Emergency Aftermath

 

“Damage report?”

“Constructions two, four, and five have suffered catastrophic structural failure. We have been unable to stop the bleeding in any and, in the case of five, stockpiled ordinance went up with the blast. Eight of our engineers were killed in the resulting explosion.

“One and three suffered minor damage thanks to your timely intervention. It will set us back but is salvageable. The alchemical explosives the enemy planted under six failed to explode and merely caused a small fire that was swiftly dealt with.”

“I see.” A tall woman seated at the table gave her adjutant a shallow nod before dragging her knife through the slab of roasted meat.

The meat was perfectly seared, its exterior a rich, caramelized brown that protected the savory flavors within. Juices pooled on the plate as she cut through, revealing a tender, succulent interior. Roasted root vegetables, crisp and decorated with fragrant herbs, sat beside the meat. It was the sort of meal befitting a king in a palace, not a general at a battlefield.

Lucky for her, she was both.

“Make a note of the dead. Their families are to receive adequate compensation upon our return,” she said before popping the slice of meat into her mouth.

The adjutant, a wiry man with a perpetually furrowed brow, scribbled in his notebook as if the pen had personally insulted his mother. The scratching noise echoed in the otherwise silent chamber. Outside, the distant rumble of yet another explosion made them both pause.

To the best of her knowledge, their enemy had fully retreated.

“Go,” she said, grasping the goblet of amber-colored wine. “Find out what that was.”

“Yes, Empress,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He dipped his head in a respectful bow before scurrying from the room.

Watching the doors swing shut behind him, she slowly stood, leaving her meal half-eaten while keeping the goblet of wine. She approached the windows with a frown, peering out into the darkness. There had been a second one out there tonight. She was fairly certain they had perished, but it boded ill to assume anything in this war. The enemy was cunning and had a knack for turning the tide when least expected.

More distressing was the idea that additional active Hearts existed out in the wild. One fortress was nothing if not expected. Thousands existed in ages past and finding every last one of them was a task beyond even her abilities. Keepers cropped up now and again, often drawing far too much attention to themselves, before being put down by one of the three. Even if they carried on for long periods of time, they weren’t problems. Just selfish people trying to scrape together what power they could until they inevitably burned out.

This time, this Arkk, was different. The Golden Order already confirmed the presence of a Servant of one of the old gods. Someone standing behind the scenes, guiding and pulling strings, ensuring that the power didn’t consume the Keeper. There was little doubt that the influence of this Servant was the true cause of the fracture in the sky leading to the domain of boundaries.

Then the walking fortress appeared. Those had all been destroyed. With how obvious they were in comparison to the deeply buried fortresses, there was little question that she or one of her contemporaries had demolished every last one centuries ago. Yet it existed today, standing tall, with stonework crafted from shadowy bricks. A Heart belonging to the old god of darkness.

It was possible that the walking fortress had been inactive, its Heart stored within the confines of another fortress, but the likelihood was low. It had only appeared after the fractured sky.

She sipped the amber wine, her thoughts too loud to savor the rich, velvety liquid.

That second Keeper tonight, she had felt them, their connection to their own Heart. They had a walking fortress somewhere out there. Missing one walking fortress was almost believable. Two? Both operating in such a short timeframe, so obviously allied to one another?

Gods were intervening where they had no business anymore.

Turning from the window, she approached the table. A large map spread across its top was covered in small pins and points. Mystakeen’s terrain was replicated in detail. Most pins were centered around Elmshadow. It had certainly become the main base of operations for their enemy. However, it wasn’t the location of the main fortress. That lay somewhere further to the east.

The Golden Order suspected Cliff City. It was known to have housed a fortress in its mountainside once upon a time. The idea that the Heart had somehow survived wasn’t out of the question. Especially considering it was the Holy Light’s territory; the recent duplicity coming from the avatar of the so-called god of wisdom meant everything had to be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism, including claims that she had destroyed all Hearts within the land the Light touched.

There was further evidence, however. Upon her arrival at Mystakeen, the Eternal Empire launched a surprise attack, intending to draw out proof of the Golden Order’s suspicions. The city was heavily defended, first by mundane magical arrays. Then, when those arrays overloaded, boundary magic protected the city.

And a demon destroyed a warship.

The fact that the demon had not been seen since gave some hope that it had only been summoned as a temporary defensive measure and had since been banished, but she wasn’t willing to waste men and resources assaulting the city again. Best to whittle down their enemy’s power and forces from this side of the country instead. If he did summon a demon again, at least two avatars together stood a chance at defeating it.

It did mean they would end up with a cornered rat, but they intended to corner it all along. Now they simply knew what to be wary of.

The Empress traced her finger along the map, her eyes narrowing as she considered the strategic points. Three of her six weapons of war were gone in one night. Others were in construction, but they were lagging behind, intended to be used if this turned into a protracted siege rather than the swift destruction of that tower. Perhaps two and four could be cobbled together to salvage one, but it was still a blow. And then there was a walking fortress somewhere. Likely a smaller one to keep it from being found. Elmshadow was a thorn in her side, but Cliff City was the festering wound. She needed to cut it out and cauterize it.

The Golden Order and their listeners weren’t often wrong, but she had learned to trust her instincts above all. At the moment, her instincts told her that there was something wrong with the picture they had. Something missing. Elmshadow wasn’t truly important. Leaving the Golden Order to keep it busy while she advanced to Cliff…

The door creaked open, the return of her adjutant interrupting her thoughts. His face, pale and drawn, brought the bad news before he even opened his mouth.

“Empress,” he began, bowing his head before lifting his gaze to the level of her neck—no further. “The explosion was at site two. An uncontained fire spread to the stockpiled armaments and—”

She waved a hand, stalling the rest of the report. “Dead?”

“Only three confirmed. There may be more.”

“Viability of salvaging the construction?”

“About on par with site five.”

She gently placed her goblet on the table, nodding her head slowly. So much for cobbling together the remains. “Abandon site four, have everyone focus on growing the other three. I want them in the air by the week’s end.”

“So soon?” His eyes flicked up in surprise before darting back down. He suddenly found his shoes fascinating. “With everything that has happened, I’m not sure if they’ll be finished on your schedule.”

“They don’t need to be finished. They merely need to be airworthy. It will be troublesome, but we can complete them in the air where they are safe from similar attacks.”

“I… understand.”

“If we move the remaining engineers over from the destroyed projects and stagger labor throughout both day and night, we’ll at least have the frames ready. Detail the schedule immediately. Have it put into place the moment we have finished confirming the status of anyone caught in the recent explosion.” She paused, staring at her adjutant for a moment before adding, “See it done.”

“Understood.”

Orders given, she turned back to the map on the table. The door clicked shut behind her back as her adjutant departed. That left her with nothing but her thoughts.

Her thoughts and that feeling that something was still missing in the larger picture.

“Wᚺat are you working on now?”

Agnete didn’t stop to respond. This was delicate work.

She stood over a small archway constructed of a crystalline lattice, amber in base color but with an iridescent sheen that changed color based on the lighting and the angle one observed it. Meticulously etched runes dotted the sides while several thick bolts and metal clamps affixed it to the ground. Burning heat from Agnete’s fingertips fused a fresh chunk of the amber crystal to the main structure.

She had to control her heat carefully. Too much and the crystal would crack, score, or melt entirely, deforming it and losing the magic properties she required. Too little and it wouldn’t be part of the structure, just an odd hanger-on. It was by far the most precise she ever had to manipulate her heat.

Agnete doubted her old self would have been able to manage. Ever since meeting with… that thing—she still wasn’t convinced that it was the actual Burning Forge and not just an avatar-like construct—the heat in her chest wasn’t constantly leaping to escape, to burn everything around her. It was like the difference between when she had been working under Vrox and when she joined up with Arkk except now Arkk was the former party.

Finishing with the large rectangular block of crystal, Agnete paused and looked down at her hands. Molten seams of glowing golden metal ran through the cracks in her flesh, looking like veins. Using one of the magnifying eyepieces that had been provided to her, she had gotten a close look. Despite being molten, runes covered the metal, shifting and flowing as it moved through her skin. The runes were unlike anything she had seen before—and that included some of Zullie’s more heretical ideas. Agnete hadn’t bothered trying to analyze it. She was no researcher.

“Are you alrighᛏ?”

Agnete looked up, staring at the mechanical copy of herself. Who stood to the side, head tilted to the left. Agnete had tried to tell her to change the name now that they could communicate comfortably, only to be refused. To Who, her name was something her creator had given her and she didn’t want to lose it. Despite the fact that Agnete hadn’t been trying to give her a name at the time.

“I’m fine,” Agnete said, lowering her hands to her sides. “Just busy.”

“What is this?” Who asked, moving around the small archway.

“Something I’ve been working on while you were out. Did you procure the parts I requested?”

“I did,” Who said without taking those mechanical eyes off the archway. “You failed to specify a quantity. I decided to ship a wᚺole train of them in. They’re waiting at the station.”

“Bring in five, please.”

“Five?” Who’s deep, mechanical voice took on a note of distress. “I have ᛏᚺousands out there.”

“Yes,” Agnete said, carefully controlling her facial expression to keep a small smile off her face. She had known this would happen. The same thing happened the last time Agnete hadn’t been perfectly clear. “Thank you, Who. Five will suffice.”

The quiet clacking of metal tapping metal filled the air as Who crossed her arms. A gout of white steam puffed out from her ears. Gears and servos shifted behind the plates on her face as pistons pushed her mouth open in what was sure to be an irritated response. However, Who’s voice stalled as her gaze shifted to one side. “And what is that?” she asked.

Agnete turned to find the lesser servant slop out from the ventilation duct. It landed with a splat and looked up, froze, and then quickly tried to scurry beneath one of the workbenches.

Who didn’t let it get away. Another blast of steam emitted from her legs with the sound of a low horn, propelling her into motion. Her arms extended outwards, grasping hold of a few stray tendrils. Some of it oozed out between her fingers. Just enough of it maintained cohesion when she pulled to drag the whole thing back out into the open.

“Wᚺaᛏ ᛁᛋ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᚠᛚᛖᛋᚺᛃ, ᛋᛩᚢᛁᛋᚺᛃ ᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ?”

Agnete let out a small sigh. “Don’t harm it, please.”

“You know wᚺaᛏ ᛏhis is?” Who asked, looking back even as the servant struggled in her grip. She looked more curious than murderous, which Agnete took to be a good sign.

“It is a servant. It has been helping me construct the portal,” she said, gesturing toward the small archway.

“Portal. Like the one you wanted to visit a while ago?”

Agnete nodded her head. “I don’t suppose you discovered where it is? It certainly would be easier to use. Though I doubt it matters now.”

Who continued to grasp at the servant, continually readjusting where her hands were as the amorphous blob shifted out of her grip. Her head turned almost completely backward to look at Agnete then turned just a little more as she gave a negative shake. “Sorry. I was not created with that information and requests regarding the subject have been denied.”

“Unfortunate. But that is why I built this.”

“Portal.” Who said again, now turning to the amber archway. “The thing you wanted to use to leave? You’re leaving?”

“Not permanently, I hope. I have created a great many useful things that I need a larger portal to return to my home. To answer your question, however, yes. I cannot—will not stay here indefinitely, even at the behest of a god.”

Ratchets clicked, gears turned, and metal clanked in the silence that followed. The steam-filled pipes in Who’s chest thronged in a distressed note. “You’re the only one who can make… me. Things like me.”

“If the Burning Forge wishes me to stay and mindlessly toil in the factory until the end of time, She should have selected a different avatar.”

“But… You’re leaving me?”

Agnete stared at the metal copy of herself, wondering why she had fashioned it in her image. With a slight shake of her head, she sighed. “Not permanently, as I—”

“ᚾᛟ.”

“Who?”

“ᚾᛟ,” Who repeated, dropping the lesser servant. She turned, steps suddenly heavy against the metal floor as if she weighed ten times as much as she had five minutes ago.

It quickly scurried off, squeezing itself behind the workbench. Two thin stalks popped up over the top, forming thin yellow eyes.

Agnete paid it little attention, focused entirely on Who. “Do you think you can stop me?” Flames curled around her arms, flowing up toward her shoulders in thin streams. “I don’t want to hurt you, Who.”

“You can’t just make me and then leave me,” Who snapped. Her fingers clenched and unclenched repeatedly, making heavy thunking noises with each movement.

Agnete blinked. Smiling slightly, she let her flames die down. “Then come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me,” Agnete said again, motioning to the portal. “It isn’t like only one person can get through.”

A hiss of steam spread out around Who, coming from her back, as she deflated. “With you?”

Nodding her head, Agnete turned to the portal. It should be finished. And if their haphazard communications hadn’t gone wrong, the lesser servant coming through the vents should mean that Arkk was ready on the other side. So, with a slight tug on the link, she let Arkk know that she was ready in turn.

It took a minute. Several minutes. Eventually, a magical hum started up around the portal. A liquid-like membrane spread through its interior, first shimmering silver, then shifting to display what Agnete recognized as a part of Fortress Al-Mir. The maze-like tiles and violet glowstones were almost nostalgic with how long she had spent here in the Anvil.

“What now?” Who all but whispered.

“Now we go through. Let me go first. The ones on the other side will probably attack anyone they don’t expect. You can follow in a minute.” Agnete started forward, only to frown. Unfortunately, the portal only went up to her chest. That meant she had to squat down and make an undignified crawling walk through the shimmering membrane.

Arkk, Zullie, Zullie’s two assistants, and a contingent of orc guards all stood on the other side. The first two had smiles on their faces, Arkk’s welcoming while Zullie just looked pleased that her cobbled-together portal actually worked. The assistants were near the portal frame, monitoring it. The orcs stood in an array around, weapons out but not raised.

All ten individuals stumbled back as soon as Agnete put her head through the portal. Morvin and Gretchen let out clipped shouts, jumping away while Arkk and Zullie staggered.

Agnete pulled herself through in a rush, worried something had gone wrong, only to come to the slow realization that they were pulling away from her, not the portal. It took another moment to realize why.

The tiles beneath her feet were melting.

Closing her eyes, Agnete took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down, to pull in that ever-present flame. Perhaps, in the Anvil, it hadn’t been easy to control. It was just that she hadn’t noticed she wasn’t controlling it.

The room slowly cooled down, both in temperature and temperament. “I apologize,” Agnete said. “I didn’t realize.”

“That’s alright,” Arkk said, slowly getting his smile back. That smile froze suddenly as Arkk stiffened, cutting off whatever he was going to say. He went on guard, wary once again. A few of the others took up more defensive positions, as if expecting a fight.

Exactly one minute had passed since her arrival.

Who, arms and legs crawling along the ground like a mechanical spider, slipped through the portal frame, crawling up right behind Agnete before straightening in one smooth, utterly inhuman motion.

Agnete stepped forward, making sure to place herself between Who and everyone else in the room. Her body language alone made it clear that anyone wishing to harm the construct would have to go through her first.

Obviously not wanting a fight to break out, Arkk quickly gave the hand signal for everyone to stand down. He still looked wary, but he trusted her enough to put on an air of welcome. “I saw through the servant, you looked like you were fighting with this… Who is this?” he asked, clearly forcing himself to be polite.

“That’s correcᛏ,” Who said, her low tones sounding pleased.

Arkk blinked, taking his eyes off Who to look at Agnete. “What’s correct?”

Agnete looked back, watching as Who took in the situation around her. Nodding her head, she looked at Arkk. “Who.”

“Who?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“No. This is Who.”

“I’m…” Arkk scrunched up his face, scratching at the side of his head. “I don’t know.”

Who, stepping forward with a small tuft of steam escaping from her legs, gestured toward Arkk. “You’re I Don’ᛏ Know?” she asked in utter innocence.

Agnete stared at Arkk. Arkk stared back. Eventually, she sighed.