The first thing was the easier task to deal with.
“Report,” Arkk said as he teleported into the command center.
His scrying teams, hunched over their crystal balls, jerked upon his announcement. Harvey and Luthor glanced at one another, the latter nodding to the former. Luthor returned to scrying while the flopkin hopped over to Arkk, crystal ball in hand.
“Whatever magic hid those construction sites has fallen,” Harvey said, holding up the glass orb. “I don’t know if it was deliberate or accidental, but we can see what they’ve been working on.”
Arkk expected airships. They, combined with weapons that the Almighty Glory was said to provide to his worshippers, could fly untouched and unseen overhead while utterly annihilating anything beneath. Or so said the Holy Light’s avatar. Arkk didn’t have any reason to doubt that right now, especially since he had seen the destruction of his undead army. The bombs that blew apart his first foray into necromancy hadn’t come from nowhere.
But what he was looking at didn’t resemble a ship in the slightest.
Airship, as its name implied, was a ship in the air. A large boat, not unlike the warships that had attacked Prince Cedric at Cliff. Except flying. When Rekk’ar had first come to him, suspecting what was hidden in the skies above, Arkk had gone straight to Zullie for more information. He still remembered the magic she had used to lessen the weight of her books when she first traveled from the academy to Fortress Al-Mir.
Flying ships was an idea that came up time and time again at the academy, frequently proposed by ambitious and ill-educated initiates eager to distinguish themselves by finally solving this persistent challenge. The lack of ships soaring through the skies over Mystakeen was a testament to their success, or lack thereof.
A spellcaster of Zullie’s caliber could slap their hand on a crate of books, lessening its weight for an hour while the magic slowly drained from the ritual circle. Something larger and heavier, like a skiff, might be possible if she sat in the ritual circle and constantly maintained a weightless ritual—which would only last a few hours until exhaustion set in.
Lifting anything larger than a skiff into the air and keeping it there demanded significant magical power. Ritual circles could be expanded to include multiple casters, like the defensive spells Arkk had participated in, but each additional person just increased the weight of the craft even more. They would need to be rotated out regularly, meaning even more casters had to be on board, themselves increasing the weight further along with expansions to the craft to hold them all. It was a self-perpetuating problem that theoretically could never reach equilibrium. And that was before adding in non-caster personnel, supplies, and any other items needing transport.
Including alchemical bombs.
The only explanation Zullie had come up with for the Eternal Empire’s alleged flying ships was that they had somehow solved that problem. Or they were cheating by using some gift from the Almighty Glory.
The latter made the most sense to him.
But he still expected something ship-like. Sails, boat-shape, maybe even oars sticking out the sides.
“What am I looking at?” Arkk asked after staring for a long few moments.
Harvey’s long ears twitched in annoyance. “How am I supposed to know?”
Arkk shook his head, looking away from the flopkin and back to the crystal ball, peering at the peculiar thing. It resembled a gargantuan, elongated fish, yet its shape was unlike any sea creature he had encountered. Not that, as a landlocked farmer, he had experienced all that many. Its smooth, metallic surface glistened in the sunlight, adorned with bright white glowing runes. Its vast hull tapered off at one end into a broad tail while two massive fin-like appendages extended from its sides.
“A w-whale,” Luthor called out from the other scrying station. “Seen them h-hauled into the harbor on occasion. Nobles like the taste of the meat. Never tried it myself.”
Harvey looked just as surprised as Arkk that the chameleon beastman knew what kind of creature the construction was modeled after. “I take it they don’t normally have metal skin,” Harvey said.
“No. Not that b-big either. Still quite large. Wide as a fishing trawler and just as long.”
Arkk looked back to the crystal ball, skimming over its surface until he found something to compare the size to. A human pushed a wheeled cart up a ramp. Unless the human was as small as a gremlin, the whale-ship was at least the size of two of the warships that had attacked the Prince, side-by-side, and four times as long.
“Move the view to one of the sites we targeted in the operation the other night.”
Harvey complied, sending the view in the crystal ball zooming across the landscape. It stilled with expert precision, landing directly on a blackened crater. A twisted metal husk sat, broken and destroyed, in the middle. Something… meaty was tangled up in the mass of metal, making up most of the carnage. It even bled, dripping out great swaths of red liquid onto the ground. A swarm of people moved about it, dismantling it? Probably to use the parts in one of the other constructions. Though Arkk wasn’t sure what they were doing about the flesh.
“At least we did some damage. It is concerning that they are revealing them now, though. Any sign of the one they came in?”
“Been checking the skies periodically,” Harvey said as the view in the orb pulled away from the ground. The perspective tilted back, showing mostly sky. It slowly spun around. “No sign of it. Not even a cloud out today.”
“Concerning…”
Could it have left? If the magic that hid the other craft stemmed from the one operational airship, that would explain why they were now visible. The question was, where had it gone? Away? To resupply? That would explain why this incursion didn’t seem to use supply lines. Or had it gone forward? Surely not to attack; why come alone when at least one of the others looked almost complete?
“Evestani’s army hasn’t moved, has it?”
“They’re using the fog to cloak themselves but haven’t seen the fog move at all. No soldiers marched out of it. I’d say they’re still in Woodly Rhyme.”
“Good. Keep watch. If any of these whale-crafts take to the skies, warn me immediately.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Arkk teleported away. He had alert levels to raise. All of Elmshadow was at a constant low-level of alert, but until things returned to normal, he wanted all defensive rituals manned, not just the most crucial ones, ready to activate the moment enemy ordinance fell anywhere nearby.
It took almost an hour to teleport around, ensuring the proper people knew what to do. The Protectors helped since informing one informed them all and they could relay further commands, but it still took a while. In the future, he hoped Ilya could help streamline such problems. At the moment, she was out at the other tower, learning from Vezta how to manage the walking fortress in preparation for her upcoming duties. And, hopefully, committing spells to memory.
All the while, a constant ringing was going off in the back of Arkk’s mind. Mags was still thumping his fist against the door. It was an irritating nuisance, made all the worse because if something did attack his fortress, he might not notice with all the commotion the man was making. He had thought the man would get bored after a few minutes, but he was still going.
He suspected that Mags somehow knew about the cloaking on the whale-ships being removed. Perhaps he had his own crystal ball. The timing was too coincidental otherwise.
Whatever the case, Arkk supposed it was time to deal with the issue.
Arkk teleported to the main entrance. Kia and Claire appeared along with him. While arranging the higher alert status throughout Elmshadow, he had stopped in and informed them of what was going on along with his suspicions regarding Mags.
Even if Mags wasn’t the demon, Arkk wasn’t about to meet with anyone of the Prince’s faction—or anyone else who lacked a link to him—without some anti-demon weaponry at his side.
He patted down his pocket, confirming the presence of a warp blade.
Arkk then looked up, turning from Kia to Claire and back again. The latter cracked her neck, the noise oddly echoing as afterimages copied the motion. Kia looked on with a mild frown.
“Should we not take his head,” Kia asked, swiping a hand through the air. An odd warbling vibration disturbed the air in her wake. “You know, just in case?”
“I would,” Arkk said with a shake of his head, “but assuming we’re right in the limitations on the demon’s contract, we are only protected as long as we’re not enemies with Prince Cedric. Attacking his army’s commander could easily violate that clause and open us up to whatever retaliation the demon chooses. Given its ability to skulk around in disguise and bide its time… you two might survive a sneak attack, but everyone else? Me? Ilya?” Arkk shook his head far more vehemently.
“Disappointing,” Claire said.
“Trust me. I feel the same. At the same time, if Mags does reveal himself to be the demon…”
Both dark elves shifted, growing a little more eager in their stances.
Arkk wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that his two dark elves, who admittedly had undergone a ritual designed to counter demons, were excited to fight one.
“…then I’m trusting you two to deal with him accordingly,” Arkk finished. He looked between the two of them, meeting both of their eyes, from Claire’s icy blue to Kia’s dark brown. There was a faint glow there, but then, their entire bodies were wreathed in their afterimages—even when they stood still, their eyes were still moving about, tracking things that Arkk couldn’t see which probably didn’t even exist in this reality. More importantly, he saw determination. “Play safe and smart. No mistakes.”
Claire nodded her head, her afterimages flickered and dissipated. Concentrating as she was, she could mostly hide the effects of Project Liminal. There was still a haze there, but it diminished to something Arkk would have missed had he not been looking for it.
Kia, not quite as experienced as Claire, tried to do the same. It wasn’t as effective. But it would do for now.
Arkk turned back to the main entrance and, with a thought, unbolted the door just as Mags started hammering on the other side once again. The portly man stumbled over the threshold as the door swung open before he could make contact, his foot knocking against the metal brace as he tried to stop himself.
He didn’t fall. It looked like he was going to. His stumbling, trying to stop himself, carried him a few steps forward. He might have crashed into Arkk were it not for Kia and Claire, moving forward as one. They were about to catch him when he slid a foot forward, finally righting himself just before reaching them.
It could have been a natural movement. Suspicions and paranoia high, Arkk couldn’t be sure. Bumping into Arkk might have been a way for the demon to try to provoke him—or Kia and Claire—somehow rendering them vulnerable to the terms dictated in the contract. If the demon realized what Kia and Claire were capable of, stopping short of coming into contact with them could be a clue that the ritual would work.
Or he could have simply tripped.
Kia and Claire didn’t move forward to make contact themselves. Claire’s fingers twitched, making her look as if she had eight fingers momentarily, but she quickly collected herself. Both stepped backward.
The temptation to order them to rake their hands through Mags’ chest was there. The only thing stopping Arkk was not knowing for certain that Mags was the demon and not some other individual in the Prince’s army. There were ten thousand of them. Plus logistic crew. If Arkk were a demon infiltrating the ranks, he wouldn’t have gone with the most visible person. He would have slipped in as one of the thousands.
“About time,” Mags mumbled to himself, meticulously smoothing down his dark blue suit, as if his slight tumble had gathered a coating of dust. He didn’t even look at Kia and Claire, too focused on himself. “Do you know for how long I waited?” he asked, picking a bit of imaginary lint from his shoulder.
“Deeply sorry,” Arkk lied. “Activity at Woodly Rhyme required my immediate attention.”
“Activity? In the invader army?”
“Indeed. Is that not why you came? You started knocking on my door at around the same time I was warned of the activity.”
“Do you mean to say—I say, do you mean to say that you knew! You knew the whole time and you left me out there to rot?” Mags finally turned his beady eyes on Kia and Claire, narrowing his gaze in obvious distaste. “You couldn’t have sent one of your attendants to permit me entry?”
“No.”
“Whyever not?”
“Trust is at a premium at the moment,” Arkk said. “Too many jackdaws strutting about in peacock feathers.”
That caught Mags short. He had his mouth open, another complaint already on the tip of his tongue, only to pause and give Arkk a strange look. He wasn’t the only one. Kia glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. Only Claire kept her razor-sharp focus centered on Mags.
“Excuse me? Birds? There is a war on and you’re babbling about birds?”
Arkk frowned at the confusion in Mags’ tone, trying to decide if it was genuine or not. He had picked up that phrase from a bard at some point. Although out of context here, it seemed fitting given what happened with the demon. He had hoped for some reaction, some tell that a demon would reveal while a normal person would…
Well, a normal person would look at him in confusion.
Arkk sighed, shaking his head. That reaction didn’t mean Mags wasn’t a demon, just that the demon was a good actor.
“The Eternal Empire was hiding large-scale construction projects through unknown magic. That magic has either been removed or has failed, possibly as a consequence of an operation we ran the other night. My scrying team believes the revealed construction projects to be flying ships, after a fashion. As commander of an allied army, I felt you should be informed that, should these airborne warships bombard us with magic or even alchemical ordinance, there will be little a conventional army can do to stand against them. Your men will be obliterated.”
“Trying to shove us aside again?” Mags asked with an odd smile. “You have a plan, don’t you?”
“It is in progress.” If Agnete could get those flying serpents over here en-mass, Arkk would feel a lot more confident. “Thus far, the airships are grounded. That allows us some time. And again, I have to ask, was this not what you came hammering on my door for?”
Mags jerked back in sudden surprise as though the change in topic surprised him. He quickly shook his head. “There is a more pressing issue, I’m afraid. It would appear as if some of the men got it into their heads that sitting around is detrimental toward defending the realm. They fear that the longer things stand without either side advancing, the more likely Evestani’s borders will be repainted at the edge of Woodly Rhyme.”
“As commander, is it not your duty to dissuade them of such notions?”
“I would,” Mags said, fidgeting in apparent nervousness. “Some of the men have already decided to take matters into their own hands. I couldn’t stop them. Black sheep dwell in every fold, Mister Arkk.”
Arkk narrowed his eyes at the phrase. It felt like a taunt. His tone was neutral but…
Kia shifted at Arkk’s side, uncrossing her arms. She must have picked up on it too. But Mags didn’t notice. He just stood there, looking worried.
“I’ve come to you to ask your assistance, Mister Arkk,” Mags continued before Arkk could decide whether or not to give Kia the signal. “If Prince Cedric learns that the men he has entrusted with me—with us—have gone to their deaths under a misguided notion of protecting the Greater Kingdom, he’ll have both our heads.”
That was it. That was the game. The Prince had contacted Arkk and forced a meeting through Katja out of concern for his men. He had effectively tipped Arkk off about the demon being present just to ensure their safety. So if some of those men ended up running off to their deaths under Arkk’s watch, even if it was because of their own idiocy, he might well consider Arkk an enemy, thus nullifying the protections against the demon.
Whether or not the men deserted on their own or because the demon influenced them didn’t matter. They were out there.
Arkk pinched his brow, grimacing. If Mags was the demon, he could end the threat right now and not have to worry about the deserters. If Mags wasn’t the demon, he would open up all of his men to demonic retaliation.
If Arkk swooped in and rescued the deserters, the demon would just try again to find some avenue that would lead to Arkk and the Prince considering one another enemies.
He needed to talk to the Prince and cut off the problem at its source or identify the demon with absolute certainty and rid the world of its presence. Both, ideally. But both would take time and going to meet the Prince while allowing his men to rush off to their deaths wouldn’t end well.
He had to rescue the fools.