“Pre-sent arms!”
The hundred men and women wearing the red cross tunics of the Cross Guard lifted their muskets. It was a ragged motion – but they were faster, smoother, more unified than they had been in quite some time.
“Fire!”
The sudden crackling roar of musketry was music to Liam’s ears.
The muskets weren’t loaded with shot. But when they were loaded, they would be filled with lead. Liam had been worried that making bullets would be a problem, but while Purgatory lacked heavy metals, it had one thing that Earth lacked. Alchemists. Like on Earth, alchemists were interested in converting one metal into another. On Purgatory, that research had mostly been focused on creating iron.
Without iron, even the Aesir had been forced to adopt bronze weapons. Bronze was far more expensive and difficult to make than iron. Without iron, they had never found steel.
No one had made iron.
But one alchemist had accidentally found a way to make lead. Heavy, toxic, and soft, it had been relegated to a curio, especially considering how much easier other materials were to work with. And alchemists were too busy trying to make gold, after all.
“They’re good,” Laurentinus said.
“The trick is getting them good enough that they can do it in a fight,” Liam said. His palms rubbed against his eyes as he shook his head. “Keep drilling them.”
Laurentinus saluted.
When Liam returned to his manor house – the sounds of gunfire still echoing from the training yards – he tensed. The absence of Tethis remained, like a jagged gap in his mouth. His eyes would dart around, looking for her. She wasn’t in the house. Not this level, at least. Her body waited in the crypt, resting underneath a stasis spell cast by one of the biomancers in the city. The idea of having Tethis’ body dumped into the ocean, to be fed on by the fishes? It was hideous enough to make the idea of sending her home impossible. At least, until the war was over.
And Liam could put a bullet in Fizit’s head.
“It could have been anyone,” Meg had said.
“It was her,” Liam had said, quietly. “She’s their spymaster. I want her dead, Meg. Put the word out.” He had paused. “Do you have to go?”
“Now more than ever.”
Meg had left for the valkyrie village three days ago. The word was that the entire Aesir kingdom was under Sysminor’s effective control. The conquest of every coastal town had stopped trade to the larger cities inland. Strike forces of lizardfolk mages had attacked irrigation and left ruin and confusion in their wake. It didn’t take many mages to bring down torrential flooding and to blast apart aqueducts with lightning and fire.
The huscrals who had gone to Sysminor’s side had completed what Brax’s modern tactics had started. They ringed the remaining free cities, keeping them locked down.
And now, a vast storm front covered the entire coastline. The clouds blocked any movement of ships or armies from Babylon, and rendered their ability to send signals via their lighthouse utterly irrelevant. For the moment.
Liam came to his office and to the paperwork that waited for him there.
The scribes that Tethis had picked and trained were good at their jobs. Unfortunately, that just meant there was no let up in the paperwork. Liam shook his head, walked behind his desk and sat down. He started to read reports. Food supplies were remaining level. Tax income had stabilized. The fresh security measures at the dock had produced some complaints. He frowned, a tiny throb starting behind one temple.
Tethis is dead, he thought.
He set down his papers.
The crackle of gunfire filled the air.
Liam breathed out again. It was like a release valve. Hearing that – and imagining lines of lizardmen collapsing under the fury of smoke and lead - he grinned fiercely.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Liam said.
Mary stepped into the room. “I came here to ask if you wanted to come and pray with me tonight,” she said. “I’m holding a vigil for the dead in the Aesir kingdom, and for our fortunes.”
Liam shook his head. He looked down at the papers.
Tethis is dead.
The crackle of gunfire. It was more steady this time. They were getting better with each repetition.
“No,” he said, quietly. “I have work to do. There’s a whole lot of sulfur that has to come from somewhere. And Ra-” He tapped a scroll of papyrus. “Said that the Pesedjeti are sending an emissary, to discuss reparations for the battle a few months ago. I need to get ready-”
“Liam, you’ve been working yourself ragged ever since you got this position,” Mary said, her voice firm.
Liam didn’t look up from his paperwork. He could hear her tail lashing from side to side.
“Work has to get done,” he said.
“You have aides. A whole council, in fact. Damnation, the world – the war – won’t end if you take more than an hour to grieve,” Mary said, her voice flashing with anger. Liam looked up at her. She glared at him. “I may not have known you for a year. But maybe that helps.” She shook her head. “Maybe the fact that I’m not a Hellenic mercenary helps too. I’ve seen how you look at the training grounds.”
“Hierophant, I think that it is time for you to leave,” Liam said, trying to sound serious. He felt rage start to boil under his belly. His throat felt tight. Mary pursed her black lips.
“Liam, it is not Christian-”
“It’s not?” He sprang to his feet. “Tell me what’s not fucking Christian about punishing evil people? What’s not Christian about killing those who threaten those I swore to protect?”
Mary shook her head. Her voice was bitter. “So. You’re just like the rest, aren’t you?”
Liam blinked. He felt as if he had been slapped and he didn’t quite know why. Then Mary laid down the words – each one brutal.
“You told me of your church. Of the councils that said who could be priests and what form Jesus and the Trinity took,” she said, sneering. Her one exposed fang glinted in the sunlight shining through the window. “You told me of the splits, the divisions, the killing. The crusades. And you said that it wasn’t Christian. That that was the divinity of the church being dragged into the mud. What are you doing here, wearing that?” She pointed at his chest. At his crucifix.
Liam looked down. His eyes screwed shut. He squeezed the crucifix. His first had been given to him by his father. It was gone, consumed to save their lives, in a spell cast by Tethis. It had been replaced by Mary. And now, it felt like she was taking it right back.
“It’s my fault,” he whispered.
Mary drew her finger back. Her tail had stilled.
“It’s not your fault,” Mary whispered.
“Neb Mataare, a Chosen of Anubis, once demonstrated a truth telling on me,” Liam said, his voice ragged. “A magical spell that can tell if someone is lying, if they mean someone harm. I worked out the mechanics with Tethis, you know?” He shook his head. “And I shot down the idea of putting up that kind of screening because I’m a self-righteous prat.” He sat down at his desk, his hand over his face. Tears dropped off his chin. “Liberty before tyranny. Give me freedom or give me fucking death.”
Mary didn’t move.
Liam slammed his fist into the armrest of his chair. “And now, Tethis is dead, and I could have stopped them, but I didn’t want to do something that is the most weaksauce fucking evil in the world. A security check in a port?” He shook his head, laughing. There was no humor in his face. “Jesus Christ, imagine how many smugglers we’d catch with that alone. But no, no, I had to be a bleeding heart liberal social justice fuckwit and let a few goddamn assassins into my city.”
Mary shook her head slowly. “They’d have found another way.”
“Would they?” Liam asked, his voice tight. “I fucking doubt it. What’d they do? Climb the walls? Those are patrolled. Hide in a cargo container? We could have searched those-”
He stopped himself.
Mary shook her head again and walked around the table. Her hand rested on his shoulder. “I don’t know what the right decision is,” she said. “Priests aren’t here to tell you what to do. Not good ones, at least,” she added as Liam shot her a look.
Her fingertips touching him created warmth that rushed through Liam, reminding him acutely that Meg had been out of town for three days. Which sounded like it should have been a sarcastic thought.
But it wasn’t.
“What we are here for is trying to help you know how to make the right decision,” Mary said. She pushed on Liam’s shoulders, spinning his chair. She smiled down at him. At that moment - her hair framed by the warm light from the window and her ruby red skin glowing with the refracted sun - she had never looked quite so beautiful.
“How?” Liam asked.
“Well,” Mary said. “The teaching I think you need to remember is this: for we have sinned and we have all fallen short from the glory of God and her Mother.”
Liam smiled slowly. “We’re all fucked?”
“We all fuck up,” Mary said.
Hearing such blunt words from the lilin nun made Liam double take.
Mary smirked at him. “And thus, all are justified freely by Mary’s grace to redeem themselves and the world, as Jesus and the Holy Spirit did.”
Liam shook his head. “Your bible’s really different from my bible.”
“But the meaning is the same. If you fucked up? You fucked up. Fix it.” She frowned. “Don’t make another mistake on that mistake, fix it.”
Liam closed his eyes, leaning his head forward. He rested against her, feeling a tightness across his shoulders fade away. Being near her made his head spin slightly but he remained focused. Fuck up? Fix it. But don’t make a new mistake. He sighed, quietly.
“We need to win the war,” he said.“And we need to win the peace.” He drew his head back. “The problem isn’t security checks.”
Mary nodded down to him.
Liam bit his lip. His hand found and squeezed Mary’s hand. She smiled down at him. Liam looked to the side, still thinking. His thoughts skittered away from Tethis and security checks. Think bigger. Don’t just make a new mistake. He visualized Purgatory, and visualized the locations of the Aesir and their cities. He could see them as if they were on a map floating before him.
The cloud bank.
The coast, covered.
The destruction of irrigation in the Aesir interior.
“He’s going to attack Olimurias,” he said, quietly.
Mary frowned.
Liam looked up at her. “Take Wotan, box in the cities. Where does he go now? North? To the Pesedjeti cities along the Barrier mountains? South? To the Hellenic league?” he shook his head. “No. Take Olimurias and you have the smartest people in Purgatory.” He stood, his hands squeezing Mary’s other hands. “And that’s where we can end this.”
Mary nodded.
“And if we can end this, then...” he sighed. “Then we can fix it.”
In the silence that stretched between them, there was a crackle of gunfire. And for the first time since Tethis’ death, Liam didn’t smile at the sound of it. He was too busy realizing just how close he was standing to Mary. The red-skinned girl was so beautiful. Touching her made Liam’s skin feel warmer and warmer. She breathed in, and that tiny motion drew his attention to the tight straps of her nun’s outfit, firm across her breasts.
He had seen those breasts being squeezed and cupped by scaled hands.
He had seen those black lips, fastened around red lizard-cock.
He had seen her sex, spreading and wanting and eager.
“Liam...” Mary whispered.
Liam leaned in.
“W-We...”
The door to the room banged open.
“Sir, sir, I was going through Tethis’ papers and-”
Vani stopped as she looked at Mary and Liam. Mary was standing by the window, looking out of it, seeming to be quite fascinated with the bustling city of Babylon. Liam, meanwhile, was at his desk, scribbling notes on a piece of paper. Vani blinked slightly, then shook herself. She walked forward.
“-and I’ve been, ah, deciphering her notes.”
“Yes?” Liam asked. Vani seemed relieved as she looked into his eyes. Liam wondered how terrifying he had looked over the past few days. He put that thought aside as Vani set a piece of paper down. She had filled it with diagrams in her own hand.
“Tethis was working on several spells. Uh, not just ways to use hardened crystal, but some healing spells that I can’t make heads nor tails of. But this?” She tapped. “She was studying teleport shrines.”
“Well, I knew that,” Liam said, his brow furrowing confusion.
“No,” Vani said, her eyes glinting. “That’s just it. She knew how to operate them.”
Liam blinked.
Then it clicked.
“Oh son of a bitch,” he whispered.
“What?” Mary asked.
“Vani, I want you to tell every scribe to start rooting through the city. I need every adventurer's journal, every record of archaeological expeditions, every piece of scholarly research we have on the shrines of the Ancients.” He tapped at the desk. “And I need you to get every wizard we have who isn’t going with the army to research how to replicate what Tethis did.”
Vani whistled slowly. “I’m just an alchemist, so I’m no specialist. But...” She shook her head. “It’s possible that we might not crack this. According to her journal, she never managed to teach anyone else.”
“She was one of a kind,” Liam said. “But if she can do it, you can.”
“Well, uh, again, just an alchemist-”
“Someone can!” Liam shook his head, laughing. It was a brittle laugh. But it was still a laugh. “Get to work, Vani.” He turned to Mary. “Mary, I’m going to need you to ride herd here. The Cross Guard are heading for Olimurias.”
“What about Meg?”
“The valks?” Liam shook his head. “If they come, send them to Olimurias. If they don’t, then...” he paused. “Tell Meg that I didn’t have a choice.”
***
Meg’s wings ached but it was the pleasant ache that came from a good afternoon of flying. Part of her was irritated, though. She hadn’t been flying enough recently. Short hops and combat was one thing, but endurance flying took regular practice. She beat her wings again, then snapped them out and caught a thermal as she looked down over the jungles.
It had taken her three days to cross the Basilisk Desert, stopping at oases that were easy to spot from the air. She had hunted with a sling and slept at night after jilling herself to sleep.
She couldn’t help it.
She missed Liam so fucking much, it was like a physical pain.
She knew he missed her the same way. But Liam could, at the very least, distract himself. There were enough fine ladies in the palace and Babylon for him to forget her. Well, not forget her. Miss her less. Meg snapped her teeth, as if she were a bird with a beak.
That didn’t help the fact she’d miss it. There was nothing quite like that exquisite moment of seeing another woman’s eyes light up when they saw him taking off his kilt. It let her re-live her moment of meeting Liam.
The moment, well…
Her life actually started.
No, that was fucking stupid. She shook her head.
Then, suddenly, her eyes narrowed and she focused in on a tiny glint of white. It was one of the valkyrie markers, designed to be easily spotted from the air but entirely unintelligible to groundlings. She beat her wings and followed the direction, swooping down, then banking to a stop.
She had landed before an open clearing.
Standing there were the valkyrie. There were easily five hundred of them. They went without bronze armor or weapons. Lumps of crystal knapped into swords, chunks worked into wooden branches to make axes. Maces of stone. Most, though, looked deadly enough with their bare hands and their slings.
Meg smiled. It felt good to be around so many of her own people – even if the sneering condescension would…
The valk leader – a tall, blond fellow – stepped to the side. A familiar tall, blond fellow. But before Meg could think about that, she noticed who was behind him.
Meg’s wings flared and she tensed to leap.
Nulldarts thudded into her chest and she stumbled backwards.
Fizit smirked as she stood over her.
“Teleport shrines are really useful, you know,” she said, her clawed foot resting on Meg’s throat.
***
Vulkis rapped his knuckles on the wall leading into the hospital ward.
“Come in!”
The voice sounded faintly familiar. Vulkis’ brow furrowed as he stepped around the doorframe.
Neb Mataare smiled at him as her glowing palm drew away from Eerika’s shoulder. The Aesir woman looked, as she always did, mildly pissed off. But the arrow had been barbed, and the time it took to limp back to port had allowed infection to sink in. The other crew who had been injured were in similar states, and this – plus the need to repair the ships – had kept Vulkis in Olimurias longer than he wanted.
There were merchants to raid, enemies to sink…
Women to woo.
That’s just because you’re looking at Neb, Vulkis chided himself.
Liam had told stories of Neb but those stories didn’t hold a candle to the reality. She was a curvy woman, with full, out-thrust breasts and a large bushy tail, which complimented her heart-shaped rump perfectly. Her muzzle was long and dainty, and her ears came to two narrow tips, both of them perked up as she looked at Vulkis. Being Chosen by Anubis meant that she had taken after the Pesedjeti god of death.
Vulkis wondered how the Coptic dead got any rest if they shared an afterlife with people like her.
“Vulkis Shieldbreaker, yes?” she asked, her voice delicate and educated sounding. She reached up to adjust the strange pair of glass rectangles contained in a wooden frame that rested on her snout. Vulkis had never seen such a device before and he wondered what they were for.
“Yes!” Vulkis puffed up his chest, then bowed low. “And you must be Neb Mataare. The tales of your beauty barely do it justice.”
“Ugh, shoot me again,” Eerika groaned.
“You should be able to get up and leave in a few hours,” Neb said. “Just let the healing magic burn the last of the blood fever from you.” She shook her head, then looked back at Vulkis. Her eyes darted over his body. She looked curious. “You are the one who has been hitting back against those horrible lizardmen?”
“I did lead the flotilla, yes,” Vulkis said, smiling.
“How can I ever thank you?” Neb asked, her ears twitching. “I heard what those things did to Odin and Thor – the idea is just...” She shook her head. “And poor Sif!”
Vulkis paused. “Well, I can think of but one way a woman like you can thank me-”
“Oh, uh, I... actually...” Neb stammered.
“Allow me to take you to dinner,” Vulkis continued hurriedly.
“Love getting dominated, so, uh, you can order me to do anything,” Neb finished at the same time.
Vulkis blinked. “What?”
“I didn’t-” Neb squeaked, her muzzle fur not hiding the shining redness of her blush. “Dinner sounds nice!”
Vulkis smirked. “Flash me your titties,” he said, using the same tone of voice he used while commanding a ship. A voice that left no room for doubt there. The blush went from red to incandescent. He was honestly shocked that she wasn’t on fire. Then, slowly, Neb reached up, took hold of her robes, and opened them, revealing the soft fur of her breasts and her hard, black nipples. Then, squeaking, she jerked her robes shut as a pair of priests walked past, heading to another healing.
Vulkis nodded. “Your place or mine?”
“Just go before I kill myself,” Eerika shouted.
“My place, uh, is yours,” Neb whispered and the two of them hurried out into the streets.
Neb’s robes hit the floor the instant she was in her home. Vulkis’ palm came slapping down onto her ass, making her moan and lean forward, her paws pressing to the wall. His fingers sunk into the flesh of her rump as he leaned forward, purring in her ear. “I am going to ravage this ass.”
“G-Good,” Neb whispered. “So, um, there’s a lesson. A word! I mean, uh, a safe word.”
Vulkis’ brow furrowed. “Magic?”
Neb stepped away from him, turning. Her arms crossed under her breasts, shelving them as she explained, “Well, uh, it’s a word we share. Um, so, I can... say... no. And you can know I don’t mean no. I mean yes, but I’m saying no.”
Vulkis’ brow furrowed further as he worked his way through that. Then, laughing, said, “That’s clever. You’re a smart little puppy, aren’t you?”
Neb’s ears flicked up and she smiled. “You can call me a bitch, you know?”
Vulkis grinned and stepped forward. “All right. Bitch.” He weighted the word with a purring scorn that made Neb squirm as she stepped away from him and into the wall, her tail slapping against the wall. “What’s the safe word?”
Neb whimpered. “Seshat?”
“Sounds good,” Vulkis said. “Now, bitch, why don’t you get on your knees and open that slutty little mouth of yours and get ready for your savior’s cock.”
Neb moaned as she slowly lowered herself to her knees, her mouth opening. Her tongue lolled out and Vulkis slipped his leggings down, his achingly hard cock springing free. He rubbed the tip along Neb’s tongue and smirked ever so slightly.
Funny, what makes the difference to history.
What makes the difference to the world.
Vulkis cock slipped to the hilt into Neb’s muzzle. Her throat convulsed around his dick and her tongue swirled around and around his shaft. Neb had planned to visit the library of Brigid after healing the sailors. Instead, she was here, giving head. Vulkis had planned to visit his ships in drydock. Instead, he was throat fucking an eager slut.
And neither of them were outside when the flash struck.
Instead, the flash shone through a window and turned the room pale white, draining color from everything. Vulkis jerked backwards, his cock popping out of Neb’s mouth as she whipped her head around to look at the window as well. The two of them froze as a resounding boom filled the air. The walls rattled and the ground trembled and Vulkis threw himself atop the naked jackalgirl.The ceiling shook and plaster fell on them in a pattering rain. Screams were ringing out, alongside shocked, confused shouts.
“What was that?” Neb gasped.
Vulkis, his hands on his pants, yanked them up. “Nothing good.”
He opened the door. Olimurias looked mostly intact, though clouds of smoke wreathed the lower levels of the tiered city. It looked like the poorer buildings, constructed from shabbier materials, hadn’t weathered the flash as well. But the buildings in this section of the city were only showing some cracks.
But then Neb cried out. “No!”
Vulkis turned and saw that citadel in the center of the city – the home of Brigid and her library – had been struck with the razor precision of an assassin. If the assassin had been the size of a giant. A smoking hole, roughly the size of a small house, had been punched into the upper levels. Fires burned inside of the stone fortress, the wooden interior catching. Hell, even some of the stones were on fire.
“He hit Brigid,” Vulkis whispered.
“She might have-” Neb started.
“He hit the whole damn council!” Vulkis snarled.
Vulkis shook his head. He saw some guards standing about, looking confused. Vulkis breathed in. He breathed out. Thu, bless his officious little heart, had made sure to get him a fine sash. He might not be an official admiral, but he had a fine blue silk sash and he could look good in it. Vulkis squared his shoulders.
“You!” he bellowed to the guards, using his best commander’s voice. “Get more of the guard together-”
“We need to help Brigid!” the guard said, sounding panicky.
“No!” Vulkis pointed to the dock. “There’s a storm coming, men. Brax the Golden is coming! Do you want to be the third notch on his belt? No? Get your fellows and send them out to every guard house and get them to the dock!”
Vulkis turned to go – he had to get his men ready.
Neb hurried after him.
“Neb?” he asked.
“You’re going to need me,” she said, her voice tight.
Vulkis paused. He looked her up and down.
Neb looked down at her naked body.
She squeaked – and then stood straighter and kept walking, her cheeks bright red. “No time!”
Vulkis shrugged.
Then together, they started running.
The clouds that had shrouded the horizon were breaking apart, now that the strike had come. Dozens of Aesir ships, their flags replaced by the pennants of Sysminor, were advancing to the sound of drums.
***
“What was that?” Liam asked, his hands rubbing his ears.
“An attack,” Laurentinus said, frowning.
The two of them stood on the prow of one of the merchant ships that the Cross Guard had hired. The rest of the Guard – those who had been ready to go – were on the deck. Their muskets were in their hands, and their eyes were serious. The ranks had swelled since the Battle of Borin the Black. Now, rather than a motley collection of mercenaries and guards, they included people who had been civilians before. Men and women, who had joined.
Not because they worshiped the Cross.
But because they heard the motto of the Cross Guard, and they were willing to die for it.
E Pluribus Unum.
From many, one.
“What kind of attack? That’s what I need to know,” Liam said, shaking his head.
“I can answer that!” Vani said, her voice tight.
The alchemist had come with for the simple reason that they needed every mage they had. But now, she was holding one of the many new inventions that Liam’s arrival to Purgatory had brought. Telescopes were hideously expensive, and kind of crappy.
But a crappy telescope was a lot better than no telescope.
Vani lowered the telescope. “The clouds? They weren’t just a cover.”
“What were they?” Laurentinus asked.
“They were a means of power generation. I don’t know how, I’m not a weather wizard. But the end result is obvious. The clouds created a... a...” She snapped her finger.
“A charge?” Liam suggest. Then he saw it. “And then they channeled the charge via sympathetic magic.”
“Likely? Salt water,” Vani said. “If they’re sea storms, then they’d be linked to the sea. So, they channeled the charge of a coast covering storm into a single lightning bolt. That, by the way, is probably why the clouds are clearing.”
Liam held out his hand and took the telescope and put it to his eyes. Smudged and warped the image might be, but he could see the hole in the tower. His heart twinged at the thought of fire rushing through that library. And then he realized the impact had been too high.
Or just right, if you didn’t want to damage the books.
Liam swung the telescope around.
Brax’s fleet was entering into the docks.
Liam lowered the telescope. “Ready the rowers.”
***
Brax stood on the prow of his ship. He held a small spherical crystal to his eye, then lowered it.
“Sysminor spoils me,” he said, then lowered his arm to his side. The bitterness in his voice made Liv shake her head.
“Don’t throw it overboard.”
A splashing noise drew Liv’s attention. A scaled hand had grabbed onto the side of Brax’s ship and dragged herself up. She was one of the wizards who had helped to take down Odin. Liv thought her name was Zickzbit. She dripped with water, and the glowing runes around her throat flickered for a few moments. She held her breath. Then the runes faded and she hacked up what looked like two lungfuls of ocean water. Which, to be fair, it probably was.
“Did we hit?” Zickzbit asked.
Brax nodded. “You hit.”
The other wizards – each with the same spell – were scrambling aboard the boat. Anix – looking quite pleased with his position as signaler – lifted up a set of red flags, waving them over his head. Being the taller of the two of Brax’s bodyguards, he was an obvious choice for signaler. Vazt was also looking rather fine with staying back as well.
Liv wondered at a warrior that didn’t want to be in the thick of things but she supposed that being vulnerable to cutting weapons had its downside.
The ships that saw the signal started to row forward. The huscrals on the back set up a series of horn calls. The horns weren’t just to intimidate the defenders on the pier, though.
Liv could see the darting shapes of lizardfolk in the water. They might need magic to breathe underwater, but they didn’t need magic to move like lightning there.
Not the best metaphor at this time, Liv thought.
The defenders, though, had reacted faster than she expected. Guards in Olimurias armor were blocking off the ramps that led from the pier to the city. Archers started to stand on rooftops. Arrows started to fill the air. They rained down on the surface ships. Liv wondered at the huscrals who lifted their shields and warded off the arrows.
How many were just here because they had longed to attack Olimurias, but were kept at bay by Odin’s own wisdom?
How many were just here because they were terrified that Odin’s corpse would join Balder’s?
The lizardfolk were under the piers.
The huscrals reached the docks. They charged off their boats and into furious fire from the rooftops. Their shields stopped most of the arrows, but as they marched to the ramps, the heavy infantry left behind bleeding, groaning figures who sprouted arrows like merry flags.
Brax nodded to the wizards.
Zickzbit led them. She held her hands up as the other lizardfolk pressed their hands to her shoulders. They created a kind of arrowhead formation, with two lizardfolk touching Zickzbit and four touching them. Zickzbit’s hands touched together, then spread wide. As they spread, a geometric pattern flared to life between her fingertips. She trembled as the pattern flared brighter and brighter and brighter. Several white dots appeared between her fingers.
The darts flew into the air, then arced upwards. Unerringly, they fell among the archers.
Olimurias’ defenders fell by the dozen as each lizardfolk wizard sagged. They looked tired but, despite that, they started to gather energy again.
Brax watched, his face unreadable.
The lizardmen under the pier were gone.
***
Vulkis hurled a javelin. It found its mark, slipping between the shields raised over the huscral’s heads. An enemy fell. He felt good about this fight so far. The line of guards had met the enemy’s advance. There was less of them, yes. But they had the high ground, and the huscrals were trying to force their way through their lines while archers rained fire down on them. The back ranks of the huscrals might have shields up, interlocking them as best they could, but there were enough chinks that he could worry away at them.
“Come on men, we have them!” he shouted.
Then the archer standing beside him dropped to the ground, her head nothing but a smoking stump.
Vulkis’ eyes widened and he looked around. Dozens of other archers were downed as well, their heads missing as if they had never been there. Neb cried out in shock. He looked back at her. The huscrals had been throwing and shooting back as best as they could, and several of the archers had been wounded. She had been working at healing them, her nudity entirely forgotten. But she pointed at the harbor.
“It came from there!”
“Can you stop it!?” Vulkis asked. He didn’t know how magic worked.
“I can try,” Neb said, rubbing her paws together as she stood. She closed her eyes, starting to focus. Vulkis saw that the boat that held Brax the Golden was glowing. This time, he saw the darts flying up into the air. They rushed forward, all of them angling towards one location. Vulkis saw what it was and charged.
He caught Neb in the shoulder.
They fell off the roof and onto the hard paving stones below. Something snapped and Neb screamed in pain. The darts, trying to draw a straight line between their point of origin and her, slammed into the roof of the house like a rain of arrows. The roof powdered, splintered, and then the wall above Vulkis’ head bulged outwards as the bolts struck it.
And stopped.
“I broke my arm,” Neb gasped. “Oh gods, I broke my arm.”
“In war,” Vulkis said, “That’s a better alternative. Can you fix it?”
Neb nodded, whimpering.
Vulkis bellowed. “Archers! Off the roof! Off the roof!”
The surviving archers scrambled off the roofs. And a bellow of joy came from one of the ramps. He saw several Olimurias guards fleeing, and huscrals starting forward, their axes and swords raised. A guard was cut down from behind. The line he stood before wavered.
Neb hissed out words in a language Vulkis didn’t speak. Her paw lifted and a glowing darkness – tinged and tinted with gold – flared around her paw and fingertips. The darkness flew out and fell onto the huscrals. Panting, she sagged. “Disorientation – doesn’t last long.”
Vulkis bellowed the order.
“Fall back! Fall back!”
***
Liam grinned.
Fiercely.
“Smile, you son of a bitch,” he hissed.
The remaining Aesir ships that Brax had kept in the harbor were swinging around. But his ships had come around the corner of the island in a ragged, but roughly well kept line. And the Cross Guard stood in ranked files, one line kneeling, the other standing. When you had almost two hundred muskets, you really didn’t need to aim.
“Fire!” The voice came from dozens of non-commissioned officers. A concept Purgatory had had for centuries, but one that Liam had made sure his army understood and adopted with zeal. They were, after all, worth their weight in gold.
If you were a really bad haggler.
Smoke wreathed the ships, drifting away. They couldn’t use rowers, as they had the Guard kneeling in their places to give them their broadside. But the sails caught the prevailing wind and pushed the smoke away, revealing…
Well…
Modern bullets were actually quite a bit smaller than primitive ones. Smaller, more aerodynamic, and designed to spin. They tended to produce smaller entrance wounds – though their exit wounds could be quite hideous. But there was nothing quite as horrifying as a massive chunk of lead, accelerated to supersonic speed.
And Liam had the technical proficiency to make it even worse.
Babylon might not have been able to make cartridge bullets.
Minié balls, though?
Those weren’t that much harder. Especially if you had a book on the weapons of the Civil War in your iPod library.
The crews of the ships they had passed lay in twitching masses of butchered meat. Limbs had been blown almost entirely off. Heads were missing. Guts were ripped out. A scant few of the surviving Aesir turncoats were untouched or only lightly wounded. And the ships hadn’t been fared much better. Designed to be light and mobile, the ships that Brax had left to cover his rear were archery ships. Their wooden sides had been perforated just as easily as human flesh.
They weren’t sinking, but they were definitely listing.
The call for reloads started to fill the air.
And cheering came from the city.
***
Vulkis panted, his shield in arm, his body aching from dozens of minor impacts. He was sure that he was bleeding elsewhere, but adrenaline burned through his body. He wasn’t sure where Neb was. Somewhere behind the line. But the fighting still had lines. And that was something. The guard had fallen back to a second line of defense, and the Aesir attackers hadn’t managed to break through their lines. Several battles were going on in nearby alleyways – the lines breaking down into skirmishes.
But they had also gotten reinforcements.
Vulkis stood shoulder to shoulder with two toughs from a local tavern. Their scarred bodies and tattooed skin left no doubt as to their nominal profession. But they had gotten armed and they stood with the guardsmen, shouting out obscenities at the huscrals – who had drawn back from being in full contact and were hurling their thrown weapons at the group.
Here, the little things made the difference.
For one thing, the Olimurias guard used kite shaped shields. The interlocking protection left less chinks.
For another, the archers – remaining out of view of the harbor – were sending arcing fire into the huscrals, preventing the rear ranks from adding to their volleys. Enemy mage-fire stayed at a distance.
“What was that?” one of the toughs beside Vulkis asked.
Vulkis’ eyes widened. That rattling sound, that curious series of echoing booms. He looked past the huscrals and saw the harbor. There, he saw ships, wreathed in smoke. And flying high and proud above their sails, were long streaming pennants. Each one bearing the red cross.
“The Cross Guard!” Vulkis shouted. “The Cross Guard!”
The tale of the Cross Guard and their breaking of Borin the Black had spread through Purgatory like wildfire. The sight of those smoke wreathed ships, sailing past crippled Aesir vessels?
It made those tales seem like a pathetic prologue.
Even the huscral enemies seemed awed.
Vulkis calculated.
Gambled.
“Charge!” he shouted, waving his sword.
The guard rushed forward. Shields at the ready, weapons hefted up. The two armies smashed together with a resounding thunderclap. Huscrals were bowled over, trampled. Shields splintered. Heads were split. Vulkis hewed down a man with his sword, and felt it bend slightly. He didn’t care. The huscrals were trembling. Wavering.
“For Sysminor! For Brax!”
The bellow – issuing from dozens of throats and backed by the roaring sound of dozens more – came from a place that made Vulkis’ knees turn to water.
They came from behind him.
He turned despite himself.
The streets behind them were filling with lizardfolk. They were smeared with grime and more of them than he thought possible were emerging from the sewer gratings. They came out, formed, charged. They charged in waves, their spears and shields clattering. They didn’t just smash home, though. They leaped and brought their weapons plunging down into unprotected shoulders and into helmets. They brought men and women down with their sheer weight.
Vulkis brought his shield up just in time to deflect a bronze speartip. The lizardwoman facing him didn’t mind. The impact jarred his arm and then her head met his and his head lost.
Vulkis hit the ground – everything becoming swallowed in blackness.
***
“Bring us around!” Liam shouted as arrows rained down. The surviving Aesir ships were just out of range and their arrows hummed as they thudded into the arrow shields that the Cross Guard had dragged up hastily. Some overshot. Some fell between the gaps and might hit someone. But most of the Cross Guard were safe.
The sails creaked, and the oars that they could use scooped at the water.
Laurentinus risked a look. He ducked down. “We’re close!”
“Wait for it-” Liam said, holding up his hand. He waited. Then he dropped his hand. “Now!”
The shields dropped right as the incoming arrows slackened. Then the merciless broadsides came. Musketry filled the air with smoke and fire. But when the smoke cleared, this time, there were far fewer corpses on the enemy ships. Dozens of Aesir were starting to scramble to their feet from the cover they had taken.
They learned fast.
Fortunately, so did Liam.
“Ranks B, fire!” The sergeants bellowed.
Those who hadn’t fired opened up. The Aesir were consumed in smoke and Liam tried to not feel sick at the wet, meat slap of the bullets striking home. Part of him though, felt that sickness, and knew a moment of relief. He didn’t think he’d be human if he hadn’t felt sick.
As the smoke cleared, he saw that Brax’s ship was open, defended only by a pair of longships holding lizardfolk. Brax’s ship had turned, though.
Kneeling beside him, dressed in a thin slip and a loincloth, was Liv. She looked as beautiful as the last time Liam had seen her. Her blue hair had grown out in a wild corona. But he saw something more. Her hand was on Brax’s thigh, and he could almost see the connection.
He felt something inside of him twist.
He tried, desperately, to not descend into a blind fury. Something on his face must have shown. Liv glared right back at him.
Well, a distant, sardonic part of him said. At least she’s got the strength of her convictions.
In the distance, he saw lizardfolk and huscrals advancing towards the palace. Olimurias was taken. He stood there – not knowing if he should press the advantage or if he should retreat. Could two hundred barely trained musketeers do anything in the face of that?
“Liam!”
The scream didn’t come from one of his officers.
It was Vani.
He turned and saw what she was pointing at.
Liam’s heart sang.
Winging through the air were valkyrie. Hundreds of them. They were arrayed in a series of V formations, their wings beating in pattern, like migratory birds. They held javelins and slings, and the sun was shining behind them It was like an army of angels. He closed his eyes for a moment, thanking God. But more, he thanked Meg.
She had done it.
When he opened his eyes, he nodded to Laurentinus. “Wave the flag,” he said. “Indicate they should come down here.”
“Looks like they are,” Laurentinus said, grinning and looking relieved.
The valkyrie stooped and dove.
They weren’t slowing down.
Liam’s brow furrowed.
The javelin that struck his chest drove the breath from him. He staggered and fell as more wood and stone javelins plunged down. They sprouted from the backs and shoulders and heads and faces of the Cross Guard. Screams followed: screams of shock, screams of anger, screams of confusion. Liam blinked, then groaned as he grabbed the javelin.
It had already fallen to the side, leaving a hideous dent in his bronze breastplate. The metal had bent inward enough to leave a dent and he knew something was broken.
No time.
The valkyrie had finished the pass and were soaring to the sky, wheeling around.
Laurentinus was face down on the deck, two javelins sticking from his back.
The Guard looked as ragged as a sail that had weathered buckshot.
“They’re coming around again!” someone shouted.
“Steady!” one of the sergeants said, her voice as calm and steady as if this kind of thing happened every day.
Worth their weight in gold, Liam thought, his head dazed. His brain felt as if it had been rung like a bell. He staggered to his feet and bellowed. “Guns up. Do not fire until I give the order!”
The valkyrie swept down, rushing faster and faster. Liam waited.
“Fire!”
Smoke filled the air. A valkyrie plowed right into the center of the ship with a resounding crunch. Others smashed into the water. But many didn’t. Their javelins plunged home. The smoke, or the musketry, or both had thrown a lot of their aim off. As they winged away, Liam closed his eyes.
And gave the last order he wanted to give.
“Retreat! Retreat!”
***
Liv trembled like a plucked violin string. She didn’t tear her eyes away from the ships flying the Cross Guard’s banner as they sailed desperately away, already starting to rise along the curve of Purgatory.
Quietly, she hissed. “If you killed Liam, I am going to fucking rip your balls off. With my teeth.”
Brax, his voice heavy, said: “I know.”
A rustle of wings sounded and a tall, broad-shouldered, valkyrie landed. He was muscular and looked dignified with age. His hair might have been starting to turn white, though that fact it was pure blond made it hard to tell. His eyes were crystal blue and glowed like Liam’s iPod. He was definitely one of the oldest valkyrie that Liv had ever seen. For one thing, she had never seen one with wrinkles before. They tended to die gloriously in combat before that happened.
Though, that might have just been the ones who spent time with non-valkyrie.
The valk leader walked forward to Brax, his eyes crinkling with a smile.
“A pleasure to meet you, General,” he said.
“The pleasure is mine,” Brax said. “Fizit told me your name was Skyheart of the Tribe of Olympus.”
“That it is,” Skyheart said. “And I must say, it is a good thing to finally meet the man who has returned my granddaughter to me.”
“Holy fucking what?” Liv asked, her eyes bugging almost out of her head.
Meg’s grandfather looked at her as if she was a bug.
“Ignore my slave,” Brax said, his voice firm. “I’ll punish her later.”
“Good,” Skyheart said, grinning. “Now. To the victors...”
He gestured to Olimurias. Smoke still rose from several points in the city.
“The spoils.”