The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim (40 page)

“
I would keep it from becoming a habit. However you seem to be bent on preventing me from attaining that goal.”
The being knelt near Ardin, causing Rain to scoot back subconsciously.
“Are you well?”

“
Well enough... I think someone stabbed me.” He sounded hurt by the memory.

“
Worse things are coming, Ardin. The foundations of this world are shaking. You must head west if we are to keep them from crumbling completely.”

The back of Rain's neck sprouted goosebumps at the words. But Ardin seemed unfazed.

“
Why? We were planning on heading west after we do some reconaissan–”

“
I doubt very much that this party to whom you have attached yourself will be of much use after tonight. Whatever has passed, they are no longer fit. In any case, let me save you unnecessary exposure to the enemy and his territory. The Relequim is amassing his army to the north of here. He plans to take it east over the sea and strike a deathblow to your people while the West is on its heels. Where once he failed, he is determined to succeed.”

“
But the cliffs... the defenses. They're still intact.”

“
It will not matter if there is no one left to man them, Ardin. But that is not your concern. You must move west and stop the Relequim from returning. You must at the very least buy time so that his plans may not bear fruit in his intended season.”

“
Stop the what? Wha... why can't you do it yoursel–”

“
While I am not sworn away from interfering with your path, Ardin Vitalis, I am sworn never to cross that bridge. Not so long as the seal remains intact am I or my brothers allowed on the nameless mountain.”

Cid stepped in, his tongue rediscovered. “You spoke of the defenses, the cliffs. How could they stand unmanned against an invasion? They're designed–”

“
To require a minimal garrison, indeed. But it will hardly matter if those meant to garrison them do not live to fulfill their duty.”

M
AJOR
A
NDERS
K
EATON MOVED STEADILY AHEAD
.
There had been a small camp here, the river bed appeared to have been an equipment cache. It looked like little more than scattered debris now. A soldier lurched drunkenly from an overturned baggage pile. He stumbled, disoriented from the explosions. His ears were bleeding. Keaton's gun made a quiet pap pap and the man fell dead.

He was surrounded by his men now, scanning every angle, advancing as a unit. They had a level of precision to their movements. Perhaps they had tactical training of some sort. Maybe they hadn't been intended to fail after all. That notion brought its own host of worries.

They swung up into the camp as the dry bed fanned out and the ground leveled. Each man had his gun forward, moving smoothly, silently. More green-clad soldiers began appearing from the rubble. Some were disoriented, others well enough prepared to fight. All of them died the same. Spurts of blood shot into the air among crippled screams as the soldiers' guns barked quietly in the carnage. Tallheart eventually caught up and joined them.

Keaton motioned for two men to watch the western hill for snipers as the rest swept the one they were on. They moved quickly, sparing no time as Tallheart took two men with him over a low lip to the first gun. The team operating the gun hadn't noticed their comrades' peril. They scarcely had time to recognize their own before they lay dying.

Keaton moved in the center of the line that swept the hill in a long arc. Sandbags and shallow trenches made up scattered defensive positions between the guns. Keaton motioned for his men to clear them out as he ran over to check on Tallheart. The dull cracks of rifles were echoed by piffs and paffs of sand and flesh as the major reached the gun. It was a tall, silvery thing that rotated on a set of hinges set on a platform the size of the truck that had carried him here. It looked ungainly, but menacingly powerful.

Tallheart was almost done rigging up a series of putty-based explosives. “This should give them a right show, sir. Let's hope it doesn't bring them all down on us.”

Like it would matter if it did.
Keaton kept his pessimism to himself. “Just disable it, Tallheart. Something subtle but effective. We don't need to draw attention.”

“
Aye, sir.” The disappointment in his voice seemed comical to Keaton. These boys had never been bloodied.

He ran towards the sandbags as Tallheart finished up. The squad had taken them easily enough and were waiting for him when he got there.

“
Casualties?” he asked Rogers as he slid down into place.

“
All theirs, sir.”

“
I'm impressed.”

“
You did say to pretend like we'd earned these uniforms, sir.”

Keaton nodded curtly. He didn't want them getting too pleased with themselves. Not yet. There were still at least two guns to blow. “Let's give you an opportunity to stop pretending then.” He motioned for three of them to move on to the left and up the next hill. He wanted the high ground if there was any to be had. He signaled for the rest to cover them.

Tallheart came running up as his first explosives cracked the air. The impact was underwhelming, leaving the barrel of the gun bent and frayed but doing little else.

“
That was disappointing,” one of the men grunted.

“
I thought you said you packed explosives, Smallfart,” leered another.

“
They won't be shooting anything unless they want to eat their own shrapnel.”

“
It'll be enough.” Keaton looked over the sandbags to check on the progress of the three he had sent ahead. They dropped among some shrubs and disappeared just below the ridge of the hill. He hoped they were good shots. “Let's move.”

They cleared the second gun much as they had the first. The fighting was clearly more intense just beyond it, towards the center of the line, and it served as a fantastic diversion. Tallheart rigged the gun to blow as the would-be Hunters cleared out a group of parked transports. The trucks were loosely guarded, and soon they were ready to continue on.

“
They're going to notice quiet guns sooner or later,” Rogers said as Keaton studied his map.

“
They already have,” Keaton said without looking up. “Take a look at the next hill.”

There were men moving over the ridge to reclaim the gun. He had already seen them coming. The question was what to do next. His men weren't ready for a proper fight, not against superior numbers behind enemy lines. He had to move them out or risk losing them all.

“
We're going to Liscentia,” he said finally.

“
What? Sir!” Rogers was clearly appalled. “We're to clear out these guns.”

“
Well that's not happening any more, is it?” Keaton thrust the thick plastic map back into the soldier's hands. “We're about to lose all of our momentum, Rogers. As soon as we rock back on our heels we're dead men.”

“
But si–”

“
They won't see us coming if we shoot straight for the heart. Knock out the command post and what good are a few measly artillery guns? Take three men and gather as many Liscentian uniforms as
you can. Be quick about it.”

He didn't wait to hear any further disagreements. He called for Tallheart as he ordered his men towards the farthest transports. “We're taking two of these,” he said to the demo man as they filed past. “I want the rest to blow when we do.”

“
That sounds like more fun.” Tallheart must have been grinning behind his mask.

“
And feel free to make it a nice, flashy explosion. The more distracting the better.”

“
That's what I like to hear, sir.” Tallheart moved on without any further encouragement, taking another soldier with him to get the work done faster.

Keaton moved to join his men at the trucks. Rogers tried to complain one final time before being ordered into the back of one of the transports. Keaton swung into the front seat next to another masked soldier who was already shifting it into gear.

“
You're the one they call Slim, aren't you?” It was hard enough to tell the men you knew apart in their armor, let alone total strangers with no markings.

“
Aye, sir.”

“
You almost look like that armor was meant to fit you.”

“
Thank you sir.” The man released the braking mechanism as bullets began to ping the metal around them. “Let me just say it's an honor, sir, and I agree with your decision to move to the next
objective. Whatever Rogers says.”

Keaton didn't need the approval of his subordinates, but it was nice to hear nonetheless. Tallheart ran past the driver's window, slapping the hood as he went. They were good to go. Slim, as they called him, waited until he heard the tailgate slam before backing up past the other trucks. He turned it around as quickly as the beast could manage, kicking up more dust than Keaton would have liked. They jerked to a halt as Slim ground the gears and made for the Fool's Gate.

They were off at speed, bullets whizzing past but posing little threat. Keaton watched in the mirror as the green soldiers took cover among what must have been twenty or so parked trucks. Some were getting in as if to make chase. They never got the chance, as a wave of explosions rocked the motionless convoy.

The large fuel tanks on each truck erupted, sending the liquid burning into the air as it ignited and rolled into the sky. Keaton smiled. That would stir up some confusion. He only hoped it drew their own forces into the fight as well. He didn't need an entire army chasing him down without support.

The two trucks sped towards Liscentia like beggars to a feast. After about a mile, when he was certain they weren't yet being followed, he ordered Slim to stop the truck. The second truck slowed and stopped with them behind a low hill. They couldn't yet see the walls of Liscentia, but there was no sense taking unnecessary risks.

“
Find a uniform that fits,” he yelled to both trucks as he ran to the back of his own. “I want you all covered in green before we get to the city.”

The green pants and jackets of the enemy soldiers slid on easily enough over the tight-fitting armor of the Hunters. Keaton smiled.

“
Get those helmets off, too. You're all injured Liscentians, so play the part.”

“
Do we get to go whoring when we get to the city?” someone quipped.

“
Don't play the part too well,” Anders said with a smile.

“
Sir,” came a nervous voice.

“
What?” Keaton turned. It was Tallheart.

“
As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think my explosions are what's keeping them from following.”

“
What are you talking about?” Keaton asked, but all Tallheart did was point the way they had come.

Keaton turned, walking back towards the battle. He squinted as he finished doing up the brass buttons that ran down the left breast of his green jacket. The dust from their flight obscured his vision, but he was able to make out movement. A lot of movement.

He called for field glasses, and was quickly handed a pair. He focused them in, until he realized what he was looking at.

“
Oh God,” he said as he lowered the glasses. “We have to get back. Those things will tear them all to shreds.”

“
What things, sir?” The voice was accentuated by the clicking of light metal springs and locking mechanisms.

Keaton turned to see Rogers pointing his sidearm at his head.

“
Looks like I might lose control at any point here, sir.” His finger was already squeezing the trigger. “So I'm gonna have to pull the plug on this now.”

T
WENTY-
S
IX

F
OR A CREATURE TO WHOM THE
C
REATOR SAW FIT TO GIVE NO WINGS, FLYING WAS A RARE EXPERIENCE
.
For the Shadow King's part, upon experiencing that which he was never intended to, he wished the ability had been given him. In spite of being carried, it was possibly the most freeing experience of his existence. He relished every minute.

The Truan Empire had been utterly laid waste. From the air, it looked as though they were passing over a foreign planet. The ground was comprised of a dazzling array of the shades of gray. The hills looked like hedgehogs, all gray and black and covered in the lifeless spines that had once been trees. The rivers still flowed, though they were slow. Lazy. Bogged down with ash.