Chapter 6: Thinker’s Gorge

Ulrich passed word of his meeting with the Lady on to Devlos and his superiors. Indeed, even the wisest among them was unsure as to what to make of the meeting, for the war seemed not to change, even after such a strange occurrence. Stranger still did the meeting appear when in the coming weeks of the war the council found that Acretia could not be found anywhere on the front line of the war as was her custom. In her absence, the war proceeded in a sluggish fashion, the forces of Kilkretha content to wage a brutal war of attrition. Their encroachment upon the walls of Irrkengrond crept ever closer but slowed without Acretia. 

Tera-ta-sata ruled well in peace and his virtue was upheld in war. His wisdom disposed him to listen well to his advisors, trusting the words of Devlos, who passed to him the words of Ulrich. But more than this, Tera-ta-sata kept his people calm and maintained peace in his lands beyond the lines of battle. Supplies flowed to and from Irrkengrond and all throughout the surrounding villages. His troops, thanks to the success of Ulrich, were well-fed and able to mount a stout defense in the face of Kilkretha’s greater numbers. But the numbers slowly pushed them back.

Five months after the meeting of Ulrich and Acretia, strange rumors began to swirl. In whispers and faltering speech, tales of a strange new weapon approaching the battlefield spread amongst the troops of Irrkengrond. “It will slay thousands, nay tens of thousands” were the hushed fears of those who spoke of it. Some spoke of it being made by Acretia’s hand, that “The lady of war forged this engine in the pits beneath her wretched city and she brought it to the battle herself.” Therefore fear of what was to come gripped all of those who looked to Irrkengrond for safety.

In time, Ulrich learned of these rumors and sought out counsel with Devlos and King Tera-ta-sata, wishing to address these rumors. Devlos, ever trusting of Ulrich’s intuitions in matters of war, quickly went and made arrangements for Ulrich to speak before the King and his council. These are the names of those who were present to hear what Ulrich would say: Tera-ta-sata, the king of Irrkengrond and with him his son, Tem-sata-tan; Devlos, King of Lor-ogr; Lady Moss, the commander of the mountain tribes; Belogron, who ruled the twin cities of Minth and Torn; and lastly the arch mage of Irrkengrond, Kertriss, who undid many of the works of the Dragodas.

In the war hall of the great amber tower at the center of Irrkengrond, they gathered around a great stone table, hewn of black marble. Set on it was a map carved from a single gigantic tree so that the mountains and valleys, streams, and rivers of the land were raised up from its surface.

When Ulrich entered the hall, the others had gathered before him. Seeing Ulrich enter, Tara-ta-sata addressed him.

“I am glad you have arrived, for Devlos seemed eager that we should speak with you. Come, tell us this urgent matter.”

“Your majesty, I am sure that you know of the rumors coming from the battlefield of some terrible engine that will turn the tide of the war,” began Ulrich, “and that rumors are not spread without a purpose in war. I believe that these rumors were planted within our ranks by our enemy, but for what purpose I do not know. Perhaps they simply wish to spread fear. Mayhaps there is truth to them, so the fear is merited. I do not know. But we have not seen The Lady of War on the battlefield for five months, and when I spoke to her she implied that something was coming. Now there are rumors of her return with some weapon… We cannot operate in the dark, we must learn the truth of these rumors.”

“What are you suggesting, commander?” responded Belogron, “We are pushed back slowly as we stand now. We have not been routed, but our resources are limited.”

“Indeed,” said Lady Moss, “Perhaps she means to draw us out with deceit and so weaken our lines.”

“This is possible.” replied Ulrich, “I seek the permission of this council to take the best of my guard, no more than twenty soldiers, to go behind the lines of the enemy and find the truth of the matter and identify the intended destination of the engine. Once we know where it is headed, we can stage a second attack to break their line, meet the weapon, and destroy it before it is unleashed.”

“And you believe you can accomplish this?” inquired Ter-ta-sata, “How do you intend to cross the enemy line and find the weapon before it arrives? It seems to me impossible, though I am a man without much experience in these matters.”

“This is indeed a challenge but one I believe can be overcome,” spoke Ulrich, gesturing to the map. “There is a section of terrain in the north of their line where the foothills of the Totinth Mountains begin. It is densely forested and would be impossible for any large force to cross through this area without notice, but a small group could manage under the cover of darkness and the aid of mages skilled in deceit. I believe I have troops skilled enough to accomplish this.”

“And the second larger force that will strike the weapon?” questioned Lady Moss, “It seems to me a great risk to marshal a force large enough to break through the lines of our enemies and still have the strength left to destroy a weapon.”

“Aye, this is true. We would likely have to use a cavalry charge to break the line,” spoke Ulrich, “Ideally, we would come from the high ground down onto them, though we would need to ensure that the ground was suitable for the footing of horses. Some of my mages could see to that and train others while we were seeking the weapon. That could break through the line and allow a small force to seek out the weapon, but it would be difficult to get back across enemy lines.”

“That still does not address the issue of marshaling the forces,” replied Lady Moss.

“Mayhaps we need not marshal a mobile force but station cavalry at likely targets,” suggested Kertriss, “We could reassign troops in the line as needed, but rearrange the line so there is cavalry where we will likely need them.”

“That would work,” answered Lady Moss, “and it would allow for a second cavalry charge to bring the force that destroys the engine.”

“If we do this, we should select the place where my scouting party will return now, and no matter what, return through that spot,” replied Ulrich.

Pausing to take stock of the map, Ulrich pointed to a place on the map where a road crossed the enemy lines, “We should attempt to return across the lines here, just west of the Deer’s Mound. It is on a slope that naturally favors our cavalry charge so we will not need to invest much time into shaping the battlefield to our advantage. The road will provide good footing for the horses and there are no restraints on the movements of our enemies. There is space for them to scatter to the sides when the cavalry comes through. Moreover, its central location in their line, meaning that no matter where we destroy the weapon, the amount of time it will take to travel the distance from the site of the weapon to the point of return. It is ideal in many ways.”

“Very well,” said Tera-ta-sata, “However, it is possible that you will find the weapon when it is already close to the line and we would lack the time to prepare a force to strike out at it. Perhaps, we could anticipate where the weapon is going. That would save time in the martialing process. What of the locations that Acretia is likely to bring the weapon to? How many do we think there are?”

“If the engine is large, which given the way they speak of this thing in rumors it seems safe to assume that it will be, they will need to use a road to move it,” said lady Moss, “That limits the number of places that they can bring it to their line. The one we have already identified as our return location, Deer’s Mound, central in their line, plus the two main roads on the northern flank where the roads meet Listel and Drossa, and the two main roads in the south: the one that runs to our fort outside Gestel and the one at the head of Thinker’s Gorge, furthest south.”

“Can we cover five locations?” asked a concerned Kertriss.

“We can,” intonated Tera-ta-sata, “but we will have to start relocating troops as soon as possible, including sending the city guard to the front line to reinforce the thinnest parts of the line. We may lose ground but if it prevents this engine from reaching the battlefield it may be worth it. Speed will be everything in accomplishing this.”

Pausing for a moment, weary-eyed, Tera-ta-sata, turned to Ulrich, “how long will you need to destroy the weapon once you cross the line?”

“Ideally, we will cross the line while the weapon is still two days away. We will then cross the line, march for a day, and then meet the weapon and destroy it on the morning of the second day. Then we will have to journey to our return location, and how long that will take depends on where they are bringing the weapon. We will have to make that decision when we know more.”

Tera-ta-sata nodded, “Then let us begin the preparations.”

When the day came to cross the line of Kilkretha in the foothills of the Totinth Mountains, Ulrich’s crossing went smoothly. In the night, in thick underbrush, Ulrich and his troops slipped through. Behind enemy lines they set to work finding the weapon.  In five groups of four, each consisting of three fighters and a mage to hide them in shadows, they scoured the enemy lands for three days before meeting together to share what they had learned. After they discussed together, they once again took to scouting the wilds in their groups. This cycle continued for a month before Aphnoss and his three companions stumbled upon a caravan of three wagons. In the lead of the caravan was an open cart that held a guard of ten soldiers pulled by a pair of horses. Walking on each side of the cart were three soldiers. The rear was also brought up by this arrangement.

What drew the attention of Aphnoss was the center wagon of the caravan. Pulled by a team of sixteen oxen was a massive platform raised on great iron wheels. No normal beasts of burden were these, rather some hideous product of Kilkretha’s pits. Black was their hide and they seemed to have no eyes, only following the whims of their drivers. Their muscles and sinews shifted and rippled as they lumbered across the landscape. The burden they hauled was covered in some fabric that obscured what was underneath it. Its outline was that of a great beast and as it passed Aphnoss and his men, a pair of doors became visible in the back. Roughly the height of a man, the door reached only a third of the height of the structure. From a distance, it seemed as if some strange, canvased hill crept across the landscape.

Upon meeting at the end of the three-day cycle, the groups met together and Aphnoss informed Ulrich of what he had seen, and they all immediately set out for the point of their return. As they traveled, they together determined that at the pace the engine was moving it would take nearly three weeks to reach the front line and that its only possible destination was the road that met the line at the head of Thinker’s Gorge.The Lady of war maintained many camps here along the southern edge of the Gorge.

“I fear we may need to find a new place to recross,” questioned a concerned Aphnoss, “given the limited amount of time before the engine meets the line. If we cross at Deer’s Mound we will have to return north, and even moving in a direct line we will only have a week to prepare to meet the engine. That is without accounting for traveling back south to reach Thinker’s Gorge before we can start preparations.”

“I agree,” replied Ulrich, “We could be across the line in less than a week by going through Thinker’s Gorge. We end up where the engine is going. That would give us close to a full two weeks to prepare to cross the line and destroy the engine. Acretia has driven out the monks who lived there and there are plenty of places to hide from her armies. Her camps are high up on the sides of the cliffs. We will come out close to the camps of Kilkretha, but our own camps will be close.”

“Then our path is clear,” said Aphnoss. “Lead the way.”

So the party set out for the gorge, the mages cloaking them in shadow. The descent into the canyon went smoothly in the dying light of the evening. In silence, they scaled the wall, still far from the encampments of Acretia’s forces. Steadily they moved through the cragged floor of the canyon. The empty caves that were once home to the reclusive monks of The Deep Order lined walls, each heavy step or shifting pebble echoed through them. 

The darkness of night had fully settled as they approached the encampments lining the south edges of the great canyon. Torch light flickered on the northern wall of the canyon. Ulrich paused, turning to his companions.

“Quiet now,” he whispered, “We are close to the enemy.”

They continued now in complete silence, for Ilstoran cast a spell to swallow up any sound they made around him. As they reached the western edge of the canyon, they faced a steep cliff. One by one they ascended. All reached the top safely and silently until the last of Ulrich’s warriors. As he climbed out of the gorge, his foot slipped and he fell backward. His scream was at first muffled by Ilstoran’s spell. But as he plummeted beyond the reach of the spell, his scream split the night. His body crashed loudly against the bottom of the canyon.

“Spies from Irrkengrond! Out now to find them!” came the cry from the camps of Kilkretha.

“Quickly!” whispered Ulrich, “We must move!”

The party of Ulrich immediately took off for the camp of Irrkengrond, counting on their greater speed to leave behind Acretia’s soldiers. As they ran, arrows nipped at their heels as those in the camps set out in pursuit of Ulrich. Through the night they were pursued.

As the morning light broke, it seemed as if they would return to their line without further loss. But as they were within sight of Irrkengrond’s camp, lightning rained down around them, for one of Acretia’s great sorcerers had pursued them from camps south of the gorge. One by one, the lightning picked off members of the intrepid troop.

But the camp of Irrkengrond now stirred! Stepping out from the camp was a mage of Irrkengrond, who had studied the mysteries of Milyos with Kertriss. She conjured above her a shield of light and began to push it toward Ulrich’s troop.

“Quickly!” shouted Ulrich, who as the swiftest of them all, had reached the barrier first.

One by one, the ones who remained, numbering only nine, reached the safety of the shield. But Aphnoss, the ninth and trailing member, stumbled, his foot caught in a hole in the field.

Ulrich rushed to lift him up, but as soon as he stepped from under the protection of the barrier, Aphnoss was struck by a bolt, turning to ash in front of Ulrich’s eyes. A wail of grief rang across the field and Ulrich fell to his knees. It seemed as though he would stay in the field, exposed to the lightning, when two of his most loyal soldiers swept up behind him and carried him back to the line of Irrkengrond.

For four days and three nights Ulrich grieved the passing of Aphnoss, until the arrival of Lady Moss and Tem-sata-tan who were to oversee the cavalry charge. When the great commander emerged from his tent to meet the pair, his face was gaunt from weeping.

“Come,” he spoke sharply, “Let us prepare to defeat our enemy. I fear our mistake has drawn attention to this place. We must proceed with caution. Send word to the king that we will travel for five days after destroying the weapon before we will be ready to recross the line at Deer’s mound.”

But Ulrich’s fear was unfounded. For Acretia’s troops at Thinker’s Gorge seemed to treat the event as just another incursion spies, no different from any other, and the preparations of Lady Moss, Tem-sata-tan, and Ulrich continued as they had.