AN: For the careful history nerds, you might see some American Civil war & WWII references in here. I take no responsibility for any equipment damaged due to nerdgasms. :D Reviews welcome.
...Chasm City...
A latifundium owner stood in the plaza before the chief administrative building. Behind him was row after row of elf slaves. Draudillon accepted his surrender patiently and with courtesy. Though General Oma seemed less kindly inclined. They sat in a row of chairs that had been placed outside for this purpose, some surrenders had gone well, others not so well. This one... went well. The slaves did not bear copious marks from the lash or show terror from their master, they also appeared reasonably well fed, even relative to the hungry population.
"You're one of the lucky ones." The Queen said to him, only her lips moved as she stared down at him. "The way in which the captives are treated bears on what you will be offered for peaceful yielding of your living property." She explained in a vaguely threatening voice.
"Yours are well cared for, therefore you will be granted a one time amnesty, your land will be confiscated and sold to compensate your forced labor, but you will be immune from prosecution and you will be allotted a place to live where you can... rebuild your life, such as it is. Assuming of course, you are not holding anyone back and are not guilty of any special violations or abuses."
"I am not, I swear." He said urgently, his brown beard was relatively new, obviously he was a young man, probably newly inherited. But Queen Draudillon had developed a very suspicious nature since the purges proved necessary.
"Elves, from this day you are now 'free'. If you wish to fight the Slane Theocracy, we will arm you and you will fight as one of us, with full pay, training, and fair treatment. If you wish to go, you may go, if you wish to stay, you may stay and work for wages. However before your chains are cut, will any of you speak against this man here who called himself your master?"
Silence ruled the plaza.
General Musan drew a knife and descended the steps, he yanked the young man's beard up, baring his neck, he flailed, but he was weak, he cried out, but Musan was unmoved. "A single complaint, and I will end his life here and now!" General Musan shouted out.
Silence continued. Musan released his grip on the young man's beard, stepped back, and sheathed the dagger. "Alright, I guess he's innocent." The plantation owner fell to his knees, then forward to stop himself with one hand. He grabbed his chest with the other hand and gasped with horror at how close he'd come to death.
"Be grateful to the Queen. Then get out." General Oma said peremptorily and chopped her hand across the front of her body and pointing to the exit.
He managed a desperate bow, then dashed out as fast as he could.
"How many more of these?" Queen Draudillon asked as the soldiers started to go through to cut chains and ropes.
General Oma flipped a sheet of paper up and looked at the one beneath, "Six more."
Draudillon suppressed an unhappy expression and forced herself to bask in the relative happiness of the elves who were being set free. "Incidentally, when are you going to use 'the hundred'?" General Musan asked as he returned to her side.
The Queen looked up at him in surprise. He gave a sly smile. "I've been a General for quite some time now, Your Majesty. I remember your magic at Yaksun, and I remember what we talked about before, about using wild magic. If people thought you were just using them for materials, they'd balk, but dead is dead. So a display of noble courage and iron discipline, will yield the same result as if you just had them kill themselves at the gate."
"You're unwholesomely clever, General Musan." Queen Draudillon said with pride in her voice as she turned her eyes up to meet his.
He inclined his head in a minor bow, "I thank you for the praise, My Queen." He said politely.
"To answer your question, there's a fortress nearby, several thousand soldiers, they have a slothful command, I'd thought they would come face us, but evidently they aren't going to do that, so we'll go to them, I'll take down the gate, you all do the rest."
"Clever." General Oma said admiringly.
Queen Draudillon touched their hands with hers, "I am not the Sorcerer King, to have a dozen aims and a hundred plans for everything, but... I am still a Queen, born and raised to that role, and I will fulfill it accordingly. We move out tonight, I want to hit that fortress in the morning, cavalry and ladders, this will be a light raid and we will bring them down by surprise. Pick your best, and we will see it done."
She was not wrong, the busy day gave way to evening, there were many slave volunteers eager for a little payback, so for an extra boost to their combat power, they hitched wagons to the horses, gave the elves simple weapons and armor, what was available among the Theocracy's armory, and brought them along as infantry support.
It was several hours prior to dawn when they reached the fortress. "I don't like this." Queen Draudillon said quietly in the darkness.
"What?" General Oma asked.
"We marched on their city and they didn't move, we attacked and captured their city and they didn't move, we've been there all day and they have not moved even a bit. The Slane Theocracy is a lot of things," Draudillon said as she looked out into the darkness, "but slothful isn't one of them."
"I agree, but we've been very careful, there was some noise inside the fortress while we were on our way here, but nothing since. It just doesn't make sense." General Oma said with a rising sense of caution.
"Well there's nothing to do about it. We'll question the survivors afterward... Which reminds me, tell the elves that we 'need' survivors. They might not realize that." The Queen said pointedly.
"Ah, yes, I will, Your Majesty." General Oma said as she went back to the lines and began relaying instructions.
She had no sooner finished going up and down the line giving hushed orders, when a beautiful sight occurred. Draudillon's maw opened, her jaw dropping as if detached like that of a dragon or a serpent swallowing prey, and from her maw poured the power of one hundred souls, white light raked and wrecked the walls of the fortress, the gate flew in by twenty feet before coming to rest, stone fell and dust filled the air. The few guards on the wall screamed out their deaths as they fell, and General Oma raised, then lowered her hand in the direction of the partially ruined fortification. "Charge!" She shouted, and the cavalry rushed in through the gaps, soldiers asleep in their beds shot up in alarm and rushed to gather weapons and armor.
Commands were shouted that contradicted one another, all was chaos in the night, and elves with a vendetta rushed into the building, stabbing half dressed men and women along the way, it was not a battle, it was more like a brawl as tired and hate filled elves surprised their human oppressors. But to Draudillon's shock, despite all their advantages, it was over far faster than it should have been.
"Scour the fortress, ensure there is no exit out of here that they might have concealed!" General Oma shouted as she slowly rode into the open ground of the fallen fortress.
The sun was up before they were finished gathering the prisoners and searching the area, a handful of Theocracy soldiers survived to curse their captors, but curiously, as Draudillon rode in front of them as they knelt while bound at wrists and ankles, there was little cursing.
Instead there was only one question. "Do you... have any food?" A callow faced soldier asked.
That caused her to blink uncontrollably.
The sun beat down on them gently in the cold morning air, but she felt for sure that their shivering was not due to the weather. "When was the last time you... ate a full meal, soldier?" Queen Draudillon asked, choosing to give her voice a hint of empathy and concern to induce him to speak.
"We've been on... half rations for two weeks." He said, "No noon meal, and only half at breakfast and dinner."
"Is that why you resisted so little?" She asked, "And also, where are the rest of you?"
The soldier's eyes looked haunted, "The long knives made them go."
...Crossroads...
Nightfall came faster than Petyr expected, he sat agitated in the private 'club' such as it was. He'd fidgeted silently at a table, lost in his own thoughts. 'I wonder if they found Eire, if they know I've been there, if she knows which side I'm really on. Would she inform on me? Probably... we've only known each other for a little while. And... damn it, hopefully Cormeum is a deep sleeper...'
A hand slapped him on the shoulder, startling him out of his reverie. "Hey," Owl said in a gentle, concerned voice, "you sure you're OK with this?"
"No. But I have to be anyway." Petyr replied harshly.
"No, you don't, you're out." Rascal said sharply.
"What?" Petyr asked.
"I said, you're out. You're staying behind. I'm not having anybody go out on this kind of thing who isn't at a hundred percent." Rascal said emphatically.
"I'm fine!" Petyr snapped.
"No Petyr... you're not." Moira's voice was filled with touching concern as she approached and touched his cheek. "Listen to him, I've been sitting here watching you the same as everybody else as you twisted yourself into knots. I know you're attached to the kid, and that has tainted your outlook. You can't do this, even if you could, you shouldn't. Just trust me." Moira said softly, "Please." She asked.
"But..." Petyr began only for her to cut him off.
"But nothing, sit this one out." She said, her harsh voice quickly became soft as a mother's touch, and Petyr slumped in his seat.
"Alright, alright. Maybe you've got a point. Just... just try not to hurt him. Get what you've got to get, but then get out. And... Kirak?" Petyr said, turning his attention to the city's underground crime boss.
"Yeah?" Kirak asked.
"When the smiths get out, do me a favor if you don't mind, help the kid get back on his feet again, he's a good one, got promise as a smith, be a shame to see it go to waste." Petyr implored, and after a moment's contemplation, Kirak nodded ever so slightly.
"Alright, I guess it wouldn't hurt to lend a hand, his stolen work will make me a bundle after all." He answered cynically.
Rascal and the others departed quickly under the cover of night, they had carts waiting outside, so getting to their destinations was easy enough. The streets were nearly empty except for the occasional patrol, and with some dummied up military markings and military looking cloaks, they looked to any observer like a unit conducting a midnight transfer, and as such would draw no notice.
One by one they quietly deposited crates of rocks and took crates of weapons from the few locations they'd scouted out. The bright moonlight threatened to expose them, but the careful selection of targets served them well, only those smiths who were of smaller station and could ill afford proper security and with readily accessible storage had their stores 'hit' by the insurrectionist team.
"So you used to do this kind of thing a lot?" Moire asked curiously as they loaded another box.
"Yes, they're big and strong, we're few and weak, but that means we have lots of options to hit them, they get weaker, we get stronger. This may just be a pinprick, but we're literally taking away soldiers right now without shedding any blood." Rascal said with a hint of professional pride.
"Clever, very clever, but we'd best move, I don't want to be here long." Owl said in a hushed voice.
"Agreed, pick up the pace." Rascal said as they cleaned out their first target.
Petyr stood up from his seat, "I'm going out." He said glumly. He didn't need to say anything, he looked up, and both Kirak and Shanda had already gone. 'Wow, I really have been out of it.' He thought, and headed for the door.
He made his way to the bar where he'd first met Eire, it was easy enough to do without worry, the city slept, there wasn't even any bombardment at this hour. One could forget that there was a siege. When he reached the bar, it was closed. He looked around by moonlight until he found a few pebbles, he then moved to her window and threw them one by one at the shutters. A few minutes later, he saw the faint glow of candle light emerge from the gap between the two shutter halves. "Eire!" he whispered hoarsely, "It's me!"
The shutters flew open and she poked her head out and looked down, surprise was etched on her face. "Wait there!" She whispered back, he heard the rush of her feet away from the window, they faded away, then grew louder as she came to the door and opened it up. "Come in." She said hurriedly. She closed and locked it behind her and then rushed to the stairs, taking him up to her room again.
"What's going on?" She asked him. She abruptly demanded as he closed the door to her room behind him.
He let out a heavy sigh.
"Don't play stupid, there were soldiers here, someone said you knew one of the escapees, one of the ones that has been... doing things. Setting fires, killing people... fighting for the monsters outside our walls... it isn't true... is it?" She whispered as she looked down anxiously and played with her hands as they hung down in front of her.
"Eire I... I wasn't trying to lie to you but..." He bit his lip.
"Yeah, you were, but... were you just... using me, was I just a tool to you? I thought you liked me?" She asked.
"I do, I do, and... I... it's true, I'm one of Enri's soldiers, but I'm not a monster, they're not bad, I promise, I promise you. You believe me, don't you?" He asked hopefully.
"But, does that mean you're... you're a heretic... an apostate of the gods?" She asked in a pained voice.
Petyr let out a reluctant deep breath, he reached out and took her hands in his, "I don't know anything about gods or their business, I'm a smith, that's what I know, but I also know when I'm being treated fairly by those who rule over me. They're good rulers, whether you call the one at the top a god or not, he's given us good lives. I don't ask for more than that, I let the gods handle their own affairs, let them argue it out with him if they care to."
"And me... where do you stand with me?" She asked hesitantly.
"Maybe it is because of all the things going on, but... I like you, a lot, after it's all over, I'd like to get to know you in peacetime, maybe... start smithing again, I could settle here, who knows where things could go after that? There's going to be life after war, for all of us." He said and squeezed her hand.
"That... sounds nice." She whispered and leaned closer to him, he kissed her, and she pressed her lips into his in return, their tongues dueled as they disrobed one another, and she pulled him once more into her bed. She drew him into herself and arched her back with kittenish mewlings and pressed her breasts to his chest, every roll her hips drew audible desire from his lips until they shared in common release, and collapsed into her bed, naked and exhausted.
He caressed her cheek and drew her in for a passionate kiss, before allowing himself to fall back down. "Don't worry Eire, everything will be fine, I won't let anything happen to you, just like I promised." He whispered softly and closed his eyes.
"I know." She whispered sweetly as he started to drift off, "Everything will be better tomorrow."
As soon as she was sure he was asleep, she got carefully up out of the bed and put her clothes on, she looked down where he rested. She wanted to whimper, her heart pounded and shrank. 'So... human. I've never seen a heretic before... but he's... he's so much like my dah... the way he smiles, laughs, the way he holds me and makes me feel safe. The way he wants to reassure me. Six gods, if you please... hear my prayer, I don't see the evil I should. He looks, acts, talks... just like us. The way he made the whole bar laugh when I met him, the way he kissed me... and he's here to destroy us? That's his army out there?' She blinked back tears of disbelief, the warmth of his desire still clutched within her body's depths, desire that she too, shared. The guards told her to keep him here by any means necessary... she hadn't thought she'd go this far but...
'Was that seduction part of your dark powers, are you more than a human, an incubus, a demon... why are the gods not answering...' She wondered as she tried hard as she could to listen to the voice that the priests promised the faithful would hear when in conflicted states.
'Punishment, they hold back their voice to punish me over my ambiguity, the faithful must act to protect the faithful... I know what must be done... I know it...' She shook within her boots as she forced herself to acknowledge what had to be done, yet he looked so wonderful lying there, trusting after swearing his protection to her, that she'd be safe, and sure that he was also... 'Must conscience make cowards of us all?' She asked herself, and forced her body to turn against a will not her own, and out the door she went. Down the stairs again and out the door, she only had to wait, patrols were common, it only took a few minutes. A half a dozen Theocracy soldiers were approaching fast, she rushed to them as fast as her feet could carry her.
"The heretic..." She whispered, "One of the heretics is in my home... he is asleep, he's unarmed, he's... helpless." She said, feeling sick to her stomach as she informed on her lover. The soldiers took only one moment to decide to act, they followed her to her bar, she opened the door and led them quietly up the dark stairs, when she reached the door, she put one finger to her lips and whispered "Shhhhh."
The door opened, and then misfortune happened, one of the soldiers drawing his sword accidentally banged his weapon against the armor of one too close to him.
Petyr's eyes popped open with a start, in the dim candlelight he saw the armor of the Theocracy and he flung himself out of bed. He knew quite well he was no match for the hundred, he was not an elite, but he had the strength of a smith and training in the combat arts of Black Justice, and he was also a veteran. He rushed the first soldier he could reach, catching them off guard because he, naked and unarmed, had taken the fight to them.
The guard hastily thrust out his sword intending to skewer him, but he stepped to the outside of the thrust, grabbed the wrist and pulled him forward off balance, twisting his wrist in the process, and stealing the guard's weapon. He took his 'prize' and slashed madly with it, cutting another across the throat before the other four could respond.
Eire shrieked as she watched the fight unfold, wounds began to appear on Petyr's body as, in the enclosed space, he could not do all that he sought. In addition, he was unarmored, with every inch of flesh given by the gods laid bare to their weapons, while they were armored and outnumbered him. Petyr kicked one, hard in his chest and sent him flailing back down the stairs with a terrible cacophony of noise, but before he could recover, a sword found its mark and pierced his kidney through and through. The powerful blacksmith fell with a cry of agony.
Eire watched in horror as he continued to struggle in agony as the guard whose weapon he'd taken, kicked Petyr in the back of the head and sent him sprawling forward to land at Eire's feet. She shrieked again and thrust herself back into a corner of her bedroom. He got up to his hands and knees, intending to rise, then lifted his face, and caught her expression.
She saw his face, the shock and pain of her betrayal etched on every inch, the open mouthed and disbelieving look stayed etched on his face as a sword came down from beside him, and cut into the back of his neck, ending his disbelief forever.
Eire crouched down and turned her face away from the horrible sight, but though she shut her eyes, the vision would not leave her. She could only cry in fear and whisper futile apologies to Petyr, to the gods, to herself... she lost all sense of which she was speaking to, right up until one of the Theocracy guards came up and offered a hand out to her. He helped her rise to her feet, and took a document from his pouch.
"Miss, you've done a great thing for the Slane Theocracy today... now... we don't carry reward money around with us, obviously. But..." he paused and quickly scrawled out his name, a signature, the service she'd performed, and an amount on the document. "This is a reward receipt, take this to any Theocracy treasury office and you'll receive a reward of fifty gold coins for your help in bringing this man down. We'll take the rest of his body out of here now, and our dead and injured comrades. Please, try to get what rest you can, I know this must have been a terrifying, trying experience for you." He said and pressed the paper into her hand, then folded her numb fingers over it as she looked almost catatonically back at him.
Her silent gaze followed them all the way out of her room, but she never saw them for a moment of it, instead she was frantically praying, 'Gods whom I serve, please... did I do the right thing? Please give me an answer... please...' She begged for them to respond, the silence she was granted in turn, was almost as bad as the memory of his face staring at her as his head had been removed from his body.