Mike Wild - Engines of the Apocalypse

"It's… difficult to explain. Mu'sah'rin . A kind of… submissive partner."

Slowhand almost coughed up his tonsils.

"Sorry," he said, after a moment.

The reactions from the others varied slightly. Freel took a second, then nodded. Fitch turned away to stare into the trees. Gabriella flared with anger and embarrassment. The only vocal reaction came from General McIntee.

"We order the advance immediately," he growled. "End this now."

"You can't," Kali said.

McIntee looked to the west and east, nodding to the ranks of soldiers and Swords of Dawn, and the mages amongst them. In an ever extending line in both directions, weapons were drawn and determined fists flared with fire, lightning and ice. "Oh, young lady, I assure you, we can."

"No!" Kali persisted, slapping a palm solidly on his chest as he moved to lead them. "That isn't what I mean."

The general halted, glaring. Freel stepped in to draw Kali's hand from his heaving chest, defusing the confrontation. "What do you mean, Miss Hooper?" He asked.

"Think about it, Freel," Kali said. "All along we've been assuming the soul-stripped are lost to us, dead, but if Redigor plans to use them as hosts for the souls of the Ur'Raney, there may be a way we can return the souls of our own people to their bodies."

Gabriella stared at the pillar of souls, thrusting into the night sky. "She's right, Enforcer. They haven't reached Kerberos yet."

Freel looked helplessly between the two women.

"Bring them back? Is such a thing possible?"

"Obviously Redigor thinks so," Kali said. "Right at this moment those soul-stripped are as much hostages as they are threat. Could you live with yourself if you at least didn't try to save them?"

"Madness," McIntee growled. "This might be our only chance!"

"You know what?" Kali shouted. "He's right. If Redigor manages to get his people into those bodies, they are going to march from the Sardenne and they are going to absolutely kick your arse. They drove an entire dwarven subrace to the point of extinction, for fark's sake. Clan Martak was helpless, utterly defeated, yet still they routed them, massacred them, drove those they couldn't kill into the sea to drown. Freel, your predecessor Munch himself told me — and believe me, that little bastard wasn't averse to a bit of carnage himself — they just never stop."

"We will hold them," McIntee insisted.

Kali slapped his chest again. "Are you listenin g to me? These elves were an Old Race who enjoyed rape, torture, pillage — even amongst their own kind. They sacrificed every tenth newborn to Yartresnika, their god of destruction. They added blood to their wine to make it tastier . Are you forgetting what happened when your lot first encountered The First Enemy? All you faced then was just one man. What happens when Redigor brings his friends to the party, eh? Thousands of them?"

"You seem to have defeated your own argument," Freel pointed out.

Kali shook her head. "Only if they're not stopped. Freel, let me ask you again — do you really want to slaughter thousands of your own, innocent people if it isn't necessary? Give me a chance."

"The girl was enlisted to shut down the Engines," McIntee said. "She's done that. Send her home."

"I was also 'enlisted' to save Makennon," Kali reminded him. "Let me try to do that. And the soul-stripped, too."

One at a time, Freel stared them in the eyes. His gaze, however settled on Kali.

"What if you fail?"

Kali faltered, swallowed. "Then you'd better hope your general here is as good as he thinks he is…"

"At least," Gabriella added after a moment, "you won't have the blood of your own on your hands."

Freel let out an exasperated sigh. The lives of thousands hung in the balance.

"What do you propose we do?"

"We go in as a strike team to find Makennon as planned. But with fifty mages and some Swords of Dawn, the best you have, as support. And while we're there, we do as much damage as possible to Redigor's ritual. Hopefully enough."

"Any ideas how?"

"One, but it's a long shot. I tend to work on the hoof."

Freel turned to Slowhand, the beginnings of an actual smile playing on his lips. "I heard a good way to deal with resurrectionists is to put an arrow in their head."

"Damn right," Kali and Slowhand said at the same time.

"There is one problem we still haven't resolved," Gabriella said. "If Fitch is right about the Pale Lord's eyes being everywhere, how do we bypass the soul-stripped?"

"With eyes of our own," Freel said. "I've already adapted an Eye of the Lord to make a low level reconnaissance and determine a safe, or at least safer, route through them."

"But wouldn't the Pale Lord still detect its presence?"

"I'm gambling his eyes can't be everywhere at once. There has to be some kind of trigger that opens them. Something alive , for example."

Kali nodded at Gabriella. "Makes sense. When can you send it in?"

"Right now. But before I do…"

Freel turned back to General McIntee, who seemed to have taken the reality of the situation facing his forces a little more on board. "Keep your people here," he instructed. "If this doesn't work, if we don't come back… just… do what you can do."

McIntee swallowed, and nodded. "Good luck, Sir." He turned to Kali, Slowhand, DeZantez — even Fitch. "Good luck to all of you."

The war council disbanded. Freel moved off to despatch the Eye of the Lord and, knowing once more that it would take some time to report its findings, to personally assign the mages and Swords Kali had requested. Slowhand decided to use the hiatus to fletch more of his special arrows and settled himself back before the campfire. Kali and Gabriella took up positions on the other side of the flames, giving him the room he needed to work. They sat in silence for a while, the Enlightened One regarding Kali carefully before she spoke.

"Why do you do it? What you do?"

Kali prodded the fire with her gutting knife, a fresh flare of flame illuminating her face. "What? You mean rub people up the wrong way?"

Gabriella smiled. "You know what I mean. Spend your life digging around in the dirt, trying to learn what's gone?"

"You admit finally that I was just looking for the Deathclaws? That I had nothing to do with the Engines?"

"Oh, I think you're pretty much off the hook. So why?"

Not so long ago Kali would have said to find out what happened to the Old Races. She hadn't yet even shared it with her friends, and she certainly wasn't ready to share it with DeZantez, but her goals had changed — to find out what had killed them, yes, but now also to find out what 'the Darkness' was.

"Urm, because they were there?" She said.

"And now they're not?"

"That's right. It's important I find out why."

Gabriella nodded, poked the fire again. "Did they leave much behind?"

Kali shrugged. "It varies from site to site. Most are empty shells, stripped by tomb raiders down the years, or by your mob, if they manage to beat me somewhere. But you're one of them, you should know that."

"I tend to avoid that side of the Faith's affairs. They… don't sit well with me."

Kali raised her eyebrows. She remembered their meeting outside Solnos, how she had felt that DeZantez was a lot like herself — following a calling, doing good, trying to help — but that somehow the world had changed beyond her control.

"The more inaccessible sites offer the occasional trinket," she continued. "And, every now and then, there's a special site that delivers something like the Deathclaws. Also those that promise much but usually — when you've worked your arse off for days trying to get into the thing — deliver bugger all. The Lost City of Fff, for one."