Adhya’s feud with the Spire of the Towering Man had already lasted for centuries. Frustrated by failed siege after failed siege and refusing to be distracted by other targets, the Raegh of Gor’Domn decided to double down on her efforts. Only this time, she would try and employ different methods and tactics than those employed until then. Disappointed with the suggestions of her caste leaders, Adhya turned to her own devises.
She called her officers and demanded that they scout for anything and everything that belonged to the Exiles outside the Spire; from Spire roots to garrisons, trade routes or their flying ship, Adhya demanded to know every available target. From the available options that were presented to her, she chose the one she felt would hurt the most. Gathering her best Hold Ballistae and even Hellbringer Drakes, Adhya prepared to attack the flying ship.
Laying an ambush near the edge of the forest, at the foot of the Hold’s mountains, Adhya was surprised to see a small force of ground troops escorting the ship, along with several transport vats. Ignoring the other targets, as well as the risks involved, the Raegh waited until the airship was in range and unleashed hellfire, ready to sacrifice some of her ranged units. To her dismay, she saw all but the most expendable of the Spire forces ignore her, immediately turning south towards the Spire once more. The airship was damaged but, alas, did not fall. Abandoning all caution in sight of the fleeing target, Adhya ordered her men to chase the airship, only to be ambushed by Spire ground forces on the way.
Cursing her recklessness, she immediately ordered her troops to fight defensively, trying to ensure the safety of her drakes. While in the end she managed to push back the Spire forces, both of her drakes met their end, felled by the hand of an Avatara construct, while the convoy fled. Dying by her hand, the Avatara mocked her inability to cause any true damage to its inhabitant, driving Adhya into a fury which kept her own warriors at bay, in the aftermath of the battle.
Eventually, rallying both her senses and her composure, Adhya ignored the losses, bothered by the level of protection this convoy enjoyed. Eventually, she ordered for her most agile and stealthy warriors to keep track of the convoy and, suspecting more was afoot there, she decided not to return to the Hold.
Instead, Adhya prepared for a longer campaign. Splitting her forces in two, she kept a good presence of light-armored and mobile warriors in a moving camp around the surface, trying to monitor all enemy movements without giving them anything more but a moving target. Her Exemplar, Ognia, was put in charge of establishing a base of operations in caverns, creating a defensible position where the heavier units would remain as reinforcements. Confronted by their limited numbers, Adhya realized she would need the Hold to support this front, if she wanted to control the area and oust Stranger influence in earnest.
With little hesitation, Adhya gave the word that a Host would be prepared; and declared the beginning of her Aimless Campaign.
Adhya stood on a razor-sharp cliff outside the Hold, starring in the distance with narrowed eyes. The sunlight did not annoy her; she had spent more time outside the Hold the last few decades alone than most Dweghom did in their lifetime. She simply disliked it. Much like she disliked this centuries-old stalemate, with the Tree-Strangers hiding in their forests, the Spire-Strangers locked in their disgusting creation and her people turning on each other at every opportunity. No. Things needed to change. All Adhya had to do was to decide was how to change them.
(Choice: )
The Spire of the Towering Man still stands. The stalemate has not dulled the Raegh’s aggression; only strengthened her resolve. The Strangers of the Spire had repeatedly evolved around her fighting style, repelled her every assault and adapted to every strategy she had tried against them. Grunting annoyed, Adhya decides to ignore her first instinct, take a step back, study her enemy anew and try to adapt herself.
She banged her hand on the table, grunting with frustration, as the tokens, banners and towers on the table rattled. It was all more of the same; tried tactics, Memories of past strategies, variations of known and established designs. Her Mnemancers, her Thanes and even the castes, they all offered more of the same as she had thought, tried or rejected. She never believed in what some called the “Curse of the Dweghom” but for the first time she wondered if their perfect memories and their past successes were holding them back, trapped them in limits of their own design. Perhaps the stalemate with the Strangers was in fact a stalemate forged by centuries of Dweghom tradition, a rut dug by…
Adhya exclaimed with frustration, waving her hand dismissively. Such thoughts had no worth, no meaning and no practical use. She needed ideas, not philosophical debates. Still, they remained in her mind, circling in spirals and mirroring her own movements, as she started pacing around in her room, leaving small annoyed grunts now and then. The Dweghom way… always the Dweghom way…
She paused, her eyes stuck on something on the table, her lips muttering incomprehensibly as her mind was racing. Then her eyes sparked and a triumphant smile started spreading slowly on her lips.
She sat sideways, right leg over the stone chair’s arm, left elbow resting against the other for balance. Bouts of feeling ridiculous came now and then, questioning if she looked it too, but she hated the stiffness of such meetings. Besides, she was comfortable and she liked the idea of looking comfortable on the throne. It was a nice reminder for the two standing before her that she was right where she was supposed to be.
“So” she said in the end, “this is what you could come up with? The same, only bigger; not exactly what I had in mind.” She paused, taking in their expressions, or the lack thereof. Kerawegh Rodhorhen’s face looked as if sculpted, his pale skin, lacking hair on both head and face, only enhancing the impression. The Sorcerer Schkaldhad was scowling but that, to Adhya’s understanding, was his expressionless state. For men known for their passionate outbursts at the slightest of insults, Adhya was unsure if this was a good thing or not.
“But bold” she went on, after a while. “The world will shake if either is accomplished and the tremors of this Memory will be felt as far as Ua’Domn. Would either suffice? We probably cannot pursue both and…” her voice trailed off, meant more for herself, than anyone else “…and it’s still more of the same. And yet…”
She reveled in the thought of the possible results.
Choice
Dismiss them both: No. At the end of the day, this is more of the same, if only on a grander scale. True change is needed. Let them both pursue their projects with their own resources to appease them, while she researched the enemy and looked for alternatives in strategy. If she could best the Strangers on the field of battle, undisputedly and absolutely, THAT would be the greatest Memory.
The projects of the castes were promising… and yet they were more of the same, she thought. No. True change was needed.
“You can both pursue your projects” she said in the end “but with your own resources. Do not disrupt each other’s efforts. Let this Memory be carved by the worth of the results alone. I am eager to see them.” They accepted this. They reveled in the challenge. Good. Let them be consumed by their designs for some time. That should buy some calm in the Hold. Once they had left, she called her commanding officers.
”How many times have we laid siege on that Spire?” she asked and went on. “How many times have we failed? I say, enough. We will not allow them to hide behind their bone walls any more. Gather your followings and scout.” She got up slowly, her voice rising with every sentence. “Anything that’s theirs and not inside the Spire, I want destroyed. If they have outposts, I want them broken. If the Spire has roots near the surface, I want them cut. If they talk to humans, I want them dead. If an air or water carriage so much as shows its fragile existence, I want it turned to ashes.” She stood up, clenched her fist, and continued screaming almost.
“Teach them! Everything outside that Spire belongs to the Dweghom. If they want it, they must come out and claim it.”
Her officers grunted with eager approval and she made to sit in her throne, when a thought occurred to her. ”And bring me a piece of their Spire. If it’s alive, I want to know its bone and flesh. I want…” Her voice trailed off and she dismissed her men by the wave of her hand. She sat and thought to herself. To kill a Spire… Now THAT would be a Memory to carve. An act of proper revenge for Ghor’Domn.
But before that, she’d force them on the field. Then we would see how well they truly fared against the Dweghom.
Adhya sat on her throne, staring at the mnemantic runes inscribed in the halls of her throne room. They told the story of Ghor’Domn’s retaking. She went through the part that recounted the capture of the main gate by her and her following, and her duel with the Abomination. “A good day” she thought and smiled to herself but was soon interrupted, as three of her officers were announced. They were the first to come, the first to report their findings. Three officers, three targets. She had expected more; she would have to make do with less.
As she had suspected, there were rumors about the Tall Men dealing with the Strangers but, alas, her men were not exactly the best for subtle information gathering. This line of action would have to wait. Still, an outpost had been found, north of the Spire. It was a living structure like the ones that the Strangers made; a warehouse possibly, or barracks for their forces. Another one reported of a cave complex, not too far from the Spire itself. With some luck and some work, it could be used to find roots – and cut them. The last officer had noted the routes and schedule of at least one of the Spire air carriages; along with ambush points where the Hellbringers could be set up to bring it down.
She looked at the mnemantic runes one more time. They told the story of Ghor’Domn’s retaking. They said the story of the first step that the Dweghom had taken to the road of revenge against the Strangers. Soon new additions would be made, but where would they start from?
Choice
Shoot them down: “Gather the men, equip them with ballistae, and prepare the Hellbringers. We are going to take down their air carriage. A flaming piece falling from the sky, a reminder of our ancestors’ dragon hunts.”
All three targets were very promising. But the choice was clear to her. With fire and arrows, they would bring down the air carriage. A reminder of the dragon hunts of old. A worthy first act against the Strangers.
Soon orders were given, and the Hold burst into action. Preparations had to be made, and even those who would not take part in the ambush were excited. Aghm awaited the worthy in this new war. Cheers echoed all around the Hold. Talks about the great battles that would come and of great deeds that would be remembered could be heard anywhere. The occasional brawl would, of course, break out too. Why wait to gather some Aghm?
A small force of Dweghom was assembled soon. Equipped with ballistae and accompanied by two Hellbringer Drakes, they were fully prepared to take down aerial targets. They marched out of the Hold. Their destination was an ideal ambush spot along a commonly used route of the Strangers’ air carriage. Once they arrived, they scouted the land and air and took positions. On one side, there was a thick forest. The dense foliage hid the troops perfectly from the eyes of the enemy. On the other side, a small mountain loomed. Its exposed side to the forest was full of caves, a perfect spot to hide the Hellbringers until it was time for them to bring their hell.
Then, they waited.
Hours passed before the air carriage appeared in the distance. It moved slowly, lazily, like a rock drifting on the slow flow of a lava pool. It was truly a peculiar sight, Adhya thought, and her warriors seemed to agree. With eyebrows raised, some muttered in wonder, some in excitement, while others, of course, simply spat dismissively, hefting their ballistae.
Its course was parallel to the fringes of the forest, where the trees met the foot of the mountain. Despite the air currents, it would maintain its course, slowly but surely moving ever closer towards the hidden Dweghom forces. She motioned for the Drakes to be brought near the entrance of the caves and take firing positions when suddenly, two sharp whistles were heard: another force was moving through the woods.
Ordering for heads and voices to be kept low, Adhya waited for the proper report. Under the cover of the trees, more Strangers advanced. A ground escort? No. Strange contracts were spotted among their ranks. Their use was unknown to the scouts; they looked like carriages pulled by Brutes. Some of them resembled big chitinous eggs, others looked like tubes filled with liquids, their contents hidden by the thick consistency of the liquid. Whatever they were, the Strangers’ numbers were greater than those of the Dweghom and the warriors were mostly Hold Ballistae, prepared for range combat. But this wouldn’t be a simple bombardment anymore, Adhya realized. She should decide on a strategy quickly. But which one would be optimal?
Choice
Bring it down – Prepare the drakes and ballistae and wait for the ship to be in position. This however will allow the ground forces to be closer when the battle starts, endangering the Drakes and her ranged forces.
She watched them come closer, now and then looking around to check on her forces. With solemn expressions on their face, they stood ready, patient and adamant in their purpose. She paused, realizing that plans, strategies and even her own purposes were forgotten for a moment; for a moment, she was simply proud of them. It was easy to say she expected no less from her Dweghom but it was never truly as clear and simple; nerves, even fear, before battle were natural, despite the eagerness to meet the enemy. Not, however, for these men and women. These were statues of war waiting to come to life.
Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the enemy once more, tracing the slow flow of the air carriage, sliding like a lazy beast through the air. That was the target that mattered, she had decided. Bring it down, fight the rest. As simple as a plan could get.
She raised her hand; immediately, ballistae were armed and the low hum and roar of the Hellfire machines begun, charging their shots. Not long now. Their shapes were clear between the trees, below the rocky crevice of the cavern the Dweghom had entrenched themselves in. The Spire ground forces outnumbered hers and there were memories of bird-like creatures, another twisted creation that fought for the Strangers. It would not be an easy fight, she admitted silently, but the closer the Spirelings came, the more obvious it became that they were transporting something on the ground; materials, provisions? Who could tell with those foul things?
In the end, it mattered not. If the ship was brought down, she expected the rest to retreat and try to safeguard their ground transports and cargo. Let them have it; losing a ship would be enough to get their attention. Today, at least.
“Now!” she screamed and the silence was torn apart by cries, ballistae and the sweet sound of Hellfire canons firing…
(A Dweghom victory of at least 65%-35% is required for the ship to be brought down)
Choice
Spires Victory
“No! NO!”
She screamed, her voice breaking in a maddened croak. The battle had proved easy; too easy, in fact, and later she would have no delusions about why that had been; the Strangers had no interest in fighting. They had sent all their dronelings up the hill, willing to see them slaughtered if their destruction meant a safer retreat, while the transports below had immediately turned tail and headed south and away from the Dweghom positions. The air-carriage was following suit, struggling at first to gain height fast, now to stay afloat. Limping – if that was the word for such things, she thought – the thing performed a slanted maneuver turning south as well, long cords holding deflated fabrics that hang mournfully from its left side, forcing the large cabin to tilt precariously.
To the Burning Depths with it! she thought. If the gas birds had not scared the drakes we would… Why is no one..?
“KEEP FIRING! IT’S ALMOST DOWN! KEEP FIRING!”
She turned and yelled at them furious, but their stone-cold faces holding back their own anger forced her to see. They knew what she was refusing to accept. The thing was out of range.
Letting out a vicious, frustrated growl, she cursed in all ways she knew how; so much so, that she thought she heard someone chuckle. Fools! This is no time for mirth. This was a defeat. Only a few injured, yes, most with burning lungs from the gas-birds, nothing too serious, but it was a defeat. Whenever she failed what she set out to do, it was defeat.
Unless…
Choice
Yes – Push after them and caution be damned.
“After them!”
They had not questioned her order. Not for a single moment. Perhaps another woman would have taken pride in that, both for herself and for her warriors. Not her. She expected them to keep up with her orders, she expected them to follow, eagerly when the target was Strangers. She had kept urging them to go faster, for the flying beast had been wounded, flying limply, but fly it had and it could ignore obstacles. Not so her drakes, loaded with the canons as they were. They had stumbled wearily down the rocky slope, their riders guiding them as surely as they could and prodding them as harshly as they must. Adha had ordered it so. In the end, it had proved a blessing in disguise. For when the ambush had fallen upon them, the drakes were some way back still.
Grabbing her great axe with both hands like a staff, she parried the bone-blade that aimed for her sides with the metal, then punched the clone’s face with the knob. The thing staggered, taking a step back but before it had regained its composure, she had brought her axe’s blade forward to the thing’s abdomen, cracking through the chitinous armor and breaking skin; stunned and hissing in paining, the clone was nonetheless still standing and she grabbed the axe proper and swung with might to drive through armor and collarbone both. She cursed her own sloppiness – three blows for one clone? – but she had no more time than that, before she reached for a drone which was ready to finish off one of her crossbowmen, grabbing it by the back of its armor and pulling it down, then stepped on its neck, ignoring its pitiful whimpers. Offering a hand to the fallen crossbowman absentmindedly, she looked around.
After the initial losses, her warriors were standing their ground, slowly turning the tide. But it was taking too long and the vats and flying carriage both were only barely in range once more. Meanwhile, her drakes were closing in; they could possibly arrive in time to finish off the flyer but she knew the ambush force would concentrate on them above all else. As much as she wanted that ship, replacing Hellbringers was no easy feat.
Cursing the Strangers’ cowardice, she yelled the order.
Choice
Fall back! Protect the Drakes!
“After them!”
They had not questioned her order. Not for a single moment. Perhaps another woman would have taken pride in that, both for herself and for her warriors. Not her. She expected them to keep up with her orders, she expected them to follow, eagerly when the target was Strangers. She had kept urging them to go faster, for the flying beast had been wounded, flying limply, but fly it had and it could ignore obstacles. Not so her drakes, loaded with the canons as they were. They had stumbled wearily down the rocky slope, their riders guiding them as surely as they could and prodding them as harshly as they must. Adha had ordered it so. In the end, it had proved a blessing in disguise. For when the ambush had fallen upon them, the drakes were some way back still.
Grabbing her great axe with both hands like a staff, she parried the bone-blade that aimed for her sides with the metal, then punched the clone’s face with the knob. The thing staggered, taking a step back but before it had regained its composure, she had brought her axe’s blade forward to the thing’s abdomen, cracking through the chitinous armor and breaking skin; stunned and hissing in paining, the clone was nonetheless still standing and she grabbed the axe proper and swung with might to drive through armor and collarbone both. She cursed her own sloppiness – three blows for one clone? – but she had no more time than that, before she reached for a drone which was ready to finish off one of her crossbowmen, grabbing it by the back of its armor and pulling it down, then stepped on its neck, ignoring its pitiful whimpers. Offering a hand to the fallen crossbowman absentmindedly, she looked around.
After the initial losses, her warriors were standing their ground, slowly turning the tide. But it was taking too long and the vats and flying carriage both were only barely in range once more. Meanwhile, her drakes were closing in; they could possibly arrive in time to finish off the flyer but she knew the ambush force would concentrate on them above all else. As much as she wanted that ship, replacing Hellbringers was no easy feat.
Cursing the Strangers’ cowardice, she yelled the order.
Choice
Fall back! Protect the Drakes!
“FALL BACK! Protect the Drakes! To me! To me!”
She swung her axe wildly around her, trying to open space for her warriors to gather to her, as she forced her way towards the Drakes. Damnations and curses take them all! In her fury and fervor, she had ventured too far from the rear lines. With the battle joined in earnest, it would take time for her to reach them and…
She paused when she saw him. A Stranger, in clone armor, unremarkably in every way, except in the calmness of his expression and the fact she could see his expression. That pale, sickly skin most of those bastard shared was almost shining even under the forest’s shade and his eyes looked like dark pools, sucking light instead of glittering with it. He smiled at her from across the field and mouthed something. Your drakes’ blood is mine. Then, following his nod, she saw one of the vats open… and an Avatara crawled out, dripping with purple goo.
Screaming with frustration, cursing her own stupidity and recklessness, all the while fighting with every fiber of her being from rushing to him and painting that grin on his face with crimson, she yelled orders again. This fight just got a lot harder very fast. She needed to protect those Drakes.
(Adhya needs to defend her two Drakes, each represented as a line on the “Victory” side. As Drakes are difficult to replace, this will affect the theater of war in the area, beginning with the war between Gor’Domn and the Towering Man.)
Outcome
Victory (Both Drakes fell)
She fought like a maddened woman, only the flames missing from her berserker-like ferocity and recklessness, once she saw the first drake fall. The beasts mournful roar thundered over the battlefield, drowning the death-cries and clatter of battle. And that was her mistake.
Had she kept calm, or as calm as battle permitted, had she remained focused, perhaps the second could have been saved. But her eyes turned instead on the Avatara, locked on it even as drones and clones fell around her like leaves in autumn.
She told herself that this was the clever thing to do. Striding with its awkwardly long legs, the Avatara had circled around the ambush to reach the drakes practically unchallenged. Its long blade had delivered the final blow and she had no doubt it planned to fell the second one as well. So yes, she told herself it was the clever thing to do. Kill the Avatara before it killed the second drake. But she was lying. She was looking at the thing as a target, not an objective. She was looking at where it was, not what it was doing. So, when she finally reached him, her arms numb by the path of slaughter she had carved, she yelled with fury as she charged. Seeing her, the Avatara readied a thrust with its long blade and she knelt, sliding while she aimed for the legs, those cursed legs that had brought it here faster than she had come.
It left a howl, as the leg broke like a twig then collapsed under the weight of the tall body. Throwing her axe aside, she fell on its torso before it had a chance to move and started punching its face, feeling her knuckles bleed under her gauntlets, as the hardened mask of the Avatara cracked and shattered with each blow. Only its pained laughter gave her pause, her widened eyes confused. Then she heard a thud that caused the ground to shake, and the price of her obsession became clear, the drake fallen on its side with the long blade sticking out its neck.
Without a moment’s pause, she drew a dagger from her boot and lifted it over its neck.
“Die, scum,” she whispered but the Avatara laughed again.
“Die?” it said with a broken, pained voice. “No, no. Soon I shall look upon you from my ship, see your little, insignificant existence as it truly is: no more than an ant before…” its last words drowned in a gurgle as the knife was plunged slowly, deliberately into its neck.
She spat, then got up, seething her dagger and lifting her axe in the process. She looked around, her eyes avoiding the massive drake fallen next to her. Routing the last of the clones, her warriors were fewer than she would have liked but more than she had expected. The battle had been won and the ambush repelled, plus, she had an Avatara body at her feet. Despite the heavy price paid for it, this was not a total loss.
Choice
She let the warriors rest but keep following the convoy from a distance. There was something afoot here and she needed to know what.
When the Raegh was in a foul mood, her warriors knew better than to disturb her. “Foul mood” was an understatement after losing two drakes and Adhya was left cautiously alone, as the aftermath of the battle went on almost silently around her, broken only by the grunts and curses of the wounded and the final blows of the Clones and Drones left behind. There were always things to do after a battle, and Adhya’s Dweghom went about them slowly and deliberately, giving her a wide birth. Even Irdhai, her Mnemancer, decided first to record the other Memories of the field and leave her Raegh for last. It was, most thought to themselves, a wise decision.
For her part, Adhya did the same. She kept to herself, sitting on the torso of the accursed Avatara, allowing her pants to slowly turn into calm, deep breaths in time. She said nothing, ordered nothing and tried to think even less, looking but the dirt between her feet for some time. It did not last long and soon her mind started racing.
It was not normal, this convoy, she figured. Not routine. The Strangers had sacrificed much to keep her from it, including an Avatara that came out of the handful of those blasting vats. Did the others held more of this disgusting constructs? Some had looked the same, it was true, but others did not. Assuming they had not known about her ambush and considering the resources – for that, she knew, was how the Strangers thought of their warriors – that they had thrown at her so readily, this was the security they had provided for the convoy just in case something happened. It was too much, even by their extravagant standards, doubly so since it wasn’t a Drone force they had brought along. She needed to know more.
“Anghas,” she yelled, not really sure how much time had passed. The eager response from her ballista officer was mixed with a dose of terror, as sympathetic looks showered the darkbearded Dweghom who was rushing to his Raegh.
“Yes, Raegh?” he asked dutifully.
“I don’t want to lose that convoy,” she said calmly, triggering a sigh of relief from the officer. “Suggestions? Do you have any fit that you’d trust with tracking them, as the rest of us follow?”
“Our two trackers were killed or injured in the ambush, Raegh,” he said then paused, seeing Adhya’s look. “Brandanh, Angheldrhos, Shaghatti,” Anghas went on, after a moment’s thought. “Ekhennia too, if her leg is not too bad. Myself as well. They are the best I have but they are not really trained for this. If another ambush by those creeps awaits them, they’d fall before we reach them.”
“We’ve lost many already. Can we spare them?” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Could we all follow, you think?” she asked in the end.
“It’d be safer in case of another ambush,” Anghas nodded. “If you want to follow unseen, then we must take our chances with those four. If we all follow, it’s safe to assume we’d be spotted. We can keep a greater distance and we’d still be able to follow the ship at least, possibly track the convoy if necessary.”
Choice
Stealth.
Patience was not one of her virtues.
Whatever calm she had managed to regain after the battle, she was beginning to lose faster and surer than before. She had done her best to keep busy, knowing this would happen. So, she had put on a show that her force was staying put, ordering for her warriors to make camp, in case they were being watched. She had even called for the scouting team before they had left, yelling at them and ordering them out of her sight to cover for their departure, which was about as deceitful as she could or was willing to be to fool the Strangers. After that, she had seen to the hauda, canons and armor of the drakes with her men, then saw to the recovery and preservation of the Avatara, to bring back to the Hold for study. But once all of those were done and she had to pretend she was calm and settling, her acting skills failed her. Her mind kept running in circles, trying to imagine what her scouts were doing, what they were seeing, jumping at every sound that came from the forest, as she expected one of them to jump from the vegetation and give her the all-clear to follow.
A Watch passed. Then two, the sun had truly set by then. Still, she was awake. Still, she was pacing up and down, snapping at anyone who had come to ask her something or report. Three watches passed and still she waited.
Patience was not one of her virtues.
Choice
Mission Success.
“Weavers,” Anghas said grimly. Adhya raised an eyebrow so the officer went on.
“It must be,” he said. “The shapes matched nothing we’ve seen from the Spire Strangers. There was another Avatar in one of the vats, Shaghatti said, but the two I saw up close had Weaver things. I’d stake my Aghm on it. I’ve even heard their word for it from one of the clones.”
She nodded thoughtfully, striking her chin, as if she had a beard but once more she said nothing and Anghas went on with his report.
“They’ve laid one ambush on the way but it did not stay on the same spot for long. They were more interested in staying close enough to the convoy but far enough to not let us come close to them without another battle.”
“The air-carriage?” she asked.
“Still with them,” Anghas replied. “It is slower and there are drones hanging from ropes doing repairs as it moves, but it keeps up, barely.”
Again, she nodded in silence, her hand on her chin working almost obsessively.
“At a crossroads, they met with another small force,” Anghas said finally. “Some from Hanged Man, the others looked different. Their chitin was colored like Laphuslazzulh, with yellow veins marking their blue. Not local. They turned southeast, not towards the Spire.”
“How many?”
“A Blade for each Spire,” he said grimly. “Two dozen drones, half a dozen clones, each Blade led by an Executor.”
“Too many,” she muttered. “A dead one’s Aghm,” she went on and Anghas nodded in agreement.
“I left Shaghatti and Brandanh to keep tabs on them from a distance and see where they take the vats.”
She nodded approvingly, as high a praise as she would give while in this mood, Anghas knew.
“We cannot engage them, not without Drakes,” she muttered after a moment, more to herself than to him. “But if they’re in alliance with another Spire, I need to know.”
“Could they have befriended Weavers?” Anghas suggested. “Perhaps a trade with splinter faction, or…”
“No,” she cut him off. “More likely, they sell what they stole from their cousins,” she added spitting with disgust. “But if the Weavers know, they’ll come looking and we’ll be caught in the middle, with no drakes and less than a Blade and a Bolt able.”
She jumped up, tilting her head until the neck cracked, then flexing her back as well.
Choice
I want us involved – We’ll hide the Drake equipment and Avatara and send for reinforcements. It is guerilla warfare, now. I want all Strangers to know they cannot move unchallenged here.
“The mountains and caves would be the first place they’d look for us, Raegh,” Anghas said.
“There is a reason for that,” she said, smiling, her eyes shining in amusement. “We know mountains and caves. We know how to work them, we know how to use them.”
“And they know that as well. So that’s what they’d monitor and eventually they would find us for all expeditions would launch from the same place. Unless we find deep tunnels, we’d be trapped. But if we stayed at the foot of the mountains, let the trees hide us, we’d have more options, more maneuverability for we could move the camp around and they’d never think to look for us there.”
“The forests are for Weavers, Anghas,” she snickered, “and they’re bound to come looking for whatever it is the Spire stole from them. We would also keep the hauda, canons and the Avatara alone in the caves or exposed in the forest. I see the Memory you would forge, Anghas, and I praise their merits. But I am not convinced.”
“There is no reason we can’t do both, Raegh,” Ognia, her Exemplar, said. “I rushed with my following, but more will follow. We will have enough to garrison some in the mountains, while a more agile unit stays in the forest.”
“We would be split. Exposed. Probably outnumbered if either group was found and a fight broke out.” Adhya shook her head. “I don’t like it. Maybe if the castes would send a proper force…” she said, raising her voice and eyeing to the side, where the Drake Sorcerer was talking with his initiates a few dozen lengths from them. “What of the patrols?” she said, turning her attention to her small council.
“We have figured that out and established a rotation,” Anghas said. “Three teams of three consecutive Watches for the scouting, standard patrols of one Watch for the camp. Raegh, what remains is to decide what will they guard…”
Choice
Split up the teams – Take the equipment in the caves, keep a more mobile force in the forests.
“Ognia hits the steel,” she said after some thought. “We send the hauda and the heavy equipment to the mountains. We find a good cave, fortifiable and deep. That will be our main seat, where the main force will wait. We’ll need sorcerers for this, Stone and Fire both. And some automata for the work.”
“That will take time,” Ognia said, “even if the castes answer the call quickly.”
“True but I don’t want anyone trapped in there,” Adhya responded. “We lost people already, I’ll be burned if I lose more when they could be saved. Tell them we need the bare minimum and they’ll be faster. It serves their reluctancy but serves me too. I don’t want to leave the Hold undefended. The castes with what’s left of the Clan will stay put.”
“And the rest of the forces?” Anghas asked.
“A lighter force, agile and quick, will make a moving camp in the forest, as you suggested,” she responded. “They will do the grunt of the work; scout for new targets, ships, roots, convoys, anything, then also keep an eye out for the Weavers if they come. The important thing, however, is to make the Strangers think that they are the main force, though. They must hit and run when they must; strike hard and fast then leave. Then, for bigger targets, they can secretly alert the main base for some heavier stuff to launch proper assaults.”
“If they think they’re the main force,” Ognia commented, “they’ll try to find it and destroy it.”
She nodded. “If that happens, the main forces will flank them and the wrath of the Ancestors will fall upon them. If we do a good job, they won’t be expecting that; and there won’t be survivors to let the others know,” she finished off with a grin.
She paused, putting her thoughts in order, as she had been talking from instinct.
“This is a deep mine we’re digging here; this is the new war we’ll wage and it’s going to take time. But I wanted a new way to fight them; might as well be this. If we do a proper work of this, if we weaken them enough, then for all I care we can bring down the whole Host to the Spire.”
Ognia and Anghas nodded. “Where will you stay, Raegh?” Anghas asked.
Choice
The Forest Camp – Adhya will risk herself in the fights to come, while Ognia runs the main base.
“I will be where the fighting is,” she said with a smile, answered by her officers.
“When have you not, my Raegh?” Anghas chuckled.
“That leaves you, Ognia, to run the main base,” she said and the Exemplar shrugged, grimacing with disappointment.
“Sometimes I think the only reason you ever even raised an Exemplar was to do the things you are too bored to do yourself, Raegh,” Ognia snorted and Adhya laughed.
That was twice now she had laughed in just as many moments. She had purpose; she had strategy; and she had people willing to see them become Memories in her name. Today, she thought, was a good day to be Adhya.
“I suspect all Raegh do,” she said in the end. “Get it done, Ognia. And go to the Hold yourself once you’ve found a place and the hauda are secured.” The Exemplar nodded sharply and turn to leave, already shouting for her Thanes to spread the word.
“What of us, Raegh?” Anghas asked.
“I ask the same, Anghas,” she answered. “You Remember much of the Surface and its ways. Our Memories are in your hands.”
“Then I say we move every two nights,” the brown-bearded Dweghom replied, running his hand over his shaved and marked head, a habit which Adhya believed betrayed troubled thought. She could not blame the man. Until recent events, he was a petty officer of the Hold’s Ballistae, skilled mostly in tracking than in combat; a skill the Mnemancers did not much reward. Her words, she knew that Anghas was coming to realize, could let him forge a Memory he hadn’t dreamed of, maybe even get his own House at the end of this campaign. “One if need be. Until Ognia settles and we establish communications, we are alone here and we are not many.”
“It will be so, then,” she answered. “How do we track them?”
“Four groups of three, two scouting, two in reserve, rotating every Duty. Of the scouting parties, one scouts ahead to secure the next location of the camp, the other scouts targets a Bright’s distance from the rest.”
“Where do we search?”
“Nowhere yet,” he replied hesitantly. “Until Ognia settles, we use the time to train and perfect rotations, scouting and moving the camp.”
This gave her pause. It was too careful a plan for her taste. Too slow. She wanted the momentum going, not let her people turn to drill mode. Soon they’d be bored and boredom bred fights. Even if they did not attack, knowing a target was found would keep them focused. Still, she admitted to herself, she did not know surface ways like Anghas and that meant the training could be useful. Some of the youths among them were walking under the sky for the first time since their Camps.
Choice
It will be so – Adhya will let Anghas run the day to day and train the Forest Camp, until Ognia settles and this operation is well established.
‘Every tongue of flame in my heart is screaming to push on,’ she muttered between her teeth. ‘But you have the right of it. The patience of stone must prevail. This is no battle anymore. This is a Campaign. The Camp is yours, Anghas, until the next step must be taken.’
‘Raegh…’ the scout said uncertainly but Adhya turned her head to face him with a frowned look.
‘You have commanded Followings before,’ she said flatly.
‘They did not include my Raegh,’ he retorted. ‘Nor nearly as much Aghm gathered,’ he went on, his eyes searching for the Mnemancer, who was gathering the last of the Memories from the battle.
‘You will be my Second. And among those that share your skills, you are the most worthy,’ she said.
‘There are Scouts older and with more Aghm. Scouts that guided the March from the Lightrise side to here, Raegh,’ he said.
‘And if we were marching back towards the Lightside side, I’d pick one of them. Your Camp was here, as have been most of your Duties. Among the younger ones that know the Surface here, you are the most worthy. This I Remember.’
‘I will be challenged.’
‘Then win.’
‘You will be doubted.’
‘Doubts don’t affect me. Indecision does.’
‘I will do this,’ Anghas said sternly, if but after a moment’s pause.
‘Then it is done.’
Nodding her approval, she jumped on a rock and raised her voice to let her orders be known.
Choice
She focused on her announcing a Campaign.
It is Remembered that during her speech Raegh Adhya declared a Campaign against the Strangers. Gone were the days of skirmishes and battles. War would come to her enemies and her Hold would march with her.
It is Remembered that she consulted not with the Mnemancers before her decision.
It is Remembered that her people were split in two; both in mind and presence. In presence, for she declared no Host, and the forces of her Campaign were split; some would track and hunt the Strangers, those who Weave and those who Conspire in equal measure. The rest would form a Hold-outside-the-Hold, a Camp from where they’d hit targets located by the tracking force.
In mind because many feared the Mnemancers’ reaction – or their inaction. Many more still feared that the Aghm the Strangers would yield would not suffice to quench the thirst of some.
It is finally Remembered that with that speech and declaration, Raegh Adhya, called Ruin of Strangers, launched the Aimless Campaign – which came to shake the lives of all who lived in the divide between the lands of Humans and Weavers. And which shed light, and blood, in the absence of the Weavers from centuries of Memory.
* * *