Chapter 28
“Compagnon are finally making their move,” Fara told the assembled cabinet. “And it’s a big one.”
“Indeed. We’ve rooted out almost all of their agents and allies near Anceston and Port Mayfield. They have no choice but a full offensive,” Grigor said.
Grim faces met the pronouncement. Taras had spotted Compagnon’s movements a few days ago, causing Rys to immediately recall his cabinet to discuss actions.
Grigor and Fara represented his military and they assembled figures on top of the map inside the war room. Vallis, Alsia, and Maria watched nervously. Walking between everybody, Tyrisa handed out recording crystals with images of Compagnon’s forces as well as important reports.
Breakfast sat untouched to one side. Everybody nursed tea or coffee. Rys was on his third coffee, as he had been talking through developments with Vallis since dawn.
Given the situation, almost everybody had traveled during the night. The Malakin and Ashen had ensured their security.
“They can’t be planning to attack Port Mayfield and Anceston at the same time,” Maria said. “Every advance they’ve tried to make has failed. Why would they try the same thing, but with more forces?”
“Because that’s not what they’re doing,” Rys said. He pointed at a mass of figures between Compagnon’s capital, Aretiers, and Anceston—they were massed at a town known as Harpiscon. “The soldiers at Harpiscon are a distraction. They didn’t expect us to spot the attack on Port Mayfield.”
“If they attack Port Mayfield, won’t that anger Tarmouth?” Alsia asked.
“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Vallis scowled. “We finally found out why Tarmouth is so angry with Compagnon. The Malus League are involved. Even though we cut off the supply of artifacts to Compagnon, they somehow were still selling a ton to Tarmouth. There’s only one other source they can have.”
Alsia’s eyes widened. “The elders were cooperating with the Malus League all along? That’s… that’s an even greater betrayal than I imagined.”
“I doubt they knew,” Vallis said. “Your artifacts were a cover for the Malus League.”
“Why?” Rys asked.
Everybody looked at him.
“Right, you wouldn’t know.” Vallis nodded. “The Malus League tried to invade Tarmouth once before. They’ve been cut off ever since and forced to rely on smugglers and land trade.”
“Yes, that explains a lot,” Rys said. He sighed. “So now Compagnon’s cover is blown and Tarmouth is cutting them off?”
“Yep. My contact even forgave a huge amount of the loan they gave us. Called it ‘war relief,’ although it’s only if we shut down Compagnon.”
That was some genuine bad blood between the Malus League and Tarmouth. Then again, Tarmouth were funding the enemy of their enemy. To the merchants ruling the city, the money they gave Rys was nothing compared to destroying a competitor.
No, destroying a threat. Tarmouth saw the Malus League as an existential danger. Something to remember in the future, when Rys needed to deal with his southern neighbor.
“That’s nice, Vallis, but we have a problem now,” Fara said. “Compagnon have given up playing nice. They’re going for the throat and trying to take Port Mayfield in the hopes that they’ll cut us off from the world. They have nothing to lose now.”
“Why not send Captain Grigor to destroy their army in the west? Then return and deal with the army at Harpiscon?” Maria suggested.
On the surface, it appeared possible. The army approaching Port Mayfield would take another couple of days to reach it, given how poor the roads were. Grigor moved fast by contrast.
“They will attack Anceston the moment we are out of position,” Grigor said, his eyes dimming behind his helmet. “They could reach the city in a day. Perhaps less if the officers cracked the whip. I have maintained a strong vigil to prevent this.”
“Why haven’t you taken Harpiscon yet?” Alsia asked.
“It’s a day’s march from Aretiers and full of mages.” Rys shrugged. “The moment we take it, Compagnon will throw everything at us. Capturing it will allow us to take Aretiers at any moment. It was the next move, once things solidified.”
Rys stroked his chin. He’d hoped to have announced himself as king before now and summoned more infernals. The situation with Barul and Alsia had absorbed more time than he’d anticipated.
His cabinet debated with each other what the best action to take was. But there weren’t many infernals to deploy, and neither Maria nor Alsia had a large army. Alsia hadn’t even finished taking up her position of elder over her dains. If she tried to raise an army from the Kinadain, she might find herself staring down a rebellion instead.
Rys couldn’t help but feel that if he’d had a spymaster, then this situation would never have happened. The Malakin were talented, but Taras wasn’t a proper spymaster. Neither was Grigor nor Fara. Compagnon’s actions were spotted after they took them, not before.
A good spymaster would have agents inside Compagnon, capable of spotting and sabotaging an attack like this in advance.
Something to talk about later. He still lacked the power to summon Asa safely.
For now, the solution to this problem was straightforward, but unfortunate.
Defend Port Mayfield with Grigor and the infernals. When Compagnon attacked Anceston, hold them off with a militia until Grigor returned. The cost would be great, however.
If Rys could leave the castle himself…
“Grigor, how many infernals would you need to defend Port Mayfield?” Rys said. “Without worrying about Anceston.”
A hush fell over the room.
Grigor eyed Rys for a long moment. “If I do not need to return to Anceston quickly, then not too many. The foe consists of elite knights and spellblades from Gauron. I would only take elites. My best noble demons, half of the Ashen, several Lilim, and some Malakin for scouting.”
That left the fodder to defend Anceston.
By itself, it wasn’t enough. The reason Rys had been wary of taking Harpiscon was because it contained several mages, and it had been reinforced with a company of mercenary knights. Compagnon had spent big—or were relying on Malus League soldiers pretending to be mercenaries. He had wanted Compagnon to split their forces first, like they had now.
“Do it. Take them,” Rys said. “Send everybody else south of Anceston.”
“Rys—” Fara began to say, her eyes widening in alarm.
“I have something I want to try. If that fails, then I’ll summon additional infernals to win the battle,” he said.
Grigor nodded. “Understood. I will leave it to you.”
The demon prince stalked out of the room, leaving the others to wait in silence.
Turning to Maria, Rys said, “I’ll need you to prepare everybody for a major battle near Anceston. If I succeed, it won’t come to that. You should also prepare for my infernals to be spotted.”
“You believe it will be that bad?” Maria asked.
“A battle of this size near Anceston will attract attention. Compagnon will try to spread fear as well.” Rys clicked his tongue. “In fact, everybody should prepare for this. Vallis, Tarmouth might get cold feet. Same with the Kinadain, Alsia.”
His three administrators nodded, but their expressions were grim.
After he dismissed them, Rys immediately headed to the sub-levels. Orthrus lurked down here somewhere. Time was of the essence, as Rys didn’t know how long it would take to do what he wanted to do.
“Rys, wait!” Fara shouted. Her shoes clicked on the stonework as she ran after him. “What is this about?”
He didn’t slow down for her, but she caught up to him anyway as he started poking his head into every room. Her tails hung low behind her.
“Rys?” she asked.
“I’m looking for Orthrus,” he said.
“Not going to tell me what you’re doing?” she asked. “I might be able to help.”
“I doubt it.” He paused. “No, there’s the slimmest of chances that you might be able to help. You said foxes can teleport?”
“I’m two tails short of that, Rys.”
“But you have the potential. That means something about your magic allows you to. I might be able to use that,” he said.
Despite his lack of an explanation, Fara dutifully followed him through the sub-levels. Eventually, they found Orthrus in a small room close to the kitchens.
The wisp hovered over a book, but this time an imp stood beneath him.
“Next page,” Orthrus said.
The imp grumbled but turned the page.
“Since when have you been abusing my imps?” Rys asked.
“If this is abuse, I wish to hear your word for some of the things your demons do,” Orthrus said. The wisp stared at Rys for several moments, then sighed. “I take it you are not here to talk.”
“Oh, we need to talk. But I need you to come with me.”
Rys dragged Orthrus to the control room. Fara looked around at the strange room in confusion.
“So, what exactly are you trying to do in here? This is where you control the castle from, isn’t it?” Fara said. “Don’t tell me you’re going to move the castle to Anceston or something?”
Rys paused, then looked at Orthrus. “Can I do that?”
“Perhaps eventually. Castle Aion’s location is not fixed, although that is a complex situation,” Orthrus said after a moment’s thought. “But I doubt you have the power to maintain a mobile connection to the Labyrinth.”
“Power, huh.” Rys nodded. “Sounds like a lot of what the castle can do comes down to power. And that power comes from the Labyrinth, doesn’t it?”
Orthrus looked at Fara, then back at Rys. “In a matter of speaking.”
Rys waved at the power slates. “The slates are made of the same material as the power conduits. Those conduits power the seal, which is what keeps me trapped here. But you said yourself that somebody could take them outside the Labyrinth.”
“Not very far. But yes, they could. I do not follow.”
“Why can’t I use the power of the castle to leave here? Or, more accurately, the power of the Labyrinth? Given they’re the same,” Rys asked. “Because I did that earlier when I put a slate in here. I couldn’t leave the keep, and then I could. If I surrounded myself in a bubble of magical energy drawn from here, why would the seal trap me here?”
Orthrus remained silent, but Rys knew that the spirit was thinking.
Meanwhile, Fara looked lost. She only knew the very basics of what the slates and castle did.
“Yes, that might work. But the cost would be extortionate,” Orthrus said. “I do not recommend trying to go far. Or leave for very long. The damage that could be done to you if you ran out of power outside of the castle could be enormous. Ideally, someone could teleport you. Or you’d have a failsafe that teleports you back here.”
Fara shook her head. “I can move fast, Rys. But I can’t teleport. Are you sure this is worth the risk?”
“You’re the one who told me I needed to get out of the castle more,” he joked. When her expression didn’t budge, he shrugged. “I’ll test it out before I try it. But I’m the only person other than Grigor with the power to fight armies. If this works, it will also lower the suspicion as to why I don’t ever leave the manor.”
Fara didn’t agree, but she didn’t disagree. Rys took that as a win.
With Orthrus’s help, he was able to channel the castle’s power around his entire existence with a day’s practice. Rys was using magic drawn through the power slate. Originally, he’d reserved it for summoning, but this was far more useful right now.
The hardest part was protecting his soul, as even that needed to be protected.
“A little more,” Fara said, using her tails to detect Rys’s magic in the astral plane.
Rys was a sorcerer. While it was possible to affect the astral plane with sorcery with sheer brute force, his ability to sense the effects was minimal.
“I didn’t know you could do something like this,” Fara said.
“If you couldn’t, angels and other astral beings would be immortal. It just takes obscene amounts of power to affect the astral plane,” Rys said. “It’s also what makes archangels effectively immortal. They exist as concepts in the greater astral plane. The amount of power necessary to truly kill one would vaporize Harrium.”
“Really? Then what happened to the ones who are missing? I thought several died in the Cataclysm?” Fara asked.
“They did die, but they come back. My old mentor called it ‘ether-touching’ as a new archangel inherits the power and memories of the old one through the astral plane,” Rys said. He ticked off fingers. “Azrael died first, when Hades was destroyed.”
“Hades?”
“One of the two continents. Home of the reapers. Don’t worry much about it, but it is the source of the death wind that makes sailing so dangerous,” he explained. “Next was Samael, I think. He went down at some point after Pandemonium—that’s the other continent that was destroyed—declared all out war against everybody. Raphael just vanished when the archangels leveled Pandemonium. Popular theory is that he was used as fuel to nuke the continent.”
“Fuel,” Fara said flatly. “They used an archangel for fuel?”
“To wipe out a continent and all traces of its inhabitants. You don’t know the angels. They’re not cuddly, friendly do-gooders. Rather, they’re frightening automatons of death and destruction that obliterate everything that gets in their way. There’s a reason it took a century for the entire Infernal Empire to push them back, even though the angels were weakened,” Rys said.
Fara frowned and looked away. Her tails curled around herself protectively.
After a few moments, she tried to say something. But then she stopped.
“Can we talk after this?” she said. “The battle, I mean.”
“We can talk anytime, Fara,” Rys said. “But I get what you mean. Let’s deal with this first.”
They had an army to destroy.