The Wintershall Tales

Fortitude placed the Dierdrakin in charge of disarming and taking the parole of the captured Han soldiers.  Every Han that emerged from the city was thoroughly searched and any valuables that appeared to have been looted in Archesia were confiscated.  Two large piles grew near the Dierdrakin.  One was a dazzling mass of gold, silver and precious stones.  The other held swords, daggers and crossbows.

While the Han were being disarmed Fortitude reviewed his priorities.  He needed to assert control over Saxonburg quickly but he also needed to ready the non-Lunar parts of his army for marching into Gavin tomorrow.  He also wanted word sent to any other Han garrisons south of Saxonburg that they should depart for Han now. 

With these things in mind, he sent for Carolus.  The man joined Fortitude with a look of supreme satisfaction.  “My congratulations, Fortitude,” he said.  “We have achieved something remarkable here today.  You have ensured a place for yourself in history.”

“Thank you, holiness,” Fortitude replied.  “It’s not over yet, though.  I want us to have complete control of the city by nightfall and I want everyone with any authority – Han or Archesian – under our control by the same time.”

Carolus nodded.  “With your approval, I’d suggest that you let me arrange that.  I’ll set things up so your authority and claim is clear from the outset.”

“How?” Fortitude asked.

“I’ll arrange a triumphal procession to the royal palace where you will publicly take up residence.  I’ll let it slip that Han prisoners we interrogated told us that Duke Rothgar and the Thaign of Nordphalia were caught in the unfortunate explosion at Tsi-Nan and are confirmed dead.  I will also make it clear that the loss of Baron Sigbald was an unfortunate and tragic loss and that, in the absence of any surviving heir, you will be assuming control of Archesia until a royal council can be convened.  I will therefore demand that any and all surviving officials are to report to you until further notice and that your army will be enforcing any and all edicts in this period of crisis and transition.”

Fortitude considered that carefully then nodded after a moment’s reflection.  “Very well,” he replied.  “That sounds fine to me.  One more thing though, my inclination is to free the Han soldiers to return to Han once we’ve disarmed them and they’ve given their parole.  I imagine that the Han Empire is in disarray with the death of the Han Council of Five and the fall of Zaahl.  My guess is that the Han are already suing for peace with Bayonnar.  If I’m right, freeing the Han soldiers here won’t be a problem for us in future.  What do you think?”

“I agree,” Carolus answered.  “We don’t have the resources to administer or feed eight thousand or so prisoners and we’ll have problems enough supporting and provisioning our own army for the next few winter months.”

“Good,” said Fortitude.  “Then I’ll look after the Han while you focus on the city.”

Carolus bowed again and departed.

Once he was gone, Fortitude turned his attention back to the long line of Han.  An idea occurred to him.  It was a little unusual and he ran it around in his mind for some time before deciding there was no reason not to attempt it. 

He strode over to the Han and spoke.  “Are there any among you who speak the northern tongue?”

Several Han raised their hands and Fortitude had them come forward.  “I want you to pass on a message to all your companions.  Tell them that anyone who wishes to return home to Han will be able to do so shortly.  They will not be harmed in any way so long as they do not attempt anything other than returning to Han.  However, anyone who has decided to venerate Merrin may stay and assist her in the liberation of the Theocracy of Gavin tomorrow.  They will then be allowed to return to Han with their weapons and Merrin’s blessings.”  He paused and looked at the knot of Han before him.  He could see interest on a few faces. 

He pointed to one side of the growing crowd of Han soldiers.  “Tell your companions that those who wish to fight for Merrin and receive her blessings should wait there.”

The Han interpreters returned to the mass of soldiers and began passing on the message.  Fortitude was pleasantly surprised to see a number of the Han move to where he had directed.  It looked like about one in five was choosing to serve Merrin.

Fortitude then identified the officers and non-commissioned officers among this group and put them in charge of organising new units and rearming for the next day. 

By the end of the day more than nine thousand Han had surrendered and been disarmed.  Of those, twelve hundred had volunteered to stay to fight for Merrin in Gavin the next day.  Fortitude was delighted. 

***

The triumphal entry into Saxonburg happened shortly before dusk and Fortitude quickly decided that Carolus had excelled himself. 

All two thousand Lunars lined up behind Fortitude and the mass of men marched through the city to the palace singing and chanting.  Tens of thousands of cheering and rejoicing people lined the roadways.  Alcohol and food was being served in plentiful quantities from every street corner and the mood of the populace was exuberant and joyful.

Fortitude studied faces in the crowds as he passed by them.  He was pleased to see that there was no malice or discontent evident on the thousands of faces.  They appeared genuinely delighted at their liberation and seemed more than happy to direct their joy at the Lunars marching through them. 

Despite the enthusiasm of the crowd and their good nature, Fortitude was relieved to reach the peace and order of the palace.  It was located on the crown of the hill and was the most beautiful and elegant building that Fortitude had ever seen.  The roofs were covered with brightly coloured tiles of glazed red, green and gold.  The walls were a clean white stone that twisted and turned around a myriad of alcoves, balconies, turrets and windows.  Every window and door arch was intricately carved and the carvings had been painted in lifelike colours.  Trees and water ornaments surrounded the buildings anchoring them in a setting of green and brown.

Several hundred servants and castle officials were waiting outside for Fortitude’s inspection.  Each of them curtsied or bowed as he walked past and studied him with curiosity and interest.  Again, Fortitude was pleased to see that there was no resentment or opposition on any face.

He was given a brief tour of the palace.  Every surface seemed to be covered in golden wood, intricate woollen tapestries or fine paintings.  It was clean and light throughout and made the few castles that Fortitude had seen in Bayonnar seem dark and clumsy in comparison.  Fortitude had to force himself not to gape at each new chamber and wonder.  He had never realised that humans were capable of such craftsmanship.

The journey ended at the royal apartments.  They occupied an entire floor on top of the central keep and were allocated solely to him.  There was a personal library, three bedchambers, a hall, a study and two sitting rooms.  All were magnificent and overwhelming in their taste, artistry and implied power.

Prior to this Fortitude had never really believed he could be a King.  It had all been too theoretical and unfamiliar for him to grasp.  Seeing these chambers, though, made it all real.  For the first time he realised all this might be his. 

With that thought, he thanked the steward who had been guiding him and dismissed the man.  Once he was alone, Fortitude set about exploring every inch of his new domain for himself.  His mind was full of wonder, yet he felt oddly humbled by his surroundings.

***

Night had well and truly fallen when Fortitude met with his companions.  Carolus and Martyn Darkling joined them.  Everyone reported on what they had been doing and gave an account of events in and around the city.

Martyn began.  “The Han that wanted to return home to Han have departed,” he said.  “As you suggested, I’ve dispatched several hundred of the Winterslow reservists to shadow them to ensure they don’t cause any trouble.  I’ve also sent our supply trains off after them so they don’t have to forage off the land while they remain in Archesia.  The Han have left behind enough of their own supplies that we won’t have any problem there.  The Dierdrakin, giants, Han volunteers and remaining Winterslow reservists are now camped outside the city walls near the gateway.  Everyone’s still a bit nervous about the white-wolves.  They’re still hunting and howling out there.”

Fortitude smiled reassuringly.  “They won’t bother anyone.  I’ve told them to stay away from people, but to remain near the city.  I’m planning on bringing them with us tomorrow.  They’ll help intimidate the Gavinites.”

Fortitude then turned to Carolus and gestured for him to report.

“The city knows you’re in charge,” Carolus said.  “The Lunars are guarding all public places and the palace.  The office holders, temples and guilds have all accepted that you are acting in the capacity of regent of Archesia until the process for appointing a new King can be completed.  With your permission I’ll focus on getting that process under way over the next day or so.”

“Agreed,” Fortitude replied.  “It’s going to be a busy few days getting everything sorted out.”

Celia spoke.  “You should assign us all with roles,” she suggested.  “It will be easier if the Archesians know who to deal with in particular situations.”

Fortitude saw the sense in that.  “All right.”  He looked at Carolus for a long moment.  “Perhaps you would take the role of Lord Chancellor and look after all matters regarding interior administration and the keeping of order.”

Carolus looked most satisfied with that suggestion.  “As you wish,” he said.

Celia’s face darkened and she opened her mouth to object but Fortitude cut her off with a lifted hand.  “And Celia,” he said.  “Perhaps you would take responsibility for state security matters and the allocation of all the minor offices and titles that will need filling.  You can be High Chamberlain.  Carolus will be quite busy enough with work around the succession.”

That mollified Celia but she decided to try for one more thing.  “Could I also take responsibility for information and proclamations?”

Now Carolus opened his mouth to argue but halted when Fortitude lifted a hand to forestall him.  “All right, Celia,” Fortitude said.  “You can take responsibility for preparing information and communications, but I want to check and approve everything that goes out.  I will, of course, consult with my Chancellor before issuing statements around religion and the temples.”

Carolus and Celia stared at each other.  There was a long pause, and then Carolus nodded.  “That sounds just fine,” he said.

“That’s fair,” Celia admitted.

“Good.” Fortitude looked around until his gaze fell on Marcus.  “Marcus,” he said.  “I need to know that the finances are all right and that everything’s secure.  The same rules apply as for in Winterslow.  I want to authorise all changes.”

“Of course,” Marcus said.  His pulse began to race and it took an effort of will to hide the triumph from his face.  He was going to have responsibility for the finances of an entire Kingdom.  At that moment, the possibilities seemed endless.

Fortitude nodded.  “Good and I’m sure Dunstan will be more than happy to assist you.”

Dunstan grinned across at Marcus.  “Suits me,” he said.

Fortitude then looked around at the others.  “What about the rest of you?” he said.  “Nan?”

Nan sniffed.  “I’ll give Celia a hand getting the administration going,” she said. 

Fortitude looked at William.  “What about you William?”

“Same,” he said.  “I’ll also help Celia.”

Fortitude nodded then looked at Sang.  “What would you like to do, Sang?” he asked.

Sang’s face was distant.  “I require no office,” he replied.  “I am content to continue serving as your protector.  When my service is no longer required I will require time to contemplate the events of the last week and my part in them.”

“I understand,” Fortitude replied.  Sang had been more introspective and withdrawn than usual since the destruction of the Han army at Tsi-Nan and he clearly felt personal responsibility for what had happened there.  “I’d be grateful for your protection.”  He then turned to see who was left in the room. 

“Aidan, what about you?”

“Umm,” Aidan started ingeniously.  “How about responsibility for gaming, licensing, gambling, city security, and the state concessions for alcohol?”

Fortitude laughed aloud and shook his head.  “How about I just keep the bar stocked in your room and you also serve me as a bodyguard?”

Aidan considered that then nodded.  “All right,” he said.  “That’ll do for now; though don’t forget the peppermint flavoured liqueur for the little fellows.” 

The last person in the room was Martyn Darkling and Fortitude was almost afraid to ask him what he wanted – but he did anyway. 

Martyn just shook his head doubtfully.  “No, nothing for me,” he answered. 

Fortitude felt a pang of dismay at this reply.  He knew that the success today put Martyn and his people in a difficult situation.  The Dierdrakin had become trusted and reliable allies and Fortitude did not want to lose them or their service.  He had to find some mutually acceptable solution as soon as possible.

He was suddenly aware that there had been silence in the room for several long seconds and everyone was staring at him.  He allowed a languid smile to spread across his face. 

“Well,” he said meeting the gazes of those gathered around him.  “We’ve achieved something remarkable.  Archesia has fallen for remarkably few losses and in only four days.  I think that calls for a celebratory drink.  Who’ll join me?”

Aidan let out a little cheer and strode over to a sideboard on which several clay flasks were already laid out.  “About time,” he said and began pouring.

Fortitude and the others met the army when it was less than half an hour from Saxonburg. 

Fortitude stopped the army about a mile from the northern end of the city.  He judged it to be far enough so he would have time to prepare if the Han sallied out for an attack, but close enough that the Han could see the size and strength of his army.  As each unit arrived, he deployed it along a wide crescent facing the city.

The two thousand Lunars took the centre of the field.  The Dierdrakin and Wintershall humans were placed at the eastern end of the line and the giants and goblins were placed at the western end.  When the forces were finally arrayed to Fortitude’s satisfaction, the four thousand creatures that comprised his army made an impressive sight.

Fortitude regarded the army proudly for a long moment then turned to look at the city.  The Han lines appeared as strong as before and did not seem at all deterred by his show of strength.  “All right,” he said under his breath.  “Let’s see how you like this then.”

He opened his mind and formed an image of a white-wolf in his mind.  “Come to me,” he called softly.

At that moment, Fortitude’s wolf-skin cloak stiffened and the head lifted and let out a blood-curdling growl.  Fortitude stifled a yelp.  He really wished his cloak would not do that without some kind of warning.  The cloak then howled.  It was a forlorn, lonely howl that somehow drifted and echoed over the battlefield and magnified unnaturally until it was several times its original volume. 

Around him, his companions quailed and stared around fearfully.

The howl of the cloak was echoed first by one wolf, then by hundreds a few seconds later.  A white form appeared a mile away on the crest of a low rise.  A mass of similar four-legged bodies quickly joined it and, within moments, a huge coursing mass of wolves was pouring over the hill towards the army. 

“Great Hale!” cried Aidan.  “How can there be so many wolves in the world?”

Fortitude studied the approaching animals with wonder.  It looked like there were more than a thousand wolves running to him. 

The mass of wolves chose that moment to howl in unison.  The feral and hungry sound that emerged froze everyone where they stood and the army around Fortitude quailed visibly.  More than one person started fearfully and the lines broke in a few places. 

“Steady,” Fortitude called loudly and confidently.  “I am the Beastlord and these creatures are under my control.”

That had the desired effect and Fortitude could see shame-faced men and women stepping back into position.  He could also hear his words echoing down the line.

He turned to look at the city.  He could hear similar cries and moans emanating from there.  He was pleased to see a mass of movement along the Han lines.

With a single thought, he made the wolves turn and stop several hundred yards from the Dierdrakin and Winterslow humans. 

Fortitude turned to Dunstan.  “I think they’re ready,” he said.  “Perhaps you’d go and carry out the second round of negotiations.”

“Sure thing… umm, Beastlord,” Dunstan replied.  “Say, could I have Sang come with me?  I’m not sure I understand all the subtleties of negotiating with the Han.”  He frowned.  “There are too many damned sayings and I don’t know what they mean.”

Fortitude turned to Sang who responded with a single nod.  “I will go, though I do not understand Dunstan’s meaning.  Is the plum blossom appreciated for what it is or for what it might be?” he declaimed quietly. 

“Yeah,” Dunstan said sounding a little aggrieved.  “That’s what I mean.”

Sang hid his astonishment at Dunstan’s lack of understanding and moved over to stand with him.  The two of them started across the field towards the city.

***

The same Han officer met Dunstan and Sang outside the palisade.  His earlier confidence had faded and his eyes regularly flicked out to the mass of waiting wolves.

“So,” said Dunstan without preamble.  “Have you reconsidered our demand for surrender?”

Sang’s eyes dropped in embarrassment at Dunstan’s execrable manners. 

“No,” replied the officer.  “I regret that we will not be surrendering.”

Dunstan sighed wearily.  “I don’t know why we bothered,” he exclaimed to Sang.  “Well Fortitude can’t say we didn’t try.”

Sang ignored Dunstan and stepped forward.  He bowed respectfully to the Han officer and introduced himself with humility and great formality.  “I am Sang, son of Sung from Chowsei in Kongshu.  I apologise for the barbaric manners of this Bayonnaran round-eye.  He is the upstart pup of an uneducated petty northern lordling.”

The Han officer noticeably warmed to Sang and his tone became correspondingly politer.  “And I am Captain Pei of the Striking Tiger Regiment in the Third Corps of the Divine Typhoon Group of his Imperial Majesty’s Fighting Foot.  I acknowledge you and regret that I cannot offer you the hospitality owing to an honoured guest.”

“Ahh,” Sang said in the prescribed way.  “I understand.  Perhaps when this unpleasantness is over…?”

With the civilities out of the way, Sang and the officer were able to discuss the respective positions of their armies with more candour.  It transpired that the Han army was more than happy to not fight Fortitude and would not attack unless he attacked them.  However, the officer assured Sang that he and his compatriots would defend Saxonburg to the last drop of their blood if necessary. 

Much went unsaid during that discussion, but Sang was able to fill in the gaps by the half-statements and his knowledge of Han ways.  He came to the view that the Han had not received orders for some days.  In the absence of orders, they had resolved to hold Saxonburg but not take offensive action until they heard from their superiors.

Sang bowed deeply at the end of the meeting and gave elaborate farewells.  He then led Dunstan away and back across the field to where Fortitude and the others were waiting.

***

Fortitude listened to Sang’s account of the negotiations with concern.  He had not really expected any other result.  He began running options through his mind while resting his hand upon the Baronial sword.

“An outright attack won’t work under any circumstances,” he began.

“Indeed,” the sword replied.  “An attack would be suicidal.  Besieging the city would be equally suicidal without at least three to one odds in your own favour.”

“Agreed,” Fortitude said.  “The Dierdrakin have a rune that will probably bring down a section of wall.  How about if we launched a focussed attack against one point of the walls?  We could make for a defensible position and look at holding it against all comers.  It would be expensive in lives, but it would get us into the city.”

“To what end?” the sword demanded.  “You will still end up in one on one fighting and the Han outnumber you.  I don’t see how you can win this.”

Fortitude considered the situation silently for some time.  “We could just set up our own palisade here and camp the army inside.  If we prepared it properly it would double our effectiveness in defence.  We’d be close enough that the Han couldn’t relax their defences and wouldn’t be able to move freely around the countryside.”

“That sounds sensible,” the sword admitted.  “You could mount a partial siege that way by using light fast patrols to intercept their foraging parties, however, they’d still be able to fight their way out or destroy our patrols at will.”

More ideas flickered through Fortitude’s mind, but before he could voice them to the sword, a triumphant blare of trumpets sounded in the distance.  A long and elaborate fanfare followed this.  From behind a long line of trees a banner appeared displaying the royal arms of Archesia – a golden crown on a blue background. 

Riding beneath the banner was Baron Sigbald.  He was dressed in gleaming silver plate mail and sat upon a huge white war-horse covered in blue and gold barding.  The man held a shield emblazoned with the same device as the banner. 

Behind the man marched more than three hundred yellow-haired Archesians brandishing short swords and wearing a variety of uniforms.

Fortitude’s expression became sour as he regarded the approaching troop.  His heart told him that Baron Sigbald had staged this arrival to reinforce his claim to the Archesian throne. 

Fortitude beckoned a Lunar messenger over.  “Tell the newcomers to stay down the end of the line where they are and take position a hundred yards from the goblins and trolls.”

The messenger saluted and jogged away.

Baron Sigbald did not seem interested in waiting for orders, however.  His intention seemed to be to parade his meagre forces for both armies to see.  He began leading his column about a hundred yards in front of Fortitude’s forces in a long double line of men and horses. 

Fortitude saw the messenger reach Baron Sigbald and salute.  There was a brief exchange then Fortitude saw the Baron wave the messenger away.  The Baron seemed determined to complete his procession as he kept his column moving in front of Fortitude’s army.

Fortitude cursed the man under his breath.

Carolus was standing alongside.  “Clever,” he said softly.  “We won’t be able to make him disappear very easily.”

Before Fortitude could reply, a huge section of air began to shimmer about a hundred yards directly in front of him.  A gigantic square wall of golden light appeared throbbing and pulsing in the air.  It was in the direct path of Baron Sigbald’ little parade.

As the wall of light solidified, the air filled with a strange keening buzzing sound that caused those all around to recoil in discomfort. 

“What the…” cried Fortitude.

Aidan stared back apprehensively.  “It looks like one of Merrin’s portals,” he called.

“Oh no,” said Fortitude with sinking heart.  “Merrin’s trying to help us.  Get ready to flee.”

All over the land the Han and Kingdom forces stared and cowered.  The noise from the gate had grown painfully loud and was setting everyone’s teeth on edge. 

Baron Sigbald finally stopped his column a dozen yards from the wall of light and stared between it, the city and Fortitude’s army uncertainly.  It was obvious that he did not dare ride on but was also unwilling to lose face by turning about and retreating.

Suddenly a titanic voice boomed out.  Trees bowed and grass bent at the force of it.  People fell back and recoiled whimpering and clutching their heads.  That did not help, however, as the voice was also sounding in their minds.

“BEEEEEEEASTLORD!” the voice thundered.  It sounded like Merrin trying to be important. 

Fortitude buried his face in a hand. 

“BEASTLORD!” the voice called again even more loudly – if that was possible.

“Umm, yes Merrin?” replied Fortitude carefully.

“IF YOU AREN’T DOING ANYTHING IMPORTANT, COULD YOU COME AND SMITE THE TREACHEROUS BASTARDS WHO WANT TO KILL ME IN THE CITY OF GAVIN?”

Fortitude frowned.  “Well, I’m actually in the middle of trying to take Saxonburg, Merrin.”

There was a brief pause.  “OH,” said Merrin sounding a little deflated.  “WHAT IF I HELP YOU?  WE COULD PROBABLY KILL THEM FAIRLY QUICKLY, THEN YOU COULD COME AND SORT OUT THE NASTY PEOPLE IN GAVIN.”

Fortitude could hear wailing and moaning drifting across from the Han lines.  He suddenly wondered if this conversation was being broadcast to the entire world again.

“Well actually Merrin,” he began.  “I kind of want to take the city whole, but if you could smite the Han defending the land outside the walls…”

There was a long pause before Merrin replied.  “BUT THERE ARE PEOPLE WORSHIPPING ME NOW AMONG THOSE CHIN.  I MEAN I KNOW YOU’RE THE BEASTLORD AND ALL, AND OF COURSE I’LL DO WHAT THE BEASTLORD COMMANDS, BUT COULDN’T YOU JUST TELL THEM THAT I WILL BE DISPLEASED AND WILL SLAY THOSE WHO REFUSE TO OBEY THE BEASTLORD.”  There was a brief pause.  “LOOK,” she said with mad relish.  “This’ll surprise them.”

Fortitude suddenly felt a physical and mental wrench.  It was an odd sensation as if he was suddenly looking at the world through two sets of eyes and was sensing it from two different bodies.

Behind the foremost palisade in front of the city, a Han soldier suddenly leapt a hundred feet into the air in a long and curving arc.  Fortitude felt it as if it were happening to himself and he wailed as he felt himself being propelled upwards with impossible and irresistible force. 

At the top of the arc, the Han soldier’s body exploded in a fine spray of gore and ichor.  The explosion was an indescribably unpleasant sensation.  Though his real body remained whole and healthy for a tiny moment Fortitude felt the Han soldier’s body rip apart and atomise.  The sensation ended a tiny fraction of a second later. 

Fortitude staggered and stared around wide-eyed.  He saw all the troops and group members around him staggering as well.  Clearly, everyone was sharing in the experience. 

The effect repeated itself a moment later.  Once more Fortitude joined to a single Han soldier.  His real body saw the Han leap up into the air while a part of his mind felt the body accelerating upwards with incredible force.  He flailed and screamed without knowing he was doing it.  The flailing and screaming was echoed in more than a hundred thousand throats and bodies around the battlefield and in the city beyond.  Every soldier visible collapsed twisting, fighting and wailing.  Fortitude collapsed with them.  Again, the sensation cut out a second later when the Han exploded high in the air.  A fine spray of blood and gore began to rain down behind Han lines.

“NEAT HUH?” said Merrin.  “I BET THEY CAN’T TAKE TOO MUCH MORE OF THAT.”

Fortitude staggered up staring around wildly.  “Merrin!” he wailed.  “Please don’t do that again.”  He stared at the Han lines.  They were in chaos.  He could see Han running and screaming.  Countless sergeants were attempting to restore order. 

Fortitude realised his bargaining position with the Han had just improved significantly.  He considered how best to exploit this opportunity.

“Say Merrin,” he said carefully.  “Could you send me one of your creatures to break through the Han defences?  It might be enough to intimidate them into surrender”

Merrin sounded positively enthusiastic as she replied.  “BEASTLORD.  I WILL DO AS YOU COMMAND!  I KNEW IT WAS JUST A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU GOT OVER YOUR SQUEAMISHNESS ABOUT SUMMONING SLAVERING MOUTHED, BETENTACLED, OOZE-BODIED, SOUL-EATING PHANTASMS.”  She paused with unworldly enthusiasm.  “SO HOW MANY DO YOU WANT, HUH?”

“Just one,” Fortitude replied gesturing at the city.  “I want just one creature that’s big enough to take out the defences and survive long enough to hit the city walls.”

“BEASTLORD,” Merrin exclaimed obligingly.  

A long few seconds ticked by and then the huge square of light throbbed once.  From the middle of the portal, the biggest, meanest looking Chaffinch that Fortitude had ever seen was spat out in a gentle arc.  It slammed into the ground with a very loud and very wet splat exactly where Baron Sigbald had been.  Its body was more than a hundred feet in diameter and was covered in hundreds of ropy flailing tentacles – each one of which finished with a gaping maw of sharp teeth and smaller tentacles. 

Fortitude recoiled in astonishment.  “I didn’t mean…” he began then fell silent. 

“So much for the last heir,” Carolus breathed softly beside him.

The chaffinch began rolling over what remained of the Archesian column.  The flailing mouths began fighting over individual soldiers and dozens of men were ripped apart in mid-air and swallowed by the keening throats.  Hunger and rage pounded Fortitude’s mind and the minds of everyone watching the creature feed.

Fortitude resisted the power of the creature’s mind with difficulty and called out to Merrin.  “Not the Archesians.  Send the creature to the city.”

The creature froze momentarily, and then began rolling towards the city at an impressive pace.  Fortitude watched as the Han lines broke and soldiers began running for their lives.  It took the creature several minutes to hit the palisades and, when it did, it rolled over them effortlessly – rending and shattering them as it moved.  Within a minute, several hundred yards of palisade in front of the city was gone and not a single Han remained moving.

Fortitude called out again.  “That’s enough, Merrin.  Send it back.”

There was a loud popping cracking sound and the creature disappeared as fast as it had appeared.

Fortitude looked around at this point.  This was his best chance to take Saxonburg here and now.  He needed to take the city gate and crush what remained of the Han defences before they could rally.  Unfortunately, as he scanned his own soldiers he saw that most of them were in the grip of varying degrees of fear and horror.

Only the giants seemed to have been relatively unaffected by the appearance of the ‘chaffinch.’

Fortitude seized a messenger standing near by and shook him until the man focussed on him.  “Send the giants forward,” Fortitude ordered.  “Tell them they can eat anything they kill or capture.”  He pointed at the open gate into the northern end of the city.  “I want them to take that gate.”

The messenger gave a shaky salute and ran to where Grimm Ironhand was standing.  He must have related the orders correctly because the giant war leader let out a loud cheer and, without waiting for his troops, charged forward.  Guessing that there was a good feed in the offing, the rest of the giants set off in pursuit. 

Fortitude turned to look at the shaken Lunar commanders around him.  “Rally the troops,” he commanded.  “Get the army moving,” he called.  “Forward march!”

The army rallied slowly and it took nearly a minute to get the units moving forward en masse.  The giants hit the front edge of the destroyed palisade about the time the army began moving. 

Several units of Han had reorganised by that time and the giants cried out in thuggish happiness as they saw prey waiting for them.  They charged the columns of waiting Han and began clubbing them down with effortless overhand blows. 

Fortitude called out in frustration as he watched the giants work.  They were killing everything around them but Grimm Ironhand was completely ignoring the city gate.  As Fortitude watched the gate slowly swung shut and he saw troops forming up on the walls above it.

Fortitude wanted to scream in frustration at this setback, but he remained silent and searched around for some other option.  His gaze fell upon the Dierdrakin runemages and he gestured them forward.

“I need those walls cleared and that gate opened,” he told them.  “Do you have that stone that destroys walls and those sticks that shoot fire?”

One of them held up a long intricately carved stick out from under his tunic and gave it to Fortitude.  “This sprays flame,” he said.  “Just get to within bow range then point it and say the word; work.  It’ll clear the top of the walls.”

Carolus called out beside him.  “Is this wise?”

“Yes,” Fortitude snapped back.  “The Han are demoralised, disorganised and afraid.  This is our best chance.”

Carolus called something back, but Fortitude did not hear because he was running forward.  He closed to within a hundred yards of the wall and stopped.  He lifted the stick and pointed it at the top of the wall.

“Work!” he cried.

The stick heaved once and spat out a huge stream of flame.  The hairs on Fortitude’s arm frizzled away as the fire sprayed out several hundred yards and instantly cleared a ten-yard wide section of wall. Underneath the fire, most of the giants dropped down out of sight.  Fortitude began playing the flame from side to side.

Within seconds, the wall was clear.

Fortitude looked back at the runemages.  “Dierdrakin,” he called.  “Get that gate open.”

The Dierdrakin started forward at a run carrying a large square stone.  They ran through the now destroyed palisade and up to the gate.  The stone was leaned up against the gate and the runemages quickly retreated – calling for the giants to move back with them.

A few seconds later, there was a huge rumble of sound and a large section of wall along with an entire tower disappeared in flame and noise.  Small chunks of stone and dust began raining down for hundreds of yards.

“Take the wall!” Fortitude cried gesturing at the Lunar companies either side of him.  “Charge.”

The Lunars surged forward roaring and brandishing their blades high.  The rest of the army coursed after them.

Fortitude ran with them.  “Merrin,” he called as he thundered over the last few yards.  “Can you amplify my voice?”

There was a pause.  Fortitude and the rest of the army reached the palisades at that moment and easily pushed their way through.  They found a wide courtyard beyond with hundreds of dead and wounded Han.  Officers checked the headlong rush of the soldiers and began despatching squads and companies down various streets and towards knots of surviving Han.

“IT’S DONE BEASTLORD,” Merrin called in Fortitude’s mind.  “Your voice is now amplified.”

Fortitude opened his mouth and began to speak.  “YOU HAN INSIDE SAXONBURG, SURRENDER OR I, THE BEASTLORD, WILL KILL YOU ALL” he said and reeled in surprise.  His voice was unbelievably loud.  He looked around and saw his companions glaring at him with hands clapped over ears.

He shrugged apologetically but continued.  “IF YOU SURRENDER YOU WILL BE ALLOWED TO RETURN HOME UNHARMED.  YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES.  YOU WILL FILE OUT OF THE CITY AND BE DISARMED.  IF YOU DO NOT THEN THE GODDESS MERRIN WILL SEND MORE CREATURES TO DEVOUR YOU AND SHE WILL PREVENT YOU FROM REJOINING YOUR ANCESTORS IN THE NEXT WORLD.”

He then waved to his commanders.  “MOVE THE MEN…” He paused.  “YOU CAN TURN IT OFF NOW MERRIN,” he said and fell silent. 

“THIS IS QUITE FUN,” he thought to himself, then frowned.  Everyone was still staring at him.

“GREAT MERRIN,” he thought.  “EVERYONE CAN HEAR MY THOUGHTS.  OOPS.”  He tried hard not to think of anything.  “DON’T THINK OF ANYTHING.  LA LA LA LA LA, TA DUM DE DUM, SHAME ABOUT THAT LAST ARCHESIAN HEIR, OH DAMN, MERRIN, AHH ADELA…”

At that moment, Fortitude’s voice cut out.  “SORRY BEASTLORD,” Merrin said in Fortitude’s mind.

Fortitude rolled his eyes.  “No problems, Merrin.  Say, is there an easier way for us to communicate?  I mean can you do for me what gods do for their high priests and set up some permanent link?”

When Merrin replied her tone was rapturous.  “BEASTLORD!” she exclaimed.  “OOH, I WOULD BE SO HONOURED.”

Fortitude felt a strange wrenching at that moment followed by a sickening sense of despair, horror and insignificance.  “WELCOME TO MY WORLD,” Merrin said.  “TOGETHER WE CAN CAUSE CHAOS AND MADNESS.  YOU ARE NOW MY NEWEST HIGH PRIEST.” 

Fortitude stared around wildly.  He had not intended to become a high priest of Merrin.  He opened his mouth to tell Merrin to reverse whatever she had just done, then stopped.  Merrin did not take rejection well and he knew he was really going to need her support in the days and weeks ahead.  Fortitude decided to make the best of it for the moment. 

He forced some self-control.  “So Merrin,” he began a little too brightly.  “What’s the story with the Theocracy of Gavin?”

When Merrin replied there was a real sense of irritation in her voice.  “THEY ARE PLANNING ON RISING AGAINST ME.  ONE OF ZAAHL’S OLD HIGH PRIESTS IS ORGANISING IT; I NEED HIM STOPPED.”  She paused.  “I NEED THE THEOCRACY OF GAVIN TO REMAIN LOYAL TO ME AND TO DEFEND ME WHEN THE LITTLE PEOPLE GET UPPITY.  I NEED THE BEASTLORD TO COMMAND THEM AND TO RULE THEM IN MY NAME.” 

She paused and her tone became a little more unhinged and a touch more conspiratorial.  “I DON’T THINK THE LUNARS LIKE ME,” she said.  “THEY’RE SO STRAIGHT AND BORING AND THEY DRINK MILK AND ARE TIDY AND POLITE.  COULD YOU BRING THE DIERDRAKIN AND SORT OUT GAVIN WITH THEM?  THEY’RE MY KIND OF PEOPLE.”

“I suppose so,” Fortitude replied.  “How do we get over the mountains to Gavin?”

“THE NEW GATE IS A PERMANENT ONE BETWEEN HERE AND GAVIN.  IT WILL TAKE YOU THERE.”

“Is there a hurry?” Fortitude asked.  “I need to take Saxonburg first.  If things go all right here, could we take control in Saxonburg first and come to Gavin, say tomorrow?”

“OF COURSE BEASTLORD,” Merrin replied very properly.  “TOMORROW WOULD BE JUST FINE.  I HAVE NO OTHER ENGAGEMENTS.”

With that Fortitude felt Merrin’s presence disappear from his mind.  He relaxed slightly and turned his attention back to the city.  As he looked the first of a long line of Han began to file out holding weapons above their heads.

Fortitude began to relax slightly for the first time that day.  It looked like Saxonburg and possibly Archesia was his.

Saxonburg looked like something out of a fairy tale.  It had been built on an isolated hill in the centre of a wide plain.  From a distance, it gave the impression of containing a forest of impossibly tall buildings reaching many hundreds of yards in to the air.

The style of architecture increased this effect.  The builders of Saxonburg appeared to have had a love affair with elegant and deceptively light structures.  There were hundreds of towers of every imaginable shape and size.  Buildings were covered in steep roofs and were supported by flying buttresses, arches and other soaring features that spanned many levels and linked adjacent buildings in a tracery of mutually supporting stonework. 

Despite the beauty of the city, there was also evidence of strength.  A large wall ran around the base of the hill.  It was punctuated with strong towers every hundred yards or so and a huge four-towered barbican marked the point where the road entered the city.

From this vantage point, the group saw the Han army drawn up awaiting them.  The walls of the city bristled with archers and siege catapults and ballistae.  Along the front of the walls, three long rows of wooden stakes bristled.  Each row had a trench dug in front of it.  Huge masses of Han soldiers were lined up behind these palisades and could be seen drilling for battle.  Light gleamed off the polished metal of thousands of pikes and steel helmets. 

Aidan let out a low whistle as his gaze swept over the Han preparations.  “Ouch,” he said with some feeling.  “Well that looks pretty darn tough.”

Fortitude nodded silently and rested his hand on the sword.  “What do you think,” he said to it.

The sword paused a long moment then replied in a crisp business-like manner.  “You can’t assault this and expect to win.  They outnumber you more than two to one and they have well planned defences, which probably gives them an advantage closer to four to one I’d say.  Whatever you do today, a full on assault is not going to succeed.”

Fortitude agreed and he beckoned Carolus and Martyn Darkling over.  “An outright assault’s not going to work,” he said simply.  “The way they’re deployed suggests they’re also not going to come out and fight any time soon.  Do you have any ideas?”

Carolus stared at the city thoughtfully.  “Negotiate,” he said.  “They may be willing to treat with us to avoid battle.”

Martyn nodded.  “I agree,” he said.  “Perhaps we can bluff them in some way.  If that fails though, we have the rune magic we prepared last night.”

“What did you make that would help in an attack?” Fortitude asked.

“We have two rods that will each spurt flame over several hundred yards and incinerate anything in their path.  We also have several great stones with runes of destruction inscribed upon them.  Placing one against the wall or a gate it will explode and destroy a large area.  Give us a few hours and we can prepare any number of other runes.”

Fortitude considered that carefully before replying.  “The army will be about two hours behind us,” he began.  “I want to end this today if I can.  The Han outnumber us hugely and so we can’t put the city under siege.  If we camp too close, they could hit us hard with a surprise attack.  I think we need to look at ending this through negotiation and then try force if that doesn’t work.”

He looked around and his gaze fell on Dunstan.  “Say Dunstan, my lad,” he said.  “Would you mind going up to the city under a flag of truce and finding out what terms they would accept.”

Dunstan looked appalled by risks entailed in that mission.  “But they’ll shoot me,” he said plaintively.

Fortitude shook his head.  “No, stay out of range and they’ll send someone out to negotiate.”

Dunstan’s face fell.  “Couldn’t someone else go?”  He looked around until his gaze fell on Aidan.  “What about Aidan?”

Aidan frowned and looked around evasively.  “Umm sorry but I can’t,” he said.  He suddenly clutched his leg.  “I’ve hurt my leg,” he said without much conviction.

Dunstan glared at him then looked around.  He saw Celia next.  “What about Celia?  She’s a better negotiator than me.”

Celia kept her expression deadpan as she replied.  “No sorry Dunstan.  I’m not expendable.”

Dunstan’s mouth fell open and he began to splutter indignantly.

Fortitude lifted a hand.  “You’re the best choice, Dunstan,” he said.  “Just do it.”

Dunstan’s face fell.  After a long moment, and pausing to dart murderous glares at Celia and Aidan, he nodded stiffly.  He slowly removed his weapons and mounted his horse.

***

Dunstan approached the city slowly and carefully.  He stopped just outside what he imagined was extreme bow range then raised his flag of truce and waited. 

After five minutes, a section of wooden pikes moved to one side and a Han officer emerged and strode across the grasslands.  He stopped a few yards from Dunstan and stared at him suspiciously. 

“What do you want?” the Han demanded with a heavy accent.

Dunstan swallowed and tried to ignore the long line of archers behind the palisades.  “We want to know if you’ll surrender to us.”

The Han officer’s face split with a broad smile.  “No,” he said.  “But you could surrender to us.”

Dunstan shook his head and decided to bluster.  “The god Merrin, the Beastlord and a whole host of strange and weird creatures march with us.”

The Han looked unimpressed.  “We outnumber your army three to one and are behind fortifications.  Attack if you wish – for you will certainly die.”

Dunstan and the Han stared at each other for a few long seconds.  Finally, Dunstan sighed.  “Well if that’s your answer I’ll go and tell Fortitude… err, the Beastlord.”

He swung his horse around and trotted back towards his friends.

***

Dunstan related the meeting unhappily to the others.  They listened without any particular surprise. 

Fortitude turned to Sang.  “What do you think?”

“They will not surrender without good cause,” Sang replied.  “To do otherwise would be a huge loss of face and prestige.”

Fortitude regarded the city at length before replying.  “Well then, I suppose we can try again once our army arrives.  Perhaps once the army’s lined up they’ll see how things are and will give up then.”

Dunstan snorted.  “I think we could give them more motivation by blowing up one of those gate bombs near the city.  That’d scare them into submission.”

Fortitude shook his head.  “We couldn’t do it without Merrin, and even if we could, we’d kill too many innocent Archesians in the villages around the city.”

Dunstan looked disappointed.

Fortitude gestured at a nearby village.  “We can’t do much more till the army arrives.  Why don’t we see if we can find out something useful at the village.”

***

The village was a large prosperous settlement with several hundred stone and wood buildings laid out around a large market square.

The first man they came across in the village stared at the group with the utmost suspicion when they stopped him and asked for a few minutes of his time.  This changed when he learned that Fortitude was the Beastlord – leading an army to liberate Saxonburg from the Han.  His manner changed.  He suddenly became enthusiastic, cooperative and obsequious. 

“Beastlord,” he said awkwardly but with great respect.  “How may I serve you?”

Fortitude did not waste time.  “We’re looking for information on the Han in Saxonburg.  Are they all in the city?  Are there any secret ways into the city?  Do you know anything of what they intend?  Can you tell us anything of what they have done here to date?”

“Beastlord,” the man replied apologetically.  “The Han are all in or around the city and neither I nor anyone else here will know of any secret ways in, or anything of what the Han intend.  They have done nothing other than give us new laws, higher taxes and take all our food and valuables.”

“So there’s nothing you can tell us that will help us in dealing with them?”

“No Beastlord,” the man replied.  “I am but a humble wheelwright.”  He paused.  “Perhaps you would do better talking with Baron Witta.”

“Who?”  That name sounded familiar.

The man’s eyes widened.  “You do not know he is here?” he said in disbelief and amazement.  “But he has ridden here to join your banner in leading the liberation of Archesia.”

Fortitude glanced inquiringly at Celia.  “Baron Witta?” he asked.

Celia made a sour face then forced an expression of polite neutrality.  “I suspect he’s talking about Baron Witta uls Sigbald.  He is one of the five surviving heirs and, from memory, was fourth in line.”  She paused and her eyes defocused as she tried to recall the details.  “First in line is Duke Rothgar.  He’s around fifty and has a shield with a red device of some sort.  He has two sons Ulf and Alfred who are second and third in line.  Fourth in line is the old Kings nephew, Witta, Baron of Sigbald.  He had the royal device on his arm with a silver bar through them.  That’s who we’re talking about.  Fifth in line is, of course, the Thaign of Nordphalia.”

Fortitude cursed internally.  He really did not need a surviving heir turning up here today of all days. 

The peasant coughed meaningfully.  “Pardon me, Beastlord,” he said.  “But there’s only three heirs left.  The Han found Duke Rothgar’s sons – Ulf and Alfred.  They hung them over the royal castle here for all the world to see.”

Fortitude blinked as he suddenly realised there was actually only one heir left.  “I see,” he said very carefully.  “So where is Baron Witta?”

The peasant shrugged.  “I don’t know Beastlord.  His men came through the village last night requesting supplies.  As patriotic Archesians we gave all we could spare.  They then disappeared back into the night.”

Fortitude turned to William.  “See if you can find the tracks would you.”  William nodded and strode away.  Fortitude turned back to the peasant and gave him a silver coin for his troubles.

***

William located the tracks without difficulty just outside the village.  It looked like twenty shod horses had arrived from the east and departed back the same way. 

Fortitude considered this carefully and calculated the likely time before his army arrived.  There was at least another hour and so he decided to follow the tracks back to their source.  He instructed William to take the lead.

The tracks ran more than a mile from the village to a river-cut ravine in the plain.  At the bottom of the ravine, hidden from the city, they found nearly a hundred tents set up along the riverbed.

As the group inspected the camp below, six guards stepped out from a clump of bushes and pointed crossbows at them.  “Who are you,” one of them demanded.

Fortitude returned their gazes with an easy confidence.  “I am the Beastlord, Fortitude uls Morcar, Baron of Winterslow.”

As soon as the guards heard Fortitude’s name and title their attitude changed.  Like the peasant before, they became deferential. 

They led Fortitude and the others down the side of the ravine towards a sky blue tent in the middle of the camp.  As they drew close, a man stepped out of the tent.  He was in his forties and silver tinged his black hair.  His face was haughty and marked by frown lines.  He radiated a sense of superiority and absolute certainty. 

Fortitude formed an instant dislike of the man.

The man strode over to Fortitude and held out his arm.  “Beastlord,” he exclaimed.  “I am Baron Witta Sigbald.  Welcome to my little camp.”

Fortitude clasped the man’s arm firmly.  There were people all around and there was no way he could arrange the man’s demise or disappearance without a large number of witnesses.  “Baron,” he replied warmly.  “I am delighted to find that you’re alive and well.”

The two Barons made polite conversation for the next few minutes.  Baron Witta did not invite Fortitude into his tent, but had drink brought to them.  As the two men shared wine, Baron Witta told Fortitude his tale. 

“When King Ubreagh called the armies to Saxonburg, I was ill.  I therefore escaped the destruction of the army.  Ever since, I have been hiding out in the mountains – slowly assembling a new army for the day when the Han are driven from Archesia and the true line is restored to the throne.”

Fortitude listened to this tale with misgiving.  “I see,” he said politely.  He had a feeling that this man was going to try to slip into the Archesian throne on his shirttails.

“Yes,” Baron Sigbald added.  “For the forthcoming battle I shall have my army join yours.”

“Just as I imagined,” Fortitude lied.  He took a deep breath and reminded himself to be polite.  “My army is due to arrive in an hour.  If you strike camp now you can join us.  We intend to face off against the Han and demand their capitulation.”

The Archesian beamed at him and slapped him on the shoulder.  “Go then, Baron,” he said.  “Return to your army and tell them that Baron Witta uls Sigbald rides to support them.  Soon Archesia will be free again and the rightful line of Haalsbich will be restored to the throne shortly thereafter.”

Fortitude nodded politely and made his farewells.  He muttered dark things under his breath as he and the others rode fast back to the road.

Staring into the swirling vortex, Merrin was in a happy mood as she contemplated the universe.  In a quiet hour, she had diverted more power to the dog-man and he now boasted a thick hide capable of stopping any normal weapon and super-sensitive ears able to swivel freely and hear the slightest sounds.  She had ridden her horse some more and had managed to halve the work required to maintain the vortex through what she thought was a particularly clever and judicious use of power. 

At the same time, the seventh of Zaahl’s eight high priests had converted to her this morning.  She sensed several hundred thousand souls already making fearful obeisance to her and millions more carefully exploring their feelings towards her.  It all seemed to be turning out very well, she decided.

She examined the vortex in detail.  She sensed huge clusters of people favourably disposed to her in the far north of Bayonnar and down near Warminster.  She could see untold thousands of souls aligning towards her in Han.  There were also several large clusters in far Russ and the island nation of Torp. 

However, as she gazed through the vortex a look of vexation crossed her face.  In addition to seeing worshippers and believers, she could detect those vehemently opposed to her.  There were many clusters all over the world and they outnumbered the believers many times over. 

She leaned forward to study one area in more detail.  It appeared that there was a huge cluster of hostile souls near to her.  It looked like much of the city of Gavin was opposed to her.

Merrin’s mouth fell open as she saw this.  “Well I never,” she muttered indignantly to the dog-man.  “That’s not very neighbourly,” she said.

After pausing a minute to stabilise the vortex once again, she used power to study the city more closely.  What she saw worried her greatly.  There was an army forming.  The eighth and last of Zaahl’s old high priests was there with many other Zaahl worshippers.  They were whipping up the populace and had already secured the support of a number of other temples. 

By careful use of power, Merrin was able to listen in on some of the plotting against her.  As she heard these fragments, she glowered angrily and desperately wished that her powers were more fully formed.  The people of Gavin were planning on marching on her and overthrowing her.  She sensed that the high priest was organising them so he could kill her and usurp her hard won place while she was weak and vulnerable.

Her lower lip began to wobble as she sensed the hatred below.  “Why don’t they like me?” she asked the dog-man plaintively.  He whimpered and slunk away as Merrin let out a loud pathetic sniffle. 

She still could not quite fathom how to open gates from one place in the vortex to any other place in the vortex.  If she could have – then, at that moment, the people of Gavin would have been inundated with monsters summoned from some outer abyss. 

Merrin stared down looking truly frustrated now.  “There must be something I can do,” she said uncertainly.  Her eyebrow lifted a moment later.  “The Beastlord…” she muttered intently and nodded to herself with increasing force.  “Yes!  He will save me,” she said and nodded in grim certainty. 

Her gaze became more calculating as she tried to work out how best to achieve the plan that was growing in her mind.

***

Fortitude’s army rose again before dawn the next morning.  Tents were struck and horses and mules were loaded up in the fields outside the city.  The roar of hundreds of sergeants organising and directing their units reverberated through the air for miles around.

Inside the castle of Handburg, Fortitude sent for Carolus, Martyn Darkling and his companions.  As soon as they were gathered he spoke.

“Today we hit Saxonburg.  We don’t have the Lunar powers any more, so we need to use our other assets.  The Han know we’re coming and I doubt they’ll give up Saxonburg without a fight.  My guess is that they’ll be waiting for us behind the walls of Saxonburg and won’t rally out against us for fear of the Lunar powers.  With that in mind, we’re going to need to identify some other way of taking Saxonburg.  I want to scout the city out before the army arrives and I’d like everyone here to ride with me.”

“Is that wise?” Sang asked.  “What if the Han have more traps prepared for us along the roadway?”

“Fair point,” Fortitude said turning to Martyn.  “I’d like to take several of your rune mages to search for traps.”  He gave a wry smile as he thought of the mass of wolves waiting for him outside the city.  “As for Han patrols,” he started.  “I’m not worried about them.”

Thirty minutes after dawn, Fortitude and the others mounted their horses and started south.  In the fields outside the city, the Baronial army was beginning to form up on the roadway.

***

The ride to Saxonburg exhilarated and astonished Fortitude.  The Dierdrakin rune mages found no traps and they encountered no trouble at all as they rode.  The Han appeared to have pulled back completely from these lands and the populations of every village they passed through greeted Fortitude and the others as liberating heroes.

Fortitude was also oddly aware of the white wolves as he rode.  He could sense them a mile or so away riding in parallel with the road – keeping up with him, but remaining out of sight.  Occasionally, yips and howls drifted through the air causing more than one of his companions to swing around and search out across the Archesian landscape. 

Fortitude said nothing though.  They would be a surprise for later.

Nan rode with Celia on this journey and she used the time and the noise of the horses to resume their conversation of the previous evening.  “So Celia,” she started.  “What’s the plan now?  Should we try to reanimate an Archesian heir when we get to Saxonburg?”

Celia rode in silence for a long minute before answering.  “No,” she answered.  “I’ve given it a lot of thought since yesterday and I think we need to take a longer term view and be a little more subtle.”

Subtlety was not something Nan preferred.  “What do you mean?” she called over the sound of riding.

“Here’s how I see it,” Celia replied.  “If we get an heir now, we’re just going to end up in open conflict with Fortitude, the King and the Lunars.  They’ve got armies and we haven’t.”  She looked at Nan who nodded reluctantly. 

Celia continued.  “I think the best bet for helping Kyril’s temple is to have Fortitude and the King on side.  They can grant us more favours and honours than we would ever be able to seize.  Don’t you agree?”

Nan considered this.  Celia’s reasoning was good but the plan sounded dull.  “I suppose so,” she admitted.

“I know it’s not exciting, but I think it’ll work.  I think we can achieve more in Archesia by focussing on getting Fortitude into a position of power and then ensuring we maintain strong influence over him and his heirs.  I think we can demand great concessions from the King and then, in furthering his interests, we can further our own.”

Nan looked confused at this so Celia explained.  “The King wants an empire.  He needs strong allies to help him get this empire.”  She smiled.  “We know he’s interested in the Kingdoms of Torp, Ivo, Odo and Drogo.  We can offer to scout these lands for him on the pretext of setting up temples and spreading Kyril’s word.  We can demand resources, concessions, lands and titles in return for helping him get what he wants.”  She snorted.  “Archesia’s just one Kingdom; we need to focus on the big picture.”

Nan nodded slowly.  She was beginning to see what Celia was talking about.  It was far longer term and bigger than anything she might have considered herself and it lacked the immediacy of action to really to appeal to her, but she nodded obligingly.  “I see,” she said.  “I agree.” 

Celia realised that she did not, but little by little she helped Nan understand on the journey to Saxonburg.

The rest of the group left dinner soon after Fortitude and most returned to their rooms to sleep. 

Marcus and Dunstan were still wide-awake, however.  The Han had killed all the guards when they had taken the city and, with their departure, the castle was now unguarded.  They were not about to let a valuable opportunity of this sort pass them by and they set about searching for loot.  

They began their search in the castle dungeons.  They worked their way through a mass of storerooms and prison cells for about ten minutes until they reached a corridor where they heard muted conversation ahead of them.

They crept along and spied a large chamber with a heavy wooden door hanging ajar.  Inside, by the light of a single lantern hanging from a ceiling hook, they saw long trestle tables piled high with large vases, paintings and other objects to large for the fleeing Han to have carried off. 

There were two servants in the room picking their way through the fine objects.  Both had carpets and paintings under their arms and were whispering excitedly over each new discovery.

Marcus and Dunstan exchanged glances.  “What do you think?” Marcus ventured.

“They’re stealing our valuables,” Dunstan replied indignantly.

“My view exactly,” agreed Marcus. 

At that moment, there was an odd muffled cry from the chamber ahead.  Both Marcus and Dunstan stared forward.  They saw one of the servants staring down to the far end of the chamber and craning his head around as if looking for something. 

“Aldred?” the servant whispered frantically.  “Aldred, where are you?”

He crept down towards the end of the chamber and disappeared from Marcus and Dunstan’s view.  There was a thud then silence.  Marcus glanced at Dunstan. 

“I don’t like the look of this,” he whispered then stepped carefully up to the door. 

He peered into the room and could not see anyone in there at all.  He bent down low and looked under the tables.  There were no bodies there either.

“Uh oh,” he muttered and scurried back to Dunstan.  “There’s something strange going on here.  They’re gone and there’s no other way out of that chamber that I can see.”

Dunstan stared worriedly down at the chamber.  Greed warred with caution on his face and finally he sighed gustily.  “It’s got to be a Han trap of some sort.  We’d better get the others,” he said.

Marcus made a sour face but nodded.

***

They returned a short while later with the rest of their companions.  Everyone was armed and armoured and they moved carefully as they approached the chamber with the abandoned loot.”

“We should have got one of Martyn’s runemages,” Fortitude observed as he studied the doorway.

“I can sense the presence of magicks,” Sang volunteered behind him.

With that agreed, the group entered the chamber with drawn weapons.  Celia and Nan took up position in the corners either side of the door and covered the room with their bows. 

Everyone else waited by the door while Sang cast his invocation.  He looked back at Fortitude after a moment and shook his head.  “Nothing,” he said.  “There is no magic here that I can detect.”

Fortitude gestured at Marcus.  “Search the room while we cover you,” he ordered.

Marcus made a sour face but moved forward and began carefully searching the walls and floor.  He stopped at an alcove on one side of the room and tapped a small metal hammer over the stone walls inside it.  One side of the alcove was hollow and Marcus quickly located the mechanism for opening it.

After making sure everyone was in position, Marcus worked the mechanism and rotated a section of wall around.  There was a square chamber behind the wall and the lifeless bodies of the two servants lay on the stone floor inside.  The room was otherwise empty.

Fortitude cursed as he beheld this.  “The Han have left an assassin or some such person behind,” he said.

With this discovery, Fortitude roused a squad of Lunar guards and supervised a level by level and room by room search of the palace.

Despite surprising many sleeping servants, the search turned up nothing out of the ordinary.

It was near the second hour of the morning when Fortitude finally gave the search up as a bad idea.  He was tired and still a little tipsy from dinner.  He was also very aware that he was to be roused in four hours for another day’s marching.  He needed to be rested and ready for that and the battle that would follow.

Accordingly, Fortitude called off the search and returned to his room.  He warned the two trolls guarding the door of his room to be vigilant then entered the room and prepared for bed again.

Through the little window of his room he could still hear the mournful howls of countless wolves drifting the night air.  It was a disturbing sound made more so a moment later when he realised his wolf-skin cloak had shifted itself to the bed where it was now sitting up with its head staring at the window.  Its eyes were glowing a dull red. 

Fortitude stifled a yelp of fear and spent the next few seconds forcing his heart back to some level of normality. 

An odd idea occurred to him at that moment.  He frowned and considered it from all angles; it was unsettling but worth exploring.  With some trepidation he walked over to the window and looked out across the city and its walls to the wide fields beyond. 

Feeling more than a little awkward he lifted his hand and called out softly.  “Gather there wolves,” he said pointing at an empty part of the fields.  “Obey me,” he added self-consciously.  “I am the Beastlord.”

There was a long silence then Fortitude’s heart leapt.  From all directions white creatures were racing across the fields to the spot he had indicated. 

“Well I’ll be…” he exclaimed in astonishment.

Within minutes there was a huge mass of white-wolves gathered outside the city.  He had no idea how many from this distance but he guessed a thousand or more.  He shook his head in disbelief.  This was going to be another rude surprise for the Han. 

He looked upwards a little self-consciously.  “Thanks Merrin,” he said.

Another idea occurred to him a second later and he looked back out the window.  “Howl,” he called.  “Howl for the Beastlord.”

From a thousand throats emerged the most mournful and terrifying massed howling Fortitude had ever heard.  He saw guards on the walls below quailing and running.  Their terrified shouts provided a rather disturbing counterpoint to the wolves. 

He hastily made a cutting gesture in the air with his hand.  “Stop,” he called and there was complete silence a second later.

Fortitude considered his new power wonderingly for a full few minutes before deciding that it was probably going to be very useful indeed.  He made one more dismissive flick with his wrist out the window. 

“Depart and forage,” he called.  “Remain nearby, however.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he then returned to bed and was soon asleep.

***

Sang had said little during the search of the castle.  The way the castle servants had been dealt with told him that the person the group was searching for was another of the Han Emperor’s elite assassins. 

He had nothing more than instinct to guide this opinion, but he had learned to trust it in such matters.  Reason told him that if he was right, then the man could only be here to kill Fortitude.  There was no other target in the castle or the city worthy of an assassin with such a level of training and skill.

Sang considered his conclusion carefully.  Of the group, he was the only one who could hold his own against an elite Han assassin with full mastery in Aybani.  Logic and his code of honour therefore said that it was his duty to defend Fortitude.

He knew that trying to find the assassin was a pointless task – the palace was too big and there were too many hiding places.  If the man was here to kill Fortitude then sooner or later he would need to come to Fortitude’s chamber.  All Sang had to do was wait and work out how the assassin was likely to approach.

He had seen the chamber where Fortitude was sleeping earlier in the day.  The window was too small to allow a person access and the bed was located in such a way that an attack through the window was impractical.  The walls were solid stone and that meant that the assassin would have to get through the door if he or she intended to get at Fortitude.

Sang considered the two trolls guarding the door.  They were both formidable opponents, but they had their weaknesses.  He regarded them carefully and tried to see them as his opponent would.  He would want to incapacitate them silently and quickly.  The trolls could possibly be brought down with some potent poison or they could be subjected to some form or rune magic.  Both these alternatives carried significant risks, though, and Sang shook his head as he considered them.  It was more likely that the assassin would try to distract the trolls away from the room somehow.

With this all in mind, Sang took up position in a small alcove down the corridor from the door.  He extinguished a lantern so that he was standing in darkness and smeared lamp-black over his face so he became all but invisible.  He then adopted a comfortable stance and settled into immobility.

More than an hour passed in this way as Sang meditated.  His action in setting the gate bomb that had destroyed the Han army camp still played on his mind filling him with misgiving and guilt.  The images he had seen while walking out of the blast zone were burned in his mind.  He recalled the battered body of a child lying broken against a rock.  He remembered the bodies of a family lying in the remains of a farmstead.  All were dead without a mark upon their bodies.  The images of death and destruction battered at him.  He sought solace or acceptance through meditation and the lessons of the sutras, but he found that his sense of disquiet grew rather than receded over this time. 

It was therefore almost a welcome interruption when a man walked confidently into the corridor and up to the trolls.  He was wearing the robes of a Dierdrakin rune-mage and a hood covered his head.

Sang forced his doubts away in an instant and brought all his attention and consciousness to this moment.  He readied himself and stared carefully along the corridor at the newcomer.

Down the hallway, the man spoke softly, but with great authority and confidence.  The slightest Han accent was evident in his voice.

“Trolls,” he said.  “There is meat awaiting you down in the great hall.  You are to eat then return here.  I will hold the door for you while you eat.” 

Sang could almost see the trolls thinking.  They stared at the man and one of them licked its lips greedily.

“Meat?” the troll said dully.

“Yes,” the man replied.  “Go now and eat.  Return quickly.” 

The trolls both lumbered away without another word.  Once they were gone, Sang stepped out. 

“Ahh,” he declaimed softy.  “Brute force once again fails before skill and wit.”

The man regarded him without betraying any hint of surprise or fear.  He lifted his hands and pulled back the hood of his robe.  He was a Han with a taut face and a wholly shaved head. 

“Sang, son of Sung,” the man acknowledged.  “What is greater; force or skill?”

Sang tilted his head.  “All things being equal, skill is better than force.  All things taken exactly as they are, force might have served here better than skill.”

The man nodded as if conceding the point.  “Indeed,” he said softly.  “It appears all that I have heard of you is true.  You have grown beyond your years.”

Sang made a slight gesture to dismiss the statement and opened his mouth to reply.  Before he could answer, however, the Han darted a blow at his throat.

Sang twisted narrowly away.  As he moved, he felt a flicker of regret that his opponent had displayed both impatience and incivility.  He effortlessly pushed power through his body and, as time slowed around him, he countered with a lightening fast series of strikes and blows. 

Moving in complete silence, the two men lunged and twisted back and forth with dizzying speed and ferocity.  Blows of great skill were thrown and blocked with similar skill as they moved back and forth in a dance of impossible complexity and grace.  Neither called out or made any noise other than slaps and thumps as blows were thrown and blocked.

Again, Sang found himself facing an Aybani master and prevailing.  The man was good, but Sang sensed impatience.  He was in a hurry to finish the battle and Sang sensed that he was therefore taking unnecessary risks.  The man rained a ferocious sequence of kicks and blows down on Sang and Sang contented himself with simply countering and keeping the man away. 

The man attacked again with almost desperate energy.  Sang stepped back and dodged.  His opponent over extended himself in one kick and Sang smashed in with a bone-jarring blow to the man’s head.  The man reeled back and stared at Sang with obvious surprise.

Sang stared back impassively and decided to take the initiative.  He swept in, kicked, punched, and spun back in a dizzyingly fast attack.  Blow after blow landed as his off-balance opponent staggered back bleeding freely from his nose.

Sang blocked several ill-considered counters and buried his knee in the man’s groin.  The man exhaled painfully and doubled over.  Sang paused and regarded him dispassionately.  His opponent had disappointed him.  He had none of the nobility of purpose or wisdom that Sang had faced in Wu of Yun-nan.

The assassin straightened and tried to put up a guard for Sang’s next attack.  By now, however, Sang had the measure of the man.  With almost casual ease, he swept the guard aside and smashed a fist into the man’s nose again.  He then followed up with another blow to the man’s throat.  The Han collapsed choking and gagging. 

Sang stepped back and stared curiously at his fallen opponent.  The man was in evident distress but he was moving strangely.  His left hand was clutching his throat while his right arm was down by his side. 

Something about the way the man was moving told Sang that the battle was not over.  Sure enough, the right arm whipped out from under the man’s body a second later.  The wrist twisted and flicked a dagger through the air at Sang’s head. 

Sang’s training and skill served him well.  His heightened senses made it so that the dagger seemed to float through the air.  He almost casually seized it and, working wholly on instinct, reversed it and flicked it back.  The Han tried to dodge but his speed was now nothing compared with Sang’s. 

The dagger buried itself deep in the Han’s eye and he fell back with a moan and lay still.

Sang stared down at his opponent and felt a mixture of elation and disappointment.  His opponent had been skilled but he had not been an opponent worthy of respect.  Whereas Sang had said prayers of remembrance to Wu of Yun-nan, this man would receive no such honour from him.

He saw movement further down the corridor and heard a low grumbling.  The two trolls appeared.  They both looked angry and regarded Sang belligerently.

“No food,” grunted one of them.  “Where the food?”

Sang regarded the pair of angry eight-foot tall trolls warily.  He had faced trolls before and knew that skill came off second best against their rock-like flesh and titanic strength.  He sighed and pointed at the dead Han on the floor. 

“There is your food,” he said softly. 

The trolls seized the body greedily and dragged it around the corner.  Sang winced and tried to ignore the bestial ripping and rending sounds that ensued.

The next morning the army was roused an hour before dawn and prepared for the day’s advance on the city of Handburg. 

Fortitude found that the events of the previous night had taken on an odd dreamlike quality.  He had slept surprisingly well despite what had happened, and he felt a disconcerting lack of guilt at his complicity in the two deaths. 

Fortitude snatched a quick breakfast then met briefly with the surviving city aldermen.  He formally handed over stewardship for Nordphalia to them and accepted their heartfelt thanks and vehement promises of support. 

He then went and inspected his troops.  The Lunar units were joking and boasting about the previous day’s exploits and they greeted Fortitude with proud salutes and hearty greetings.  The Dierdrakin and Baronial reservists were much less boisterous, but they also seemed contented.

Fortitude received a similarly positive welcome from the giants and the Dierdrakin goblins.  He found them all caked in gore, looking disturbingly well fed.  He approached Grimm Ironhand and nodded politely. 

“How’s it going?” he asked.

Grimm grinned broadly and revealed stained and broken teeth.  “Good,” he said.  “Giants eat well thanks to Farty-rude.”

Fortitude’s mind raced for a moment, then he started and looked out over the western field at where nine hundred Han had died the previous day.  “So you’re ready to go on?”

Grimm nodded forcefully.  “Giants are,” he grunted.

***

The army got moving just as the sun was lifting above the horizon.  The pace was good and Fortitude saw confidence and enthusiasm in every face.  He felt it himself; if the rest of the campaign went as well as Nordphalia had, then the Han were already as good as defeated.

The army passed through more than twenty villages over the miles between Nordphalia and Handburg.  Each village was carefully scouted by advance riders who reported the same thing each time.  The village had been guarded by three to five Han.  In the last twelve hours, however, the Han had all fled southwards towards Handburg.

Fortitude considered this carefully.  The messenger sent by the Han general in Nordphalia had undoubtedly spread the word about his army, but, unless the messenger had stayed to see the fall of Nordphalia, he could not imagine why the Han had abandoned the villages and fled south. 

He wondered what the Han knew and tried to guess what they would do now they knew he was coming.  He guessed they would try to slow him to buy time to prepare their defences.  However, he also guessed they would not try a direct attack if they knew about the Lunar powers used at Nordphalia.  If he was a Han, he mused, he would prepare defences in Handburg or Saxonburg and remain firmly and safely behind them to even the odds somewhat against the invaders.  He would also use surprise, magic and misinformation to whittle the approaching army down as it neared the Han defences.

His guesses were tragically confirmed a short while later.  He was riding with his companions at the front of the main army column, when there was a loud thundering roar behind him. 

He turned in time to see a section of roadway full of Lunar troops disappear in a mass of smoke and flame.  He kicked his horse around and galloped up to the site of the explosion.  Dead and wounded Lunars were lying everywhere amid the burned and scarred roadway.

In all, the explosion caught more than a hundred Lunars.  Around sixty were dead while the rest had suffered varying degrees of injury.  Fortitude stood watching with sense of sick frustration and sorrow as troops and healers moved among those on the roadway.  He had lost only twelve Lunars while taking Nordphalia yesterday.  Today he had lost more than sixty men while walking down a road. 

As Carolus supervised the construction of graves and organised a service for the dead, Fortitude inspected the roadway with Martyn Darkling.  They found the remnants of runes inscribed along the roadside. 

When the army resumed its march several hours later, the sense of invulnerability had gone.  The number of forward scouts was doubled and a single Dierdrakin rune mage walked at the head of the army using a long rune-covered stick to search for additional traps.

This turned out to be a prudent move.  They detected a similar rune trap in a small village by the name of Tungen. 

Dierdrakin runemages deactivated it and Martyn reported their findings to Fortitude.  “It’s a particularly nasty rune,” he said.  “It was set to go off when more than fifty people were contained in the area it surrounded.  Scouts and groups of villagers could travel over it and never know it was there.”

Fortitude stared southwards through narrowed eyes.  “Thank you,” he said.  “The Han will pay for that.”

***

The army reached the outskirts of Handburg around three in the afternoon.  The city did not have a wall and its buildings were mostly constructed of light coloured stone that gleamed under the mid-afternoon sun.  As it grew close the column grew grim and everyone checked weapons and armour repeatedly.

Almost a mile from the city, a scout rode back and stopped before Fortitude.  “My lord,” he said.  “There is a delegation of Archesian men and women waiting further along the roadway.  They claim to be nobles and officials of Handburg.  They say that the Han fled this morning and that the city is open to us.”

Fortitude felt almost angry as he heard this.  He had been looking forward to a reckoning with the Han for the lives their rune trap had claimed earlier.  He did not allow his feelings to show on his face, however, and he rode forward with his companions to meet with this delegation.

He found ten men and women waiting for him a half-mile from the city.  All were well dressed and well spoken.  The most senior among them introduced himself as George the Elector uls Handburg – the surviving son of the Elector of Handburg.  He was in his twenties and had a strong face and an engaging manner of speech.  He bowed low to Fortitude and welcomed him to Handburg as a welcome liberator.

Several flowery speeches later, Fortitude was able to take the new Elector of Handburg to one side.  “So tell me Elector, what exactly is the situation in the city?”

“Well Baron,” the lad replied.  “Until this morning the Han were holding Handburg in my father’s palace.  The lieutenant in charge of the garrison had four Han rune mages who had something of a reputation for dark necromancy.  First thing this morning, the Han lieutenant ordered his men to prepare to move out.  They spent several hours this morning packing and filling wagons with all the loot they could carry.  They then departed the city southwards towards Saxonburg before lunchtime.

Fortitude considered this account carefully.  The fact that there had been rune-mages here gave him cause for concern.  “Well Elector,” he said to the young man.  “I am pleased to be able to restore you to your ancestral seat.”

The man bowed gratefully.  “My lord,” he said.  “Though my father’s…”  He paused and his face coloured slightly.  “Though my castle is probably in no fit state to receive a guest of your station, I hope you will allow me to offer you what hospitality I can?”

Fortitude bowed back.  “I would be delighted to accept…”  He paused as he recalled the rune traps on the road.  “However, for both our sakes, I would suggest we do not re-enter your castle until my mages have searched it for traps.”

***

It was about an hour before sunset when the Dierdrakin rune mages announced that the castle was finally safe to enter.

Martyn Darkling brought the most senior of his runemages to Fortitude and had the man report his findings.

“It was bad, my lord,” the runemage started.  “We found more than six general curse runes and rendered them harmless.  There was a rune that would have brought plague on all those who slept in the castle this night.  There was another rune that would have brought misfortune for weeks on anyone who sat in the great hall for more than half an hour at a time.  There were others for summoning dark fiends from the outer realms and one that would have caused a large part of the castle to explode.”

“Well done indeed,” Fortitude declared.  “So is it now safe to stay here?  Should we sleep elsewhere?”

The rune-mage shrugged.  “I’d personally sleep here my lord if the only fear is runes.  I believe we’ve got every magical trap or curse in the castle.”

“Then we’ll sleep here,” Fortitude responded.  He paused and regarded Martyn Darkling.  “Tonight I need your runemages to prepare for the taking of Saxonburg.”

“Yes Baron?  What do you require?”

“I’m not sure,” Fortitude admitted.  “At the very least I’d like some protections or things that will slow down a Han attack on our lines.  I’d also like some general defences against runemagic.”

“Anything else, my lord?”

Fortitude mused silently a moment. “Yes.  I’d like some offensive magic also.  I want something that will breach walls.  I’d also like some weapons that will work at long range.  It may be that we’ll face siege weapons on the city walls.  I’d like some way of neutralising them.”

Martyn bowed.  “Leave it to us.  We’ll prepare these things over night.”

***

Fortitude ordered the bulk of the army to camp outside the city.  Despite this, and with Fortitude’s grudging approval, Carolus led his Lunar followers on a triumphal parade through the city in the fading light of the day. 

The Lunar soldiers temporarily forgot the day’s tragedy as the streets lined with cheering citizens.  City folk adorned the troops with flowers and pressed them with gifts of food and drink.  Carolus began a solemn hymn as the column marched and nearly two thousand voices joined him in a thundering chorus that echoed over the entire city.  Where the Lunars had begun the procession filled with misgivings and grief, they finished it holding their heads high and marching with pride and determination. 

Nan and Celia contemplated this procession ruefully from the castle battlements.

“Damn that Carolus,” Nan spat.  “He’s making it look like the Lunars have freed the city from the Han.  I bet he’ll have his men out talking about Grippli all over the city this evening.”

“Maybe,” Celia conceded.

“Doesn’t that worry you?” Nan asked.  “If there’s a chance that Archesia will be our new home, can we afford to let Grippli’s word spread unchallenged by Kyril?”

Celia stared down at the cheering crowd and shook her head.  “I know how you feel, but though this is a victory for Carolus, I don’t think it’s going to win him the war.”

Nan frowned.  “What do you mean?”

Celia’s face grew thoughtful as she gestured at the crowd.  “They might be grateful now, but what does that mean?  They’re grateful to their liberators – as well they might be.  But does that mean they will convert to Grippli?”  A wry smile played across her face.  “If a worshipper of Dierdra rescued you from drowning, would you convert to worship of Dierdra?”

Nan shook her head.

“Exactly,” said Celia.  “You’d be grateful, but you’d still follow your heart when it came to your beliefs.”  She stared down at the happy crowd.  “The Lunars need something to cheer them up after this morning.  While they have their victory march, we’ll stay focussed on the overall goal.”

Nan took heart at Celia’s words.  “I suppose you’re right,” she said.  Her face took on a sneaky look.  “I wonder if we couldn’t find one of those missing heirs.  We could find a dead one and then reanimate him and make him our loyal King.”

“Possibly,” said Celia exploring the idea in her mind.  “That idea has merit,” she admitted.  “Let me think about it over the next day or so.”

“There must be something we can do right now,” Nan protested.

An ingenious look appeared on Celia’s face.  “There is,” she replied.  “We can send a missive to Zoltan.  Carolus can claim his victory here, however we’ll make sure that everyone everywhere else thinks we won.”

Nan grinned back conspiratorially.  “That’s more like it,” she said.

***

The new Elector of Handburg threw a celebratory dinner for Fortitude and his companions that night.  It was a relaxed and convivial affair that finished well after midnight. 

When the last course had been served and the last toast made, Fortitude rose and excused himself.  He was exhausted and had almost nodded off twice during the speeches. 

He went straight to his allocated bedchamber where he began to undress.  He unclasped the wolf-skin cloak and placed on a chair.  He folded his tunic and breeches and put them in a box at the end of the bed.  The Baronial sword was hung casually from its belt off one of the bedposts.

The room was a little stuffy so he threw open a narrow window to let in some fresh air.  He was surprised to hear what sounded like hundreds of wolves howling in the distance. 

“Strange,” he muttered to himself as he climbed into bed.  Archesia must have a wolf problem.”

He was asleep a few seconds later.

A villager led the group to the part of the forest where the Han had their watching post.  Fortitude dismissed the man with his thanks, then set William to scout out the exact placement of the Han position.

William found the watching post after almost walking into it.  A large square hole had been dug in the ground and covered over with tree trunks and brush.  It was well concealed and he suspected that he would not have noticed it if he had not been looking for it.

William studied the Han position for more than ten minutes from the shelter of some bushes.  He estimated there were between eight and ten Han on watch.  They were only watching westwards out of the forest and did not appear to have any defences against a surprise attack from behind.

With this intelligence, Fortitude had everyone take up positions along the forest side of the watching post.  Those who had missile weapons covered all possible routes of retreat for the Han.  The others readied swords and maces.

William nervously allowed his demon side to surface somewhat and was relieved to find that it was now under his control – as Kha’ill had promised.  He felt time slow dramatically around him and, when Fortitude finally slashed his hand down to begin the attack; the hand seemed to take twenty seconds to fall.  William beat everyone else into the watching post by a full five seconds.  Within those five seconds, three Han died in fountains of blood and long savage sword cuts. 

Sang swept in behind William and crushed the throat of one man before breaking the neck of another in what appeared to be a single fluid movement.  A second later, Aidan crashed his mace down on one uncomprehending Han and the man died with a bewildered grunt.  Dunstan leapt onto the top of the watching post and stabbed his sword down into a Han soldier through a gap in the brush.  The man moaned horribly and slid lifelessly off the blade.

Fortitude ran into the watching post and looked for someone he could take prisoner.  There was a Han rising from a sleeping pallet at the back and he threw his full weight onto the man pinning him to the ground.  Fortitude sat on him while his companions finished off the few remaining Han. 

When the last Han was dead and Fortitude was sure all his companions were unharmed, he called Sang over.  Sang had been staring down impassively at the two dead men at his feet but he came without hesitation 

“Sang, I need you to find out what this man knows.”

Sang gave a slight bow and regarded the terrified prisoner with some regret.  There had been enough killing and he, for one, was keen to avoid more.  He kept his face impassive, however, as he spoke to the prisoner. 

“I regret to say that my Baron does not have time for niceties.  Your choice is therefore simple,” he said.  “Speak to me now, or be subjected to drugs that may kill you or leave you permanently impaired.  Either way, you will tell me what I want to know, but I would personally prefer not to harm you.”

The Han soldier looked aghast at this.  “What do you want to know?” he replied.

“Why were you stationed here?”

The soldier considered the question and carefully evaluated Sang.  Sang waited exactly five seconds, then opened his pack and removed a glass vial.  “Ahh,” he said sorrowfully.  “You should probably make your peace with Kwail now while you can.  You may not survive this and I do not know what will happen to your soul now that Ghin-zhu is gone.”

The soldier’s face fell.  “All right, I’ll talk,” he said.  “We were told that forces of Bayonnar might be attacking through the mountain pass.  All approaches to the city are visible from the city towers except that from behind the forest.  We’re here to provide warning to the city.”

Sang nodded.  “What were your orders if you saw an approaching army?”

“If possible, we were to capture any scouts that we found and bring prisoners back to the city for questioning.  If we saw a large force approaching we were to signal the city and then retreat.”

Sang considered this carefully.  “Tell me what signal you were to make.”

The soldier spent a little too long considering this question.  Sang grunted and lifted the glass vial.  The soldier’s resistance cracked.  “We were to sound our signalling horn.  We were to give a single long blast first, then one long blast for each thousand men and one short blast for each hundred men we could see approaching.  We were then to return to the city.”

Sang turned to Fortitude and related what he had learned.

“Excellent,” Fortitude exclaimed.  “We can signal that there are four hundred enemy soldiers approaching.  The Han will prepare accordingly.”  He rubbed his jaw as he considered his next move.  After a moment he nodded decisively.  “Tie the prisoner up and leave him here.  We’ll recover him later.  I think it’s time we went and met up with our army,” he said.  “It’s time to brief our commanders.”

***

The group rode back down the road and had just started back up the mountain when they encountered the lead elements of the Baronial army.  The army was now only an hour away from the city. 

Fortitude sent riders to bring Carolus, Martyn Darkling and the giant war-leader Grimm Ironhand to him.  They met a few minutes later at the front of the column where Fortitude briefed them fully on what he had learned about Nordphalia and what he was planning to do to take the city.

Martyn Darkling stared thoughtfully southwards and rubbed his jaw as he considered the situation.  Grimm Ironhand just sat there silently looking bored.

Carolus, however, regarded Fortitude with some enthusiasm.  “It’s a good plan,” he declared.  “I recommend we put it into effect this afternoon.  Three or four hundred Lunars will take fifteen hundred Han without difficulty.”

“Good,” Fortitude answered.  “Then that’s what we’ll do.  I want three hundred Lunars in the open and maybe as many again in the forest behind just in case.  I’ll support the Lunars with maybe a hundred peasants.  Their orders will be to break and run when the Han get close.  I hope it’ll cause the Han to abandon discipline and pursue.”

“Agreed,” Carolus replied.  “There is just one thing to bear in mind, though.”

Fortitude studied him carefully.  “Yes?”

“The battle cannot take more than twenty minutes.  That’s the maximum amount of time that the Lunars will be able to stay at giant size.”

Fortitude considered that carefully.  “If we time it right, that should be more than sufficient,” he decided.

Grimm was growing impatient at this discussion and a frown appeared on his crude face.  “When we get to eat?” he demanded in a low rumble of a voice. 

“Soon,” Fortitude replied.  “Very soon.  Be patient.”  He ignored the giant and looked between Carolus and Martyn.  “Is there any thing else we need to consider?”  

Martyn spoke.  “My rune-mages would have been able to support this attack if we’d had a bit more warning.  As it is, we won’t be able to do much,” he said.

“No problems,” Fortitude reassured him.  “Today and tomorrow we’ll use the Lunar powers.  The day after tomorrow when we face the Han at Saxonburg we’ll need the Dierdrakin powers.”

“I understand,” Martyn said.  “That makes sense.”

“Good,” Fortitude said.  “Then let’s get the army ready.”

Martyn, Carolus and Grimm all strode away to brief their commanders.

***

The army reached the back of the forest around two hours before dusk.  As they arrived, Fortitude had Marcus sound the Han signalling horn.  A single long blast was followed by four short ones. 

Fortitude’s major worry was that the Han would choose to wait till morning before sallying out from the city.  If that happened the army would lose a day and he could not afford that. 

Fortitude sped up preparations as best he could

Three hundred Lunars were readied and another three hundred followed them to provide power for the battle magic they were about to deploy.  A hundred worried and anxious looking villagers gathered in a knot alongside them.  The heads of dozens of rakes, hoes, and pitchforks bristled above them.

While the Lunars were readying themselves, Carolus joined Fortitude.  “Fortitude,” he said and nodded politely.  “Can I have a word before this battle begins?”

“Certainly holiness.”

“There are two things.  The first is a little sensitive.  Merrin has obviously been successful in the taking of Zaahl’s temple and it may be that she now has the power to halt the fall of the red moon.”

Fortitude had not considered this, but he did not admit it.  “Perhaps,” he said.

“I would just remind you of our earlier discussion, Fortitude.  Assuming Merrin is able to stop the moon falling, I would request that you ask her to do no more than stabilise it where it currently is.  If you do this, the Lunars will remain powerful and useful allies for you.”

Fortitude bridled at the implication that he might not keep to his earlier word, but he did not show it as he replied.  “Of course.  I don’t know whether Merrin can help, but if she can, I’ll see that she does as you ask.”

“Thank you,” Carolus replied.  “Then there is one other thing.  My priests can cast the same invocations of size and power on you as on the other men.  If you wish to take part in this battle, you can.”  He paused before continuing.  “You might, in fact, find it desirable to be seen leading the liberation of Archesia.”

The idea appealed to Fortitude.  “I accept,” he replied gratefully.  “I’ll talk with my companions and see which of them would also like to accept.”

“Good.  In that case, you need to know that all organic material will grow with the spell, but that metal items will not.  Tell your people to remove metal armour and to cut themselves wooden clubs.  Tell them also to tie up clothing wherever they have metal buttons.”

“I will,” Fortitude replied.

“Another thing,” Carolus volunteered.  “Call it an alternative plan.  If the Han do not come out of the city, or if a number remain inside, which is likely, then we will have the power to make a small number of our fighters into perfect weapons for assaulting the city.  We could make three or four people into forty foot tall giants with skin like iron and the strength of twenty people.”

“Skin like iron,” Fortitude mused wonderingly.

“Yes,” replied Carolus.  “You’d be able to ignore most weapons.  Ordinary swords and arrows would bounce off you.  You’d only need to worry about things like arbalests or rune ensorcelled weapons.”

Fortitude’s eyes gleamed at this thought.  “So I could lead a few others up to the city.  We could more or less step over the walls, wipe out opposition, and knock down the gates for the rest of the army.”

Carolus nodded.  “Yes,” he said.  “But we’d only be able to keep the spells going for about ten minutes and the amount of power consumed would mean we could only do this to three or four people.”

Fortitude laughed aloud.  “That should be more than sufficient.”

***

While the bulk of the army remained outside the forest, the Lunars and the peasants moved through the forest towards the common field beyond.  Fortitude was with them along with all his companions.  They could hear cattle lowing in the distance, but the world was otherwise quiet.

They emerged from the forest little more than an hour before nightfall.  The three hundred Lunars formed up in a long line three deep.  Each one of them was carrying an improvised wooden club.

All the peasants stood down one end of the line.  In the forest behind them, another five hundred Lunars stood waiting. 

The city was a full half-mile away at this point.  Nevertheless, Fortitude could see hundreds of figures lining the city walls.  He looked to the end of the city and his heart leapt in relief when he beheld Han troops snaking out in long columns towards the forest.

“This is going to work,” he said to those standing around him.

“Looks like about a thousand men coming to us,” Aidan estimated.

“So,” said William.  “Another five hundred back in the city.”

Fortitude nodded.  “It looks like we’ll be using both plans,” he said.  He felt strangely confident now that the time for action had arrived.  All the uncertainty that had been nibbling at him over the last few days was gone.  The plan was simple and seemed likely to succeed.

The Han approached in ten large groups.  Three of the groups comprised archers, while the rest were all regular infantry.  Fortitude studied the archers with some concern.  They would be his biggest problem,” he decided. 

As the Han approached he gave the first signal.  The peasants let out howls of terror as ordered and fled back into the forest leaving the three hundred Lunars alone.

Fortitude saw the enthusiasm of the Han grow immediately.  They marched faster and began shouting taunts at the waiting Lunars.

The Han took half an hour to line up several hundred yards from the Lunars.  They were singing some discordant song as they moved and Fortitude supposed it was to give them confidence.  He stared at his own troops.  All the Lunars appeared tense but resolute. 

Fortitude was not willing to wait for the Han to complete their preparations.  He needed to attack before the Han archers were in place.  With that in mind, he raised his hand to the senior Lunar officer and gave the signal to begin.

Down the column, he heard chanting begin.  One by one, the Lunars began to balloon in size till they stood more than thirty feet in height.  Another two hundred Lunars appeared in the treetops of the forest behind and strode out to join their companions.

Almost without realising it, Fortitude found that he and the others were just as tall as the Lunars.  The ground appeared ridiculously far away and everything seemed to have suddenly reduced to a quarter of its previous size.  He noted that his clothes and other organic materials on his person had grown with him.  The wooden club in his hand had also grown was now as big as a normal sized person.

He turned his attention back to the Han and saw they had fallen still.  Every Han eye was fixed on the giants that had suddenly appeared in front of them.  Fortitude found himself grinning.  He quickly scanned his own troops and found them watching him – awaiting his command. 

“Charge,” he cried loudly, and began running forward.  With a huge roar, five hundred hugely enlarged throats echoed his cry and the Lunars surged forward.

The Han columns wavered in the face of this charge.  In places the Han line collapsed and soldiers began fleeing in a blind panic.  In other places, Han commanders tried to organise resistance.  Here and there, Han soldiers formed pike lines shoulder to shoulder.  At least one of the cohorts of archers held and the air filled with arrows.

Four Lunars fell as those arrows struck home, but the vast mass of Lunars surged on.  They covered the few hundred yards to the Han in no more than ten seconds.  With a crash and a deep-throated growl, the Lunars began swatting at the horrified Han with their massive clubs.

Aidan and Nan were in their element here.  They were not squeamish and they flailed and thumped with hearty enthusiasm – squashing Han soldiers like bugs.  Aidan swung his tree trunk back and forth every few seconds.  Each swipe picked up three or four Han and batted them through the air in a ghastly fountain of limbs, gore and screaming bodies.  He roared happily as he struck.

The others were more restrained – but still cut a swathe through the Han. 

Only Sang held back from the carnage.  “Surrender,” he called loudly to one Han officer he encountered.  The man stared at Sang in blind terror and, if he understood him, it did not show.  A second later, a group of Lunars ran in past him and squashed the Han dead.

In little more than five minutes, the carnage was over.  A hundred or more Han were running madly from the battle while the remainder of the Han lay screaming or squashed dead on the field.  Aidan could be seen running after a couple of the fleeing Han screaming incoherently at them while holding his club high over his head.

With the battle over, the Lunar commanders reasserted discipline and reformed their troops back into sections.  Runners began reporting to Fortitude and he learned that twelve Lunars had fallen to bow fire.  By any measure, it was a massive victory.

One by one, the Lunars began to shrink back to normal size.  Fortitude and the others shrank back with them.

Fortitude’s last sight of the battlefield as his vantage point dropped away was of Aidan fleeing back towards the Lunar lines.  He was now normal size and had five very unhappy Han soldiers in pursuit.

Fortitude turned his attention to the nearby city.  Hundreds of figures were still lining the walls.  They were standing silently, staring out at the Lunars.  He could imagine what they were feeling; what they had expected to be an easy victory had turned into a one-sided massacre.

Fortitude looked at the sky.  The sun was touching the horizon.  If he moved fast he could still take the city while the Han occupying it were dazed and demoralised.  He turned to several Lunar Priests standing nearby.  “I and a couple of my companions need to be made large again.  Our skin must be made invulnerable to weapons.”

The priest bowed.  “Yes Baron,” he replied, then turned and issued orders. 

At that moment Aidan ran up panting heavily and looking very pleased with himself.  “That’s my kind of fight,” he declared jubilantly.  “Dirty tricks, one-sided, gratuitous violence and lots of other people’s blood.” 

Fortitude ignored him and issued orders for the army to move forward to just out of bow range of the city’s main gate.  Just as the move was getting under way, more than thirty Lunar priests arrived. 

Fortitude explained what he wanted to them.  “Make Aidan, Nan and I tall and proof against weapons,” he commanded.  The priests nodded and began chanting and drawing complex patterns in the air with their fingers.

As before, Fortitude found himself growing.  In a few seconds, the three of them were all forty feet in height. 

“Come on,” he ordered.  “In theory we’re invulnerable to weapons, but only for the next ten minutes.”

Fortitude strode towards the city with Nan and Aidan following close behind.  He could see men running around on the city walls preparing bows and other weapons. 

“Are you sure we’re invulnerable to weapons?” Aidan rumbled behind him.

“Carolus said we would be,” Fortitude replied.

Nan grunted unhappily.  “And remind me how much we trust him again would you?”

Fortitude did not answer her.  He continued to stride forward trying to look more confident than he actually felt.

When he was just over a hundred yards from the city, the soldiers on the wall released a wave of arrows and crossbow bolts.  He tried not to visibly flinch. “Steady – don’t look worried,” he called back to Aidan and Nan.

Despite his own advice, he could feel his own heart pounding.  The arrows began hitting him as painless little taps on the skin.  They spanged away in huge numbers and fell broken or blunted to the ground at his feet.

With the knowledge that he really was invulnerable, Fortitude’s confidence increased immeasurably.  He stopped twenty yards from the wall and was able to avoid wincing as a second volley of missiles twanged out.

“Stop,” he called in a stern voice that thundered around the field and echoed oddly off the city wall.  “Stop or we will kill you all.”

Aidan laughed ferociously and lifted his bloody tree trunk high.  The Han on the walls recoiled fearfully. 

“I am the Beastlord,” Fortitude proclaimed loudly.  He felt his cloak stir and the wolf-head lifted.  The sun was now dipping below the horizon and the red gleam of its eyes reflected back from every eye along the wall.  The soldiers along the wall moaned and made signs to ward evil.  “Yes,” he continued.  “Merrin has destroyed Ghin-zhu and has made me powerful and invincible.”

He smiled confidently and continued.  “If you surrender now and open the gates you will be treated honourably and will be returned unharmed to Han at the end of the war.  If you resist you will all be killed right now.” 

An older Han stepped out in front of the other troops.  “I am General Lee,” he said.  “I am in command here.”  In the failing light, Fortitude could not clearly make out his expression, but his voice sounded shaken.  “Do you vow as the Beastlord that we will not be harmed if we surrender?”

“If you have not committed atrocities, then you will be treated well.”

General Lee paused a little too long before replying.  “What do you consider to be an atrocity exactly?” he called back very carefully.

Fortitude frowned at the wall.  “Murder, stealing, abuse, and so on.”

There was an even longer pause.  “Please wait, while I talk to my officers,” the General called back.

There was a long pause while a knot of men gathered on the wall and argued.  Finally, the general turned back.  “Tell me Beastlord, do we Han all look the same to you?”

Fortitude frowned.  He had no idea where this question was going.  “Umm, sort of,” he admitted.

The general’s voice noticeably lightened.  “Then we surrender.  There were a number of our more enthusiastic men who might have committed atrocities, but all were unfortunately slain on the field of battle today.”

Fortitude did not believe that for a moment, but night was coming and he wanted the city under his control now.  He decided not to quibble.  “Very good,” he said.  “Then your men will file out of the city in a long line.  They will be disarmed and they will be put under guard in a camp outside the city.”

General Lee nodded slowly.  “Give me a few minutes to make the necessary arrangements.”

A villager led the group to the part of the forest where the Han had their watching post.  Fortitude dismissed the man with his thanks, then set William to scout out the exact placement of the Han position.

William found the watching post after almost walking into it.  A large square hole had been dug in the ground and covered over with tree trunks and brush.  It was well concealed and he suspected that he would not have noticed it if he had not been looking for it.

William studied the Han position for more than ten minutes from the shelter of some bushes.  He estimated there were between eight and ten Han on watch.  They were only watching westwards out of the forest and did not appear to have any defences against a surprise attack from behind.

With this intelligence, Fortitude had everyone take up positions along the forest side of the watching post.  Those who had missile weapons covered all possible routes of retreat for the Han.  The others readied swords and maces.

William nervously allowed his demon side to surface somewhat and was relieved to find that it was now under his control – as Kha’ill had promised.  He felt time slow dramatically around him and, when Fortitude finally slashed his hand down to begin the attack; the hand seemed to take twenty seconds to fall.  William beat everyone else into the watching post by a full five seconds.  Within those five seconds, three Han died in fountains of blood and long savage sword cuts. 

Sang swept in behind William and crushed the throat of one man before breaking the neck of another in what appeared to be a single fluid movement.  A second later, Aidan crashed his mace down on one uncomprehending Han and the man died with a bewildered grunt.  Dunstan leapt onto the top of the watching post and stabbed his sword down into a Han soldier through a gap in the brush.  The man moaned horribly and slid lifelessly off the blade.

Fortitude ran into the watching post and looked for someone he could take prisoner.  There was a Han rising from a sleeping pallet at the back and he threw his full weight onto the man pinning him to the ground.  Fortitude sat on him while his companions finished off the few remaining Han. 

When the last Han was dead and Fortitude was sure all his companions were unharmed, he called Sang over.  Sang had been staring down impassively at the two dead men at his feet but he came without hesitation 

“Sang, I need you to find out what this man knows.”

Sang gave a slight bow and regarded the terrified prisoner with some regret.  There had been enough killing and he, for one, was keen to avoid more.  He kept his face impassive, however, as he spoke to the prisoner. 

“I regret to say that my Baron does not have time for niceties.  Your choice is therefore simple,” he said.  “Speak to me now, or be subjected to drugs that may kill you or leave you permanently impaired.  Either way, you will tell me what I want to know, but I would personally prefer not to harm you.”

The Han soldier looked aghast at this.  “What do you want to know?” he replied.

“Why were you stationed here?”

The soldier considered the question and carefully evaluated Sang.  Sang waited exactly five seconds, then opened his pack and removed a glass vial.  “Ahh,” he said sorrowfully.  “You should probably make your peace with Kwail now while you can.  You may not survive this and I do not know what will happen to your soul now that Ghin-zhu is gone.”

The soldier’s face fell.  “All right, I’ll talk,” he said.  “We were told that forces of Bayonnar might be attacking through the mountain pass.  All approaches to the city are visible from the city towers except that from behind the forest.  We’re here to provide warning to the city.”

Sang nodded.  “What were your orders if you saw an approaching army?”

“If possible, we were to capture any scouts that we found and bring prisoners back to the city for questioning.  If we saw a large force approaching we were to signal the city and then retreat.”

Sang considered this carefully.  “Tell me what signal you were to make.”

The soldier spent a little too long considering this question.  Sang grunted and lifted the glass vial.  The soldier’s resistance cracked.  “We were to sound our signalling horn.  We were to give a single long blast first, then one long blast for each thousand men and one short blast for each hundred men we could see approaching.  We were then to return to the city.”

Sang turned to Fortitude and related what he had learned.

“Excellent,” Fortitude exclaimed.  “We can signal that there are four hundred enemy soldiers approaching.  The Han will prepare accordingly.”  He rubbed his jaw as he considered his next move.  After a moment he nodded decisively.  “Tie the prisoner up and leave him here.  We’ll recover him later.  I think it’s time we went and met up with our army,” he said.  “It’s time to brief our commanders.”

***

The group rode back down the road and had just started back up the mountain when they encountered the lead elements of the Baronial army.  The army was now only an hour away from the city. 

Fortitude sent riders to bring Carolus, Martyn Darkling and the giant war-leader Grimm Ironhand to him.  They met a few minutes later at the front of the column where Fortitude briefed them fully on what he had learned about Nordphalia and what he was planning to do to take the city.

Martyn Darkling stared thoughtfully southwards and rubbed his jaw as he considered the situation.  Grimm Ironhand just sat there silently looking bored.

Carolus, however, regarded Fortitude with some enthusiasm.  “It’s a good plan,” he declared.  “I recommend we put it into effect this afternoon.  Three or four hundred Lunars will take fifteen hundred Han without difficulty.”

“Good,” Fortitude answered.  “Then that’s what we’ll do.  I want three hundred Lunars in the open and maybe as many again in the forest behind just in case.  I’ll support the Lunars with maybe a hundred peasants.  Their orders will be to break and run when the Han get close.  I hope it’ll cause the Han to abandon discipline and pursue.”

“Agreed,” Carolus replied.  “There is just one thing to bear in mind, though.”

Fortitude studied him carefully.  “Yes?”

“The battle cannot take more than twenty minutes.  That’s the maximum amount of time that the Lunars will be able to stay at giant size.”

Fortitude considered that carefully.  “If we time it right, that should be more than sufficient,” he decided.

Grimm was growing impatient at this discussion and a frown appeared on his crude face.  “When we get to eat?” he demanded in a low rumble of a voice. 

“Soon,” Fortitude replied.  “Very soon.  Be patient.”  He ignored the giant and looked between Carolus and Martyn.  “Is there any thing else we need to consider?”  

Martyn spoke.  “My rune-mages would have been able to support this attack if we’d had a bit more warning.  As it is, we won’t be able to do much,” he said.

“No problems,” Fortitude reassured him.  “Today and tomorrow we’ll use the Lunar powers.  The day after tomorrow when we face the Han at Saxonburg we’ll need the Dierdrakin powers.”

“I understand,” Martyn said.  “That makes sense.”

“Good,” Fortitude said.  “Then let’s get the army ready.”

Martyn, Carolus and Grimm all strode away to brief their commanders.

***

The army reached the back of the forest around two hours before dusk.  As they arrived, Fortitude had Marcus sound the Han signalling horn.  A single long blast was followed by four short ones. 

Fortitude’s major worry was that the Han would choose to wait till morning before sallying out from the city.  If that happened the army would lose a day and he could not afford that. 

Fortitude sped up preparations as best he could

Three hundred Lunars were readied and another three hundred followed them to provide power for the battle magic they were about to deploy.  A hundred worried and anxious looking villagers gathered in a knot alongside them.  The heads of dozens of rakes, hoes, and pitchforks bristled above them.

While the Lunars were readying themselves, Carolus joined Fortitude.  “Fortitude,” he said and nodded politely.  “Can I have a word before this battle begins?”

“Certainly holiness.”

“There are two things.  The first is a little sensitive.  Merrin has obviously been successful in the taking of Zaahl’s temple and it may be that she now has the power to halt the fall of the red moon.”

Fortitude had not considered this, but he did not admit it.  “Perhaps,” he said.

“I would just remind you of our earlier discussion, Fortitude.  Assuming Merrin is able to stop the moon falling, I would request that you ask her to do no more than stabilise it where it currently is.  If you do this, the Lunars will remain powerful and useful allies for you.”

Fortitude bridled at the implication that he might not keep to his earlier word, but he did not show it as he replied.  “Of course.  I don’t know whether Merrin can help, but if she can, I’ll see that she does as you ask.”

“Thank you,” Carolus replied.  “Then there is one other thing.  My priests can cast the same invocations of size and power on you as on the other men.  If you wish to take part in this battle, you can.”  He paused before continuing.  “You might, in fact, find it desirable to be seen leading the liberation of Archesia.”

The idea appealed to Fortitude.  “I accept,” he replied gratefully.  “I’ll talk with my companions and see which of them would also like to accept.”

“Good.  In that case, you need to know that all organic material will grow with the spell, but that metal items will not.  Tell your people to remove metal armour and to cut themselves wooden clubs.  Tell them also to tie up clothing wherever they have metal buttons.”

“I will,” Fortitude replied.

“Another thing,” Carolus volunteered.  “Call it an alternative plan.  If the Han do not come out of the city, or if a number remain inside, which is likely, then we will have the power to make a small number of our fighters into perfect weapons for assaulting the city.  We could make three or four people into forty foot tall giants with skin like iron and the strength of twenty people.”

“Skin like iron,” Fortitude mused wonderingly.

“Yes,” replied Carolus.  “You’d be able to ignore most weapons.  Ordinary swords and arrows would bounce off you.  You’d only need to worry about things like arbalests or rune ensorcelled weapons.”

Fortitude’s eyes gleamed at this thought.  “So I could lead a few others up to the city.  We could more or less step over the walls, wipe out opposition, and knock down the gates for the rest of the army.”

Carolus nodded.  “Yes,” he said.  “But we’d only be able to keep the spells going for about ten minutes and the amount of power consumed would mean we could only do this to three or four people.”

Fortitude laughed aloud.  “That should be more than sufficient.”

***

While the bulk of the army remained outside the forest, the Lunars and the peasants moved through the forest towards the common field beyond.  Fortitude was with them along with all his companions.  They could hear cattle lowing in the distance, but the world was otherwise quiet.

They emerged from the forest little more than an hour before nightfall.  The three hundred Lunars formed up in a long line three deep.  Each one of them was carrying an improvised wooden club.

All the peasants stood down one end of the line.  In the forest behind them, another five hundred Lunars stood waiting. 

The city was a full half-mile away at this point.  Nevertheless, Fortitude could see hundreds of figures lining the city walls.  He looked to the end of the city and his heart leapt in relief when he beheld Han troops snaking out in long columns towards the forest.

“This is going to work,” he said to those standing around him.

“Looks like about a thousand men coming to us,” Aidan estimated.

“So,” said William.  “Another five hundred back in the city.”

Fortitude nodded.  “It looks like we’ll be using both plans,” he said.  He felt strangely confident now that the time for action had arrived.  All the uncertainty that had been nibbling at him over the last few days was gone.  The plan was simple and seemed likely to succeed.

The Han approached in ten large groups.  Three of the groups comprised archers, while the rest were all regular infantry.  Fortitude studied the archers with some concern.  They would be his biggest problem,” he decided. 

As the Han approached he gave the first signal.  The peasants let out howls of terror as ordered and fled back into the forest leaving the three hundred Lunars alone.

Fortitude saw the enthusiasm of the Han grow immediately.  They marched faster and began shouting taunts at the waiting Lunars.

The Han took half an hour to line up several hundred yards from the Lunars.  They were singing some discordant song as they moved and Fortitude supposed it was to give them confidence.  He stared at his own troops.  All the Lunars appeared tense but resolute. 

Fortitude was not willing to wait for the Han to complete their preparations.  He needed to attack before the Han archers were in place.  With that in mind, he raised his hand to the senior Lunar officer and gave the signal to begin.

Down the column, he heard chanting begin.  One by one, the Lunars began to balloon in size till they stood more than thirty feet in height.  Another two hundred Lunars appeared in the treetops of the forest behind and strode out to join their companions.

Almost without realising it, Fortitude found that he and the others were just as tall as the Lunars.  The ground appeared ridiculously far away and everything seemed to have suddenly reduced to a quarter of its previous size.  He noted that his clothes and other organic materials on his person had grown with him.  The wooden club in his hand had also grown was now as big as a normal sized person.

He turned his attention back to the Han and saw they had fallen still.  Every Han eye was fixed on the giants that had suddenly appeared in front of them.  Fortitude found himself grinning.  He quickly scanned his own troops and found them watching him – awaiting his command. 

“Charge,” he cried loudly, and began running forward.  With a huge roar, five hundred hugely enlarged throats echoed his cry and the Lunars surged forward.

The Han columns wavered in the face of this charge.  In places the Han line collapsed and soldiers began fleeing in a blind panic.  In other places, Han commanders tried to organise resistance.  Here and there, Han soldiers formed pike lines shoulder to shoulder.  At least one of the cohorts of archers held and the air filled with arrows.

Four Lunars fell as those arrows struck home, but the vast mass of Lunars surged on.  They covered the few hundred yards to the Han in no more than ten seconds.  With a crash and a deep-throated growl, the Lunars began swatting at the horrified Han with their massive clubs.

Aidan and Nan were in their element here.  They were not squeamish and they flailed and thumped with hearty enthusiasm – squashing Han soldiers like bugs.  Aidan swung his tree trunk back and forth every few seconds.  Each swipe picked up three or four Han and batted them through the air in a ghastly fountain of limbs, gore and screaming bodies.  He roared happily as he struck.

The others were more restrained – but still cut a swathe through the Han. 

Only Sang held back from the carnage.  “Surrender,” he called loudly to one Han officer he encountered.  The man stared at Sang in blind terror and, if he understood him, it did not show.  A second later, a group of Lunars ran in past him and squashed the Han dead.

In little more than five minutes, the carnage was over.  A hundred or more Han were running madly from the battle while the remainder of the Han lay screaming or squashed dead on the field.  Aidan could be seen running after a couple of the fleeing Han screaming incoherently at them while holding his club high over his head.

With the battle over, the Lunar commanders reasserted discipline and reformed their troops back into sections.  Runners began reporting to Fortitude and he learned that twelve Lunars had fallen to bow fire.  By any measure, it was a massive victory.

One by one, the Lunars began to shrink back to normal size.  Fortitude and the others shrank back with them.

Fortitude’s last sight of the battlefield as his vantage point dropped away was of Aidan fleeing back towards the Lunar lines.  He was now normal size and had five very unhappy Han soldiers in pursuit.

Fortitude turned his attention to the nearby city.  Hundreds of figures were still lining the walls.  They were standing silently, staring out at the Lunars.  He could imagine what they were feeling; what they had expected to be an easy victory had turned into a one-sided massacre.

Fortitude looked at the sky.  The sun was touching the horizon.  If he moved fast he could still take the city while the Han occupying it were dazed and demoralised.  He turned to several Lunar Priests standing nearby.  “I and a couple of my companions need to be made large again.  Our skin must be made invulnerable to weapons.”

The priest bowed.  “Yes Baron,” he replied, then turned and issued orders. 

At that moment Aidan ran up panting heavily and looking very pleased with himself.  “That’s my kind of fight,” he declared jubilantly.  “Dirty tricks, one-sided, gratuitous violence and lots of other people’s blood.” 

Fortitude ignored him and issued orders for the army to move forward to just out of bow range of the city’s main gate.  Just as the move was getting under way, more than thirty Lunar priests arrived. 

Fortitude explained what he wanted to them.  “Make Aidan, Nan and I tall and proof against weapons,” he commanded.  The priests nodded and began chanting and drawing complex patterns in the air with their fingers.

As before, Fortitude found himself growing.  In a few seconds, the three of them were all forty feet in height. 

“Come on,” he ordered.  “In theory we’re invulnerable to weapons, but only for the next ten minutes.”

Fortitude strode towards the city with Nan and Aidan following close behind.  He could see men running around on the city walls preparing bows and other weapons. 

“Are you sure we’re invulnerable to weapons?” Aidan rumbled behind him.

“Carolus said we would be,” Fortitude replied.

Nan grunted unhappily.  “And remind me how much we trust him again would you?”

Fortitude did not answer her.  He continued to stride forward trying to look more confident than he actually felt.

When he was just over a hundred yards from the city, the soldiers on the wall released a wave of arrows and crossbow bolts.  He tried not to visibly flinch. “Steady – don’t look worried,” he called back to Aidan and Nan.

Despite his own advice, he could feel his own heart pounding.  The arrows began hitting him as painless little taps on the skin.  They spanged away in huge numbers and fell broken or blunted to the ground at his feet.

With the knowledge that he really was invulnerable, Fortitude’s confidence increased immeasurably.  He stopped twenty yards from the wall and was able to avoid wincing as a second volley of missiles twanged out.

“Stop,” he called in a stern voice that thundered around the field and echoed oddly off the city wall.  “Stop or we will kill you all.”

Aidan laughed ferociously and lifted his bloody tree trunk high.  The Han on the walls recoiled fearfully. 

“I am the Beastlord,” Fortitude proclaimed loudly.  He felt his cloak stir and the wolf-head lifted.  The sun was now dipping below the horizon and the red gleam of its eyes reflected back from every eye along the wall.  The soldiers along the wall moaned and made signs to ward evil.  “Yes,” he continued.  “Merrin has destroyed Ghin-zhu and has made me powerful and invincible.”

He smiled confidently and continued.  “If you surrender now and open the gates you will be treated honourably and will be returned unharmed to Han at the end of the war.  If you resist you will all be killed right now.” 

An older Han stepped out in front of the other troops.  “I am General Lee,” he said.  “I am in command here.”  In the failing light, Fortitude could not clearly make out his expression, but his voice sounded shaken.  “Do you vow as the Beastlord that we will not be harmed if we surrender?”

“If you have not committed atrocities, then you will be treated well.”

General Lee paused a little too long before replying.  “What do you consider to be an atrocity exactly?” he called back very carefully.

Fortitude frowned at the wall.  “Murder, stealing, abuse, and so on.”

There was an even longer pause.  “Please wait, while I talk to my officers,” the General called back.

There was a long pause while a knot of men gathered on the wall and argued.  Finally, the general turned back.  “Tell me Beastlord, do we Han all look the same to you?”

Fortitude frowned.  He had no idea where this question was going.  “Umm, sort of,” he admitted.

The general’s voice noticeably lightened.  “Then we surrender.  There were a number of our more enthusiastic men who might have committed atrocities, but all were unfortunately slain on the field of battle today.”

Fortitude did not believe that for a moment, but night was coming and he wanted the city under his control now.  He decided not to quibble.  “Very good,” he said.  “Then your men will file out of the city in a long line.  They will be disarmed and they will be put under guard in a camp outside the city.”

General Lee nodded slowly.  “Give me a few minutes to make the necessary arrangements.”

An hour after dawn the Baronial army resumed their journey across the mountain pass into Archesia.  The road was wide and well maintained and the pass was low and easy.  The army made excellent time and reached the top of the pass late in the morning. 

Fortitude was riding at the head of the army.  As he crossed the top of the pass, he saw the Kingdom of Archesia laid out below for the first time in his life.  His first reaction was one of approval.  From this distance, it appeared green and attractive and he gazed upon it with an almost proprietary interest.

He knew from his lessons that it was a long but narrow country.  He recalled that it only a hundred and fifty miles across at its widest point, but that it ran more than six hundred miles north to south.  The northern half of Archesia was a wide basin set between two mountain ranges.  The land was elevated a full thousand yards or more above the great plains of Routh and Han and was rippled and twisted where gigantic forces had pushed it together and upwards in ages past.  Great beech forests lined the edges of both mountain ranges.

From the top of the pass, Fortitude could see where the road wound down the mountain and continued southwards across the rolling lands below.  At the base of the mountains, around ten miles away, Fortitude saw a walled city.  He knew that it was called Nordphalia and that it held thirty thousand people. 

The city lay around a strong three-towered castle where a noble by the title of Thaign had ruled before the Han invasion.  Fortitude regarded this city carefully.  He knew that it would be his first challenge, as the Han undoubtedly had a garrison waiting inside it. 

His other worry was that the Thaign of Nordphalia was supposedly one of the five surviving heirs to the royal throne of Archesia.  The man had gone into hiding in the early days of the Han occupation and Fortitude had a niggling worry that he was likely to reappear as soon as Fortitude’s army rode into the country. 

Fortitude remained uncomfortable with the thought of killing the heirs in order to further his own position.  He wondered if he had the ruthlessness required for this task.  Perhaps, he mused, the Han had already dealt with the matter for him.

He pushed the matter of the surviving heirs aside and allowed his eyes to continue south of Nordphalia.  He saw numerous villages and small towns along the road and then, twenty miles beyond the first city, he saw a second larger city. 

Fortitude had to think for a second before he recalled its name.  It was known as Handburg and it held more than forty-five thousand people.  This city was also built around a strong castle but had no walls.  Fortitude regarded it keenly.  It would be his second major challenge.

He allowed his eyes to rove further on southwards to where he knew the Archesian capital Saxonburg lay.  In theory, it was only sixty miles from where he now stood.  However, there was a haze on the horizon, and he could not make it out. 

He grimaced as he studied the land below.  The army would probably make Nordphalia several hours before dusk today if the Han did not attempt to delay them.  Handburg was another day’s march beyond that and Saxonburg another day again.  The army’s supplies would run out on that fourth day and, therefore, any delays before Saxonburg would compound his supply difficulties significantly.

He had never led an army into battle before and though the spirit of Baron Mortimer had been teaching him for some months now, reality was very different from theory.  His carefully considered calculations now seemed optimistic.  He should have planned for more delays, he decided.

The first columns of Lunars began to march past him.  He gained a feeling of reassurance looking at them.  It was the twenty-fifth day of Mathin.  Today and tomorrow were the two days that their powers would be at maximum.  If he needed to assault either Nordphalia or Handburg then they would give him a remarkable advantage.  Saxonburg, the day after, would be a different problem that he would face when he got there.

He turned his gaze back to the land below and nodded slowly to himself.  He needed to know what was waiting for his army in Nordphalia and the only way to ascertain that was to ride ahead.

He turned to call his companions to him.  As he did, he absent-mindedly brushed a cobweb off his white wolf-skin cape.  One part of his mind noted that the cape felt oddly warm, but he pushed the thought away, as the others joined him at that moment.

***

Moving as fast as they safely could and watching for enemy ambushes and patrols, the group reached the base of the mountains in a couple of hours.  This brought them to within a few miles of the city of Nordphalia. 

The city was largely contained behind a thirty-five foot high stone wall around which ran a wide river.  There were bridges at the northern and southern ends of the city and those were the only two entrances into Nordphalia.  Three dark crennelated towers rose from inside the walls of the city, marking the location of the Thaign’s castle.

Fortitude studied the city carefully.  It looked impregnable to an outright assault and he did not have the time or resources for a siege.  He began exploring ideas in his mind.

Nan gestured at the city from beside him.  “How about we send some Lunars up dressed as peasants?  They can stop in the gates; grow to giant size and rip the city gates off so the army can get in.”

Fortitude shook his head slowly.  “If the Han have even a half decent guard on that gate then the Lunars will be cut down no matter how tall they were.  I also don’t want to assault the city through a single gate when the Han still held the walls with heaven knows how many bowmen.”

Nan made a sour face. 

“But you have given me an idea,” Fortitude said and he felt a rush of excitement as a plan unfolded in his mind.  “Do you remember how Wintershall fell to the Lunars?”

“Of course, but what of it?”

“A small army of a hundred Lunars turned up and challenged the defenders,” Fortitude said.  “The Baron thought he had the Lunars outnumbered four or five to one and so he marched his army out of the city to attack.  The Lunars grew to the size of giants, reversed the odds and wiped out the Baron’s army.”

“That could work,” Nan admitted.

Fortitude grinned at her.  “We just need to find out roughly how many Han are inside those walls.  We want to challenge them with just enough soldiers so they feel that victory is certain, but only if they commit most or all of their troops.” 

There was a village along the road and he pointed at it.  “I think we should go and ask someone.”

***

Fortitude led his companions into the indicated village. 

The style of construction was startlingly different from what they were used to back in the Kingdom.  The buildings were all constructed of heavy wooden frames that had been stained a dark brown.  The gaps between the frames had been filled with straw and clay and the roofs were thatched. 

Fortitude approached the first house on the edge of the village.  A man sat outside the house whittling a piece of wood with a long bladed knife.  He was dressed in knee length trousers and appeared to be around sixty years of age.

“Pardon me, sir,” Fortitude said.  “I was wondering if you could tell me about what things are like in Nordphalia at present?”

The man studied Fortitude and the others then answered politely. “Why certainly, friend.  Two days ago, was I there.  What do you want to know?”  His accent resembled that of the Lunars but was more strongly pronounced.  He spoke the word friend as if it had two f’s and he rolled the r’s so it sounded like ‘ffrrreent’.

Fortitude tried to keep his tone light as he spoke.  “Are the Han still there?”

The man made a sour face.  “Yes, indeed.”

Fortitude feigned mild surprise.  “You seem unhappy.”

The man spat.  “Who wouldn’t be?  Your accent says you’re from Bayonnar so you mightn’t know what it’s been like for us.  The damned Han have taken anything they can eat or sell.  Winter will be hard.”  He shook his head darkly.  “The Han are sitting in Nordphalia and making themselves in our Thaign’s castle.  They’re taking what they want from us without regard for our rights or traditions.”

Fortitude nodded sympathetically.  “It sounds bad.  How many Han are there?”

The man’s expression grew sourer.  “Fifteen hundred of the hungry bastards,” he replied. 

Fortitude started despite himself.  That was a lot more Han than he had been expecting.  “Are they all in the city?”

“They are now.  Half of them were camped outside the city until yesterday.  They moved in behind the walls this morning.”  He paused and his brow furrowed.  “The flash of light and strange rumble we heard yesterday at dawn may be the cause.  Or, the voice we heard last night proclaiming Chronoman dead.” He shrugged.  “Whatever the reason, the Han have not patrolled at all today and the city gate has been closed ever since the army moved inside.”

Celia kicked her horse up alongside Fortitude’s and spoke to the man.  “Did you know that there’s an army coming to free Archesia from the Han?”

The man’s eyes widened.  “No,” he said.  “Whose army and when are they coming?”

Celia’s smile broadened.  “Today; we’re the advance scouts.”

The man looked amazed then a look of enthusiasm spread across his face.  “Good on you,” he said forcefully.  “Who does the army belong to?”

Celia gestured at Fortitude.  “It belongs to Baron Fortitude here.  He is a high noble in the Kingdom of Bayonnar and comes from the ancient Archesian line of Uls Morcar.  He’s here to help liberate his ancestral homeland.”

Fortitude hated pretending to be someone he was not, but he reminded himself that it was a small price to pay for taking Archesia.  “Indeed,” he said.  “I hope that Archesia will soon be free from the Han.”

The man’s face had lit up and he bowed low to Fortitude.  “My lord,” he said.  “Do you need another loyal man to fight for you?  I was once in the Archesian army and I can still hold a sword.  I will joyfully swear my arm to house Morcar and join you in driving back the Han.”

Fortitude quickly appraised the man.  He did seem to have the strength and energy to be of assistance and his face seemed as honest and determined as his words.  “Yes,” he said.  “I need someone who knows the land and approaches around the city.”

“My lord,” the man said with real fervour.  “If you serve Archesia then I will serve you faithfully.  There are many others like myself who will also serve when they hear your name and know your cause.”

“Thank you…” he began.  “What is your name?”

“Ulf, my lord.”

“A good name,” Fortitude said warmly.  “It is my own father’s name.  Thank you, Ulf.  I’ll need all the help I can get.  Get your friends together; today we start the process of liberating your home and all Nordphalia from the Han.”

Ulf bowed low and ran off eagerly into the village.

Fortitude relaxed slightly once the man was gone.  “Well that gives me more hope,” he said.  “It also gives me another idea for taking Nordphalia.  We can put villagers alongside the Lunars and arm them with pitchforks and hoes.  They’ll look weak which will help sucker the Han out and make them over-confident.  We should see if we can recruit more volunteers from the other villages.”

He scratched absently at his neck as he spoke.  For some reason the wolf-skin cloak was itching more than usual.

***

The next village was large and prosperous.  There were more than three hundred houses gathered around a couple of temples and a huge two-storied inn. 

After making a few inquiries, Fortitude found the village mayor inside the inn having a drink.  He wandered over and inclined his head politely.

“Good day,” he said giving a slight bow.  “I am Fortitude uls Morcar, Baron of Winterslow.  I am here to liberate your lands from the Han.  I have an army two hours behind me and I need volunteers to help me take Nordphalia this very day.”

The mayor stared at him as if he were mad.  “Who do you say you are?  And, what is it that you’re doing?”

“I am Baron Fortitude, also known as the Beastlord.”

No sooner had he spoken than his wolfskin cloak stiffened on his back.  The wolf’s head lifted and placed itself on top of Fortitude’s head.  A deep and impossibly malevolent growl emerged from its throat and the eyes glowed a bloody red.

The mayor yelped and fell backwards off his chair.  Fortitude quailed and his companions stepped back in unison.  The cloak writhed for a moment then the legs of the wolf wrapped themselves possessively around Fortitude’s arms.

Fortitude overcame his own impulse to throw the cloak off and stamp on it.  “The Goddess Merrin walks with me,” he observed through gritted teeth.

The mayor recovered his feet and backed away studying Fortitude with fear and amazement.  “Oh, you’re that Beastlord,” he exclaimed.  “You were mentioned by that woman last night weren’t you?”

The wolf’s head nodded. 

The mayor bowed obsequiously.  “So, again, tell me how it is I can help the Beastlord?” he asked fearfully.

Fortitude explained how he needed peasants to accompany his army who would break and run when required.  He also explained how he needed a safe approach to the city so the army could reach it unseen by the Han.

The mayor’s enthusiasm grew noticeably when he realised that Fortitude really did have an army of nearly four thousand behind him.  He promised volunteers and then suggested a way that the army might approach the city unseen.

“Down the western side of the city, there’s a forest, Beastlord,” he said.  “And a mile between it and the city is a large field.  You could approach the city through the forest without being seen and you’d be able to see any Han troops leaving the city by either of the two gates.”

“That sounds perfect,” Fortitude replied.

“Yes Beastlord, but there is one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“The Han have a watching post on the western side of the forest.”

“How big?”

“Several local hunters and herdsmen have seen it.  They say it contains around ten soldiers.”

Fortitude smiled confidently.  “No problems,” he said.  “Time is of the essence if we are to take Nordphalia today.  Tell us where the watching post is and we’ll clear it out before the rest of my army arrives.”

The next morning Fortitude was tired.  Merrin’s address to the world had caused consternation and dismay among the gathered army and Fortitude had spent several hours moving among the various units, calming them down and providing reassurance.  He had enjoyed only limited success, though.  Something about the way Merrin’s voice had projected had successfully conveyed her madness and power to everyone. 

He was not surprised to find that Merrin’s words were the sole topic of conversation around the camp the next morning.  He suspected they were probably the sole topic of conversation around the world.

Fortitude was stunned by the realisation that someone he had known and travelled with for so many months could have become a god.  Merrin had never been entirely sane, and he worried about just what she could do to the world or, more realistically, what she might do innocently and unintentionally.  He also worried about what her ascension meant for his orders. 

With this in mind, he summoned Celia, Carolus and Martyn Darkling to a meeting in his tent.  When they were gathered, he got straight to the point.

“Do we go on?” he asked.  “With Zaahl gone, the Han no longer have any reason to make war with Bayonnar.  More than that though, at least one of Zaahl’s high priests has converted to Merrin.  If many of the Han do the same, then Merrin might not like the fact that we’re now waging war against her followers.”

“We must go on,” Carolus declared.  “Archesia must not be in the hands of the Han when the war ends.  It also must be ours so the Lunars, Kyrilites and Dierdrakin all have a safe place to live in future.”

Martyn frowned but said nothing.

“I agree with Carolus,” Celia said.  “Merrin was on our side fighting the Han.  She wanted you to succeed in Archesia.  I’m sure that hasn’t changed at all.”

“True,” Martyn conceded.  “And we all heard her declare her support for you last night.”

“Then we continue into Archesia,” Fortitude ventured.

“Yes,” Celia answered.  “Carolus is right.  The King will not want Archesia in the hands of the Han under any circumstances.  Merrin supports you.  I say we go on.”

“And immediately,” Carolus declared.  “The Lunars are in their powers today and tomorrow.  We must go now and exploit our advantages.”

Fortitude turned to Martyn.  “What do you think, Martyn?”

Martyn’s expression grew tight but he nodded.  “I cannot fault the logic that says we go on.”

Fortitude rested his hand upon the Baronial sword. 

“It would be foolish not to go on.  If you don’t go on, you will displease the King and end your days as Baron of Winterslow fighting off temple assassins.  If you go on, however, you face the very real prospect of becoming King of Archesia.”

Fortitude considered the advice proffered to him very carefully, then nodded.  “Line the army up,” he ordered.  “We’ll start over the mountains as soon as everyone’s ready.”

As the others walked from the tent he pulled the wolfskin cloak over his shoulders and thrust the last of his equipment into his pack.

***

Deep in the mountains, Merrin was staring pensively at the huge vortex spinning in front of her. 

“This is bad,” she muttered to herself as it pulsed and almost twisted from her control for the twentieth time that hour.  It took most of her concentration to keep the mass of power under control.  Zaahl had done it with long-practised ease and significantly less skill than herself so she knew it was possible; it was just a matter of learning how.  Until then she was going to be unable to do much more than hear the occasional fragmentary supplication from fearful worshippers and carry out clumsy, infrequent and brief projections of power. 

She fretted.  This place was dark and lonely now everyone had fled.  She wanted someone or something to play with.  She corrected the vortex again then, in the minute or so before it began to destabilise again, she projected power for a summoning.

With a surprised whimper, the dog-man appeared before her.  He stared around in surprise, and then reeled back as the energy of the vortex slammed through him.  Merrin quickly bound a protective cocoon of force around him and he recovered quickly.  His enormous tail began to wag happily as he realised that he was back with his mistress.

“Good boy,” said Merrin happily.

She extended her will again and the reanimated black pony that Celia had made for her materialised next to the dog man.  It whinnied and moved to nuzzle her – just as Celia had trained it.

Merrin beamed and studied the horse and dog-man with proprietary pride.  “I’m on a roll,” she declared. 

Her gaze became wistful at that moment.  “I wonder how the others are doing without me.” 

Thinking he was being talked to, the dog-man began thumping his tail on the ground again.

Merrin stared into space suddenly feeling lonely.  “The Beastlord’s probably missing me too,” she ventured.  She had an idea at that moment and grew excited.  “I know!” she exclaimed.  “I know exactly how we can help him.” 

Pausing only to correct the path of the vortex, she directed a beam of rather unusual energy at where she knew the Beastlord was.  She nodded happily when the tricky invocation was finally completed. 

“Well, I’m sure that’ll be a nice surprise for him,” she said.  “Finally that whole prophecy thing will make some sense.”

The next hour was spent in innocent pleasure as Merrin galloped her undead horse around the twisting writhing vortex while being pursued by the ecstatically happy man who thought he was a dog.  He barked with mad enthusiasm as his claws scrabbled around the slippery chamber floor.  Merrin’s dress flailed tentacles happily through the air while Merrin whooped and yelped in unhinged joy.