The Past
General Kawthar spoke quietly, vehemently, his voice sinking into the once impenetrable walls of his fort. Malikai almost couldn’t differentiate when his words began and ended, though it could just as well have been her fatigue rather than the alien speech.
“I can’t understand you,” Lawrence said airily.
He was ignored; in fact, the general raised his voice somewhat to a rather frightening baritone, the impetus of violence. Were his hands and feet not bound it would have seemed negligible, for a moment, that they were already in full possession of the fort.
Besides herself and Lawrence, there was no one else in the room. “We need a translator.”
The other shook his head, grimacing a smile. “No we don’t.” With effort he leaned forward, staring the general in the eye.
The fort was overtaken in a matter of hours, but the paintings on the walls were dribbling with blood and the passages were swollen with bodies. They’d entered the fort under the auspices of a new moon, and immediately went in search of the general and his advisors. Arthur was left by himself for the perilous but ultimately deemed the lesser task of opening the gates for the attack. Even if he failed and they were rid the general, the fort would likely not hold against their assault.
Disguised in the armor of the southern militia, Lawrence and Malikai moved discreetly through the fort, following the very minimal intelligence they had of where the general’s quarters might be located. In the end it was quite easy to figure out. There was a long hall in the depths of the fort where a single room was well-furnished and occupied, lit with oiled lanterns. The trouble was that General Kawthar’s door was completely hidden by the amount of guards placed outside. And they never left, or rotated. The one that left to get supper or relieve himself was the same that returned. Getting into that room quietly would not be possible, yet unless they made certain that none of the guards ran to alert the rest of their men, they’d have no chance at all. From what they could tell, the passage had one opening. The two glanced at each other briefly, considering their odds.
For the tiniest moment, Lawrence looked apologetic. Then it vanished. He gave Malikai a small, valiant nod and drew his sword.
Hours later and the lamps were still burning. Malikai was covered in bruises, her right arm numb, and on her left hand she was certain a finger was broken. It went ignored for the moment because her adrenaline was still high, but it was only years of severe discipline that kept her standing.
She could see that Lawerence fared no better. Sitting on a table with his elbow against the arm of a kingly chair, he had a smile on his face that was a rather impressive attempt at composure. His breathing, though not overly loud, was erratic. Beneath him there was a slowly expanding circle of blood.
When he peered at the general, he gave no sign of injury. “I have taken your fort. It fell much quicker than expected, and I understand that must frustrate you. While I can’t offer sincere condolence, I might propose to shift your perspective, as I’m sure you agree our situations have changed.
“I have your fort. Which is great news, honestly. My king has tasked me with ending this war and I have every intention of doing so. That means we cannot stay and bask in victory, or belabor to negotiate the terms of your surrender. So I will give them to you.
“A lot of your men are dead.” Lawrence paused. The general went quiet. “Though not all. We have your stores of grain, the livestock, the rations. The servants have been locked in the basements and are safe, for now. I have read your battleplans,” he said, gesturing leisurely to the table upon which he sat. “All the weapons have been distributed to our blacksmiths and the last of your brigades are now at the mercy of my advisors.
“Tomorrow I will set forth to Yeve’neyia. By the end of the week I will be standing in the high courts of the palace. Nothing you do can affect that, but you can decide what happens until then.” With great difficulty that he was unable to hide, Lucian leaned away from the general and straightened his posture. “Surrender, and live. You will be confined to this fort until we take the capital. Once our king, high and elated from conquest deems to offer clemency, those that remain will be set free. Your lives will be returned to you.
“Or don’t. We will raze this fort to the ground. And at the end of the week I will have taken the capital.”
General Kawthar looked at him. When he finally spoke it was formal and slightly accented, but Malikai understood him clearly. “The gods will judge you. Death will come ruthlessly, and you will suffer in the end.”
“It that your answer?” Lawrence asked.
For a long while, the room was silent. They waited. The general did not answer for some time, and his face was as ruthless as stone.
Eventually he did speak, low and certain, “Spare the men and servants. Have respect for their loyalty.”
“Good.”
Finally subdued, the general sat rigidly bound to his chair and would not acknowledge them again. Lawrence stood up and made his way into the hall. Eventually Malikai followed. Although the general didn’t look at either of them, she inclined her head before stepping out of his chambers.
“I should have known he was educated in the northern dialects,” she said, closing the door behind her.
The other had propped himself against the wall, his eyes fluttered shut. “Well,” he started, “were he not the main reason that this war has continued for so long, I would have thought him brutish also.”
As she approached, Malikai noticed a break in the armor at his side; beneath it the cloth was drenched through. “How are you?”
“Better,” he breathed, “now that I know tonight will be peaceful.”
She took a space beside him. They both needed medical attention but the appeal to rest was stronger. Upstairs she could hear the boots of their armies searching the fort, and the sound was getting closer. “When the war is over, he will stand trial,” she said. “I don’t believe he’ll be pardoned.”
Lawrence sighed. “I know. But it doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “He probably won’t allow himself the humiliation of a trial anyway.”
As Lawrence had told the general, their armies left at dawn. Long black lines of soldiers filed across the plains, trailed by wagons of grains, supplies and artillery. It was expected to be their last offensive. Though having persevered the night long assault on the fort, the ranks were plagued by a somber alertness that kept even the animals in a quiet, orderly march.
General Kawthar and his men had been sequestered within the fort, accompanied by a small regiment who would guard them until the war had ended. Malikai spent most of the night under medical attendance for her wounds, which could only be tightly bandaged. She yawned, adjusting slightly into her horse’s saddle. Gabriel and Lydia were near to her right side, riding at the front of the armies, and were debating at length whether to send a messenger ahead to the southern capital offering them the chance to surrender.
Lydia had briefly asked after her when they’d set out. Considering the time it had taken for the rest of the knights and men to penetrate the underground level, she expressed mild disbelief that Malikai had not perished there.
“All thanks to your planning,” Malikai had said.
“Given the short notice, I had designed it for effect, not survivability,” she admitted. “Of course, I took your skill into account.” And she gave a little nod of respect.
Malikai spotted Arthur riding a little ways ahead, seemingly okay. Hadi was on foot leading a formation of archers which, even without the knight’s bronze armor, she would have been immediately known for her gangly height. The others must have been dispersed somewhere among their forces. Floating above the buzz of movement, she heard Faye’s voice yelling.
The one she had not yet seen, was Lawrence. The entirety of her visit with the medical staff he hadn’t appeared. She knew he was likely working on the details of their assault to the capital, but had expected to be called upon for deliberation. Beyond that, the gash at his side had been terrible. He would not be able to ride without considerable stitches.
When she heard their conversation lull for a moment, Malikai turned to Lydia. Although she wanted to ask about Lawrence, their discussions reminded she of another matter. “Who was put in charge of Aldhein?”
Lydia said, “One of the infantry units.”
“Led by whom?”
“I was not privy to the assignments.”
Malikai’s horse blew softly through it’s nose, gnawing at the bit. “Were they also informed about the caravan?”
“Caravan?”
“Those our hunting party captured a few nights ago.”
Quickly, Lydia seemed to exchange a glance with Gabriel. When she looked back towards Malikai, she replied in a strange tone, “If they were among the prisoners, they would be at the fort.”
“They weren’t among them.” Feeling a sense of annoyance, and unease, Malikai grabbed the reigns of her horse and looked towards the sky. “We ordered the men to keep the group in the western camp.” It was not yet midday, which meant they were still within riding distance of the fort. The armies were not likely to stop for several hours yet, but at their speed she would be able to catch back up to them by nightfall.
“Malikai,” Lydia said, “Lawrence would have seen to it.”
“Let’s hope so,” the knight responded. Turning her horse, she pulled out of the formation and began to ride opposite the march.
At first she scanned the gaggles of soldiers and carts, hoping to notice the women of the caravan among them, or the children. When she reached the last of them, the cooks and shepherds in light armor who led the sheep and cattle, she urged her horse to a gallop and started towards Aldhein fort.
As the sun began to smolder overhead, the turrets of the fort broke away from the horizon.
She removed her helmet before she approached, expecting any soldiers along the battlements would recognize her.
But there was no movement, or calls from the guard. When she reached the southern bridge she saw that the gate was open, with no sign of activity. It wasn’t until she entered and could see the fort square that she understood why.
They were displayed in the middle of the yard, tied to wooden poles staked into the ground. Malikai nearly fell from the horse rushing to dismount, but in her confusion and dread she could only stare. The general was among them.
Beyond the yard, it appeared the remaining prisoners had been left in storage rooms used as cells, lying in the stables or piled in half-dug graves. The soldiers, the servants, their families, the caravanners. All of them had been executed.
The infantry were nowhere to be found.
eight warriors go to war for the Realms, seven come back; they are praised for the battle, endowed with wealth and titles beyond measure, but none of them ever speak of what happened there.
The-Bleu-Bivouac 