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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ghostknight" data-source="post: 3447232" data-attributes="member: 15338">Chapter 21Mekior sat eating, stuffing food into his mouth hungrily.  Gyv looked at him and wondered if he had eaten in the time he had been gone. "Slow down, my love.  If you eat too fast you will damage yourself."  Gently she reached out and her hand touched his, holding it back as he chewed messily, bits of food falling from the corners of his mouth.  "Eat slowly; the food is here to stay."  Like a child she coaxed him on, regulating him, making sure he did no damage to himself as he filled his empty stomach. In time, Mekior seemed to gain control and the frenetic stuffing of food and gulping of drink became a gentler and less frenetic activity.   "Gyv, perhaps you can imagine what I went through, what insane tortures they put me through.  That humans can behave in such a manner is beyond my comprehension.  They did things that I have never heard of even the fiends doing.  I was not the only one down there, Gyv." He stopped talking, his eyes taking on a distant, hollow look.  "Anyone they suspect is taken down there for questioning.  Those who can survive their interrogation for three days are deemed innocent and sent away, healed.  The others suffer further tortures unless they give up their compatriots.  I wonder how many innocent people cry out in despair and give up more innocents just to get the torturers to stop?" "They threatened me with the fate of the ones they find guilty.  Perhaps you saw it in the market place?  They say they have a grisly display of those who cavorted with fiends, that they skin them and stuff the skins with straw to give a mockery of their semblance in life.  The macabre remains are left to rot in full view of all.  Gyv, they fight a religious war down here, not just a war against fiends.  I did not understand much of what I overheard, my own pain was too great, but we must watch what we say unless we want to be accused of heresy and have our skins removed to decorate the market place!" "Mekior, you are back with us.  You will not face those torturers again."  Gyv came forward, taking Mekior in her powerful arms, her hug a circle of safety for the tortured fiend.  Within that circle, Mekior finally relaxed.  Tears streamed down from his face, and uncontrollable sobs wracked his body as Gyv held him close.   Jeria looked on, feeling unnecessary, an unwelcome third in the drama of the two lovers before him.  He stood to go, silently crossing the room to step out, only to be stopped as Mekior reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it as if to ensure it was real, and not just a figment of his imagination.  So the tableau was set; Gyv and Mekior clinched together with Jeria's hand firmly within Mekior's grasp, when the door opened and the small devil appeared. "Masters, your presence is demanded by the triumvirate."  The devil laughed at their shocked faces as it gleefully threw a sphere down in front of them.  For the three, the world in front of them blacked out, blurring into nothingness, becoming insubstantial, as a new cavern opened before them, one filled with flame, smoke, and the unending cries of those who felt pain but had given up hope. ***  The strike force stared at the massive fortress ahead of them. "No wonder they feel no need to keep forces here to defend it.  That place is powerful enough that a handful of soldiers could hold back an entire army!"  D'Fir stared at the massive edifice, wondering at the rocks that had been smoothed, and then raised into the sky.  Impossibly smooth, it was obvious that magic must have been used to construct such an edifice; it seemed the height of hubris to think that the 1000 dwarves under his command could breech those walls.  Yet just as magic could raise such an edifice, so it could be powerful enough to bring it down.   The Gir'Thia had best not let us down.  If they do not come as promised, we are doomed! Miles away on the plains outside of Crossroad, General D'Haan looked over the troops that had amassed and awaited his command.  The eaves of the forest were at their backs, the plains hugging the forest and the road to the city a natural place for them to assemble within.  The city was out of sight, a hillock blocking the sight of the arrival of the forces from the city's defenders.  A green clad dwarf came up to the General, his clean-shaven face and cut of clothes marked him as one not native to Fort Livian.  General D'Haan searched his clothes for some clue as to who he was, and saw the emblem embroidered within his clothes, an Outwalker from Lake Harmony. "Seria, right?  What news do you bring?"  General D'Haan's voice was soft, but the effect of his having recognized the other was obvious.  The Outwalker's chest expanded with pride from the recognition by such a legendary figure. "M'lord General, the city is quiet.  It would appear that our arrival has gone unnoticed.  Their guards are asleep and the slave pens still in darkness.  They won't blow the horns to rouse them for a while yet," he smiled at the General, risking the familiarity, "they are ripe for the slaughter, General!  Let us destroy the devils this day!" The General smiled back, his hand reaching out and clasping the shoulder of the scout in a gesture of brotherly camaraderie.  "Soon enough, Seria.  Go and see if any of the mages that have stayed are prepared to fight.  Send any that are willing to me."  He smiled as he watched the young scout nimbly darting back into the mass of milling dwarves that, as he watched, his sergeants and officers were organising into the pre-planned formations for the attack.  Ahh Seria, what would you say if you knew that we were merely a decoy?  That our lives are forfeit to make sure our compatriots are successful?  With luck, we will survive the day, but in my heart I do not know if I truly wish to survive to see the final war! D'Haan sat musing awhile, watching as a group of mages made their way forward.  They all wore blue robes, but those of the more powerful shimmered with the arcane power threaded into their weave.  They stopped before D'Haan, six of them in all.  D'Haan stood and bowed to them, knowing that for these men of the book, the bloodletting and chaos about to erupt would be a massive change from their everyday, sheltered existence. "I am honoured that you have placed such confidence in me.  Come, I will show you what I need of you."  Carefully D'Haan and the six crept up the hill, peering over the edge.  He turned and looked at the magi before him. "Do you see the fence of the slave quarters?  On the far side, near the forest eaves, there is a guard tower.  Are any of you capable of drawing enough power down there to destroy that tower and breach the fence?" "A slave rescue mission, General?"  The speaker was a middle-aged mage, his face scarred with a myriad of tiny scars and one eye permanently clouded from either injury or disease.  Though he seldom left the tower, Tercian was well known to many, a mage that many felt might one day find his way into the annals as an arch-mage. Another of the mages, a young boy, his robes obviously new and his clean face a testimony to a beard not yet growing, cleared his throat.  "I wish I could help you, General, but I am not powerful enough for that as yet.  Though there are some amongst us that most assuredly are!"  His guarded look at the older mage made it clear to whom he was referring. "No, it is more than a slave rescue mission."  D'Haan looked at Tercian, knowing that he was surely the most powerful of those present and thus their spokesman.  "I want the chaos of guards running to block their escape to cover up what will be done next.  After that guard tower is down and the slaves start their run to freedom, I want you to aim for the front gate."  He smiled as they started; the massive iron and stone front gates were well beyond the power of any known mage to split asunder. "I do not look for you to destroy them, merely to scour their ramparts and do as much damage as you can."  He leaned towards them, speaking softly, conspiratorially.  "We are trying to draw their forces out, get them to activate the Gate to bring more warriors to this spot.  In case you were wondering where your compatriots, including Sister Egrit are, they are waiting at the true target.  We must create chaos; thus the strike at the slave pens.  They need blood for their Gate; they have to secure the slaves and thus a dual strike at the pens and the front gate will make them believe they must bring those additional forces in as soon as possible, rather than wait for when they are sure they will need them." Tercian looked at General D'Haan and the young mage, a wry smile twisting up his mouth.  "Never fear Gorgio, I will help.  General D'Haan, you play an interesting game- threaten their ability to bring more troops in later in the battle and they have to bring them in early.  Also, probably the reason you haven't worried over much about getting the mages into the battle.  You need us to haul you all out once we get their massed armies coming through their Gate.  Does that mean that one of the garrisons they will strip to attack us is the actual target?"  He stopped talking, eyes sparkling.  "I do not expect an answer, it is probably best in case something untoward happens, and it would be better for me to not know too much." Standing, he moved to the top of the hill and stared out at the massive, sprawling city with its winding wall that did not encompass the slave quarters.  His arms moved, his voice inaudible from the rising wind.  With an emphatic gesture, he pointed towards the guard tower and a column of flame roared down from the empty sky, engulfing the tower and the fence on either side.  The flames around the tower stayed, a column of flame that burned hotter than any fire should as it incinerated those that stood within the tower and reduced the fence to ash, setting alight those sections near the roaring flame. Eyes burning with power, he turned and faced the city's main gate, once more gesturing, and another tower of flame scoured the gate with its overlooking battlements and the great tower, which housed the winch to shut the entrance.  Smiling he turned to the General and whispered, "I hope that suffices," before gently crumbling to the ground, exhausted from his endeavours. Gorgio stood over him, looking at the two roaring columns of flame that continued to burn. "Act quickly, General.  He burns to keep those flames burning; he has tied his very life to those flames." ***Hilo looked at the human child that lay upon his bed.  The young human smelt and glowed from the oils in which he she had been bathed.  Her body shone slightly in the low light of the room.  His minions knew what he liked; she knew only luxury, brought up in comfort, her every whim indulged, her ten years ones of pleasure and comfort.  All that was about to change, she would soon learn what pain meant and her screams as he abused her body all the more delicious since he knew they were her first.  She looked up at him, no hint of fear at the sight of his red and black mottled skin, the yellow horns, short and razor sharp that crowned his head, a slight reddish liquid visible at their base, a liquid that could dissolve the skin of a foe if he so chose.  He smiled; truly this would be most pleasurable!Hilo had just started, the young girl lay there in chains, welts appearing on her body from each stoke of the whip that fell across her body, when the screams started.  At first the sounds from outside were indistinguishable from those within, but gradually the smell of burning and drumming of feet made him realise that something was amiss.  Pausing just long enough to throw a robe over his nakedness, he stood still for a moment, a blue eyelid flickering over his copper eyeballs, before his body faded and reappeared before the massive archway of the Gate, the cobbles in the square before it stained red. He turned to a white robed fiend that stood to the side of the Gate.  "What is happening?  Who has attacked us?"   The robed fiend looked at the city's lord, and sank to one knee.  With head bowed and a voice that sounded like the growl of a wild dog it answered, "It is the dwarves, Master.  A mage is with them and has called down a column of fire upon the fence of the slave pens as well as upon the gate; none can enter the tower to winch the gates shut.  It burns with more than just heat, it is suffused with holy energy!"Hilo looked at the bowed figure and let out a great bellow of rage.  His foot shot out faster than even the reflexes of a fiend could follow.  The claws of his foot cut through the muscles, bone and vessels in the bowed fiend's head, sending it flying across the square, painting the arch of the Gate with sprays of blood.  Hilo turned around, catching sight of another Gate attendant, standing stunned and shocked at the casual violence he had just witnessed. "Get slaves here, now!  Start bleeding them to bring in reinforcements from the Fort of Peaks."  Hilo's voice boomed out across the square causing a flurry of activity.  One of the white robed attendants looked at him, her voice timid. "Master, shouldn't we bring the garrison from Whale Bay first?"  She kept her head down, inching back, hoping she was out of range of the deadly being that ruled the city.Hilo looked at her, and at the scurrying in the square as slaves were dragged forward, and others went towards the slave pens to bring out the masses of slaves whose blood would power the portal.  "You speak well.  What is your name, attendant?""Mepier, Master."  She kept her voice low and managed to control her trembling.   Never before had she addressed, or been addressed, by the City Master.  Perhaps now was the time for her promotion within the hierarchy, her chance to drink at the font of power. "Mepier.  I shall remember that.  Open the Gate to the Fort of Peaks, now.  Whale Bay is almost empty.  A den of sea elves was discovered recently, and the genocide of those beings is considered more important than maintaining reserve forces when there are other fonts of support.  Take charge of the Gate for now.  Open it speedily, Mepier.  Our foes show their intent by creating a path by which the slaves can escape; they hope to cut off our means of obtaining more troops."  He turned away, heading towards the front gate.  At the edge of the square he turned and looking at Mepier who stood in the midst of carnage, her white robes covered in the blood of the slaves whose hearts she ripped out from their chests and tossed into a niche at the base of the arch.  He called out to her as he left, "Mepier, fail to open that gate in time or force me to use devil's blood to summon aid and your heart will join the pile."  He turned away, knowing without looking, the frenzied pace at which Mepier would now work to make sure the Gate was opened in time. At the main entrance to the city he stood, staring at the column of fire that burned down, preventing anyone from closing the gate.  In the distance, upon a low hill he saw the dwarves, their siege engines moving forward and preparing to attack; armoured troops heading towards the gate that could not be closed.  He smiled, stepping into the column of flame, feeling the intense heat burn his clothing away the holy energy biting into his skin, his own unholy nature screaming at its touch.  He raised his arms, the dissonant clicks and guttural utterings of the fiendish tongue shaping power, as he drew the force powering the fire within himself.  Behind it, he found the thread that led to the mage that had cast and empowered the spell.  Smiling he followed the thread, drawing the very life force of the mage out of the luckless being and using it to refresh, and empower himself.  He felt the cord stretch, the pain of the mage from whom he drew the life force.  It was energising, and the taste of the mage's death as it followed on from the sucking out of the last bit of his life force invigorating, a nectar he seldom tasted, especially from one as powerful as this! With the flames gone, lesser devils charged into the tower, driving slaves before them.  Screams of pain from burnt feet were ignored, harshly barbed whips applied liberally to those who faltered.  The heated metal of the gate winch burned the hands of the slaves to the bone, but they pushed, ignoring the disfigurement and crippling effects of the heated metal, the example of one of their number shredded by the whips, his body left lying, bleeding and dismembered in front of them; a motivating factor in their obedience. Outside in the square, the stolen life force of hundreds of slaves had its effect and the pile of hearts burnt, consumed in a burst of brilliant white flame.   The Gate opened, disgorging measured ranks of devils, marching out and splitting up, with some heading to cover the gap in the slave pens, now no longer blocked by the column of flame, as others heading towards the gate. *** On the hill above the city, a devil stood beside General D'Haan.  "You have your troops from the Fort of Peaks, General.  They are here, now.  See how they line the wall and the gate."  The devil smiled; the bloodlust clear in his eyes.  He looked at where the five remaining mages that had indicated their willingness to fight sat over the body of Tercian.  "I will tell the others that the time for their attack has come.  Good luck, General.  Maybe next time we will get to kill together." The tall, emaciated looking devil drew a viciously barbed scythe, its black blade adorned with red runes that burned, flames dancing along them from time to time.  He wore black armour adorned with similar runes and viscous looking barbs and blades.  Standing close to him the General could smell his perpetual stench of rotting flowers.  Five other similar devils appeared to join him.  "Survive this battle, General.  I wish to meet you again."  The Gir'Thia evaporated, leaving behind nothing but the stench of rotting flowers as they headed to the bloodletting to come at the Fort of Peaks</blockquote>

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