“What do you mean, he isn’t available?”
“How else can I put this?” Alma stared at the bubbling, angry bowl of water. She wasn’t sure that whatever was on the other side could see her, but she leveled a flat look in its direction just in case. “He can’t respond to your summons. His attentions are required elsewhere. His presence is non-negotiable. He is tied up in matters that don’t involve you.” Alma folded her arms over her chest. “Do you want me to rephrase it a few more times?”
The light in the basin glared right back, boiling away the water despite the lack of heat.
Alma often felt she got the short end of the stick. The duties assigned to her were almost entirely the lower-rung administrative duties that nobody else wanted. Whether that be managing undead, compiling reports, or fending off whatever this bowl of water was supposed to be. Although she had complaints, she didn’t exactly dislike her duties.
While she had intended to sign up for a mercenary company, she had not been signing up for a war. Taking care of things like this, while a pain in her ass, at least weren’t swords in her ass.
Sure, Company Al-Mir might have an extremely low fatality rate compared to other mercenary companies that, almost without exception, had ended up destroyed and defunct due to Evestani’s initial advance. Alma still didn’t like the idea of getting stabbed in the first place. Or of going to Hale to get patched up. That was liable to end with her growing scales or grossly mismatched limbs.
The light in the basin pulsed as the voice started speaking once more. “It is imperative that I speak with him as soon as possible.”
“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Alma said. It wasn’t even a lie. She would tell him if she saw him again. No one had been able to climb the stairs to the upper levels after the explosion and nobody had seen Arkk since.
Concerning, but not altogether out of the ordinary. He was, at the very least, still actively engaging in company management—he had been the one to drop her off at this talking bowl of water, though with no specific instructions.
A sudden flash of light made Alma take a wary step backward. The bowl of water was already upset and, typical though it might have been, she was a werecat who didn’t particularly enjoy being splashed with water without being prepared.
“He isn’t there.” The feminine voice spoke with a sudden flash of insight. “He isn’t there?” she repeated, though now she sounded confused. “He left in the middle of a battle? What kind of Keeper does that?”
Alma drew in a breath, considering possible responses. She didn’t know who this water bowl was or what level of strategic knowledge they deserved. All she knew was that she had been sent to deal with it. Rekk’ar would be here if they were someone relevant to the defense. One of the spellcasters would be here if they were someone able to assist with magic. If someone was on the shit list enough for her to deal with them, they clearly didn’t deserve much.
In the end, she decided that the best response was no response.
In fact, she had said enough as it was. If Arkk wanted her to continue entertaining the basin, he would teleport her back. Otherwise, she had other duties to tend to. Like ensuring the skeletons who volunteered to help with healing duties didn’t give someone uncontrollable flatulence to liven things up. Again.
“Hold it!” the basin called out before she could take more than a few steps away. “There was a magical accident in the tower just a bit ago, correct? An accident involving planar magic.”
Alma paused and frowned. She wasn’t sure what happened up there. “Are you asking or do you simply enjoy hearing your own voice?”
“Arkk was at the center of it, wasn’t he? He isn’t in this world anymore. Is he looking for a way back? You must stop him.”
That got Alma rolling her eyes. “Of course. Let me just switch to the magic bowl of water that lets me talk to him.”
“Fool. This is no laughing matter. The Greedy Gold’s avatar is dead. Now more than ever, there is danger in meddling with the planes. Until we… Until I can strengthen the barrier, he cannot be allowed to return.”
“And what, exactly, do you want me to do about it?” Alma snapped. “Take a hammer to the portal?”
“Yes!” the bowl said, light pulsing in excitement. “Dismantle it! Destroy it! Where is it?” The voice paused, somewhat clipping the last word of her question. It was as if someone had interrupted her and she was pausing to listen, but Alma couldn’t hear anything. “Cursed Forest. Langleey Village?” the woman murmured more than spoke, as if she were consulting with someone other than Alma. “You think I have the time or energy to turn over every last stone in the land? Fetch a map already—”
The voice cut off again, far more abruptly this time. The light in the bottom of the basin winked out and the surface stilled, looking indistinguishable from any other basin.
Alma was left staring at it. A deep sensation of foreboding filled the back of her mind. Not many people knew the location of Fortress Al-Mir. Even within the mercenary company, the exact location was somewhat obfuscated, not exactly hidden, but not exactly discussed either. Most people entered and left Fortress Al-Mir via a teleportation circle. Even if they did go up to the surface, it wasn’t like they could look around and pinpoint its location.
As someone who had been roped into a position on Arkk’s inner advisory circle, Alma knew its location. She was likely one of an exceedingly small number of people who knew the name Langleey Village, Arkk’s hometown.
To hear that someone else knew that was concerning. Combined with the context, it sounded downright alarming. As if they intended to attack, or at least destroy the portal.
Neither was acceptable. The portal was the cornerstone of their power. Through it, they had access to the Underworld, which was needed for charging glowstones and manufacturing the shadow armor. Without either, they wouldn’t be dead, but they would be a whole lot worse off.
Alma turned and rushed from the room. If she could have contacted Arkk, she would have. The only option available now was to find someone who could ready some kind of defense. Rekk’ar, Dakka, or someone else from the inner circle. This was far over her pay grade.
She left the training room and started down the steps only to bump into one of the people she had been looking for. Savren wouldn’t have been her first choice. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just that she could hardly understand what he was talking about half the time.
He wasn’t alone. The gremlin assassin Lexa and their guest, Inquisitrix Sylvara, were with him. All three looked quite pleased, especially in the latter two’s cases. Despite the ongoing battles, Lexa looked more relaxed and calm than Alma had seen in a long time. Sylvara had a smile on her face for perhaps the first time.
And therein was a problem. She didn’t know exactly who she had been speaking with, but she knew they were related in some way to Sylvara and the Abbey. If Sylvara heard that that person was thinking about attacking, who was to say how the situation might devolve.
Worse, it looked like they were headed for the room Alma had just come from.
Thinking quickly, Alma casually waved a hand back at the door behind her. “If you’re seeking the one in the bowl,” she said, “they had to depart to attend to… something or other. They didn’t specify, exactly. But the light in the water is gone.”
All three paused. The inquisitrix’s smile slipped. “Was she disappointed in me?”
“I… don’t think so?” Alma said, trying to keep a straight face. The sudden frown had her worried that she said something wrong. “I’m sorry, Arkk teleported me in there just as the abbess left to carry out those rainbow attacks on the airships. Your name didn’t come up in the short time before the bowl went dark.”
“Ah. Abbess Hannah got the magic working then? Good for her.” Sylvara looked at Savren and Lexa. “I’ll move to assist her then.”
“She’s on the bombardment team’s balcony,” Alma offered.
“Understood,” Sylvara said, moving up the stairs past Alma without a second glance.
Alma held her breath until she passed. Only then did she start to relax. “Wait!” she said as Savren started to follow. “Sorry,” she said to Sylvara, who paused along with everyone else. “I just need to speak with Savren for a moment.” Turning to face the warlock fully, she continued, “A possible mind-altering problem has arisen with some of the fear totems you developed.”
Facing away from Sylvara, Alma relied on her hidden ears to track the inquisitrix as she continued to make her way up the stairs.
As soon as she was sure Sylvara was out of sight, Alma grabbed hold of Lexa before the gremlin could move. “Keep an eye on all Abbey members,” she hissed into the gremlin’s pointed ears. “We might have a problem with them shortly.”
Lexa’s eyes widened but hardened right after. Glancing between Alma and the staircase, she nodded her head and then continued upward without a word.
Savren, standing aside and watching the exchange, let his face fall as Lexa hurried off. “What weary weight are you about to wreak upon me?” he said with a despondent sigh.
Alma flicked her gaze up the stairs, then looked to Savren, shaking her head. “Not here,” she whispered, grabbing hold of his arm, she dragged him back down the stairs. “We have a problem with Fortress Al-Mir.”
“Careful,” Arkk said, warning Zullie as the witch started wandering away from the row of lesser servants.
They were in the forest now. Trees made from a silvery liquid stood tall, lacking leaves but possessing almost umbrella-like canopies. Within those semi-spherical domes, Arkk could see elsewhere. Shimmering worlds reflected in the silver that didn’t match their surroundings. Arkk couldn’t say whether it was somewhere else in the Maze or some other plane entirely. There were no familiar locales reflected in the liquid.
The trees seemed solid enough, as evidenced by a lesser servant hugging one, but the liquid reminded him a bit too much of the silver membrane that hung between a portal’s arches before it fully activated.
Zullie, being drawn to them, looking as if she were enraptured despite her eyeless state, did not serve to reassure Arkk.
He redirected a few of the lesser servants, still clasped to the main line, to form a waist-high barrier. Despite their best efforts to push her back, Zullie still almost toppled over it. The only thing that stopped her was the belt around her waist.
Arkk latched a hand on her shoulder, trusting in the scrying team to maintain contact with the line of lesser servants. “Are you with us?” he asked, dragging her back toward the others. “We’re trying to get back home, remember?”
“I’ve not gone daft,” Zullie snapped, swatting away his hand.
“Good. I need you to keep it that way. We can explore this place later. Maybe.” It seemed risky, given the nature of the Maze, but if it mollified Zullie for now, he would give her whatever promises she needed.
Theoretically, Arkk could get them back home on his own if necessary. He had seen Zullie reconfigure the portals often enough and, up until she got distracted just now, she had been informing him of all the changes the lesser servants would need to make to the portals. But she was the expert. She knew how to configure portals with her eyes… well… missing. If he made a mistake and she wasn’t around to correct it, he could very well die here.
“Got us into this mess,” Camilla murmured behind his back as they started walking once more. “She could at least get us out before she loses the plot.”
Arkk shot the fairy a mildly reproachful look, not that he could blame her. Or that he disagreed. But he didn’t need infighting now of all times. If Zullie heard, however, she didn’t acknowledge it. Her hand was back on the lesser servants, even if her gaze was still on the forest around them.
“Status of the battle?” he asked, looking to Luthor, who had taken over from Harvey after the flopkin mentioned drying eyes.
“G-Going well. The addition of the forces from the Anvil have employed great s-skill in tearing down those knights. They just started a full retreat now.”
That was better than he had hoped for. Given how flimsy most of those mechanical people looked, he had been more nervous about sending them into battle than not. It felt like a waste to just have them march in and die. But Agnete and Who had convinced him otherwise. Apparently, their bodies weren’t valuable so long as their core black box survived, and that black box was nearly indestructible, having been crafted by a literal god.
“And Evestani?”
“Rounded up by the Prince’s forces. I think they’re surrendering.”
Arkk peeked into the temple chamber back within Fortress Al-Mir, mentally scowling at the Fickle Wheel. He wasn’t one to question a good turn every now and again, but this seemed… simple. Too easy. He was winning the battle and he wasn’t even present. Granted, he could teleport people around and get injured employees to the infirmary, but still…
He hadn’t even needed to send Agnete out to handle those eggs in a while.
“The airships?”
Luthor paused, images in his crystal ball flickering. “Moving away from the tower,” he said after a moment. “At speed, no less. They’re hurrying back toward…” The chameleon trailed off, frowning with his scaled lips. “No. That’s not right.”
“They aren’t retreating?”
“They’re moving away from the tower,” Luthor repeated. “But they might be plotting something else. They’re headed eastward. The whale ships and the main ship all.”
“East. Toward Elmshadow?”
Luthor nodded his head.
Arkk frowned to himself as they continued walking. There wasn’t much at Elmshadow. Some civilians. The tower was still trapped by that ritual array and his forces were with it on the battlefield. All of the Prince’s army was there as well. Ilya was in the opposite direction, wreaking havoc in Evestani’s homelands along with Hawkwood and more of the Kingdom’s soldiers. Even if they set down in Elmshadow, it wasn’t a strategic asset without the means of securing it and holding it.
With the Eternal Empire’s army routed and Evestani’s captured, the ritual trapping the tower couldn’t possibly last much longer. All he would have to do would be to turn around. With how few forces the Eternal Empire had available, and now that the avatar of the Holy Light had taught his forces how to use magic that could penetrate the armor of the airships, he doubted they would hold the city for more than twenty minutes.
So why head there?
Unless they weren’t heading there.
“Are they angled directly toward Elmshadow? Or just vaguely eastward?” he asked as an unpleasant idea took root in the back of his mind.
Luthor didn’t respond right away again, instead taking the time to scan through various sights in the crystal ball. He tapped Camilla on the shoulder, getting the fairy’s input on various angles in soft, murmured whispering.
Camilla was the one to look up, shaking her head. “They’ll overshoot it to the north, well over the northern Elm mountain range.”
“P-Plenty of time for them to change direction, however.”
“No,” Arkk said, teeth grinding together as that rooted thought crystallized. “I doubt they will.”
“Sir?”
“We need to pick up the pace,” Arkk said. “Zullie, continue telling me everything that must be done. No more distractions.”
“Are we almost there?” the witch asked.
That was a difficult question to answer. While holding to the line of servants seemed to keep them on track, the length of that track was difficult to guess. They had come upon the liquid forest far later than he had initially anticipated.
“I hope so,” Arkk said. “I hope so…”