.
