The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

XIII

The Beast With Thirty Talons

In which they fight the giant

They didn’t hesitate. Roswitha roared a challenge, breathing fire directly in the giant’s face. Embers flared on its lion mane, and it let out a bone-shaking growl in response. The wing corps, and Verena, flanked the creature’s left side.

Roswitha reared back, exposing her long neck, then suddenly ascended. The gigalion advanced, its crashing steps ringing in their ears.

“Let it work,” Edana urged, clenching her fists on the reigns of her gryphon.

Bessa started to ask what she meant, until she remembered Edana’s warning that the giants could speak Rasenan. Instead she followed Edana’s gaze. Ice formed in her belly.

The gigalion stood at arm’s length from the tower.

Roswitha swooped, diving into the gigalion’s reach. The gigalion swiped, barely missing her. He rushed foreword; but she flew up, beyond its grasp. Roswitha growled lustily, an unmistakable taunt.

Focused only on the dragon, the gigalion moved away from the tower.

So far, Roswald’s plan was working.

Bessa joined Edana in fervent prayer.

In one long exhale, Roswitha singed the giant’s mane. This time the gigalion charged, ramming through what was left of the armory and crashing onto the rocky hillside. It stomped, shaking and cracking the ground.

Three massive stone blocks fell from the tower, shattering onto what was left of the giants’ armor. Several rocks from the peaks above them rained, barely missing Bessa and Edana. The beast masters promptly sought higher ground, maneuvering their gryphons to a peak where they could safely watch the battle.

The gigalion advanced. All six of its arms swiped at the dragon, but the agile serpent evaded it with ease. Roswald immediately banked Roswitha closer again for another exhaust of fire. Always he kept just out of reach, mocking the giant.

The gigalion rushed forward. Roswitha barely escaped. The lion roared, but Roswald held fast and Roswitha did not flinch.

Again the giant charged, again barely missing.

White knuckled, Bessa watched. Wondered. How long before even the dragon grew too tired to keep up the skirmishing tactics? How would Roswald end it?

A light flashed, heralding the wingmen swooping behind the giant. Verena discharged the thunder mace. Fire bloomed on the gigalion’s mane. The creature thrashed after her.

Ekkehard was ready. Flying straight into the giant’s topmost right arm, his gryphon’s momentum augmented his own strength as his sword bit through the giant’s claw.

The claw’s satisfying thud echoed for several heartbeats. But even before it landed, Edana’s arrow went singing past Bessa, embedding itself in the giant’s stump. Startled, Bessa cursed herself for not being prepared to do her part, too. Meanwhile, Edana loosed another arrow, this time in the remains of the giant’s claw. As expected it already began to mist, no doubt to regenerate into something worse.

The gigalion screamed in rage as Lady Aelia’s acid did its job.

It was now first light.

The wingmen, and Roswald, kept their distance as the giant thrashed. It struggled to rip away fistfuls of burning hair, but its missing claw hindered success.

In the meantime the wingmen busied themselves, loosing a volley of arrows into the giant’s hide. Meanwhile Bessa readied an arrow, yet kept it in reserve, unwilling to waste the acid.

Until an idea came to her.

Following the wingmen’s flight of arrows told Bessa where the wind was blowing. Thus, her first arrow hit true, square in the right eye of the lion. Edana’s laughter of approval rang out, and she did the honor of putting out the giant’s left eye.

The aftermath came swiftly.

The earth shook again with the giant’s screams, and with the resulting distress of the gryphons Roswald apparently ordered the wingmen to ground, for they joined Bessa and Edana on their perch.

The giant’s knees hit the ground first, and Bessa clenched her teeth, absorbing the shock.

“How are we going to take the head?” Ekkehard asked.

A brooding silence fell over them. Hacking off the giant’s head would take an arduous amount of time, and that was assuming the giant’s cooperation.

If it died before they finished, it would simply regenerate. Together, Bessa and Edana did not have enough acid-tipped arrows and javelins to prevent the re-emergence of more giants.

After a short while, Bessa ventured, “Do you have chains?”

Roswald hesitated. “What do you have in mind?”

“All of you throw a loop around the giant’s neck. With a grappling hook, perhaps. Then fly in different directions. Would that allow you to take off the lion head, especially if Roswitha lends her strength?”

“Yesss,” Ekkehard said, drawing out the word in his surprise.

Even Roswald smiled. “Trust a Siluran to find a way to take an enemy’s head. As for the idea, we will need to eliminate the topmost claw. Otherwise, it could easily snap our chains before we get started.”

So, Verena and the other sorcerers teamed up to cause rock lances to shoot up from the ground, piercing the giant’s ankles and knees, forcing it to fall forward. Ekkehard and the others got the first set of chains around the giant’s neck just as Verena staked the giant’s topmost left claw.

With the giant effectively disabled, they set about the grisly task of beheading it. Bessa joined Edana and the beast masters in cheering the destruction of the creature, even as the head thundered down the hillside before the rapid disintegration of itself and its body.

By now the sun fully showed itself.

They all rejoiced in the death of the giant, then Roswald turned to face what was left of the fortress. Only the tower still stood, and Roswitha echoed their thoughts with a loud keening.

Bodies covered the fortress from one end to the next. There was no place for the gryphons or the dragon to land, not without perching on the dead. All they could do was fly low enough for their riders to dismount, then ascended again. The beast masters took control, leading the mounts to a safe distance in the hills, but closer than Roswitha’s aerie.

Stench from the dead overwhelmed them. Covering her nose, Bessa felt a surge of pity for what Edana endured six years ago. At least this time the dead would not include their family.

The tower door held fast. They swung open as soon as the lookouts in the upper windows spied them. The giants never did breach it, but from the grim faces of the soldiers greeting them all had not gone well inside, either.

Roswald’s original strength had been almost five thousand soldiers, including his wingmen and sorcerers. The giants knocked out most of the archers, and as Ekkehard had warned, ninety percent of the wing corps was lost when the giants caused the gryphons to plummet from the sky.

The collapse of the tower’s upper deck strongly suggested that the civilians inside weren’t as protected as everyone had assumed they would be.

For a moment Bessa stood motionless, staring at the remains of the once-imposing walls. Many smaller forts throughout Silura were built of wood, or wood and stone, but Red Pointe had been carved from sandstone. Seeing how readily the giants crushed it made her want to cry.

What were they supposed to do? The giants need not fear the infantry. Roswald’s emergency strategy was to have the wingmen, sorcerers, and archers ‘soften up’ the giants, before having the infantry move in for the final kill. Now they knew giants need not fear wingmen, either.

And what was the threshold for the giants massing into that horrible thing they’d faced? More than the fifty killed on the beach? Or had she and Edana killed them fast enough to prevent them from coming together?

The two soldiers in the doorway saluted their aether, who acknowledged them in turn.

“The giants are dead, in every form we have faced them tonight,” Roswald said to them. “What of the civilians? What is left of our strength?”

“We can’t get to the top floor. It’s completely caved in, and the scryers don’t see any survivors,” one of the soldiers replied. “Except for the archers who manned the windows, and their reliefs, we have no more.”

Roswald acknowledged the report. The guards stood aside to allow them to pass.

The soldiers had turned the grand entrance into a sort of barricade, with the soldiers massed to hold off the giants in what would have been a last stand.

What was once the command center of the fortress would now serve as a temporary shelter. Assuming it was safe. Regarding that question Roswald gave orders for the veterinarians to leave for the hills, to attend Roswitha and the gryphons.

“Ready the mounts as soon as possible, so the engineers can properly survey the top deck. If this tower isn’t safe, we need to know now,” he explained. Glancing at Bessa and Edana he added, “You should probably take shelter for now with—”

“Where are the tunnels? Where is the duke?” Bessa demanded.

Roswald turned sharply to the soldiers before him, one of whom replied that they had barricaded the entrance to the tunnels after Saavedra’s cohort had gone through.

“In case the giants should get past him, sir. We need all the warning we can get.”

“And has his scryer contacted you?”

“No, commander.”

Wasting no time, Roswald mustered a squad to accompany him into the subterranean part of the tower, where they kept prisoners as well as storage. Bessa and Edana followed discreetly, at a distance, careful not to draw attention to themselves.

For the first time that night Bessa smiled, thinking of Pippa’s judicious silence on the night they took Edana’s counsel while hiding in their cellar.

The soldiers guarding the tunnel barricades quickly unsealed the entrance, allowing a scout to go through.

“We could use a scryer,” Roswald said idly, earning nervous laughter from the group.

Bessa’s hand flew to her chest. Beneath her mail and subarmalis she wore Sorcha’s Tear. Human enemies, like the duke, could not evade its power. Might it find giants or a Salamandran as well?

Before she could offer assistance, a shout came from the darkness. The scout’s rapid footsteps followed. Moments later he appeared. At a look from Roswald he declined to stand on formality.

“It’s Saavedra. And he’s got casualties.”

At Verena’s command Restorite sorcerers came to the entrance. The messenger hadn’t been gone long when at last Saavedra’s men emerged.

They looked as haggard and drained as everyone else, but with an edge of triumph.

“Saavedra?” Roswald asked.

In answer Saavedra’s soldiers glanced back, into the darkness of the tunnel. Five heartbeats later Saavedra’s voice came back to them.

“I am here, old friend.”

He sounded exhausted, and when he finally stepped into the light they saw why. Cradled in his arms was Lady Aelia, her eyes shut tight and her mouth a thin line.

Roswald started. “Is she—?”

Saavedra’s gentle head shake assured them all that Lady Aelia still lived. But when Saavedra set her on the stretcher, they saw why she was immobile.

Her left arm was missing just below the shoulder.

Roswald swore, and the others stepped back. In her shock, Bessa forgot discretion, and moved forward to see the seer better. She couldn’t find her voice, leaving it to Edana to ask how?

Saavedra’s jaw bunched. “The duke. He dared to strike her. He’s still being carried here.”

“Explain,” Roswald demanded.

The duke had managed to stay one step ahead of Saavedra’s men, but he could not hope to hide from the scryer. She caught up to him before Saavedra did. The duke had feigned surrender, and lay his sword down before Lady Aelia.

Stalling for time, Gagnon swore he would make a full confession. However, he used Saavedra’s arrival as a distraction, leaping up and attacking before anyone could stop him. Though he aimed for her heart, she threw up her arm in a defensive move as she dodged.

Which proved his undoing.

Lady Aelia’s blood sprayed on him, and combined with the acid she had secreted earlier, the duke quickly discovered just how deadly a Salamandran could be even without her fire.

“Lady Aelia says he’ll be dead by noon,” Saavedra warned.

“And what of Lady Aelia?” Verena asked.

Slowly, Lady Aelia opened her eyes. A small smile played on her lips. Then, she began to giggle, slowly building to laughter.

“Irony, irony, irony,” Lady Aelia said. “It intrigues me that I can keep a giant from regenerating. And a water dragon. Why? Why can I do that? What sense does it make? So funny!”

Peals of her hysterical laughter echoed in the halls.

The Roswalds exchanged a glance.

Cautiously, Verena asked, “Lady Aelia?”

Lady Aelia managed to suppress her mad mirth long enough to answer. “I am fine, Lady Roswald. No need to worry. Like your giants and your water dragons, I, too, regenerate. Strange that I can keep them from doing it. I wonder if they can do the same to me?”

She fastened her gaze on Bessa and Edana, nailing them to the spot with her glowing topaz eyes. “Speak to the Fire Lords and Ladies. They can help you. And you will need their help.”

Edana made certain she was part of the escort for the duke when they brought him to an unused office that Roswald had converted to a sick room.

The private room was not for Gagnon’s benefit, but rather to keep Gagnon from being a distraction to the others, who were ready and eager to see him die a traitor’s death…and to ensure that nothing he said would be overheard by just anyone. This was Lady Aelia’s advice when she came out of her pain-induced euphoria.

Edana quietly stationed herself by the door, careful not to attract attention to herself. As it was, her clothing allowed her to half-way pass as a soldier, letting her escape casual scrutiny.

When one of Roswald’s healers arrived she contrived to offer assistance, which he promptly accepted. This gave her the opportunity to relieve Gagnon of the keystone she knew he would have taken from his asrai chest before fleeing.

She allowed the parchment with the star addresses to remain in his possession, calculating that it could be useful in Lady Aelia’s hands. Furthermore, if an echomancer were to detect that Edana had handled the document, she wouldn’t think anything of it, considering Edana’s present activity. In the meantime, the medic quickly prepared the medicines that would restore Gagnon to enough sanity to talk coherently.

As soon as the doctor pronounced Gagnon fit for interviewing, Roswald swiftly entered. Bessa followed in his wake, escorting a grim-looking Lady Aelia. On their heels were Saavedra and two draco hydras and two pegasus primes, one of each belonging to him or Roswald.

Lady Aelia wore a woollen shawl draped around her torso, concealing her injury. And perhaps also the healing process? Edana wondered how long it would take for her to regenerate her arm.

Verena Roswald entered last. The pegasus prime who had been her replacement was killed during the battle, along with his subprime. Verena would resume her old duties for the interim.

A nervous-looking youth preceded Verena. The codex and pen he carried signaled his function as a scribe. Edana glanced back at Bessa, now spotting the blackthorn box Bessa carried in her other arm. Bessa’s eyes gleamed in undisguised satisfaction as she stared down at the duke.

Roswald’s voice rang out sonorously, filling the room as he spoke. “Lady Aelia, Imperial Scryer in the sixty-third year of the reign of Emperor Drusus Caecilianus Tarkhana. You are humbly asked to conduct and attest to these proceedings. Do you accept?”

Lady Aelia stepped forward. “I, Aelia, the Sight and Voice of His Excellency the emperor, accept, Draco Aether Ritter Roswald.”

“Do you stand in judgment over Aulus Antonius Gagnon, Duke of Silura?”

“I do.”

The formality out of the way, Lady Aelia finally looked at the duke, who regarded them impassively. Bandages covered his face, mainly for their benefit. Though he wasn't expected to recover, the raw burns on Gagnon’s face from Lady Aelia’s blood were dreadful to behold. Roswald maintained a cool expression as he continued.

“Duke Antony Gagnon, for the record, the charge against you is treason. Do you have anything to say in your defense, before we proceed?”

Silence.

Lady Aelia asked the questions. Who were the giants, and when did Gagnon enter their service? What did they promise to secure his cooperation? What were their goals? Who were their allies, and where were they to be found?

Gagnon set his jaw, his teeth clenched in obvious pain. Nevertheless, they all understood him as his answer came.

“We are the children. You are the motes. And the servants will fall.”