Chương 81: Chapter 157 - A Plethora of Praetorians

Mirian looked back as she left the room. The bishop was watching her. He didn't have any soul bindings. As soon as he noticed she'd noticed him, he looked away. Does he know Adria? Or does he know something else? She would have to find out more later. For now, she followed Praetorian Trinea. They shut the door to the meeting room. Two of the Praetorians immediately started casting divination spells from their books, while another two cast infrared and illusion-detecting spells.

"Room's secure," one of them reported. A man with dirty blond hair and several scars along his face rolled out a parchment map onto the table. From the strategy meeting, she knew his name was Voran. He had the rank of First Praetorian and was leader of the expedition.

"First strike team stays at Citadel and acts as a rapid-response team to any unforeseen developments. Teams two through five, we'll overwhelm them. Standard flying formations for high-danger unknown targets. Positions also standard. Team two and three will fly over the river in line, then adjust to norm. Two takes a shallow angle, three sharp. Four and five, north along our position, with four shallow, five sharp. Both teams sweep, then reassess target. I'll lead team two, Trinea, you lead four. Questions?"

Shit, Mirian thought. I didn't understand half of that. What in the hells is a standard formation, or standard position? Does shallow or sharp mean a swooping attack, or the path across? None of the questions were ones she could actually ask, because Adria would know it all. The room was silent.

"Teams, ready up. Meet at the takeoff platform at nine. There's usually a prayer at that hour, so there's a chance we catch them with their pants down. That gives you a few hours to talk, rehearse, plan, rest—whatever your team needs. Just be ready to fly. What burns in the cage?"

"We are the flame!" came the chant.

"What do we bear?"" The aegis and the hammer!"

"The crown of eyes rests on our head."" The guardians are ever watchful!" Mirian didn't recognize the chants at all, though she could catch the religious references. Again, Trinea was looking at her. Some of the others might have noticed her conspicuous silence.

"Adria, what position?" Trinea asked as they broke off.

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to improvise based on the tactical situation," she said.

"There's some new tricks I learned up in Torrviol." Trinea stared at Mirian, then said to the others, "Our squad will use the usual positions. Rest up. Adria and I need to talk." As soon as they were out in the hall, she said, "Something's wrong. If I didn't know your face, I wouldn't recognize you. You didn't say the vow." Mirian said, "Is there a garden we can walk in? I noticed a critical flaw in the anti-spy procedure. Namely, it wouldn't have detected someone simply listening in with no magic."

Trinea's eyes widened.

"That's routine procedure, not—wait, do you have reason to believe…?" Then she looked around.

"This way." They made their way out the Citadel and into a garden on the east of the hill. Manors, spires, and temples were all laid out around the edge of the hill, looking out to the city. The garden was full of strange looking desert plants, leaves and stems all decorated with spikes and edges. Here, there were aloe plants, there, echeveria. There were jade plants, yucca trees, and a dozen succulents displaying vibrant colors she didn't know the names of.

All of it formed a tapestry of texture and color, so different than the temperate forests of the west, but beautiful in ways they could never match. Like home.

"Adria, what is going on?"

"How have you been?" Mirian asked, giving her the gentle smile she'd seen Specter use when she was performing as Adria.

"Fine. Well, enough, I suppose. I just miss my friend." Mirian nodded.

"I know. I'm sorry. I said there's a crisis developing in the north, and there is. But there's also a crisis out west. Have you been getting my letters?"

"Infrequently."

"And what did they say?"

"You would know."

"I do, but humor me."

"Never much after those first few years. Mostly how busy you were. Mostly how you still couldn't talk about what you were working on, either assignment. And you stopped asking about… was it the accident?" What accident?

"The project became political. As best I can tell, Deeps started intercepting my mail."

"They what!? Adria, that's a crown offense! The Royal Couriers are sacred!" Mirian tried to put herself in the position of the dead Praetorian.

"The law only means anything if it can be enforced. I could never find out who. It was like trying to pin down a shadow. But I couldn't leave either, I had my duty."

"I didn't know."

"You couldn't have. It's kept me out of the know, though. Don't get me wrong, it's lucky you're all here, but… why?"

"They think they found him." It was clear Mirian was supposed to know who 'he' was.

"I'm sorry, I don't know—" She turned toward her and spoke in a harsh whisper.

"Him! The necromancer! Atroxcidi!" Mirian's heart caught.

"Where?" Surely not in Alkazaria!

"In a Persaman town along the East Sound. Spotted twice, once in Falijmali, then again by the ruins in the north wastes. It was the strange arcane activity that made them pay attention to the area, and it worked."

"Arcane activity. Like the eruptions?" Trinea nodded.

"What if he's the source?" Mirian blinked.

"But he can't be. The eruptions have happened as far as west Akana Praediar." The other Praetorian kept her voice low.

"Maybe the rules are different when you reach that kind of power. Maybe he discovered an ancient machine. Either way, we eliminate a blade that's been hanging over Baracuel for generations. One less thing for you to worry about, at least. The Deeps are sure—" Trinea hesitated, making the connection.

"Unless we've been lied to."

"Is there any independent confirmation of the sighting?"

"No. We've done divination sweeps of the area, of course, but he's too clever for that. Wait… is this connected to Dawn's Peace? Could this be how they did it?" Mirian didn't think so. After all, if Ibrahim had an army and the arch-necromancer who beat an archmage and his entire cadre in a duel, not even the Praetorians could stop him. But she couldn't exactly reveal that she knew the Persamans had a Prophet without introducing the question of how she knew that. Instead, she changed the topic.

"There's another possible source of the arcane eruptions. We discovered a myrvite titan lying next to a leyline. From what we can tell, it's going to surface at the end of the month. Just north of us. That's why I'm here. And the Deeps is running interference for some Gods-forsaken reason, so the resources I've been able to assemble in such a short time frame are limited." Trinea blinked at her.

"An Elder titan. From… like from ancient times?" She nodded.

"That can't be."

"I wish that were true."

"Then you have to tell Voran."

"As soon as we're done with the assault. Now there's two things we need to save Alkazaria from." Trinea looked at Mirian again, searching for something.

"You've changed so much," she said. Then she said, "Did they give up on the relic? Who's watching over the hostage?" Mirian's mind raced. Hostage? What in the hells is she talking about?

"I don't know. Someone," she said, as calmly as she could.

"I was focused on the new development. There's no way they give up on the relic, especially now." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. They fell into an awkward silence as they walked. The grounds of the gardens were mostly empty. Some of the families had boarded up their windows, or hired workers to fortify their manors.

"There's so much to say," Trinea said.

"I don't know where to begin. How's your partner?" Mirian knew at least a little of Adria's boyfriend in Palendurio from the letters.

"Well enough, considering the circumstances. When this is finally over, I'll go see him."

"He didn't come see you?" She sighed softly the way she'd heard Specter do it.

"His own circumstances. It's been a tough few years."

"You should have let me come and see you last year. I still don't understand." Because that was Specter trying to keep her cover from getting blown, she knew.

"I was trying to keep you away from the politics. But I couldn't just say that, because I didn't know if they'd open the letter and know I was on to them." Trinea looked at her again, brow furrowed. I'm not saying things the way she would, Mirian knew. Damn, but it's hard to change a speech pattern.

"How have you been? Still flying solo?" This time, the Praetorian's eyes widened.

"A pun. A pun!? Who are you and what have you done with Adria." Mirian's heart beat fast, but she kept her face passive.

"Unintentional, I assure you."

"It better be! Ah, they're fine. My old man finally passed away. We all saw it coming. Still hurts, though."

"I'm sorry." She wracked her mind for details from the letters she'd studied.

"And your brother?"

"Still a fool, I'm afraid." In a low voice she said, "The less I hear from him, the better. If I suspect he's getting involved in something criminal, I'll have to turn him in myself." They chatted softly for a time, continuing their walk. Mirian did her best to keep things vague and refer to the letters, but often she had to dodge a question entirely. The minutes seemed to tick by too slowly, but she felt it would be even more suspicious to find an excuse to run off.

"You got a new spellbook," Trinea noted.

"There was an accident with the relic. I was not happy," she said.

"I'm still working on this one." Another quizzical glance.

"You didn't just get headquarters to deliver a new one?" They can do that? Shit.

"No, I needed several spells that weren't in there for the wards. And the Academy paid for it, so there was no point."

"You used to be such a stickler for procedure," she said.

"Everyone changes," she said, making a mental note to try to be more of a stickler. Except I hardly know any of the Praetorian's rules and procedures. Wasn't exactly a class on that!

"Do they, though?" Trinea asked.

"I've tried to get my brother to change for years, and he never has."

"Disillusionment. Things are supposed to work a certain way, and they didn't." Better phrased, she congratulated herself with. Concise, and without conditionals, like Adria would do. And the conversation continued. At last, mercifully, the belltowers chimed throughout the city and Trinea said, "Well, we better head back to the Citadel. Takeoff is in an hour, and I know you like to be early."

"Appreciated," she said.

Mirian had seen the assault formations from her tower apartment last cycle, so she at least had some idea of what to expect. It had looked to her like the lead three casters rained down fire, while the back three used defensive shields on the full formation. Trinea, as a magnetic and force specialist, was leading from the rear. Mirian's heart was pounding. For all that she'd done, she'd never done this. She also knew Ibrahim was anticipating the attack, though from what she'd seen, he wasn't able to stop it.

In synchronized motion, the second team all raised their levitation wands as one, then flew up into the air together, keeping their position and speed consistent. Shit, Mirian thought. Well, if they find me out and kill me, there's always next cycle. This isn't the safest way to learn, but it is the fastest. Team three took off next, heading south with the others.

"Ready," Trinea said. Mirian did her best to imitate the coordinated motion. When they took off though, she accelerated too fast, then had to drop back, but dropped back too far. With small adjustments, she was able to get back into formation. One of the other Praetorians glanced at her.

"It's been a few years," she said above the wind. The fifth team took off behind them. Mirian glanced back, only to get slightly out of position and have to adjust her course. Twice more, she briefly fell out of formation. Fortunately, only one of the Praetorians at the back seemed to notice. Beneath her, the outskirts of the city faded into scrubland. She could see the beginning of trenches carved into the landscape. The fifth group peeled away, heading towards the river at a new angle.

Ah, answers that, she thought. As they approached Ibrahim's army, she felt the anticipation surging through her.

"Shields!" Trinea shouted. Instantly, the Praetorians on the wings of the formation cast shield spells.

"Enemy in cover!" a Praetorian in the front shouted next. She must be the one using the divination spell.

"Marking!" Light spells bloomed across the battlefield. As they did, gunfire erupted with the suddenness and intensity that she knew had to come from foreknowledge. Spellpiercer bullets streamed upward, but while they cut through the force shields easily, Trinea's magnetic shield caught them.

"Intense fire! Flicker maneuver!" Mirian glanced around, trying to figure out what that meant. Two of the Praetorians on offense switched to defensive shields, and the entire group started moving up. Right, like a moon flicker. Sort of. She joined them.

"Manticore assault," Trinea said. The Praetorians all sent down extremely fast moving fireball spells, exploding in a grid all at once. As the blooms of fire lit up the twilight, she called out, "Desert screen!" and the arcanists used a disperse particles spell to turn the smoke and dust that had been kicked up into a fog.

"Reform, standard assault," their squad leader barked out.

"Crossing in two minutes." They came down low again, wands blazing, this time directing fire towards the light spells that marked the enemy. As they came in, their shields flared as bullets peppered them. Unable to see with all the dust, Mirian cast a night vision spell to better look at the force dispersal. There were several artillery pieces. One of them was pointed at them. I saw no artillery last time. She cast a magnetic push spell on the barrel, deflecting the gun, and just in time.

There was the crash and flash of it firing. A few dozen feet to their right, the shell burst in the air, sending out shrapnel and lightning. Even with the Praetorian shields, she heard shouts as the metal fragments pierced both the magnetic and force shields. The crackling lightning lingered in the air, but the outer grounding spells prevented the bolts from electrocuting them. If that had hit the formation dead on, it might have killed the whole group. Ibrahim was still iterating, it seemed.

The Praetorians retaliated immediately, sending down fireball and magnetic burst spells until the artillery piece was mangled and the Persaman crew were burnt husks. Mirian joined them, backing away slightly from the grounding spells so she could send down chain lightning into the trenches. The haze below crackled as it leapt about.

"Trinea to First Praetorian. Just avoided a thunderburst shell. Recommending an immediate withdrawal." There was a pause as she waited for the response over the remote private communication spell.

"Withdraw! Circle north, then low pass. Second wing, signal incoming to the soldiers as we approach their line. Withdraw! Withdraw!" As they approached the Alkazarian garrison establishing its line, the two Praetorians let out signal lights in rapid succession. The signal would have been decided that morning. Which means there's a high likelihood Ibrahim knows what they are. Another point of change to consider. Fortunately, even if he could predict the signals, he couldn't exploit it yet.

They made it back to the Citadel without incident, the groups landing one by one. Voran immediately strode over to Commander Ayral, who was there with her delegation.

"Your diviners said there were no artillery. Artillery just almost took out one of my squads." Ayral's eyes went wide and she turned to one of the aides by her. Chief Arcanist, if I remember the insignias. The Chief Arcanist in turn looked at his subordinates. One of them shrugged her shoulders—inadvisably.

"That's the fucking response!? We could have been killed out there. Is your whole team incompetent?"

"Sir, we'll do a full investigation into our procedure," the Chief Arcanist said, shaking, then shot his subordinate a withering glare.

"They may have been, ah, obscuring it. Not that I'm making excuses, Sir! It won't happen again."

"It damn well better not. Until then, we're taking over divination. Third team, you're on observation tonight, first team, rapid response. We just burned a lot of mana for not a lot of effect. Commander Ayral, I'm not here to tell you your business, but we aren't doing any sorties beyond the walls until the enemy artillery is silenced. You understand? This damn war isn't the only thing threatening Baracuel." The First Praetorian stormed off, barking something that sounded vaguely like, "—and recover mana!"

before a slammed door obscured the rest of his sentence. Mirian said, "Probably best to explain the situation to him tomorrow," to Trinea.

"It can wait another day. When the airships arrive from Fort Aegrimere, that'll probably cheer him up." Trinea looked perplexed.

"What?"

"I ordered airships to support my own operation, but they can help here first." Commander Ayral headed back inside to debrief with his own staff, while the third team of Praetorians headed back towards the wall—walking, though, to conserve mana. I wonder what their capacities are? She'd been practicing and testing herself regularly when she had the time and opportunity, but she hadn't had a chance to research how that compared to other elite arcanists.

"I'll see you in the morning," Mirian said to Trinea, mind starting to wander. She headed down the hall, making her way to the quarters she'd been assigned in the Citadel. She was opening the door when she realized someone was behind her.

"Trinea?" she asked, puzzled, because she hadn't heard the footsteps. A muffle sound spell? But why would she do that, unless… Trinea strode forward and shoved her hard so that she stumbled back into her room, then drew her wand and pointed it at Mirian's head. Unless she figured out I'm not Adria.

"What the fuck is going on and who the fuck are you?" Trinea said. Ah, shit, Mirian thought.