The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. Long shadows cast over the streets of Elmshadow, stretched out from the mass of freshly built buildings into eerie shapes. The twin mountains on the north and south sides of the burg made even longer shadows that covered huge sections of the valley. Even they looked curled and unpleasant.
Thorne shuddered.
Elmshadow was a creepy place. He thought that ever since he first arrived with the rest of Lord Bonsworn’s regiment. When Lord Bonsworn’s chief retainer came to him, levying him into service as part of the King’s Royal Armies for fighting off heretical invaders in Mystakeen, he had expected… anything other than what he had gone through. First being denied entry by the very people they were supposed to aid, then waiting while the Duke had been assassinated, the Prince taking over from the Duke, and finally arriving here… only to be told that they wouldn’t be fighting, then a few weeks later being told that they would have to fight after all. It had been six months since first setting out and he still hadn’t even seen the alleged enemy army.
Not that he was complaining. Some of the other regiments got it into their heads that they needed to be heroes.
They were probably dead by now.
Idiots.
But he couldn’t say he didn’t understand. The sooner he got away from Elmshadow, the better.
It wasn’t just the shadows every night. In fact, the shadows were about the only normal thing here. It was the mercenary company who held the burg like it was their own little fiefdom. They were a strange sort. The joint training that had started up since being told that they would be fighting the enemy at some point served more to demonstrate just how outclassed anyone normal was. Half the mercenary company seemed to be made up of orcs, all of whom had creepy shadowy armor that let them move as if they were wearing a light tunic while taking heavier hits than a fully plated knight. They had beastmen and demihumans and Thorne thought he had seen gorgon slithering about the place.
Strange.
But nothing was as strange as that tower. Yet another odd shadowy thing in the burg of odd shadows. Its bricks were dark and the maze-like designs that covered their bricks also seemed to cover near every building in the burg. An unsettling appearance that wasn’t helped by the wafting curls of black that flowed down its sides like fog.
Thorne shuddered again, deciding to turn away. He wished he was still up in those mountainside housings. They had been covered in maze patterns as well, but at least they looked like normal stone. Unfortunately, as one of Bonsworn’s captains, he had moved down here to observe the joint training exercises the rest of his men carried out.
“Something blew smoke up the hive tonight.”
Thorne glanced to his side, frowning as Rubee leaned against the house they had been assigned. She swept a lock of red out of her face, bringing a lit pipe to her face. She drew in, puffed out a few rings of smoke out the side of her lips, and grinned at him.
“What’s wrong? You look like you didn’t want to see me.”
Thorne shook his head with a small scoff. “Smoke under a hive tends to calm the bees,” he said. Bonsworn was a smaller vassal of the King out on the outskirts of Chernlock’s deserts, known for his vast fields and honey production. As such, Thorne knew a thing or two about beekeeping.
Rubee, on the other hand, came from Vaales. One of the Prince’s own handpicked. She wasn’t someone he particularly wished to draw the attention of.
Unfortunately, given that meeting like this had become a near nightly occurrence, it looked like he had failed to keep his head down far enough.
“Weren’t they your men who up and vanished?”
“No more my men than my men are yours.” Rubee puffed her pipe a few more times. “Tannen was in charge of them. He’s gone too. Raised a big fuss before he left, saying they needed to bring the fight to the enemy before it was too late. Bet they’re dead already? Or just decided to outright desert?”
“Idiots,” Thorne said, repeating his earlier thoughts. “Probably a mixture of both. Tannen might have believed in the fight. My coin in on half his men only joining to get far enough away to make a run for it.”
“Yeah, well, I can tell you that my Prince isn’t going to be happy about this. He’s sure to go on a rampage once he finds out…” Rubee trailed off, face contorting into a confused frown.
Before Thorne could ask what was wrong, he felt it. A low, thunderous groan rumbled through the air. The sound reverberated through his bones, making his teeth chatter like dice in a gambler’s cup. His head whipped around, searching for the threat as his hand went to his sword. A shadow swept over him, blocking the final rays of the dying sun momentarily.
A clatter behind him had him spinning, but it was just Rubee. She dropped her pipe. The long bit of wood made the noise against the ground.
Her expression had changed. Fear replaced the confusion. She stared, eyes wide and mouth agape at something over Thorne’s shoulder.
He whipped out his sword, turning to face whatever she had in her sight, only to freeze himself.
At first glance, nothing had changed. The burg stretched out around them. That massive fortress still dominated the skies with its towering battlements and countless arrow slits. But, it had changed. It was leaning, tilted off to one side.
For a moment, Thorne thought it was going to tip straight over, but it managed to stop itself.
Slowly, impossibly, one of the circular columns that had been built along its base began to rise. It pushed away from the rest of the tower, looking like the leg of a spider. Stones grated against each other, sending chills down Thorne’s spine at the unpleasant noise. More legs joined the first, unfolding from beneath the tower’s base.
The first leg came down onto the ground, helping to right the tilted tower. Thorne expected an explosive force, pushing outward, shaking the surrounding buildings to rubble. But the leg came down so gently. It still made a noise, but it was the noise of a distant, rumbling thunder rather than the violent shock of a sudden explosion.
Thorne staggered back, eyes wide, heart pounding against his ribcage. He bumped into the same wall Rubee had been leaning against. She hadn’t moved a muscle, but others had. Around him, the city’s inhabitants—almost exclusively the soldiers stationed here—rushed out of the buildings, ready to fight, only to freeze and gape alongside him and Rubee.
Those legs lifted, stretched forward, and settled down again with gentle thunderclaps. It moved awkwardly, like it was always trying to maintain contact with the ground with at least four of its legs. But that didn’t stop it from moving. In a mere four steps, it crossed over the western wall of the burg. Five more and it was about out of the field beyond.
It took a force of willpower to pull his eyes off the tower as it put distance between itself and the burg. He knew there was something creepy about this place. If there was anyone who could explain, one of the joint training captains would be the one. But, as his eyes swept over the crowd of people who had come out to see what was going on, he couldn’t find a single member of Company Al-Mir among them.
He was about to charge off looking for one of their hosts when movement caught his eye. Rubee bent. With trembling fingers, she plucked her pipe off the ground. She tried to smoke it again, only to find that it had gone out. Still shaking, she upended the pipe, dumping the contents with a light tap against the wall, before taking a fresh pinch of hash from her pouch. With a muttered incantation, she lit the pipe again using flames burning at the tips of her fingers.
Five wobbling rings of smoke later, she visibly calmed down. “Lighty Light,” she muttered. “Didn’t expect it to be so… mobile.”
“You knew?”
“Heard it could move. My Prince told us all.” She puffed at her pipe a few more times. “You didn’t hear about Company Al-Mir much, I take it.”
Thorne clenched his teeth, glaring around the streets again. Not a sign of even one mercenary among them. “Must have forgotten to tell us,” he ground it. “They’re gone? Just like that?”
“First they reject our help on account of Evestani being too powerful, then they ask us to help, and now they rush off without us. Typical.”
“Typical? This has happened before?”
“Well, not this exactly. Still, rather relax than fight anyway. Fighting hurts—”
A sharp shout cut through the growing noise of the gossiping soldiers. “Rally!” cried the grating voice of Magatherion Goth. He charged on horseback into the fray with an odd look of glee on his portly face. “Rally all soldiers!”
“Light,” Rubee groaned. “Spoke too soon.”
Thorne frowned, watching as Goth rode along, crying out to all the garrisoned soldiers. He didn’t like their obstinate commander. He had overheard the man giving out contradictory orders, seemingly for no reason other than his own amusement. Thorne doubted his competence and was willing to bet that the only reason he was in charge was because he was the childhood friend of some noble.
Unfortunately, he was in command.
Thorne shot Rubee a small frown before turning away. He had Bonsworn’s men to command.
“Is there something wrong with the tower?” Rekk’ar asked as he braced himself against the window frame.
The movement of the tower couldn’t actually be felt while inside. Some magic kept everything in place. Even a ball resting on a table wouldn’t roll off no matter how far the tower tilted. At least to a point. When Arkk had thrown those golden statues out of the tower during the siege of Elmshadow, he had tipped the tower near horizontal. Things had fallen, broken, and otherwise moved about then.
That didn’t stop Rekk’ar from holding on like he was going to be thrown around. It was somewhat understandable, given that he was looking out the window. Seeing the world around tilting and swaying messed with something deep inside. Several of Arkk’s employees refused to go near any openings to the outside world when the tower was in motion, a few after spontaneously vomiting. Rekk’ar wasn’t one of those. If anything, Rekk’ar was quite proud of his constitution.
Normally.
“It’s like we’re limping,” Rekk’ar said. “You fixed everything up after the golden ray hit the tower, right?”
“Nothing is broken,” Arkk said, standing in the middle of the large observation window with his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn’t sure if he had exceptional constitution as well or if him being the owner of the tower granted him some immunity to the effects of it moving—he didn’t feel a thing even as it swung from leaning to the left to leaning to the right like some kind of inverted pendulum. “The tower is moving exactly as I’m directing.”
“I hate it.”
“Then don’t look outside,” Arkk said with a shake of his head. “It’s what we discussed in the meeting. The tower needs to make constant contact with the rest of the land. Once a leg hits the ground, lesser servants rush out, claiming territory, digging tunnels, and connecting the leg to the rest of my territory. Yes, it makes the gait odd, but it is necessary.”
If the Heart lost connection with the rest of Elmshadow, even for a moment, his claim over the land would dissipate. Every building within its walls had been rebuilt using the magic of the fortress, granting everything the magical reinforcement necessary to survive the tower stomping around so close to the burg. While the Burg was far from filled relative to how it had been before the war, there were contingents of soldiers and even several civilians living within.
He couldn’t let the burg collapse on them.
Even after the tower moved far enough away, he wanted to maintain the connection for as long as possible. Indefinitely, preferably. Claimed territory was power for him and the Heart, it was tactically valuable for the rapid movement of his employees, and, generally, he just didn’t want to. Some part of the back of his mind identified the land as his. He wasn’t about to let it go if possible.
Things were easy right now. His lesser servants had been burrowing outward around Elmshadow, claiming underground territory about as far as the eye could see. It was a simple matter to send out a few lesser servants to bridge the tower’s legs to the rest of his land. Things would slow down immensely once he moved beyond his current territory. Lesser servants were already trying to dig out ahead of the tower, but even at the slowed gait, the tower would outpace them in only an hour. Two if they worked fast enough.
“Any evidence of our deserter friends?” Arkk called out.
The scrying pits were fully staffed today. Both crystal balls sat atop their pedestals with a trio of scryers watching each. Each crystal ball could only view one thing at a time but the extra eyes helped to spot things one person might miss as well as allowed for them to rotate who was manning the devices, giving each other breaks from what was often a monotonous yet mildly draining task.
Camilla popped her head up. Arkk tried not to wince at seeing her face. He only had a few fairies working for him. Camilla was one of them.
“No, Sir,” the blonde fairy squeaked. She coughed, clearing her throat, then continued speaking in a more average pitch, “No tracks or sign of a large group camping.”
Arkk couldn’t hold back a disappointed hum. If he hadn’t checked the barracks, he might have thought Mags was lying or misinformed. But a tenth of the soldiers really were missing. He expected some sign of them by now. Unless they hadn’t marched off toward Woodly Rhyme at all. It was entirely possible that he was being misled.
Speaking of Woodly Rhyme… Arkk turned to the other scrying pit. “Any activity among Evestani or the Eternal Empire? Have they noticed our departure yet?”
Luthor didn’t take his eyes off the crystal ball. “If they have, they a-aren’t showing it,” he said. The chameleon beastman squinted into the ball. “Most of Woodly Rhyme is still covered in that fog though.”
Arkk nodded, then asked, “Are the whale ships still visible?”
“Yes, Sir. Still on the ground.”
“Good. Let me know the moment something changes. I doubt we’ll make it a full hour before they realize we’re moving.”
Arkk was about to turn away when Luthor did look up. “Uh, Sir,” he said. “Seems like the Prince’s army is trying to follow us.”
Focusing on the crystal ball, Arkk frowned. Mags was atop a horse, leading presumably all the remaining soldiers. They were all outside the Burg’s walls. Not far outside, but outside enough to tell that they weren’t going to stop.
“Maybe we should stop and pick them up?” Rekk’ar said, wobbling a little as he stepped away from the windows. His hand gripped tight to a railing. “They want to be fodder, I say let them.”
Rekk’ar’s suggestion did little to ease Arkk’s frown. “The tower is large, but not nearly ten-thousand-people large.” He folded his arms, glaring at the figure of Mags at the head of the army. “I’m not too keen on inviting the demon inside either.”
“You say we’ll slow down once we reach the end of your current territory?” Rekk’ar asked. “Slow enough for them to catch up?”
“I suppose that depends on how fast they can move and how fast we can move. I’m not sure about us. Not like we ever tried to move while keeping everything connected before.”
Arkk could guess how long it would take for the lesser servants to do their jobs and keep the planted legs connected. He had worked with them enough to know how they handled themselves. But he wouldn’t know until they reached that point. Unforeseen complications might crop up. And he was a little wary about leaving a single, exposed pathway back. With no redundancies, it was vulnerable to enemy action as well as a single slip-up on his end.
He could try to run above-ground connections while digging out tunnels, but the latter would take far longer. And if the tunnels were directly beneath the overland claimed territory, that wasn’t much of a redundancy. Where was the sweet spot between speed and having a backup?
He wasn’t sure. But he had an hour to figure it out.
“Sir,” Luthor said, cutting into his thoughts. “One of the w-whale ships…”
Arkk focused on the crystal ball immediately.
All the side hatches were closing up. Lights along its sides started glowing like someone had planted dozens of glowstones into small ports. It looked like something from the Anvil more than it did anything he was familiar with, except some small part of those glowing blue lights gave him the impression of something organic.
The large fin-like shapes jutting off the whale ship started moving, gently raising and lowering. Slowly, befitting the colossal size of the thing, it lifted off from the ground. The shadow underneath shrank as it gained altitude.
Arkk scowled. He had hoped to get out there before the Eternal Empire was ready.
“The other whale ships?”
There were two others that looked ready or nearly ready to take flight. Luthor quickly switched the viewpoint of the crystal ball. Both others were still on the ground, hatches open with no lights on their sides. That was good. For now. Arkk wasn’t sure how far along the other two were. He considered another sabotage attempt. But after the disaster that was his last effort at destroying them…
Maybe something different?
“Rekk’ar, get me as many of the smaller alchemical explosives that you can. Nothing more than what Lexa can carry.”