Despite its crude construction, the fort looked like heaven to Pianna. The walls were nothing more than upended logs, standing only fifteen feet high. Clumps of longer trunks provided cover for archers, but it was nothing compared to the mighty ramparts of other Order fortresses. The fort was on a broad rise, surrounded by a dry moat and the wooden wall. An artificial hill rose some seventy feet, and it was capped by a large tower providing the final refuge from assault. The tower was constructed of treated timbers, and the Order's sigil flew from the top of pole.
Any cover would be welcome, for madness seemed to grip almost every animal of the forest. Large predators attacked, even though instinct should have sent them miles from such a large gathering. Groups of normally solitary hunters erupted from the grass and were fought off only when almost all were dead. The villagers' accompanying herds of livestock were ignored, their owners the targets of tooth and claw.
The gates were open, and Pianna and her party rode into the fort. It became nearly impossible to move, the numbers of refugees filling the enclosure. Soldiers stood on scaffolding along the walls, runners moving on the elevated paths rather than daring the tangle of people. Many of those seeking shelter inside the walls were woodsmen and loggers. Their glassy faces showing the shock of being driven from their homes. Children ran and played among the tumult with the easy care that youth could bring, while their parents and guardians were too numb to rein them in. Traders and merchants of all descriptions sat with their goods piled high. Pianna resolved to cache such cargoes outside the walls. A group of hunters stood by, their clothing and manner marking them as Cabal minions. They laughed at the crowd, and each shocked face going by provoked a new burst of merriment.
The keys and chains in their stack of gear told the captain they were pit hunters. The Cabal paid well for a fresh flow of creatures from around the continent. Pianna had, in scouting the forest edge, come across the leavings of such beast caravans. Starved and sick animals were abandoned without even the benefit of death. The predators trailing such columns lost their fear of people and associated them with food.
The group noticed her regard and grew silent, then turned and looked in other directions until her attention was diverted. The Order was pledged to protect all peaceable people on the plains, and the Cabal was careful to obey the letter of the law.
Orderlies made their way through the crowd, moving toward the wagons of wounded to conduct them to the healers. Pianna wondered bleakly how many had died on the way to the fort. Her warriors tried vainly to magically heal wounds when the bulk of their training was inflicting them. She was unable to have a healer flown out because of the current crush in the other Order holds.
The captain dismounted, her hand pressing against her steed's side as the unicorn was finally led away. The stables were full of refugees, so the animals were being picketed outside. The griffins screamed, so all could hear their displeasure at being refused their own stalls.
Pianna headed for the gatehouse. The officer in charge of the fort rose to his feet, giving her a salute that she returned absently. A sack of beer lay on the table, and she filled an empty flagon and washed down the dust of the road.
"Sergeant Sumer," she said, her voice raspy from herding a column of refugees, "what news?" She wiped her eyes, clearing away dirt and wondering if the bathhouse was plugged with asylum seekers as well.
"Not much of a change since this morning," the sergeant answered, a long scar down his face created the illusion of a leer. "The refugees are still coming in, and all reports confirm widespread attacks." He turned to the map behind the table, a cluster of pins showing attacks and sightings of animals. It appeared random, and the sergeant tapped the blank spaces representing the forest's interior.
"These attacks might presage an attack by the western tribes," he opinioned. Pianna's snort of disbelief punctured the soldier's theory.
"I see no benefit to the forest folk in arousing our defenses and clearing the villages of hostages against our behavior," she said, reining in the temper which the journey had roused. "The random nature of the attacks mean we are looking everywhere. Whatever is directing these attacks is doing so for no benefit other than destruction." She walked around the desk and considered the map more closely.
"The only pattern these attacks have is that they radiate from the Krosan forest." Pianna thought of the patrols that scoured the edge of the woodlands. "Perhaps the focus of these troubles lies elsewhere." She looked to the southern reaches of the map.
"Is there any word of Lieutenant Kirtar?" she asked, thinking how valuable he and the other aven would be.
"There was a dragon attack which he defeated, and he says he will be back after sweeping the southern sectors." The sergeant's faint tone of distaste reminded Pianna that many considered Kirtar and his bird warriors to be arrogant and abrasive.
"He is your superior officer, and he and his people have power we need." She regretted that most of the lieutenant's people were far to the northeast and insular except for those taking service in the Order. "He should be able to rally the south. I know that he hoped to impress the Cabal and Mer Empire in the pits, but we need him here. Once again she considered the map. The concentration of her forces along the forest was drying up her information sources.
"Maybe Kirtar will discover something in the south," she said finally. "We need to know what is going on, but for now we must protect our own."
CHAPTER 10
"I hate the forest," Laquatus snarled as he exited the transport pool. Days swimming through caves and river systems under the continent had left his eyes unprepared for the light and heat of the upper world. Turg came out of the pool behind him, his arms hurling sodden luggage. Crabs scuttled and set up a tent for shade as Captain Satas sat in the sun. The amphibian's blind eyes sought the orb's warmth even as his skin burned, exposed to light nature never meant for his people.
"I trust you will be available should I need aid," the ambassador said as he walked to a chair parked under an awning and settled into it. The blind officer tracked his movements.
"I serve your will, but I must travel slowly as we map out routes through the underwater caves," Satas announced, clicking his claws together as he gasped in the heat. "Until more warriors and miners arrive from the sea, you must depend on hirelings," Satas said, his skin beginning to peel away. His eyes were growing dim and sunken as he stayed in the hot, dry air.
"Turg can handle any small difficulties, my good Captain."
Laquatus sipped from the goblet left by the chair. How unfortunate that decent attendants must be left underwater. However, it was a willingness to make sacrifices that defined great leaders, he thought to himself. Besides, a trail of dying servants would have attracted far too much attention.
"Stand ready to reopen the portal should the mercenaries prove unable to meet my needs. You are sure you can open the portal directly beneath me?" Laquatus asked as Turg slunk into the tent and settled in a sullen mass. The large amphibian's skin was already looking dry, and the frog would be difficult to control if the situation went badly.
"The stone calls out to those who know it, Your Excellency," Satas replied, having given the merman a tresias stone. "Finding you will never be difficult while you bear it. It is reaching you that will be hard. Once you begin traveling, I cannot guarantee immediate support."
The ambassador only nodded before remembering that Satas was blind and dismissed him and his men.
Though he appeared at ease, in reality Laquatus seethed with anger and frustration. The lieutenant's path kept him from the explored system of caves and the underground rivers. Those that did exist were clogged with falls and tiny diverging passages. To truly develop the underwater roads would take decades of effort. So instead of leading an attack by mer forces, he was condemned to once more work with drylanders.