The Tolls of War – A Shadowed Horizons Short Story – Part Two

Arlantrix held up a hand once more as cold, salty water sprayed her in the face. The latest cannon fire from the Basileans had missed the Infernox but they were closing down on the ship.

Ahead, a trio of Blacksoul frigates had surged ahead toward their enemy. These smaller craft were making good use of their speed to enter the fray before the rest of the abyssal dwarf fleet. The large paddle wheels at their aft were sending sprays of water skyward, while their cannon spit forth potentially deadly balls of iron.

They were focusing their efforts on a lone Elohi that had drifted further away from the rest of the Basileans. Without the need for wind to power their mighty engines, the Blacksouls were circling like a pack of wolves preparing to take down their prey. In unison, the cannon of the Blacksouls belched forth their awful ammunition. Most fell short but one found its target and cut through the main mast of the Elohi. It crashed to the deck and Arlantrix spotted sailors diving from the rigging and into the sea. The Blacksouls crept closer to finish off their quarry. First blood to the dwarfs.

Arlantrix took a moment to see what was happening on her own ship. Behind her a pair of ironcasters had appeared, along with the odd-looking beast she had heard called a hexcaster. Whenever Karik barked an order, the spellcasters would chant something and the glowing, lava-like runes on the hexcaster would shift and morph. Then a moment later, they would change shape once more. Arlantrix realised the dwarfs were using these magical constructions to communicate with the rest of the fleet and ensuring everyone knew of Karik’s plans. Each ship must have its own hexcaster to send and receive messages.

Perhaps in response to Karik’s commands, the Angkor-class warship on the portside came to a complete halt. Its engines fell silent and the smoke billowing forth from its dual stacks relinquished slightly.

“Watch this, elf,” bellowed Karik with a sneer.

There was an almighty boom from the Angkor and its massive mortar spat out… something. Even at this distance, Arlantrix’s attunement to the dark arts sensed the awful energy that had just been unleashed. She reached out across the plains of magic for a moment and recoiled when she felt hundreds of screaming souls trapped inside the giant iron ball hurtling toward the closest abbess.

With anticipation she watched the trajectory of the hellish shell. It arced and struck the Abbess’ starboard side with a glancing blow. Arlantrix was about to mock the cocky dwarf when the words caught in her mouth. The shell exploded upon impact and the souls of the dead spilled forth in a burst of infernal energy, ripping a chunk from the ship. Green, unholy flames erupted across the deck of the craft and were quickly joined by the flickering orange and red of other fires, as the inferno spread. For a moment Arlantrix held her breath before the Abbess burst apart in a shower of green and red flames.

“Who needs the help of an elf?” shouted Karik before turning to the ironcasters. “Tell them to fire another volley.”

The ironcasters chanted to their hexcaster before eventually turning to Karik with embarrassed expressions.

“The mechanism is jammed, my lord. They need more time,” mumbled one of the magic users.

Arlantrix raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Dwarfs with an engineering problem,” she laughed. “Next you’ll be saying you can’t handle your ale.”

Karik’s face turned red and his eyes blazed. With a swift movement he pulled a pistol from his belt and shot the ironcaster that had delivered the message.

“Tell them I expect no excuses! Launch another volley.”

The remaining ironcaster quickly began to mumble toward the hexcaster, while a pair of dwarf sailors dragged away the body of his colleague and threw it overboard.

“We shall lead the attack ourselves then,” roared Karik. “Full speed toward that remaining Abbess!”

The Infernox closed the distance to the Basilean ship in swift time. As it neared its target, the eyes of the skull upon its prow roared into unnatural flames, as if anticipating the ensuing combat. In response the Abbess was turning swiftly in preparation to fire a full broadside at the approaching Infernox. Arlantrix noted with a sense of horror that Karik either hadn’t noticed or simply didn’t care.

“We’re heading straight into a broadside, you dull-witted fool,” screamed Artlantrix. “They’ll tear us apart!”

As if in response to Arlantrix’s fears, one of the Abbess’ cannons prematurely fired. The cannonball hurtled past the portside of the Infernox and landed in the sea.

“You need to do something!” she screeched. This wasn’t how she was meant to die. Surrounded by foul-smelling dwarfs, choking on smoke and smeared in black dust.

She was about to throttle the smug dwarf, when a rumbling below deck caught her attention. The monstrous skull on the prow was beginning to open its prodigious jaws. Its hollow eyes glowed brighter with arcane hellfire and the smell of sulphur mixed with the acrid tones of the engine smoke.

“I am no fool, hag,” spat Karik. “Fire!”

Thick coils of barbed wire catapulted from the skull’s maw and soared across the waves. They quickly wrapped around the hull and masts of the Abbess. The vessel toppled dangerously to its starboard side and Arlantrix assumed Karik meant to capsize it.

“Reel her in,” shouted Karik, “and prepare for combat.”

The rumbling below deck intensified and the Abbess began its inexorable journey toward the Infernox. In response, the Basileans panicked and attempted to fire upon their attacker, but without the co-ordination of a broadside, most of the shots flew wayward or skimmed harmlessly off the iron prow.

The Abbess was almost within touching distance when a pair of boarding ramps emerged from the grim mouth of the Infernox and ploughed into the deck of their foe. The heavy metal smashed through the railings and sent shards of wood flying into the waves below. A battalion of heavily-armoured blacksoul marines quickly spilled forth from the gaping jaws and marched toward the Basileans.

Within moments, the once pristine deck of the Abbess descended into chaos. In their golden armour, the well-trained marines tore through the ranks of the Basilean sailors, easily shrugging off glancing blows from cutlasses or the bullets of flintlock pistols.

“Detach the ramps and leave them to finish the job,” hollered Karik. “Reverse engines!”

With two Abbesses and an Elohi down, that only left the remaining pair of Elohi class ships. Arlantrix cast her gaze across the horizon to find the ships. She was just in time to see the angelic beacons on the prow of the vessels erupt in a blaze of blue light. The battle had caught the attention of the Shining Ones, causing the carvings to glow with holy blessings.

“We have an audience,” announced Arlantrix, bitterly.

“Ha! Even the Shining Ones are no match for the might of the navies of Tragar,” laughed Karik. “Ironcaster, call in our air support.”

The spellcaster quickly muttered something and the hexcaster’s runes twisted and morphed. In response, there was a high-pitched screech amongst the thick, white clouds that drifted above them and a dozen odd shapes suddenly dropped into view. Arlantrix gaped slightly as she realised they were gigantic cave worms with wings. They swooped toward the Elohi and blasted gunfire from turrets fused to their backs. Individually they were causing minimal damage to the craft but the chaos was enough to distract the Basileans from the rest of the abyssal fleet. Eventually the worms would prove victorious.

“This is almost too easy!” roared Karik. The other dwarfs joined in with his booming laughter.

“We are not done yet, dwarf. The toll forts are the real challenge,” replied Arlantrix.

Heavily armoured, with batteries of cannons lining the walls, the toll forts allowed the Basileans to control who was allowed to sail between the Low Sea of Suan and out onto the open oceans of Pannithor. Anyone foolish enough to go between them without permission would be caught in the crossfire of cannons and ripped apart.

Almost reacting to Arlantix’s concerns, the heavy peal of bells sounded from the forts. She leaned over the portside rail to see a pair of enormous fortified gates rumbling toward each other from the twin towers.

“They’re closing the tolls!” shouted Arlantrix. “We’ll never get through.”

“Their gates won’t stop us, witch,” retorted Karik before turning to his crew. “Ramming speed!”

The Infernox built to even greater speeds but Arlantrix knew it wouldn’t be enough. Those gates looked thicker than most castle walls, and as they grew nearer the tolls edged closer and closer. By the time they arrived, they would be shut and the cannons would make short work of the Infernox.

She prayed to the void that help would come…and soon. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the scrying gem tied around her neck had begun to pulse with a purple glow.

Eagerly, she lifted it to her face before muttering an incantation. An image shifted and warped inside the inky black depths of the gem, before a face emerged from the shadows.

“Mistress Bleakheart,” rasped Arlantrix. She was shocked to see the former elven mage. Since pledging her allegiance to the twilight kin and forsaking her former name of La’theal Silverheart, she had become a most powerful crone. Yet her temperament was unpredictable at best of the times and she was prone to flights of madness. Arlantrix wondered if she had forgotten to ready the twilight kin fleet during one of these bouts of insanity.

“Did you think I had forsaken you?” tittered La’theal.

“Where is the fleet promised to help us gain safe passage?” Arlantrix replied, fighting to hide the bitterness in her voice.

“A fleet, child?” asked Lat’theal. “We promised a distraction, not a fleet.”

They were closing in on the tolls now and the Basilean cannons were beginning to fire. The shots fell short but they were almost in range. She didn’t have time for games with the mad crone.

“Whatever you’re going to do, Mistress Bleakheart, you must do it now!” This time there was no hiding her anger.

“Such impatience!” replied La’theal with a mad grin on her face. “Watch.” And with that the scrying gem went dark once more.

Arlantrix cast her gaze to the toll forts and was distressed to see nothing happening. Then, without warning, the top of a toll fort exploded. Chunks of mortar and brick crashed into the sea. The explosion was quickly joined by another along the glittering white walls of the fort. This time she spotted armoured bodies in the detritus disappearing below the waves. Soon screams were ringing out across the harbour and she noticed the toll gates had stopped their rumbling progress.

The Infernox was nearing closer and now she could see the cause of the screams. Twilight kin neophytes, clad in tight-fitting armour fashioned from unspeakable void-beasts, were emerging from the tides and scaling the walls of the fort like shadows. Armed with wicked-looking twin knives, the neophytes were surging across the defences and laying a trail of bloody destruction in their wake. More explosions followed, clearly the work of the twilight kin assailants. Arlantrix smiled. Their agents within Basilea must have been laying in wait for the fleet’s arrival.

“Typical elves,” grunted Karik. “Too cowardly for an all-out attack!”

“Save your mockery for later,” answered Arlantrix. “Just get us through those gates.”

Karik gave her a leering smile.

“Oh, we’ll get through the gates…but not without having our fun!”

He marched over to the ironcaster and grasped his shoulder.

“Order the fleet to full steam ahead. Make ready to lay waste to the toll forts.”

“Fool! You’ll kill my kin,” raged Arlantrix. “Without them, those cannons would be ripping through your fleet. You’d be heading back to Tragar with your beard between your legs.”

“Collateral damage, witch,” answered the dwarf, with a smirk. “Now the way is open to our navy, we will rule the oceans of Pannithor!” He paused, watching her face with piercing intensity as he prepared his next command. “Open fire!”

His words were followed by the ear–splitting booms of cannon fire. Arlantrix turned away in disgust as her kin on the toll fort battlements disappeared amid violent plumes of dust, fire and smoke.

Let the narrow-minded fools have their victory, she thought darkly. The real work lay ahead of them in the frozen north. If things went to plan, her people would control all of Pannithor, not just the oceans.

Author: Rob Burman