The Truce - 16. Chapter 16

Talia lay with one side of her face pressed to the cold floor, her hair spilling out in every direction across the stone and over her face. She could no longer tell whether the red haze in her vision was from her hair, or something else.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Talia had been force fed by Yago over the past several days, and each ritualistic meal made her inch closer and closer to losing her mind. Logic became harder, and she felt a dense fog wrapping itself around her brain in repeated waves.

“Ugh,” she groaned. She could barely move her limbs, and was struggling with the convulsions that seemed to linger after each feeding. This is a terrible sickness. Had I known what mother was going through all the time… maybe our relationship would have been better.

Talia tried to picture her mother now, along with the faces of her father and brother. They were hazy, and she had to pour all of her concentration into focusing in on her memories. Animal instincts raged through her body, and all that she wanted to do was hurt something. The war between the urge to kill and keeping calm was wreaking havoc on her, and it made her outward appearance disheveled. Her eyes were bloodshot, her throat was hoarse, and her veins seemed to bulge in a way that she had never seen before.

“Still fighting it I see,” said Yago with a disapproving sneer. He was seated behind his desk, his feet not too far from Talia’s head. “There’s no point to that you know.” Talia grunted in response, too tired to elicit anything else. Yago shook his head, and returned to a stack of letters that he was working through. Talia had been watching him conduct his business day after day, too exhausted to feel fear or hatred or make comments on his actions. She suspected he was growing bored of her newly sluggish disposition, but causing him any little bit of displeasure provided some relief for her, at the very least.

“Lots to take care of today,” he commented to himself. “I think you’ll be interested to hear the most recent updates in the war, child.” Talia really did want to know and care, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond.

“We’ve attacked.” Her heart rate went up, but she didn’t do much more than twitch.

“Just last night. I expect it will be a close call at the Capital, but a crushing victory to the north.”

Home.

Yago looked to see if she stirred, but frowned when she didn’t. After a few more minutes of silence, the door to Yago’s hall opened, and two figures walked in.

“Ah,” said Yago cheerfully, “what excellent timing.”

“General,” said a deep voice. Talia wearily looked up, and saw a tall man in tribal regalia. The other man next to him was similarly dressed, and had horrible pieces of jewelry that stretched the skin open on his cheeks, exposing the teeth behind them.

“Marcus,” replied Yago, “and Chief Skorpa. “You are most welcome in my home.”

“It is good to see you,” said Skorpa while clapping a hand on Yago’s shoulder.

Marcus? Is he the same one that Mother works with?

“And you. Come, sit.”

“No thank you General,” said Marcus politely. “We have work to do. We just wanted to stop by to give you the most critical updates ourselves.”

“Very well. I’m assuming placements went to plan?”

“They did. We have men at every assault line, prepared to begin with collections.”

“Good. And what of the assaults? I’m certain I’ll be hearing from the other Generals soon, but you probably have the most recent news.”

“I can only speak for the Capital, and south of it. We have held off any attacks on your sister’s lands – they remain neutral. As for the Capital, war rages heartily.”

“Beautiful,” breathed Yago. “And have you made any progress on my sister? The last sighting I have of her is in Devan Di Coteau’s lands – that was far too long ago.”

“We have not been able to locate her either,” said Marcus with a touch of shame.

“Damn. We need to get her back,” Yago said while stroking his chin. “I’ll put out more inquiries with intelligence to the north. We’ll find her,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Yes, General.”

The tribesmen that Mother recruited… they’re all Yago’s. Talia felt stupid for not having realized this before, but she supposed she was just happy to have troops to even the odds at the battle for the wallfort and had overlooked it. She went through the tunnels at the south of Yago’s territory to get them. These are the leaders, and that definitely must be the same Marcus at the head of her army.

“General,” said a serving girl from outside the entrance to the room.

“What?” Yago snapped.

“I – I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting,” she said nervously. “But we’ve just received a package. I think that you need to see this.”

“Now?” he asked coldly.

“I think it pertains to your assault. A message and package has arrived from the manse held by Alexandre Di Coteau. It was carried out through the sisterhood run by Almanita Nandra, the one I told you about.”

“I see. Bring it in, girl.” She did, and set a heavy wooden box up on Yago’s desk. Talia could immediately smell and taste death, and it stirred her senses in a way that she did not like.

“Leave,” Yago said. The serving girl practically ran, clearly eager not to intrude further than she already had. Yago, Marcus, and Skorpa focused in on the box quietly for a moment, all sensing the same thing Talia had. “There’s a note on top.” Yago lifted it, and read what was scrawled on the piece of parchment. “You’re next, signed Luca, Steward of General Alexandre Di Coteau of Nabius.” Yago lifted the lid, and reached inside.

He gripped a long black ponytail, and pulled the rest of the contents up by that. A pin signifying Saint Koba was attached to the base of the ponytail, and Talia made her first move to sit up in several days. She smiled as the rest of Jezebel’s head came out of the box, and noticed a stripe of four claw marks across an otherwise unmarred face.

That was done by mother. She could tell immediately by Jezebel’s wound, familiar with what Ysabel’s claws did to the skin from years of observation. Talia began laughing, reveling in this small victory. Yago slowly lowered the head back into the box, and no one made a sound except for Talia’s slow laughter.

“FUCK!” Yago yelled as he swept an arm across his desk. It’s contents flew to the ground, papers scattering and glass breaking. “What a little rat.” Talia felt relief and joy for the first time in days.

If I ever make it out of here, I’m doing everything that I can to get Luca sainted.

“Why are you laughing?” Yago demanded, grabbing a fistful of Talia’s hair and pulling hard. “That’s your kin!”

“Bitch deserved it,” she mumbled out slowly.

“Ugh!” Yago said as he threw her back down onto the floor, where she stayed. “Don’t you understand? She was one of the elites – she could handle it! That was rare and precious blood that was spilt!”

“You don’t know anything about who is and isn’t precious.” The sentence took a while for Talia to slur through, but Yago got the point.

“What a waste,” he said as he rubbed his temples. “It’s a definite loss, but no matter overall. Jezebel will be avenged, and your homelands will fall. The odds of withstanding the forces that were sent there are insurmountable.”

Talia knew that might be true, but she was glad to see that Luca had done what he could in the short amount of time that he had left. He and Mikhail both may give their lives for the place they came to call home. Fighters till the very end.

“Make sure the men know to kill every last person they find, in every territory. I want this to be as bloody as possible.”

“They know,” said Marcus with a grin.

“As much carnage as we can muster,” agreed Skorpa.

“Good. And as for you,” Yago said as he looked at Talia, “lets up the feedings. Your transformation is going too slowly. The fact that you haven’t died yet shows that you clearly can tolerate the change – I’ll get you another meal.” Talia just grumbled, having used up most of her remaining energy by moving earlier. “You’ll learn to appreciate the gift I give, and come to understand why Jezebel’s death was a waste.”

Doubt it, she thought as her vision began to blacken and she lost the grip on control of her body.

***

Carlisle Cathcart’s broadsword tore through men easily, as if their bodies were made of paper. Most of Fran La Croix’s men had armor, but the majority of General Davora’s and the tribespeople that accompanied them did not. Carl had to aim at the joints of armor to make his hits land when he encountered one of General La Croix’s men, but most of them had less skill than he did and the fighting wasn’t as taxing as he had prepared for.

“MOVE!” he boomed out as two soldiers approached him head on. He whipped his blade horizontally and separated head from body, and let his sword fall to the ground as he caught the other with a hand by the neck. The attacker made to jab with his sword hand, but Carl grabbed it by the wrist and lifted the man up off of his feet easily. He slammed the solider back down onto the ground, knocking him unconscious and likely breaking his back. He retrieved his sword, and engaged another charging spear wielder while watching Alex out of the corner of his eye.

He fights like he’s dancing. Alexandre was being flanked by three, one of which got sideswiped by Barclay’s massive club to the head. Alex held one of his hook swords backwards at the hilt, and pushed away from his body. The hook caught a soldier to his left behind a knee, and threw him onto his back. At the same time, the warrior directly in front of Alex took a hard punch to the face when Alex shoved his fist forwards. The blades that curved around the hilt to protect Alexandre’s grip punctured deep as if they were a pair of brass knuckles, and Alex kicked at the head of the man he had just tripped. A curved blade that stuck out of his boot like a metal talon entered the man’s skull through the temples, and Alex was already spinning around with his free sword in a slash to engage someone else. Carl grabbed an enemy in a one-armed bear hug and threw him into a crowd of allies, who quickly dispatched of the woman. A few fallen enemies later, and quiet settled momentarily. Carl, Alex, and the small group of soldiers that they were with had taken out a small unit with no casualties.

“Think that’s all of them in this quarter?”

“Doubt it,” replied Alex while he spit. The spit was red, and Carl noticed that Alexandre’s normally pristine face was bruised and his mouth was bleeding. “General Torne mentioned they’re sending wave after wave into the civilian areas in small groups – it’s like they’re just trying to do as much damage as they can, without taking any critical strongholds.”

“They did attack the city center,” Carl pointed out. “We’re just lucky that Elsa was prepared. And General La Croix is too clever to enter battle with a poor strategy – the main wave is yet to come.”

“I agree. They’re probably just trying to stir up as much trouble as possible to scatter troops. It’s still annoying. Let’s take care of a couple more groups before reconsolidating.”

“Sounds good,” Carl nodded. They were currently in an alleyway of dark stone houses and shops, a bit west of Elsa Torne’s central estate. Groups of soldiers were storming the city in pockets all over, and Alex and Carl had started taking care of them as soon as they had arrived. It was just over half a day since they had made it to the city, and a brief reunion with Elsa Torne was all that they had before they started making outings. “Nice boots by the way – the hidden blade is new, no?”

“Yeah,” Alex said with a smile. “My mother commissioned them from Wilhelm a while ago – looks like he finally finished with the design.” Alex stepped on a lever on the inside of his boot with the other one, which retracted the metal blade back to the top of his foot. It looked like it was simply a part of the design now, and Carl was definitely reminded of Ysabel.

“Seems like her.”

“Indeed.” Alex was frowning now, deep in thought.

“You worried?”

“Always,” said Alex with a half-hearted laugh. “Luca wrote to General Torne saying my Mom was with him before the siege began. I can’t help but wonder if they’re going to make it out alive.” Carl knew this already, but let Alex talk. The news was hard to hear for him too – Alexandre’s friends and family were also his. He grimaced, willing for the people he cared about up north to be okay.

“They’ll make it. If anyone can get out of being backed into a corner, it’s your mother.”

“That’s true,” commented Alex. “I just wish we could help.”

“Me too,” said Carl with a sigh. The feeling of helplessness was grating on his nerves, and he hated that the armies they had were spread so thin. He knew that if the opposition had been a bit more organized to start and all chipped in to defend the wallfort, the war would have already been lost. The large spread of independent armies and multiple vulnerable points to strike had made preparations difficult, and that now showed. Carl didn’t like that enemy generals were unifying, but he supposed it was only natural after one of them had been taken down.

First Marie Lafeye attacks the north, and Pitor Davora and Fran La Croix attack the capital. Orr is down considerably, but he’s spread what remains of his men between the two main assault points. And Jezebel… she had no military strength anyway. At least we don’t have to worry about her interference anymore. That leaves Yago – I haven’t seen any troops flying his banner yet. I guess they’re all the tribesmen from the provinces?

“At least they got Jezebel in the midst of her betrayal. They’re lucky she didn’t bring the entire place down.”

“Traitorous witch,” said Alex bitterly. “I knew it was coming at some point, but it’s still hard to believe. She tried to make her move at the worst possible time for us. I’m certain she must have coordinated with my uncle.”

“I have no doubt of that. But we’ll make it through. I have to believe that.”

“I suppose you’re right. For now, we’ll have to do what we can. If the north lasts long enough and we win the Capital, we can reclaim it.” Carl knew that there was no chance of them winning this fight and getting all of their troops to the north in time, but he didn’t want to say that. He was sure Alex knew this wasn’t possible too, but he wanted to encourage optimism – as forced as it was – in his partner.

“Okay. Lets continue to fight.”

***

Eamon paced the halls of the Di Coteau estate, bracing for them to come down around him at any moment. It wasn’t quite that far into the battle yet, but he couldn’t help but feel that his window of opportunity was shrinking rapidly. I don’t know what to do. Gods damn it I wish I were a better captain. He and Luca needed to make a decision, but neither knew what to do in the face of such adversity.

At least there haven’t been many deaths, he thought ruefully. The citizens of Mullansburg on the outer wall had been able to hold it well, all things considered. Though they were greatly outnumbered, the estate’s design had been easily defensible, and most of the people in the estate had been faring well. While some skilled archers had gotten kills off from outside, fewer than Eamon expected had perished. It helped that the castle was being attacked in small waves as well, rather than with full force. They had lasted twelve hours so far, and Eamon hoped it would be enough. He knew that a large scale assault would be much more difficult to deal with, and he didn’t understand why that hadn’t come yet. I’ll take what I can get.

“How many have died?” said a raspy voice from the other side of the door. Eamon was outside the generals office, and he knew that Ysabel Clarion was waiting within.

“Not many, General,” he replied.

“Then kill more,” she replied plainly.

“You’ve given that same advice every hour for half a day now, general. Please, we need guidance.”

“Kill,” she said plainly. “That is the best guidance you can get.”

“Wrong,” Eamon said. “That isn’t you speaking – the real you. I know you’re in there somewhere, and we could really use your help right now.”

“It is me.” Eamon listened to her heartbeat and breathing, and shook his head.

“I can tell when you’re lying.” He sighed, and sank down to sit on the floor.

“Your insolence will be the death of you! Who are you to address me like that? When I get out of here – and I will – I promise that I will be the cause of your demise.”

“No,” said Eamon calmly. “You won’t kill me. The real General Clarion wouldn’t. The only deaths you’re going to cause are those of your children.”

“How dare you bring them up in front of me? Spreading lies, leading me on, keeping me trapped in here,” she said as her claws scraped against the other side of the door. The sounds of wood being carved and metal scratching metal rang in Eamon’s ears.

“It’s true,” he said. “Alexandre commands your army to the south, but for how long? Your men are loyal to you.”

“As they should be.”

“As I hear it, the battle to the south rages on. If things turn for him, do you think they’ll stay loyal? And if this territory falls… Alex becomes a homeless general. What assets and funding he does have will be gone. We won’t win a war like that.”

“Silence!”

“And Talia… poor Talia. She’s captive now. I wonder if she’s even still alive. She’s been gone for so long, I fear she may not make it.” Though Eamon was just trying to goad Ysabel, that statement rang true. Though Talia hadn’t really had any friends at the academy, Eamon had been as close as one could possibly be. By ‘close’ he understood that she probably wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him if it got her an inch closer to success, but Talia had grown on him after their graduation. Her absence stung, and Eamon felt guilty and sad that she had fallen into enemy hands.

“Stop,” said the demon, “stop.”

“Please,” said a voice that was more human. He heard the sounds of crying, and Ysabel talking to herself. “Let me go.”

“General?” asked Eamon as he got excitedly to his feet. “Is that you?”

“NO!” shouted a voice, and Eamon’s hopes deflated.

“Yes,” said Ysabel a few seconds later, and Eamon felt very confused. He let the war in Ysabel rage on for a few minutes, before everything went quiet. Eamon unlatched the door to the office, and opened it. He could tell that Ysabel was on her hands and knees, crawling out of the room. She stank of gore and death, and Eamon was – for once – glad that he didn’t have the sight to look at her. He imagined that she was in a ghastly state, but he extended a hand to her all the same.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely as she pulled herself up with his help. Eamon urged her to walk, and she began to.

“Welcome back.” Ysabel nodded, and Eamon could sense it. “Let’s get you cleaned up – you’ve been in there for a while.”

“I know,” she said. “Its always like this.” Eamon considered expressing condolences for the loss of her husband, which she had finally gained closure over. He decided against that, not wanting to prompt rage out of her again.

“After that, I want to take you to Luca and have you assess the battlefield. Jamison Hadeaux and Marie Lafeye are holding us siege – we don’t know what to do.”

“The traitor,” hissed Ysabel. “Jamison was always a proud man. Alexandre’s mercy on him has come around to bite us.”

“Yes it has,” Eamon agreed.

“Have you plugged all of the tunnels in and out of here? He will know about them – he served as castellan here for years.”

“We have – all the ones we know of at least.”

“Good. I’ll double check with the staff later. Take me to one of the balconies,” she commanded.

“General, are you sure you don’t want to eat or drink first? You can also wash up if – “

“Take me now,” she barked. “Gods. I didn’t break out of that hell just to sit on my ass.” Eamon had never heard Ysabel be so crass before, and was scared into submission.

“Of course, General.” They made it to the highest point of the estate fifteen minutes later, and stepped out onto the balcony.

“Is this all of them?” asked Ysabel. “All of the troops – are they just what’s in visible range?”

“I… don’t know, General.”

“What do you mean you don’t – oh… sorry. I’ll ask someone else. I forget that you’re impaired.”

“No need to apologize general,” Eamon said awkwardly. He wasn’t sure he liked being referred to as impaired, but he wasn’t about to raise a qualm with the general now.

“Has there been any battle at all?” Ysabel asked curiously.

“Yes. There have been multiple waves thrown at us – ladders have gone up, but we’ve been able to handle most of them with pitch and archers. We haven’t had a breach yet.”

“I can see the tar,” Ysabel said dryly. “It’s actually rather shameful that the enemy hasn’t broken us yet – with citizens at the helm of operations, no less.”

“Yes, they’ve only sent small waves so far. We’re not sure why more hasn’t been done.”

“Where are the bodies?”

“What?”

“The bodies. If there has been fighting, I would expect to see bodies at the walls. There are none.”

“I… didn’t notice.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Ysabel said snappily. “Foolish boy. Where is the steward?”

“In his room – we can go get him.”

“Lets. I’m not sure why they’re taking their bodies back before the fight ends, but it seems a poor use of manpower. That’s not the only curiosity to investigate – your stationing of forces is piss poor. We need archers stationed in clumps, not single lines down the walls. We have too few for that. Have you learned nothing?”

“I… “

“Quiet. Take me to Luca now – we have much to discuss.” Eamon began walking wordlessly, thankful that Ysabel was back and able to make an impact.

Finally, some direction.

“If they are sending out squadrons to collect corpses in the intervals, which I suspect they must be, we’re going to need to attack at full strength then. Men who are encumbered with transport will be easier to pick off.”

“Yes, for sure.”

“I have no idea why they’re being commanded to do so, but we’re going to take advantage of it. It’s pure stupidity, really.” Eamon couldn’t help but feel that was true, and he wondered what could possibly motivate this strange attack pattern. “Our only goal is to last as long as possible now.”

“Do you think we can outlast this? Is there a way out?”

“No,” said Ysabel simply. Eamon felt his hopes deflate once more, and sighed. “Don’t have an attitude about it, child,” Ysabel said sternly. “The only hope we have is to make what little we have go a long way. We won’t last on our own, but we should still do what we can to thin the enemy’s forces.”

Eamon agreed, and raised his hand to knock on Luca’s door as they approached it. His hand missed on account of Ysabel barging it open, and shouting more orders. Eamon felt Luca jump at Ysabel’s entrance, but Ysabel didn’t skip a beat.

“We have a lot of work to do,” she said. “Get me a map of the estate, and get me a summary of all of our warriors and their proficiencies.”

“Hello General Clarion – “ began Luca, who was obviously half scared and half bewildered at her appearance.

“Now!” she cut him off.