Chapter Text
Ark Camp 12th Moon – waning crescent.
High in his watchtower Guardsman Derrik Porter stamps his feet, claps his gloved hands and rolls his shoulders trying to keep the blood circulating and generate some warmth. His coat, a patchwork of synthetics and leather doesn’t stop the lazy wind from going right through him. He shivers as he looks out through the metal grille onto the white undisturbed snow that covers the minefield and scrinching his eyes against the dazzle he looks further out towards the massy trees that make up the great forest climbing up the valley’s sides. Closer to home just beyond the minefield are the stumps of felled trees, their caps of snow make them look like rows of tables draped in white linen. He sighs, it looks so beautiful and in reality is so dangerous. It’s been months since anyone left the camp to hunt, gather or explore. The first hunting party to vanish, did just that. No sign of them was ever found and eventually the Chancellor had declared all four of them dead. Rumours, said to originate from the Chancellor’s Office, started to circulate almost immediately that they had run away to join others like; Grace Byrne, Sgt Briggs and Callie Cartwig, but no-one truly believed they had left voluntarily. Simon Ranger’s wife had only just given birth to their second child, there was no way he would leave them behind. The fate of the second hunting party that failed to return was all too well known. Six hunters, well-armed and with some experience of the woods left at daybreak. The following dawn found their naked, butchered bodies displayed on spikes just beyond the minefield. After that Chancellor Pulcher forbade anyone to leave the fenced area of the camp. What Pulcher had lauded as the Ark’s independent adjustment to life on the ground, at their own pace and in their own way; had become life in prison, hiding behind a fence.
As Derrik looks down to check on the arrival of his relief, his old friend Guardsman Linden Chambers, a red fletched arrow slams into the watchtower’s timber post a couple of feet to his right. He startles and drops into a crouch as he scans the woods for any sign of the archer. He can see nothing and no-one, just snow and trees. As no further arrows fly his way he looks at the one buried in the tower’s support. Tied securely to it is a slim packet. He reaches out and breaking the arrow’s shaft snatches the packet and its’ contents, two thin pieces of paper. He starts to read. One is addressed to him! The other to ‘Chancellor Pulcher’.
Voices call up, asking if he is okay. He stuffs the note addressed to him in his pocket and shouts that he’s coming down with a message for the Chancellor. He quickly scans the note in his hand. It is written in bold well-formed handwriting.
‘Chancellor Pulcher.
We have tried contacting you by radio. You do not reply. You turn our negotiators away from your gates and threaten them with your guns.
This is a warning. You must prepare for an attack on your camp in the next few days. Hundreds of outlaws infest this Valley because news of your refusal to ally with anyone has spread throughout the land and these criminals see you as weak and an easy target. Your fence is strong, high and electrified but an onslaught by the desperate using the machines of siege will overcome your defences. In the interests of your people and ours (bandits in possession of your tek and guns are a danger to us all) contact us on the radio now so we can form an alliance and fight the bandits together.
Heda Leksa kom Trikru and Hedatu Klark Griffin kom Trikru
The note then has some details about radio frequencies and times. ‘Fuck!’ Is all he can think in response. ‘We are so fucked!’
Derrik makes his way down from the tower and Linden clambers up to take his place. A group of Guards, like him just going off duty, gather round to ask what happened. He tells them that he has to go straight to the Chancellor but will meet them later for lunch in the canteen.
In the Chancellor’s office, probably the warmest place in Alpha Station, Derrik stands at ease while Pulcher unfolds the note and reads it. The Chancellor is a thin ascetic looking man with a face drawn with worry. He reads and then hands the note to Commander of the Guard Morello.
“Can the fence and minefield hold back hundreds Morello?” Morello takes the note and reads it.
“They’re just primitives with swords Chancellor. The mines will slaughter them.”
Derrik takes in a deep breath and decides to take a chance on trying to reason with them. “Permission to speak Sir!” He snaps a salute.
Pulcher looks up at the older Guard. “Granted Porter.”
“Sir, the grounders are uneducated when it comes to tech, electricity and things like that but one thing they do know how to do is fight. If you look at our situation objectively you can see that already we are losing this war!” He sees Pulcher bridle at the word ‘losing’ but plunges on. “Sir, we’ve been under siege for months now. We don’t go outside the fence because we have no control over the Valley and all we have to show for all our advances and tech is the loss of ten hunters and thousands of rounds of ammunition fired without being able to claim that we’ve actually wounded any of the enemy. Morale is low and....”
“Thank-you Guardsman Porter that is all. Leave us!” Frustrated Derrik gives a smart salute and then leaves the office, hurrying to his own quarters. Once inside with the door shut he opens the note addressed to him.
‘Derrik, the bandits are preparing a massive attack on Ark camp. It will be in the next day or so. I think they can get through the fence and minefield using things like big catapults.
When the attack happens there are some of us out here who will try to help you. We’ll wear red armbands so you know who we are. Do everything you can to prepare for the worst because it’s about to happen.
May we meet again.
Grace Byrne’
About an hour later Derrik meets up with his friends in the canteen. They’re curious about the message for the Chancellor. Looking at the group; twelve of them sitting around a big canteen table, he ponders the fact that he’s known all of them for years. Up in space they policed a black market (not very successfully as Nygel always seemed at least one step ahead), illicit stills, kids misbehaving, theft of resources and occasional political unrest. Nothing that prepared them for the ground, for war, for seasoned warriors who seem unafraid of death, for brutality beyond their imagining. If Grace is right everything is going to go to hell in a day or so, all of them will face death Taking a deep breath, he pulls Grace’s note from his pocket. “The Chancellor wasn’t the only one who got a message. Read this and stay calm. We need to plan because from what I saw; the Chancellor and the Commander of the Guard don’t know their asses from their elbows when it comes to this and they’re not going to ask for help even though it’s been offered.” He watches as one by one the men and women read, blench with shock and pass the note on. When the note is back in his hands he looks up at twelve pairs of eyes, they look scared. He is scared. He swallows the lump in his throat before starting to speak.
“First we need to get word out and guns to everyone with a cool head. They need to be ready to fight and know who our friends are. Tommy and Bette you can arrange discrete access to the armoury, the rest of you get the word around the Guard and anyone reliable. Weapons need to be distributed and anyone with a gun needs to know about the red armbands.” The twelve sit for a while in shocked silence then there’s a brief exchange about who should or should not be told and armed. Finally, they leave Derrik to finish his meal. He doesn’t feel very hungry and his appetite completely deserts him when Nygel comes to sit at his table.
“We’re fucked aren’t we?” She goes straight to it. There’s never any point in trying to find out how she knows everything almost the instant it happens.
For a second he looks down at the disgusting slop on his plate, not much inspiration there. “Yeah, looks like it. A big attack, very soon and the Chancellor and Morello don’t seem to want to accept help when it’s offered.”
Nygel’s known Porter for years. He’s an honest man, a solid Guard, one she’s run rings round for all the time she’s operated her business. “Anything I can do?”
“Prepare for the worst and if …. no make that when…. the fighting starts, our friends will wear red armbands. Don’t shoot them.”
Ark Camp Three days later – 0300 hours (1st Moon New)
Derrik’s off shift and should be getting some rest but he can’t sleep for shit. He knows it’s all going to kick off soon. Blizzard conditions over the last two days made daylight hours a white-out, no one can see what, if anything, is happening in the woods. If he was attacking Ark Camp he’d be doing it now, in the dark while the wind has dropped to nothing and a few fat white snowflakes drift lazily in the Ark’s bright security lights. He walks out of his quarters rifle slung and ready. Commander Morello’s warned the Guard that an attack is likely. He doubled each Guard unit’s strength and issued extra ammunition. Engineers are on standby in case the fence needs urgent repairs and boxes of grenades have been stashed by the entrance to each station. Derrik doesn’t know if the Chancellor’s contacted Heda Leksa, he suspects not.
It starts with a shower of huge rocks flying out of the night-black woods and landing with solid crumps in the minefields adjacent to the gates that guard the northern end of the camp. Some strike the fence; it sparks but holds. No attackers can be seen and Morello turns out the whole of the Guard with orders to shoot only in short bursts and if you have a viable target. Ammunition is limited to fifty, thirty round clips each.
Under the rocky assault the land-mines start to explode and the noise awakens the whole camp which is immediately put on lockdown. Children and non-combatants are moved into Alpha Station.
The next form of attack uses tree trunks that are thrown into the minefields by huge men tossing them end over end like cabers. This gives the Guard targets for their bullets, but each thrower has shield bearers giving cover as the big men run out from the woods cradling a trimmed tree trunk in their cupped hands. They run to the edge of the minefield and then with huge muscular effort throw the trunks up and over so that they somersault forwards and towards the fence. More mines blow. Gunfire strafes the shields. Stones and burning missiles are hurling out of the night striking the fence’s supports and watchtowers. The south-east section of the fence comes under attack, more boulders are flung into the minefield and onto the fence. Then again huge men run forward tossing tree trunks. Guards under Morello’s instructions switch their defensive positions to meet this new attack.
Volleys of arrows start to slice through the darkness and swirling snow with deadly accuracy. The Guards take cover and their salvos towards the tree throwers falter. Shouted orders has Guards and armed civilians directing fire back at the tree throwers who have now started to move into the blown minefields and closer to the fence before releasing their projectiles. No-one can see the archers but the archers can see them, more arrows rain into the camp and the casualties start to mount.
A third attack starts. This time the western portion of the fence is targeted. Morello frantically directs Guards to cover that area but it’s too little too late. The biggest boulders and largest tree trunks have been saved for this attack and already the western mine field has blown and the trees and rocks strike the sparking fence with concussive power. An explosion behind the main gate is the overloading of one of the fence’s transformers. Engineers run forward but are met with a hail of arrows, two drop to their knees wounded, a third falls onto his face in the stillness of death. Now as the fence’s supports start to buckle and whole sections collapse, out of the woods runs a demonic vison of axe, sword, club and shield wielding warriors. They swarm over the dead sections of fence and into the camp.
In the bloody melee Derrik and his unit try to stick together, taking cover behind part of the Mecha station as they pour bullets into the advancing wall of warriors. Linden’s is the first rifle to click on empty with no clips to reload. He pulls out a pistol and keeps firing towards the massed ranks invading the camp.
The noise is phenomenal; screams, exploding mines, tearing metal, grenades, gunfire, the roar of the advancing horde. It’s deafening chaos! Derrik sees Morello fall to an axe, Pulcher looks so frail as a sword cleaves into his chest. Arrows tear death into bodies; Guards, civilian gunners, engineers and grounders. Derrik keeps firing into the pack of warriors coming his way and he slams in a new clip of ammo. Then fear floods his body and makes his knees tremble. The ground beneath his feet is shaking. He and Linden look around, wide-eyed with shock, for the source of the tremors and see row after row after row of huge axe bearing warriors descending upon the camp from the west. Their scarred faces painted white terrify, their movement in disciplined unison makes the ground shake and their war-cry “Azgeda!” makes Derrik's stomach heave.
Polis 12th Moon New – 25 days ago.
It’s good to be settled back in Polis, to see her parents and David. To catch up with her apprentices and congratulate them on the improvement in their skills whilst she’s been away with Leksa on the Progress. She misses Raven and Onya’s sass and dry humour, they’re still in Sangedakru. Openly Raven works on the solar kiln but in fact they’re staying longer than the moon’s span they originally planned to liaise with Murphy and Emori as they try to find out what’s happening in the far north. Here in Polis Linkon and Oktavia have made a permanent home and the latter continues to inspire Klark to train hard to maintain the muscle and fitness that over two years on the ground has developed.
Mid-morning finds Klark sparring with Oktavia, trying to improve her abilities with a sword. Swords have always been Oktavia’s strongest weapon and these days she can stretch Onya and even Leksa when they spar, but Klark’s never found a sword to be her weapon of choice. A gun or a bow works better for her. Leksa, anxious for the safety of her bonded, keeps insisting that Klark works on her skills with blades, both dagger and sword, even if only for defence.
A messenger approaches, Ryder and Penn let him pass and he carefully avoids startling either woman as they clash their practice swords together. “Hod up! (Stop)” Oktavia immediately retreats as Klark notices the messenger and grateful for the break calls a halt to the session.
The messenger bows respectfully to them both. “Hedatu, Oktavia Blake kom Trikru. Heda asks that you both return to the tower. Chief Indra kom Trikru has arrived and a meeting is to be held on the first-floor in a glass’s time. I am to go and fetch Linkon kom Trikru to this meeting as well.”
Oktavia directs the messenger to Albi’s bar where Linkon is meeting up with an old friend, before the two woman, Ryder and Penn set off for the Tower. They stride purposefully, wanting to use the time before the meeting to wash and change out of their sweaty training clothes. Klark wonders if she should send a message to warn Abi that she might not make it to the hospital that afternoon. She decides to wait and see.
In the meeting room Klark enters to find Leksa seated at the head of the big long table with; Quint, Kestra, Callie, Linkon and Indra on her left and on the right is:, Mara of the Glens, Azgeda’s bandrona to the Kongeda (ambassador to the Coalition), Manch bandrona for Boudalan, Grace Byrne and Oktavia. They all stand respectfully as she enters the room. Leksa smiles at her bonded.
“Mounin (morning) everyone. I’m not late am I?”
“Nou niron (no my beloved) we have not started.”
“Do I need to send a message to Abi that I will not be at the hospital this afternoon?”
“Sha (Yes), I think we have much to talk about.”
Klark ducks out of the room for a moment to ask Gostos to send word to her mom and on her return takes her place at Leksa’s immediate right.
Klark should have known it was about the Arkers. Before they left on the Progress over two moons ago it was already a worry that so many outlaws were making their way to the Valley. Leksa had Kestra and her scouts move their base to Ton DC some six moons ago, when in informal meetings Indra had made known her concerns about the branwadas (fools) who live in the big tin cans and still refuse to trade or ally with anyone. From a base in Ton DC Kestra could watch the Arkers and the outlaws and if needed protect Ton DC from either or both.
The Arkers’ isolationist stance over the past year has coincided with a significant increase in the number of outlaws to be found within the Kongeda’s borders. There are various reasons for this the most influential being the changes Roan is bringing about within Azgeda. Roan’s working hard to bring prosperity and sound leadership to his people and that means that many of Nia’s old favourites find themselves facing his justice. Some are prepared to change their ways; others plot against him and are executed and some fled taking their loyal gonas with them. It’s this last group that is joining up with bandits, nomads and the clan-less; hiding far in the north near the dead zone or deep in the great forests of Azgeda and Trikru. The Arkers draw them like a magnet with stories about their metal homes, fayoguns (guns), tek and lack of allies. Another source of recruits for the outlaws is the recent upheaval in Boudalan. Felix the bis (beast) is dead, killed by Leksa when rescuing Raven but some of his followers escaped and fled to neighbouring Trikru.
Having started the meeting Leksa asks Kestra to give her report and it’s a bleak rendition, she speaks in gonaslang (warriors language / English) so all can follow. Kestra has three scouts undercover within bandit groups and over fifty more watching from a distance and although concerns had continued to grow about the sheer number of bandits now living in the Valley, what has prompted the meeting today is that they have started to consolidate. Four hundred bandits living within the Valley was worrying enough when they were split into many groups that fought more with each other than anyone else. Four hundred bandits united behind a common leadership is a much more dangerous proposition.
Kestra brings her report to a close. “The problem is worse because the leaders who have brought them together seem to be competent gonas with some skills. They are both from Azgeda, former favourites of Haiplana (Queen) Nia and seasoned campaigners. They know how to conduct a siege and take a fortified encampment. Maybe they don’t know how electricity, fayoguns and mines work, but they have been testing the Ark camp’s defences over the past moon or so and they have enough experience in making the machines of war that it is likely that they can get through the fence and take the camp.”
Leksa looks round at the serious faces at the table. “What do we know about them other than they are of Azgeda?”
Kestra takes a deep breath before continuing. “We know a little. The elder is Petrus a known associate of Raymond of the North, he escaped the battle when Raymond and Rufus ambushed Haihefa (King) Roan and yourself Heda and it seems he realised then that Raymond’s cause was lost, so he withdrew his gonas and retreated to the far north for a while. The younger is Vance kom Azgeda.”
At the mention of that name Mara startles, raises her head and then her hand and Kestra falls silent. “Vance kom Azgeda was birthed by me.” Everyone looks to the great Azgaden gona, who’s face is now a pale mask. “He was my first-born and Nia took him from us when he was four summers old, a hostage in all but name for my and Caleb’s good behaviour. She raised him alongside Ontari and a dozen or so children of the most influential of her House Carls. Like Ontari she succeeded in raising him in her own image. He is a ruthless and vicious killer who enjoys inflicting pain, a man without honour, mercy or kindness. Before I was captured by the Maunon I had ceased to recognise him as my son, I have no living children.” The silence stretches and Mara drops her head into her hands. “In my youth I bore three children. My twins Vic and Huron died honourably in the wars with Trikru. When I was younger we were always at war with Trikru.” Mara’s shoulders shrug and Klark can see Leksa, Indra, Quint, Linkon and Kestra tense as their memories are brought to a new rawness. “They died as honourable warriors in a war, as did so many. At least they died before Nia started her ‘ai laik Wamplei’ (I am Death) campaign that turned all of us;” Mara’s sweeping gesture takes in Indra, Quint, Leksa, Manch, Kestra and Linkon “into dishonoured killers of the helpless and children. Vance was one of Nia’s Captains and it was said that he excelled in those vile raids and gained much power and the Haiplana’s favour. Petrus is another known for his cruelty and vile deeds and not just within that campaign.”
Silence falls as Mara stops speaking, Klark feels the tension in the room ramp up, she’s never heard anyone speak about the ‘ai laik Wamplei’ campaign but all included in Mara’s gesture look pale and shamed. The atmosphere could be cut by a knife. Mara continues. “He is as you say clever and dangerous. If he and Petrus take that camp, all who live there will die and if they get hold of fayoguns there will be many, many deaths both in Trikru and Azgeda.”
The meeting continues all through the afternoon and into the night, food and drink is brought in at intervals. Not many feel like eating but Klark like the others forces something down.
Indra tells them of the Arkers’ stubborness in their isolation. All efforts to broker any kind of an alliance, even simply to trade, have failed. They don’t answer messages sent by any method, not even over the radio. The last attempt to negotiate was only last moon when Callie left her gonakru in the woods and rode unarmed and alone to their gates. She was met with rejection and threats of violence.
The Valley is now under Vance and Petrus’ control and they are making preparations to attack. All agree a last attempt must be made to warn the Arkers of the immediate danger and try to gain their cooperation and an alliance; but if that fails Leksa finds herself in a difficult position. As the Arkers are not part of the Kongeda and the Valley has never been claimed by the nearest krus (clans); Trikru or Azgeda, she cannot call on the armies of the Kongeda to protect ‘these strangers in no kru's land’. Any threat they may be to Trikru and Azgeda is indirect and speculative. They talk around the problem for some time until finally Leksa calls for silence.
“As I cannot order the armies of the Kongeda to march to save Ark camp I will ask for volunteers. All of you send word to your gonas as it is Trikru, Azgeda and Boudalan’s outlaws that are the problem. Ask that they choose to help Heda protect those from the sky.”