300 200 – March Toward Doom

Plotline: Elemental Messenger (Declining)

Chapter Type: Social

Marching along a single road with a military unit, the trip between the middle and outer walls took a single day. Taking time out to forage for food (because nobody had any food to spare, or sell) and spread the warning of the earth elementals, it took closer to two.

For a time, I thought an owl was watching me sleep in an alley, but when I sent it a mental message, it departed the way many wild animals will. That becomes important later, but I didn’t know enough to place its importance at the time.

In any case, I made my way back north, through the noise and clutter and nosy guards, toward Admiral Kwan Lun.

“Oh,” said the bureaucrat I ended up speaking to, “I’m afraid the admiral is quite busy, far too busy to make time for foreigners.”

“Okay.” I said. “You tell him that I had a message from the elementals who were going to rip down our outer wall, and that you decided he didn’t need to hear it.”

“If it were that urgent...”

“My quest is to deliver the messages, not force people to listen. And I certainly don’t need to ask about something that might remove the blockading fleet.”

.....

“As if you could do anything that would do that.”

“Except that I can, and it is simple. Easy. Certain. But, if I must be about delivering the message of the elementals elsewhere, I can do that instead.”

I had expected one of them to try to stop me. Assholes.

But with a sigh, I concluded that I knew enough to get my audience without the bureaucracy approving of it. Besides, it had been over a month since I had seen Gamilla.

I needn’t have worried. She had a tinker’s stall, selling all manner of trinkets. I set aside a brass oil lamp. “These are higher quality things than I expected to find. You are doing well without us, Gamilla.”

“These people are bigoted and hateful.” she said, “And I look forward to the day when we can leave. It is amazing what people will trade for food. And then, when I ran out of food, what they would trade to get back those things they traded in haste. But what brings you to my stall, after over a month?”

“I have a way of ending the blockade, and thus bringing the siege one stage closer to being over.”

Her eyes closed to slits. “What would you need, to effect such a plan?”

“Am I that obvious? Fine, I need some woodworking tools; not the full set, but-” I listed the ones I needed.

“And what manner of silliness are you planning with such tools?”

“That should be obvious.” I said. “Amphibian. Lungs.”

“It is a stupid and reckless plan, but I can have your tools by morning.”

“I thank you, Gamilla. I don’t want to dicker with individual merchants for each tool.”

“Dicker? No, no. I am going to ask those merchants to donate those tools, and conceal how ill thought out this plan is.”

“Please, tell me your thoughts.”

And she did; it turns out that kraken spawn sometimes gnawed on the hulls of vessels. So they had ways of detecting and deterring such attacks. The nastiest one, from my point of view, was to fill a bamboo tube with black powder and a fuse that would burn when wet. Light the fuse, toss the tube over the side, and BOOM, instant pressure wave. With alchemy, such wicks could burn underwater, and cutting the fuse to such a length with an exact weight, and you could control how deep it went before detonating. An enchantment to keep a certain distance from the hull, or to seek out living creatures, and you had some fairly nasty tools to unleash on anything that might make a leak, certainly before such was large enough to endanger the ship.

Also, the Empire built their ships to last, including empowering the hulls with runes that automatically drew power from the ocean itself. To some extent, most of the seafaring nations did this, but not to the sheer scale and comprehensive array as Gamilla described.

“It seems my plan would not have worked.” I was eventually forced to admit.

“So, do you still need those tools?” she asked.

“I require a different tool.” I said, detailing the enchantments it would require.

“Those tools, I cannot get for you.” she said.

“No, I need it all in a single tool.” I said.

“Those magics don’t exist in a single tool.” she said. “Worse, the tools you need are fucking family treasures to the wardsmiths who own them. You won’t get those, not for money, not for honor, and certainly not just to end the siege. Not until your plan becomes MUCH better.”

“Thank you for your time, Gamilla.”

“Not at all.” she said. “I am told that oracles and diviners expect great things from you.”

“I’ve heard the same story.” I said.

“Oh? Would you care to share some details?”

I cared, much to our mutual amusement. Oh, I could take on an average soldier, perhaps two or three at a time, but the thought of me, however well armored and equipped, standing against some noble’s elite guards? I could do many things, but no one thing well enough that I could be considered a proper champion, let alone a hero.

Well, maybe I could block with a shield better than the average warrior, but my time among the Daurians had revealed that in the end, shields were still objects, just breakable gear. And proper champions had ways past gear.

Oh.

“Proper champions have ways past gear.” I said.

“An Itinar saying.” Gamilla said. “What of it?”

“I don’t need the magical tools.” I said. “Just get me the hand drill and the lumbering strap.”

historical

“What madness are you planning now?” she asked.

And, as a sanity check, I told her.

“You are INSANE.” she said. “You might get one ship that way, before the others realize what you’re doing and find ways to counter your attacks. That is if you don’t die from magic released from the ship’s ward runes when you break them.”

“Yes, I’m counting on those runes being strong and powerful.” I said. “The stronger they are, the less likely those on board the ship are to detect my presence until it is too late.”

She shook her head. “Each vessel has no fewer than two crew attuned to those wards. Break them, and there’s no possible way you will remain undetected.”

“Yes, but even when they detect me, I will have some time before these seeker tubes are deployed to find and destroy me.” I said.

“Not enough of it.” she said, but still we made proper bows and said words in our foreign tongue. “Still, if you did these things that Kismet claims, you may have a chance of it.”

“Which things?” I asked. I confirmed a third of them, denied the others.

“Damn it.” she said, “You almost, almost, had me convinced that you were a competent warrior.”

I had no good reply to that, so I gave none. We wished each other well, and I began observing the citadel, looking for one tower window in particular.

The citadel was well built; the climbing path was possible, but it was nothing that I’d want to do, even on the half health that I had. If the wrong person discovered me, I could be dead long before I reached the window of my desire. And, with the moon waxing, that became more and more likely with each passing night.

Tonight it was, then. I found an unguarded stable and got some much needed sleep. Not enough; it seemed there was never enough sleep back in those days.

There was the leap, which was less impressive than ones I had to make in Lavin Buscala, rooftop to rooftop. There was a sticky spot where I crossed the underside of a wooden support strut, but the surface of the tower was negligently littered with handholds and footholds. I hardly had a problem getting up and over and...

And smacked my knuckles on the glass window. The glass window that could only be opened from the inside. Ugh! Maybe Gamilla had a point. I made dumb plans. Stupid plans. Plans defeated by a simple locked...

Except, when I checked, the window wasn’t locked. Getting claws inside the crack, and yanking the window took some work. And, when I hefted myself over the window sill...

“Ah-ah!” I said, “Mei of the sure hands. Hello.”

“Ah, ambassador.” she said, putting aside the harpoon she’d been ready to thrust at me. “And so nimble, if not quite stealthy. Good evening.”

“I need to speak to the admiral, or someone else with a good deal of nautical know-how.” I said.

She swept a hand from her side up to her other soldier, made it look elegant. “I happen to speak often with an admiral, steeped in the lore of the sea. Might I have the bit of lore you seek?”

“It is doubtful, but let us speak of plans more elegant than just swimming up under a ship, breaking the power of its runes, and drilling holes through the hull with a drill?”