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Bad Blood Runs Black - chapter twenty four

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Bad Blood Runs Black - chapter 24 by John "Basileus Ioannis"

*** Quick recap: Pana and Chawinda surprise and manage to defeat four elf generals and their bodyguards. Haergrim does not fight Pana and Chawinda, and instead disables his sister Rilthien, proving that he is still loyal to Pana. Along with Sir Jurgen and the commandos, they capture Erick and Sybille, three of the elf generals, and Rilthien. As they withdraw from the command post, 019 is mortally wounded. Dying, 019 reveals to Ywan that he is the spirit of his dead brother Alexey. ***

At the first light of dawn, lines of both Blackstonian bird-riders and Hannetzbirger soldiers stood at attention, saluting the funeral pyres burning at Vittburg Fliegeplatz...no riders or commandos were lost, but six Aeffor-TAENs had died, one en route from the command post, and five after landing at Vittburg, including the brave 019. Eleven more were seriously wounded, and would require depot rebuilds before they were combat ready again.

Squadron leader Major Nadya Kolenkova came to talk to Ywan. “I’m sorry about 019, Ywan, he was a good bird, been with us since we formed the squadron three years ago.”

Ywan stoically stood with his jaw set. “Thanks Nadya...yes, he was a good bird.” He couldn’t tell her what 019 had said just before he died...he was still coming to grips with it himself.

“I have new orders for you from Aerial Command...they want you to report back to Kopio-Issala for new equipment training...on the new AITEN.”

Suddenly Ywan had a flashback...almost four years ago, his old squadron commander Poltow had selected him to represent his squadron when the Aeffor-TAENs were new. Now Nadya had nominated him to go train on the new ground-attack aerial steed that had been under development for the last three years, the AITEN.

Ywan saluted Nadya. “Yes ma’am. Er...Nadya, the last time, I flew my old Aeffor to Kopio-Issala...”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be walking there. Hannetzbirg is lending us one of their dung-eating airships to send you and the birds requiring depot rebuilds to Dolgo Island, you’ll get further transport from there. The same airship will bring back replacement birds for our squadron. Looks like our squadrons will be operating out of Hannetzbirg for a while...who would have thought, right? It wasn’t that many weeks ago we were taking them out...I hear there’s been quite a bit of diplomatic dealings since the High Porte invasion, and we’re combining forces.”

Ywan disinterestedly said “Huh”...he wasn’t really listening to Nadya, his thoughts were still on his lost steed with his brother Alexey’s memories.

“Yeah, their horse cavalry’s always been quicker than our Pondsehrs, but they don’t have our firepower or heavy armor. They’ve worked out cooperation of ground as well as aerial forces...”

Sir Jurgen had changed into his gilded plate armor, and sat astride his warhorse. Pana, Chawinda and Haergrim stood next to him. “Sir Jurgen...I would appreciate if you left our names off of your after action reports. I would like you and the commandos to receive full credit for capturing the High Porte generals and the conspirators.”

The knight peered down at the cleric, and winked. “Princess, I take it you didn’t exactly have the Grand Duke’s leave to accompany us, yes? Don’t worry about a thing, child, it is taken care of.”

Pana smiled up at the great knight. “Thank you, Sir Jurgen. Now we’d better be rejoining our warpriests with the 2nd of the 7th, down by the Lida River.”

“Ah, I heard that the Vastatores’ horses have finally caught up with them, so they are mobile again. And a good thing, too...since they were facing enemy cavalry, they can finally go on the offensive for a change, on the south bank of the Lida. Your services are probably going to be in need, highness!”

“Indeed, Sir Jurgen...thanks for everything, and best of luck to you!” Pana waved, as the knights rode off with the bound prisoners.

“Well, I’m glad to be back on solid ground!” quipped a grateful Chawinda. “And it looks like our old gang is back together...right Haergrim?” The drow glanced warily at the elfin ranger.

“I am where I belong,” said Haergrim in his usual laconic way.

Pana smiled weakly. “Well, we’ve got quite a long walk back...and I’m beat. Let’s ask the soldiers for a place to rest, so I can regain my spells ...”

By evening, Pana had recharged her spells, and the trio had dinner with the troops. “It was nice of the soldiers to share their canteen with us. Let’s get going, it’ll take all night just to reach the capital.”

The trio trudged along the Silver Highway. The eastern and southern skies were lit up by fires, and the distant rumble like thunder reminded them that the war was near at hand. Road traffic was exclusively military, with caravans and horse soldiers heading north and south. They managed to hitch a ride with a wagon train full of supplies heading for the front.

“It’s an honor to meet you, your highness,” said the teamster. Those words rang in Pana’s memory, back to when she had first heard 019 speaking to her through Eewon’s helmet. She felt so bad for the handsome Blackstonian bird-rider, and for the poor bird who sacrificed himself to get them to safety.

“I hear that the Blackstonians are actually sending reinforcements...fancy that...Charrs and horsemen, fighting side by side!” said the glib teamster. “I’ve never seen one, myself...”

“I have,” Pana replied, her mind three years in the past, before the High Porte incursion. “They are big, like huge tortoises covered in thick metal plates.”

The teamster gnawed on his pipe. “Tortoises clad in heavy metal? They can’t be very fast, then.”

“They are plenty fast,” said Haergrim. “Almost as fast as a warhorse, the legs are very stout.”

Traffic began to back up as they approached the capital city. Three highways merged at the north gate, and there were wagons and troops milling about in all directions. “Ah, will you look at this mess...it’s a good thing those elf eagles can’t see at night, we’d be sitting ducks,” grumbled the teamster.

Gate guards stopped traffic on the Silver Highway as well as the road from the northeast, as a higher priority military convoy on the western road was allowed to go through. Strange black shapes, much larger than the wagons, were streaming from the west into the city. “Well, look at that...are those the Charrs, your highness?”

Pana stood up in the wagon, and leaned past the driver’s seat, squinting...torchlights on the city gates silhouetted the shapes, and she recognized them right away. “Yes, I believe those are Charrs...the Blackstonians call them Pondsehrs. They must have come by ship, disembarking at Grusshafen.” She counted them as they passed, and lost count after about fifty. The wagon train sat there for a better part of half an hour as a never-ending stream of Pondsehrs trudged into the city. Just a few months ago, this would have been a terrible invasion...now they were here to fight alongside the Hannetzbirgers.

The caravan finally reached Legio VII Vastatores’ rear areas by dawn. As Pana, Chawinda and Haergrim hopped off the wagon, thanking the teamster, they noticed massive round footprints with claw marks in the mud. The sounds of war filled the air, the crump-crump of detonating Fireballs coming from across the Lida River. Haergrim kneeled, examining the footprints. “Yes, Charrs definitely came through here, in the past few hours.”

“Great, the Vastatores can use all the help they can get. I wonder where the 2nd Drungus is?”

“Well, missy, we’d better find them soon, and get you back in your armor...I don’t want you at the front without it, not that what you’re wearing is much of a slouch,” said Chawinda.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” said Pana, admiring her black leathers that Chawinda had given her. “I took a lot of sword blows from the elf generals, but they didn’t seem to penetrate, just a lot of pounding. These aren’t ordinary leathers, are they?”

Chawinda winked. “They’re magicked...I got it off of some scabs called the Legion of Shadow, an old thieves’ guild up north. Not proof against a killing blow, but it’s pretty tough stuff, missy.”

Pana kissed Chawinda on her cheek. “Thank you again...”

“Hey, no mushy stuff in front of the troops, missy...unless you want to heal mass nosebleeds.”

Haergrim merely raised an eyebrow, as Pana kissed him on the cheek too.

The trio crossed the Lida River, and found the 2nd of the 7th in the forested foothills beyond. Horses whinnied, as cavalrymen came and went in rotations to the front. They found the warpriests’ tent, but nobody was inside. Somebody had moved Pana’s suit of plate armor with the tent, so she quickly donned her armor with Haergrim and Chawinda’s help. “Thanks, guys...let’s go!”

They found High Priestess Ingrid at the Drungus Aid Station. Ingrid’s eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. “I don’t care if you are a princess, Pana, I ought to kick your ass right now! You were absent without leave...if you were a soldier, I’d have you locked up in chains! But I need your hands...get busy with the healing. So, is this your friend? Sir Jurgen get him back for you in one piece, yah?”

Pana spent the better part of the morning healing wounded troopers. Soon, her armor was spattered with blood, and her gauntlets were bright red. Even Haergrim and Chawinda pitched in, using healing kits. Finally gaining a respite by noon, Pana washed up and collapsed next to Ingrid for lunch break. “Where is Gemma and Wanda? I don’t see them...”

“I sent them along with half our warpriests to the 1st of the 7th, to the west. They’ve made even more progress than the 2nd Drungus, they moved due southwest and actually hit the coast, cutting off quite a bit of High Porte cavalry. Most of the bear-riders are gone, they were too slow to keep up with horse cavalry so they ended up in front of us...between our armored horse, our warpriest fire support, and the Blackstonian Charrs that arrived last night, the 1st and 2nd hit them like two mailed fists!”

“I saw them coming into the capital last night, how are they working out?”

“You know, they’re big...and surprisingly fast...and their bolts shoot further than even our ballistas. But it’s their grapeshot that wreaks havoc on the enemy. Last night, we were up at the front, running low on spells, when these things came past us, and they formed up line-abreast right behind the front line troops, and when the horses pulled back, they fired grapeshot at point blank range at dwarven bear riders, and the enemy charge was halted in its tracks! Like I said, the bears are pretty much done.”

The warpriests took a rest break to regain spells...Haergrim and Chawinda went over to the Drungus command post to get the latest word. By evening, the warpriests had supped and recharged their spells. Pana, Chawinda, and Haergrim followed Ingrid and twenty warpriests to get to work. Pana looked out at the forest, and in the setting sun, she could see curls of smoke from spots, flashes of fire between the trees, and in one clearing she could see a burned out Pondsehr, still smoldering. So the Blackstonian monstrosities weren’t proof against all spells, she thought.

As they entered the aid station, she found more than a few Pondsehr crewmen brought in, some with horrible burns. She noticed that some wore round helmets like the ones she and Eewon wore while flying on 019. Blackstonian and Hannetzbirger wounded lay side by side in the aid station, comrades in arms. Pana laid hands on the first casualty she came across, a Blackstonian...he had been burned, and moaned, “Vodiy... pojaleesta, daite me vodiy”. Pana didn’t understand, but Haergrim took a skin of water and gave the man a drink. “He was thirsty,” he said, as Pana cast her healing spells.

“Thanks Haergrim...I’m glad you understand the lingo.”

The wounded Pondsehr crewman thanked Haergrim, and as he was healed by Pana, he rattled off a series of sentences, to which the elfin ranger grunted and nodded.

“What did he say?”

“It appears the High Porte cavalry have adapted...they are using some sort of lance that can penetrate the iron armor, after which it casts a Fireball inside the superstructure...a horrible way for both the human crew and the Charr itself to die.”

Pana was dumbstruck with horror...the Charrs may be large enough for six men to ride within the casemate, but it wasn’t that big...a Fireball detonating within would incinerate the crew and the hapless creature upon which the structure was bolted. That must have been what happened to the one she saw in the forest clearing. As she wrapped bandages around his burns, she looked upon the man’s face, and he looked up at her with hazel eyes, which reminded her of Eewon.

“Spaseebo, anghel...spaseebo,” the wounded man thanked Pana as she smiled at him. She understood.

Chawinda was helping another warpriest healing another Blackstonian...she also appeared to be translating. Pana remembered that she and Sialkot had been captured in Blackstone, and rescued by Haergrim and her grandfather...since both of them were well over two hundred years old, not even middle-aged in elf and drow years, she guessed they had time to learn Blackstonian. As she healed another casualty, she wondered about Chawinda, and whether they could even have a relationship. Pana was still in her twenties, but the gods willing, she would probably die of old age in at most eighty years...a blink of an eye for the long-lived elves and drow.

Pana shook her head to clear her thoughts...she had no idea if Chawinda would even want a relationship. All she knew was that while she valued Haergrim as a friend, she couldn’t feel that she could trust him in a relationship...any more.

***

Grand Duchess Lilde von Jettingen curtsied in front of the gathered synod of the Church of Syerogo Drakohna in Blackstone city...the patriarch Konstantin XXIII slowly raised his outstretched, shaking hands. His voice was barely audible, and his words came slowly. “Grand Duchess of our neighbor Hannetzbirg, we thank you for your assistance in drawing up this treaty of alliance between our nations, which would have never been possible without your tireless toil. It pleases this Patriarchate that we face this threat from the High Porte of the Elfin nation with our arms clasped together...the two greatest human nations that history has ever seen. Together, we shall fight as one, to overcome this incursion, and bring peace to the realms.” He slowly rose from his throne, and his head, surmounted with his tall, gem-studded hat, bowed low to her. All the gathered ministers and representatives rose and applauded in unison. For the first time ever, Blackstone and Hannetzbirg enjoyed a treaty of peace between them.

***

Grand Duke Loewenherz von Jettingen presided over the trial of Erick and Sybille von Pippenstock, the traitors who conspired to have the High Porte invade so they would be installed as their representatives. They had intended to steal the crown that they could not gain legitimately, and through their machinations they had unleashed hell on their own country. That could not be forgiven.

The prisoners stood, arms chained to their belts, and wearing a magic-suppressing helm over their heads. “Erick of House Pippenstock...Sybille of House Pippenstock...do you have any closing arguments in your defense, before I pass judgment?” boomed Loewenherz’s voice in the audience chamber. Guards stood at attention to either side of the prisoners, and the galleries were filled with spectators watching silently. They had been warned repeatedly for boos and catcalls during the lengthy trial, but under his grim countenance, the Grand Duke sympathized with his people. These traitors deserved to join their sibling, Stengal the weasel, in death. The two stood silently, not uttering a word. “Very well...under powers granted to me by the army, the church, and the people of Hannetzbirg, I sentence you...”

Suddenly the lights went out in the audience chamber...the spectators in the gallery gasped with surprise. Guards scrambled to protect the Grand Duke, as warmages began casting spells...too late. Smoke bombs bearing choking agents exploded all around the audience chamber. The mages began screaming in pain and dying...without spellcasters to counter the Darkness spell, the guards could only form a cordon, halberds pointing outwards. Shouts came from the entry hall, as more guards and warmages rushed in to protect their lord and the prisoners. A mage managed to cast a spell to counter the Darkness, and as light returned to the Schloss, the guards let out a collective yell of surprise. Both prisoners were unshackled and bare-headed except for a strange mask, standing next to a struggling Grand Duke. A dark figure wearing an identical mask stood with a blade at Loewenherz’s throat. “Stand down, dogs, or your lord gets it!” shouted a raspy, high-pitched voice.

Coughing, Sir Jurgen pointed his sword at the wicked trio holding the Grand Duke captive. “You cannot escape! Throw down your arms and surrender!”

“Heh...as if,” mocked the shadowy figure, as a gloved hand produced an odd shiny object. Erick and Sybille put their hands on the object, and it began glowing. Realizing what was going on, Loewenherz lashed out at Erick, and knocked him away from the device. “Gotta go...bye...” the figure in black hissed, and killed the Grand Duke with a cruel stroke of the blade. As his body fell beside his throne, the guards charged the assassin, but a blinding flash of light erupted from the object and the assassin and Sybille were gone. Erick screamed out, “NOOOO!” as guards killed him with their halberds.

Sir Jurgen ran to the body of the Grand Duke, and picked him up. “We must get him to Grusskirche immediately! Go alert Matriarch Sophia!” Several guards dropped their halberds to assist Sir Jurgen in carrying Loewenherz, while others ran out the doors of the Schloss.

Loewenherz’s body was laid at the altar of Grusskirche, while Matriarch Sophia and her attendants worked their magic. Long hours passed by, and Sir Jurgen, Baron Munfrid, and many soldiers filled the cathedral to capacity. A female voice rose from among the gathered troops, “Make way...let me by!” The guards parted, to allow Pana, Gemma, Chawinda, and Haergrim through to the altar. Pana and Gemma froze as they saw their father...for Pana, it was the second time she had seen her father in this condition, but the first time it turned out to be an illusion cast over the body of the former Grand Duke, Heizmall von Rosenstein. “VATI!” she screamed, and both von Jettingen women threw themselves on his still form, weeping. Chawinda and Haergrim stood behind them, with pained expressions on their faces.

“Pana, dear, you must get back and give me room,” said Matriarch Sophia, touching the women on their heads and looking upon them with grieving but kind eyes. Pana lifted her face, tears streaming, her big blue eyes wide with shock and fear. Gemma wouldn’t move, but Pana nodded, sniffed, and gently pulled her sister off of their father’s body. They stood up, sobbing, as Sophia returned to her incantations, raising her holy symbol up high. Loewenherz’s body began to glow again, and Sophia strained under unseen forces...finishing her chant, she bit her lower lip...blood trickled from her lip, as the light intensified.

A soldier in the cathedral began singing the song of the horse soldiers...it was an old song, born from a time when Hannetzbirg was young. One by one, then twos and fives, more and more soldiers joined in the song. Sir Jurgen choked back his own tears, and lent his baritone voice to the chorus. Even Haergrim began singing with the soldiers, even though he wasn’t one of them. Pana and Gemma knew the song well, and they too began singing. The cathedral was filled with music, as the light on the altar intensified. The crowds of soldiers outside Grusskirche, who pressed at the doors and windows but could not gain entry, also sang their hearts out.

Suddenly Loewenherz gasped, and his mighty chest heaved...Matriarch Sophia collapsed to her knees. Everyone roared and cheered, as their Grand Duke opened his blue eyes. “VATI! THANK THE GODS!” cried Pana and Gemma, and hugged their father. Chawinda wept openly...she had never seen such a miracle before in her long life. Haergrim smiled and shed a tear...he had witnessed one von Jettingen warrior die in battle in front of him, and two would have been too much.

--- end part three ---
Pana, Chawinda, and Haergrim return to the front, and witness Blackstonian reinforcements. Pana's mother Lilde was involved in the diplomacy with Blackstone that made it happen. Pana's father Loewenherz puts Erick and Sybille von Pippenstock on trial, but things don't go as smoothly as expected.
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