…Forlorn Fortress…Day Two
The next morning things went as Zesshi intended, her warriors awoke, as did those of her allies, and they patiently awaited the actions of their living siege engine. She stretched out comfortably, her black and white hair falling down her back. She wanted them to see that it was a half elf who was bringing them down. Companies lined up secure behind the double walls of various buildings, and just around the corner from Zesshi, Thirg and Tefl stood side by side giving hungry looks at one another. A feast of blood was beyond those walls, and they were ravenous for their portion of it.
Zesshi waited until the signals were given that all were in place. Flags, rather than being raised up, were lowered horizontally out from the lined up units to give her the maximum element of surprise, as the large buildings obscured the view of the many scorpions and ballistas ready to fire at any juncture point on the defeated first inner wall's area of control. She raised a fist, and behind her one fist after another went up indicating comprehension, all the way back to the distant position of Queen Draudillon.
"This won't take long," the Queen said confidently as she took a swig of cold water. It was refreshing, but what she really wanted was a warm bath. It was lost on her what adventurers and soldiers liked so much about the muddy business of conflict.
Zesshi stepped out from her position, she stood in the center of a square that had a clear view from half a dozen siege weapons with rocks and massive arrows trained at her. For a moment those on the wall could scarcely believe what they were seeing, a single soldier? It made no sense. Then her killing intent was unleashed, a powerful, terrifying bloodlust that shook them to their cores, it made them panic, and they fired without thinking.
While they fired without thinking, she sprinted without fear, she passed under the projectiles almost too fast to track, other projectiles were targeted at her as she moved from block to block, but they could not strike her as she leaned into the run. Racial slurs were hurled at her by those who recognized her heritage and their hatred redoubled, and also hers. Thinking about how she had called this country her home sickened her, and she put that into the force of her actions.
Her scythe swung and a part of the wall was smashed, screams of the dying and the terrified rang out as those working the siege engine at that part of the wall fell with the rubble to their doom. She swung again, widening the hole. Aligned with the wall, she was too close for the engines to hit her, and the other side of the wall had their weapons pointed the wrong way. After the fourth siege engine toppled and the wall was wide enough for forty to pass abreast at a double arm interval, she took the horn that hung from her neck and blew it. The noise rang out like a trump of doom, and battle cries answered the call, followed quickly by the thunderous stampede of thousands upon thousands of soldiers. A handful of siege weapons were still able to target the mass, but the distance was great and they had been prepared to defend multiple points, not just one.
"Fools," she said contemptuously. "By trying to defend everywhere you made yourselves weak everywhere. Now, to punish you for that mistake."
Thunder clashed with thunder as the din of walls collapsing under the force of her monumental blows was contested against by the sound of stamping feet and the ringing of weapons and armor. Though some lucky shots ended unfortunate and unlucky lives, the single point of breach proved its wisdom as they clashed against the scattered and much diminished defenders from the Slane Theocracy. Estimates of the previous day's clash were that they had lost between half to two thirds of their total defending strength, that small number of surviving soldiers was then made smaller by scattering them around to defend the wall everywhere, and even though it was smaller, it was not so small as to be easily ignored. But their courage at least held, even if their numbers didn't, and the wall was abandoned as soldiers rushed to the breach point. However, they trickled in and were as fingers, where Zesshi's army and Queen Draudillon's army poured in, and they were as a fist that smashed down and broke those twitching fingers.
One third of the area had fallen in an hour, and the last of it fell in the second hour. This left only the inner defenses, with a smattering of siege weapons and a central keep to fight through. As before, no quarter was given and no mercy was shown as their sea of steel washed over the fortification and swept it clean as if it were a fortress of sand. Zesshi's scythe took a deadly toll on those who came too close. An entire line of five men fell headless, and as their heads rolled away from their bodies, all they could do was look on with confusion at their collapsed bodies and wonder what had just happened. Several lived long enough to realize what had taken place, and died with horror on their faces, a few seconds to a minute of their own personal hell, before their brains died and their lives were mercifully ended.
Zesshi however, was already moving on, she rushed to the last wall, the only barrier to victory within the inner keep, and she showed again why she had been humanity's trump card. The wall fell like all the others, as did the scant few hundred held within who secured precious minutes of life for themselves by being there as opposed to the killing field the inner wall had become.
Thirg and Tefl were not far behind Zesshi, the massive maul of Thirg swung in deadly arcs, occasionally hammering to the ground to serve with its force to swing him forward in its stead, his feet shattered jaws and his fist shattered heads. Blood washed over him like a torrential storm. His sister, by contrast, shrieked like a joyful banshee and flung deadly knives and was scarcely touched at all by a drop as her deadly aim struck neck and eyes with the speed of a hurricane wind. If Thirg was like some monstrous dancer, moving far more gracefully than one would expect of an elf who was already a study in contradiction as a result of his massive size, then his sister was a sprinter. Her powerful legs drove her forward and her arms grabbed knives as they pumped back and forth, occasionally too many rushed her for her knives to take them all, and she resorted to her vampiric claws, and moved with such swiftness that she slashed their throats and sent them falling forward before the blood could even splash her body or her armor.
When the last barrier to the keep fell, the inner wall was already all but collapsed, with only a handful fighting in some distant corner. They were surrounded, defeated, and quickly cut down as the first foot of Zesshi entered the ancient building. The last stand, that was what it was. The stone walls made the cries of the desperate and the dying live longer than the men and women themselves. There was no surrender for them, there was no tomorrow for them, they were the already dead. What was more, they knew it. They fought like heroes of their nation, these condemned men and women, more than one elf found his final vengeance unsatisfied with blade still bright and unstained by the blood he longed to see. Yet even in death they served a purpose that satisfied their hearts desire, as by their dying they exposed the face or flank of those they hated to the swords of brothers and sisters. Men fell screaming and writhing as their arms were severed at the elbow or as a leg was parted from its mate by a heavy ax. Foot by foot, a carpet of blood from the last defenders was laid down into the interior, until the last ember of life flickered and died among the Slane Theocracy's men, and all that could be heard were the cheers of the victors as the moans of the defeated were drowned out until those cries and rattled swords died with the last Theocracy hope.
Zesshi clapped her commanders on their shoulders and walked out of hell with a smile on her face and blood on her hands, and her companions drank their fill, it was a feast fit for a vampire, and feast they did. "Well done Thirg, Tefl, well done. They were weak, but they did as well as I could hope for." She said contentedly as she stowed her scythe and walked out into the light of day from the pit of death that the Forlorn Fortress had become.
She went straight to Queen Draudillon's position at the rear and found the Queen watching with her bodyguards. "At least she watched the orders being carried out." Zesshi thought with a small measure of approval. When she approached, soaked with blood and smiling brightly, she stuck out her hand to the Queen, who gingerly, if not enthusiastically, took it, disregarding the bloody mess that stood before her.
"You did amazingly." She said, her voice conveyed clearly how impressed she was, and she did her damnedest to hide how she felt about the smell of blood so close to her, she had seen death, she had seen the servant of the Sorcerer King slice and slash and cut and gut nobles on her own orders, those who deserved it most for having harmed their countrymen as badly as the beastmen themselves. Yet for all that, she had not been so hardened yet that the sight and the smell did not do a number on her stomach. She suppressed the urge to vomit and thought longingly of the bottle of wine she had vowed not to touch.
"Thanks," Zesshi said casually. "I'll give my soldiers a few hours to get cleaned up and a few hours to rest, but we're moving out by nightfall. We should have our casualty reports in by then, though I don't think I took too many. Nor did you, I think, they just weren't prepared for this, they were expecting a grinding siege where they could give ground gradually and hold out for reinforcements, not the nightmare they got. At last, my revenge has truly begun."
When the casualty rolls came out after the battle and the surviving soldiers' celebratory singing, dancing, laughing, drinking and screwing, there were five hundred dead from Zesshi's army and three hundred dead from Queen Draudillon's army. So after the final role was called, all of the dead from the two armies were cremated with honor. The armor of the Slane Theocracy soldiers was taken and divided between the two armies, Zesshi said she would need some to equip future rebels, and Queen Draudillon said she would need some to equip her reinforcements. It was an even split and neither took issue with the matter. Zesshi allowed her army six hours sleep, and when the camp was made to stir again, the dead fortress was still covered in darkness. She went to Queen Draudillon's tent while the last preparations were made and found the Queen awake, sitting at a table alone, staring at a bottle of wine.
"Queen Draudillon?" Zesshi said cautiously, unsure of just what she was seeing. It snapped the royal woman out of her trance and her eyes darted to the half elf.
"Oh, yes, General Zetsumei, I'm sorry I didn't see you there, I was thinking." She said hastily.
"About… that bottle?" Zesshi asked hesitantly.
The Queen sighed, "Yes. I want it."
"But?" Zesshi asked.
"If I drink it, well… let's just say I'm not much of a queen in those instances. I drank myself into a stupor for years while my people were eaten alive. I did my best but, well, let's just say sometimes it got to be too much, and then 'sometimes' became a lot of the time." She said softly, then shook her head. "Never mind, I shouldn't be talking about this kind of thing with you. We only just met, please forget I said anything." She blushed softly in embarrassment at the indignity of speaking such intimate thoughts to a near stranger.
Zesshi though, chose to address it, "I'm a battle maniac." She said as she walked to the opposite side of the table. "I don't pretend to 'get' a lot of things that everybody else just naturally seems to do. Maybe your reaction is one of them but let me offer one piece of advice if you don't mind, something I've come to realize as a result of the actions of a longtime friend." She said as she took out her scythe from where it was secured to her back.
The Queen looked up at her curiously and inclined her head, indicating that she should continue.
"I know two things, the first is that if you're ashamed of something you've done, the only good response is trying to fix it, however you can… and I'm just going to guess that bottle's contents aren't going to help you with that." Zesshi said casually.
The pale Queen shook her head but said nothing.
"The second thing I know, is that when you have an enemy, in your case that bottle, there is only one sure fire way to deal with it." She said with a wicked grin.
"And that is?" The Queen asked hesitantly.
"Crush that enemy completely." She said and swung her scythe and severed the bottle clean through, toppling the bottom over and sending the top half spiraling away onto the floor. The wine splashed everywhere, and the Queen flung herself back and crashed to the floor. Zesshi let out a laugh and put her scythe away. She went around the table and reached a hand down to the pale woman, still laughing as the woman looked incredulous about what had just happened. Finally, she found it in her to laugh in turn, and took the half elf's hand. "A while ago, god it can't have been but what, weeks ago… but it feels like a lifetime… anyway what 'feels' like a long time ago, I was looking after a boy who was stubborn about getting stronger, I stomped him into mush on a regular basis, but you know what, despite everything, no matter how often he was beaten down, no matter how often he lost, he never lost the will to get back up and do what he thought he had to do. He was born a peasant, you're a queen, if he can do that much, you should be able to as well." Zesshi then easily helped her up to her feet and touched her shoulder. "See, you're standing up already."
Queen Draudillon brushed off the dust from her clothing and smirked, "I suppose so, but… next time you want to make a dramatic gesture like that, please just pick it up and throw it against something to break it, alright, General Zetsumei?"
"As you wish, 'Queen of the Draconic Kingdom', as you wish." she replied as she stepped back and gave a salute that was equal parts mocking and sincere.
"I'm leaving now, and taking my army with me, we'll meet again before all this is over, perhaps outside Yaksun, after stomping the piss out of another legion or two of Theocracy soldiers, but if we don't, I'll see you again after the war ends when you're officially swearing allegiance to the Sorcerer King in a public ceremony."
"I look forward to it." The Queen said sincerely.
Zesshi frowned. "Damn."
"What is it?" The Queen asked with some concern on her face.
"I just realized…" She said with a tedious sigh.
"What?" The Queen asked with growing concern.
"I could have accomplished the same damn thing… just by taking that bottle and drinking it myself!" She shook her head, "I'll bet it was good too!" Her sigh was much exaggerated, though the Queen's laughter was not.
"Oh, get out of here!" She laughed and pointed to the door, prompting one more salute from the half elf general before she walked out the door.
The next few days were busy ones for both armies as they parted ways, but for Zesshi at least, they were relatively peaceful as she reached No Man's Sea within the week. She notified the Sorcerer King, informing him of her arrival, she took out the scroll she'd been given, and used it. The strange feeling scroll burnt up before her eyes as a mist arose from the sea, and from out of that mist came a fleet of ships, just as she was promised.
Or rather, one would struggle to call them a fleet. Instead one would call them a fleet of nightmares. The ships appeared broken, old, heavily damaged as if from combat, and the crews, the crews were a motley band of waterlogged drowned looking corpses. Their clothing perpetually dripping, and their flesh ragged as if gnawed upon by fish or other life, their skin pale blue and often bloated, with nearly fleshless faces framing milky white eyes, and a faint blue glow, like cave moss Zesshi had seen many years before. The faint hue seemed to expand and contract faintly from their bodies, giving off a gentle hum like wind over hollow broken river reeds. When the ships drew close and curved gracefully to one side, the undead sailors swiftly hauled out long gangplanks and gestured to the suddenly frozen army.
Their gestures were limp, less like they were moving their arms deliberately, and more like they were rocking their bodies to flop their arms up and down in a 'come on' sort of gesture. Zesshi swallowed, fear was alien to her, yet this otherworldly scene was a bit much. Still it was her duty, and so she took the fateful step onto the rotted looking path leading up to the ships. More than once she wondered if it was safe, yet the wood beneath gave no indication it would collapse, and that did not change as her soldiers filed on board soldier by soldier in the ranks of thousands. As one ship filled, it would move aside and another would take its place, the process was efficient, but also eerily silent save for the slow footfalls of the Elven Liberation Forces.
It still took the better part of the day for them all to load, but eventually it was done and the undead crew had seen to their quarters. Strangely enough, despite 'appearing' wet and damp and worse, the beds were not terrible and nobody fell through any rotted looking floors. Zesshi decided to seek out the captain, and the silent crew, though they did not speak from bloated, swollen tongues, got her to the captain who stood in a large wheelhouse that gave him a view of the sea before him. The large, deep bottom ships were impressive, not of a design Zesshi had ever seen before, and each held vast numbers of soldiers with relative ease.
She wondered at first as she walked the massive ship to the wheelhouse, if she would recognize the captain. She didn't have to wonder for long, it was obvious. In the wheelhouse there stood a waterlogged woman with long golden hair, which constantly blew beside her as if in a wind or… perhaps more accurately, as if pulled by a current. She sang sad songs as she guided the vessel and did not look at Zesshi as she entered.
The half elf cleared her throat.
"I know you're there; I just don't care." She said in a bitter, melodic voice.
"Do you know where we're going?" Zesshi asked forcefully.
"I do, I do, because I go too." She said melodically, still working the wheel and still not even looking behind her at Zesshi.
Zesshi was seldom flummoxed, but this… this was all very strange, the woman's body was not bloated, though it too glowed with the faint blue hue, were it not for the otherworldly nature of all this, she might have even though the woman shapely and perhaps beautiful, at least from the back.
"Who are you?" Zesshi asked quietly.
"This one is Dahut of Ys, if you please." She said indifferently. The ship rocked gently underneath them, barely troubled by the waves, Zesshi found she wanted to get a look at the face of this odd captain, so she strode to the window to look out over the sea, at least as a pretense, and then she turned around to speak to the woman again.
She immediately regretted the choice, the face was rotted away, but not in such a way as to leave a skeleton face that was as blank as the Sorcerer King's. This was the face of decay, but she kept her face calm and her voice neutral.
"What… are you all?" She asked.
"We are the fleet of lost Ys, bound to our master to serve on the seas." She said.
"Your master is the Sorcerer King?" She asked, expecting a yes.
She was not disappointed. "We serve the undead king of death, he is the one who grants our rest."
Slowly she rocked the wheel back and forth, swaying as if in a dance to music only she could hear.
"Did he kill you?" Zesshi asked. The captain only shook her head.
"How long will we be on these ships? And are they safe for my soldiers and I?" She asked.
"Here till you're done, then begins the fun. Safe as can be, for you and for me." She said in melodic response.
"What is Ys?" Zesshi asked.
"The city I killed, by water, it filled." She said, her voice mournful and thick with the feeling of loss.
Zesshi sighed, "How will we be fed on our voyage?" She asked, going from curious to eager to excuse herself.
"By the will of the undead, you will all be fed." The captain said, now more clearly annoyed, "Leave me be, I'm busy you see."
It might have been abrupt, but in a way, Zesshi was grateful, it was all a little too surreal and her attempt at making sense of it by talking to the captain had only made things worse. She didn't even render a nod, she simply walked back out the way she'd come and had an undead with a piece of rotted wood replacing his leg from the knee down, take her to her room. The ship rocked back and forth, and she began to find herself very… uncomfortable. She'd never been seasick in her life, and when she'd heard humans complain about it, she'd always laughed it off. Now, she wanted a bucket, and wanted it right that instant. Even if it lasted only days, it was going to be a long few days.
AN: Well there we go again, yes, you got two in one day. :) thank the donor who donated to bdgiving dot org, when you give to my causes, I give to your entertainment. Also, thank the beta readers. :)