Touch of Fate

Chapter 246: Furies

Chapter 246: Furies

"After that, the refugees and knights were loaded onto ships and evacuated. By all appearances, it seems like they are heading to the city." Miranda explained wearily. She'd been expending a large amount of mana to gather intelligence on the approaching army, and the addition of another round of summoning to investigate the source of the light that had exploded on the southwestern skyline had left her on the verge of collapse. She was drinking a few mana potions now, but they only had so many to spare.

Mike frowned in thought, trying to guess the Count's motives. Apparently, he had determined that the First Prince and his ragged band of knights were valuable enough to risk the coalition army's dissolution in his absence. He figured that it might have something to do with having all of the royal heirs in one location, momentarily unifying the disparate factions in the face of their common enemy, but he suspected there was a deeper motive as well. Something that could only be achieved through a unity of purpose.

He glanced over at Morris, wondering what his thoughts were, but it was clear from his facial expression that he hadn't quite gotten over his indignation that his father had left him so far out of the loop. It would likely take a few minutes to calm down.

"So, was there any indication as to what caused the burst of light?" Emmanuel asked, in full Marshal mode. He was also reviewing the scouting reports which filled much of the table in front of him in a remarkable display of multi-tasking.

"Only that it appears to have been the work of crew members from the rescue fleet. Whatever they did also forced a substantial Lacotian army to retreat. My guess is that the Count employed a few experts to ensure the rescue went smoothly." Miranda replied absently.

"That would line up with my understanding of the man, but I suppose we can bring this issue to a close. It doesn't really matter whether or not Count Graveston intends to rejoin us now that his task is most likely complete." The Marshal commented with a note of finality that stole the attention of everyone in the room, including Morris, who took a break from his inner turmoil to listen.

"Judging from these reports," Emmanuel held up a sheaf of papers, "we have less than an hour to complete preparations for combat. Now, I know all of you have been working hard towards this very goal, but I want to ensure there is nothing else that you need to attend to. As such, I will be asking each of you for a status report, starting with our strike force leader."

With that introduction in place, Instructor Johnathan stepped forward and regarded the assembly grimly. "I've been getting the members oriented with one another, and attempting to form rudimentary teams based on compatibility, but I'm not going to lie, its probably pointless."

He paused for a few seconds to let that statement sink in. "I have been handed roughly a hundred people ranging from experienced adventurers and career military members to academics who have spent the majority of their lives working in dusty classrooms. There is such a diverse range of backgrounds and levels of competence that trying to form even the most basic level of teamwork is all but hopeless. Therefore, I've given them the standing order that they, when all else fails, simply do what they think is best at the moment."

"Is that wise, given the general lack of experience you mentioned earlier?" Emmanuel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not really, but I would need months to build the cooperation necessary for this kind of operation. The only saving grace of this situation is that we are so far away from being able to move in a cohesive fashion, that it would be near impossible for the enemy to predict our actions and respond accordingly. If we're lucky, we can keep them on the back foot long enough to achieve our goal."

"I guess that's about the best I can expect, under the circumstances." The Marshal replied with a nod. "Issac, how are the rest of the soldiers coming along?"

General Karthan, the de facto second in command step forward and began speaking calmly. "Poorly. The coalition army was hodgepodge of factions to begin with, and adding in the Tenundians have only complicated matters. There is no clear chain of command, few existing methods of communication that can be used across all level, no unified code of signals, and next to no experience in operating as a cohesive force. Worst of all, I have had to reprimand several commanders who believe that they do not answer to anyone save Count Graveston himself, and were unwilling to take orders from me.

"We had a slightly different problem with the orcs." He took a moment to glance in the direction of the two chiefs who were sullenly sitting in the corner, "Because of their...great personal respect for the Dragonknight, they are complaining about the strategy we worked out for the coming conflict."

"Oh?" Emmanuel asked. "Are they refusing to fight?"

Jurtrik, he Bloodtongue chieftain growled at that. "We'll fight. No worries there. We just think its a bit unfair for him to be taking on the enemy by himself and getting all the glory, while the rest of us have to sit behind these walls and wait for the undead to come."

"Indeed." Huthar intoned solemnly. "There is no honor in hiding while others do our fighting."

Talgratha, the third of the group, who nevertheless stood far away from the other two, remained silent. Much like Morris, she seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil, one that had no apparent origin. Mike felt a bit uneasy as her gaze slid to him and a momentary flash of something predatory, but not quite hostile, passed across her eyes before she looked away. In the end she didn't comment.

"As I've told the both of you, there will be plenty of fighting here, regardless of the wall. We will need your warriors to hold the undead tide back. The Dragonknight, on the other hand, is responsible for drawing the enemy's attention. That is not something he can do from here." Karthan explained with a sigh of exasperation. Judging from his tone, this was an old conversation that he was getting tired of hashing out.

This drew a snort of derision out of Jurtrik, but he didn't continue the argument. Neither did Huthar.

"Is there anything else you'd like to report?" Emmanuel asked.

"No, lord Marshal. I only want to reassure you that we'll do our best, but our lack of coherence is going to affect our responsiveness. I have a few workarounds in place, but I won't be able to gauge their effectiveness until an actual combat encounter. I recommend that you plan accordingly."

"Alright, as I've already heard from the quartermasters regarding our supplies, I'll ask you," The old mage turned towards Mike, and asked in a slightly cold voice, "are you prepared to do your part?"

Trying to ignore the strange tension, he replied, "I'm ready. In fact, I should be heading out to perform the first round of harrying attacks."

The Marshal nodded. "Then I will cut the rest of this meeting short. Finish whatever preparations you must, we have very little-"

Suddenly all sound was drowned out by a high-pitched shriek that filled the air, and forced everyone in the tent to clasp their hands over their ears. The noise resounded in their very souls, dragging forth an existential dread that threatened to suffocate them with its intensity. More importantly, it hurt. The scratching, piercing sound seemed to be physically stabbing at them, and the sensation only intensified the longer it went on.

As one of the few able to act under the influence of the scream, Mike staggered outside to hunt for the origin. He was dimly aware of a few others moving as well, but didn't have the luxury of focusing enough to tell who. Once free of the tent, he found the soldiers of the army similarly incapacitated, with a single exception. Tal was standing alone in the center of the camp, staring into the sky as if she weren't surrounded by hundreds of men and women writing in agony.

He hobbled over to her, hands still clenched over his ears, not that it really seemed to help. 'What's happening?' He mouthed once he'd gotten her attention.

She reached out with a slightly glowing hand, and placed it on his shoulder. Suddenly the noise of the scream faded to a dull ache in the depth of his spirit, and he could hear when she started to explain in the ancient tongue. "These are a type of wraith, similar to one we met before, but different. They are spirits of anger and rage, who have died with vengeance unfilled, and exist only to make the living suffer."

He glanced up at the sky, but couldn't see anything.

"Like most of their kind, they are largely intangible unless trying to interact with the world. Ordinarily, one of them would use their scream to incapacitate their chosen prey, and then manifest to torture them to death, but the scream itself can kill if someone is exposed to it long enough. They aren't particularly dangerous if you have a strong enough will, but this..."

"What?"

"There are hundreds...no, thousands of them, all acting in unison. This is unnatural. Someone has deliberately created these creatures, and harnessed them expressly for the purpose of making war on the living. It is an abomination, in the truest sense of the word."

Tal's words were as flat and emotionless, but Mike could clearly feel her anger burning through the haze of coldness that usually colored her statements. It was getting to the point that he didn't even need to try to sense her mood.

"So...what should we do?" He asked, vaguely wondering if simply throwing some kind of spell into the air might solve this problem.

"Don't know. Thinking." She fired back in her usual choppy phrases.

He looked around at the soldiers who were still writhing on the ground in agony. A few of them had stopped moving altogether, and were feebly gasping for air. Clearly, there wasn't much time left to act.

[Ghostly enemies usually required a magic attack in games, so should I just try to hit them with fireball or something?]

Determining that it was worth a try, he started gathering his mana and preparing his chant, when a hand gripped his other shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you. Its a good thought, but it won't accomplish much beside making you a target." Instructor Johnathan grunted with a pained look on his face that slowly morphed into relief. Apparently, he was benefiting from Tal's effect. "You can't really hurt them while they are incorporeal. You have to make them manifest first. Its what makes Furies so damn annoying."

"That's troubling. Have you dealt with them before?"

"I've fought a few in the most recent war with Lacot, but they're supposed to be rare. To create thousands of these things...I can only imagine what kind of atrocities were committed." Johnathan frowned for a second, then looked down at him. "You were the one who summoned that storm, right?"

"Um, yes..."

The teacher grumbled something to himself, too quiet to hear, before continuing. "That means you're pretty advanced in Air Magic, right?"

"Well, yes. Currently its my highest tier elemental magic skill." [Unless you count Healing Magic.]

"Then we'll need you to create an air wall over the encampment, and set it to oscillate until it blocks sound. I'll teach you the chant, pay attention."

Johnathan pulled out a dagger, and began drawing the characters in the dirt. It didn't take him long to finish. "Now, the hard part will be adjust your mana output to cover the camp in its entirety, but if you can make that storm, this shouldn't be too difficult. Let's give it a good run through before you try it for real."

[Hm, its pretty similar to that air shield spell I was playing around with back at the University. I bet if I altered the words a bit, I can get just the right kind of effect.]

Not wanting to waste any time, he summoned his mana and began chanting. He noticed his instructor catching the changes he'd made to the words with a look of alarm, which faded a little as a gust of wind whipped past them. With it came blessed silence.

Mike had to concentrate, since even with his enhanced control over Air Magic, it was difficult to maintain the spell's shape while keeping it vibrating intensely enough to block out the scream. However, he could still take note of his surroundings, especially the stricken soldiers who were slowly recovering. Of course, that included the instructor's grim face as he fixed Mike with an intense glare.

"That was stupid, boy. Not only did you use a different chant than the one I told you to, but you did so without telling me. That is a much bigger problem. I don't care if you have a better spell for the situation, but you need to communicate it. Surprising your comrades is a good way to get all of you killed. If you were one of my men, I'd have you pulling night duty for months for that kind of shit." Johnathan growled.

"Sorry, but I was worried about time. It didn't look like the soldiers could last much longer."

"That's true enough. Your actions probably saved several lives. Why do you think I'm letting you go with a lecture? Just don't repeat this mistake." His teacher replied coldly.

[Yep, he's still terrifying.]

Mike gulped, and then asked, "So, what's next? How do we deal with the root of the problem?"

The instructor turned towards Tal and shouted, "Girl! You're a Pact Mage, right?"

She nodded emotionlessly, but Mike could tell she was a little annoyed.

"Good. You'll be dealing with them, then. I'll explain the method."