Peculiar Soul

Chapter 107: The Beachhead

Chapter 107: The Beachhead

And each of them will stand, because they cannot conceive of a life such as mine, a bent and cowering life. They will stand and soak the world in their blood. And then they will die, Michael, because they oppose you.

I know you dont have the heart of a monster. You are not the doctor, as much as I feared that end. I know that you would not use your soul as he did, and that you strive to remain above its temptations.

Yet I do not think you are perfect. It will be easier for you if the path is clear. I write this now on the deck of a ship, bearing down on Ardalts coast. When I land there I plan to make my power known, and find the men who swarm to it like maggots on meat.

I dont imagine Ill have a hard time finding them, not in Ardalt. I know the men who worked with the doctor, and with Claude; and Ive heard enough about the Assembly to know that theyre not far different. They will march to the drumbeat of their greed and ambition, and I will face them with like evil until none of them can pretend to be anything but what they are.

It is not what you wanted, I know. You would see the good in evil men, and bear a scar on your heart for each of them you killed in necessity. Those scars would twist you, and if you should collapse under their weight I fear that the world could do nothing but burn.

- Annals of the Seventeenth Star, 693.

Michael turned to look back at the farm as they were crossing the surrounding fields. Do you want to talk about it? he asked.

Sobriquet gave him a flat look. Im fine, she said.

Is that a no? Michael raised an eyebrow. Because thats not the question I asked.

You have a long way to go before you can play word games with me, love, she snorted. They walked in silence for a moment, their boots marking the bare winter field. I am fine. It doesnt mean that its easy watching people walk to their deaths, or hearing my dead sister remind me that Im not - who I was. She let out a long, slow breath. Or having all of that wrapped around the man I love, while at the same time being crucial to the fate of the country Ive dedicated my life to rebuilding.

Michael nodded, pursing his lips. Youre right, he said. Cant understand why anyone would be distraught about any of that.

Im certainly not distraught, she retorted. Nor distressed, nor whatever else you may be about to imply next. Some days are hard. That doesnt mean the enemy takes a break, nor that I should indulge in self-pity. Nothing ever gets easier except by taking action to make it so.

So you dont want to talk about it, Michael said.

Sobriquet shot him a glare. Youre horrible at this. Believe it or not, Ive had my share of bad days in the past; I managed to survive them without your counsel.

You had Clair. Michael turned to her. You told me shes the one who held you together, that she never lost sight of you.

She stopped and turned to face him. And now shes dead, and despite that remnant in you Ill never have that in my life again. I fucking know, Michael. Its hard to forget a thing like that. So is there a reason youre harping on that particular point, or is it merely because youre trying to see what will distress me? Because youre perilously fucking close, and Im lost as to why.

Michael turned to face her, noting peripherally that the others in their small column had halted several paces back, trying their hardest to look inconspicuous. He couldnt blame them; the anger and pain radiating from Sobriquet was palpable, furious. It provoked a stab of guilt. It had been Michael who pressed the point, and it might have been fine if he hadnt. But-

Because you dont think she was right, Michael said. You think I should have questioned those two regardless.

At a certain point it isnt about what I think, she shot back. Its about whats going to happen. You know what the stakes are, here. Ghar is going to burn, and I doubt we could save all of it no matter what we do. Even if you charged in and killed Luc this instant, wed still have plenty of Ardans to deal with - and they wont all go quietly. People will die. The question is how many, and we answer that with our actions.

Michael looked back at the farmhouse. I had given myself permission to think that way, he said. Or I was trying to, at least. Luc is going to keep getting stronger. Hes going to keep exploiting my hesitance unless I get rid of it, so I prepared to do whatever was necessary. And all the while, I felt that dissonance building, that friction from Clairs soul within me. He tapped his chest. Reminding me that there are some limits that we should hold to.

Even at the cost of defeat? Sobriquet threw her hand up in exasperation. The Daressa she fought for died a long time ago. I appreciate what she did for me - what shes still doing. But theres nothing thats going to make that come back. Im not a child anymore, Michael. The blood is already on my hands, and no amount of restraint now is going to wipe that away.

There was a cough from beside them; Sobriquet turned to glare at Charles. At the risk of getting my head bit off, the artifex said, I feel like I should point out that were not walking closer to the Ardans anymore.

Im sorry, are we affecting your schedule? Sobriquet said acidly.

Charles smirked at her. Ive got nowhere to be, he said. But while you folks worry over how much killing is too much, the Ardans are out there preparing for a whole lot worse. He nodded out towards the general direction of the coast. Seems like we should do something about that.

We were, until recently. She looked at Michael. We could be again, at any point we wanted. Unless wed prefer to keep having unproductive conversations.

Michael raised his hands, but Charles cleared this throat again. Boss, he said, I think theres a conversation to be had.

You too? she muttered, turning towards him. What, are you going to lecture me on restraint now? You?

He grinned. Nope. That would be downright hypocritical. But I knew Clair - better than anyone here save for you, Id say. We talked sometimes. Well, sometimes she gave me a chance to talk back in between shouting. Charles let the smile slip from his face. Sometimes we talked about you.

Sobriquet gave him a warning look, but said nothing.

Not by name, of course, Charles said. But it wasnt hard to figure out that she knew you, and that you two were close. He paused. One night, we had gotten into some wine, and she mentioned that the whole thing would have fallen apart if you werent in charge. Nothing to do with your soul. It was-

Charles tilted his head, his eyes still focused on Sobriquet; in that moment Michael caught the faintest glimmer of something from Charles, a brief, agonized spark that felt like weary muscles long disused. It was gone in an instant. Be careful what you give the War, boss. You dont get it back. Clair and I, we both gave it our Daressa long ago. But - it was never our country that we were fighting for.

Some of them were formless, others left the impression of marching men, of horses and carts in long rows. Michael clenched his fists. Theyre nearly ready, he said. Can you spot anything specific? Any sign of where Luc is?

She shook her head. Not while they have it veiled.

Michael turned to the others and nodded. Then we have our first task. Were not going to bother sneaking in, we have to assume they have Sibyl - shell spot us eventually no matter what we do, when were this close. Well break their perimeter, make a hole for Sera to see through. Once she finds Luc, we move there fast. Sera, Lars, you two take out any obruors or other ensouled that draw close while Im engaging him. Everyone else, keep the soldiers back. If you cant hold, try to draw them away from me and fall back to the treeline.

He met each of their eyes in turn, then pivoted to face the obscured Ardan camp. Lets make this the last time, he said - and began to run.

The first Ardans were surprisingly close; Michael felt the pressure of their veil on him before he had truly worked himself up to a run. It was only moments more before he spotted the twist of golden lattice that marked where the Fade stood; he reached for the heat in the earth, the light of the sun - and brought it all to the center.

A short, strangled scream cut through the unnatural silence; a smoldering body dropped onto scorched grass, its hands curled into claws. Stretches of the field shifted, changing to reveal startled men looking their way. A few silent whispers were all that heralded another pair of them falling with thin, coin-slot marks in their foreheads, courtesy of Lars.

The air churned before them. Michael blinked away the distortion and saw what had been there all along.

Men. An endless sea of them, in their tens of thousands. Ships steamed close to the shore, disgorging pallets of goods or long, winding ranks of soldiers. There were few tents; those had been taken down. They meant to march, and soon.

Michael was momentarily stunned by the sight; even expecting an army, it was larger than any force he had seen in the field. The Mendiko had been a small, nimble expedition compared to the vast expanse of humanity that carpeted the beach.

His contemplation was interrupted as the golden light around him shivered, twisting together and shining with renewed vigor. Michael straightened up and lifted his gaze as a great eye worked itself onto Stanzas fabric, baleful and hot.

Hello, Sofia, he said quietly. Sorry, but Im not here for you.

He whistled sharply and pointed. Sibyl has us! he shouted. Sera, can you-

Working on it! she yelled back; her eyes were closed tightly, her brow furrowed. Charles hovered near her with metal clinging to his hands, watching the nearest soldiers. Hard to see anything in this mess.

Michael turned back to the soldiers - or, rather, to the obruors in their midst who were beginning to realize that something was wrong, even if they couldnt see the cause. He stretched out with Spark, this time, searching for the motes of fear and anxiety amid the dull mass of obruor-touched men. They stood out, glaring bright; he shoved heat at them in artless, crude torrents.

Men exploded into gouts of steam even as the soldiers around them stumbled, their boots frozen to the ground - or crumbling into bloody ice, leaving only the shattered stumps of legs to work mindlessly against the air. Chaos seized the army where the obruors had fallen, drawing yet more attention. Men began to shout, to rush towards the chaos-

There! Sobriquet shouted, pointing at a cluster of large wagons still being hitched to their horses. Someone in there is casting a big shadow. Could be Sibyl, but I doubt it - she never had that kind of weight to her. She looked at Michael, then jerked her head towards the wagons. Thats our target.

Michael nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle onto him. His heart began to pound; he licked his lips - then began to run where she had pointed.

Their presence was impossible to miss, now, with hordes of obruor-touched men milling chaotically around the fracas, the corpses of their handlers smoking amid blooms of frost. Zabala and his soldiers were carving a bloody swathe as Michael ran, while Lars hung back to drop targets of interest. Charles stayed in the center of their formation with Sobriquet, occasionally flashing out a blade of metal at men who drew too close.

Gunfire sounded, though it was imprecise and sporadic; half of the obruors seemed to be trying to halt it while the others called for more. It did less than nothing to them, though. Sobriquets veil saw most of the shots go wide, and those that came their way were harmless against Zabalas soul. Scalptors and the occasional lucigens were more of a concern, though Michael only saw a few ensouled stride forward to combat. Lars felled them with prejudice as soon as they made themselves known.

Even so, the bulk of the Ardan forces was gradually shaking itself awake. It wouldnt be long before they brought some countermeasure against invisible combatants, carpeting the field with dust or smoke - or bringing Sibyl herself out to mark their position. Michael wasnt going to wait to find out which it would be. He ran flat-out towards the wagons Sobriquet had identified, drawing further ahead of the others.

When he was only a few dozen paces distant, he leapt forward into the midst of them, aiming for the largest, best-built of the wagons. At the apex of his arc he turned his sight to glance at the others behind him, still carving their way towards his position; Sobriquet was waving at him, her eyes wide, an expression of alarm on her face-

Michael turned his vision back to the wagon in time to see it fly apart into splinters. Bits of wood and dust filled the air, flecked with glass and cloth that pelted him as he streaked through the space where it had been. He landed hard in the wheel-rutted mud, springing to his feet and turning.

Amid the cloud of fragments falling, in the dust that hung dreamlike against the sea wind, Michael saw a familiar face. Different from when he had last seen him, for there was no more wild beard, no more untamed mass of hair. The eyes, though - they still glittered with the same light that he had seen amid cold winter stone.

Michael Baumgart, Friedrich said, walking forward through the dust. He was smiling broadly, revealing white, even teeth. I had thought I would need to look for you, but events conspire to see our paths cross. I am not a man who searches for meaning in the meaningless, but - its enough to make one wonder. His smile grew. Dont you think?

Against the sudden thundering of his heart in his ears, Michael straightened up to face him. Hello, Friedrich, he said, desperately scrubbing any trace of fright from his voice. I have to say that Im surprised to see you here.

Have I not always followed the scent of blood? Friedrich asked. Why should now be any different?

Blood, perhaps. Michael raised an eyebrow. I hadnt thought that youd follow Luc, though.

Friedrich gave a low, humorless laugh. I follow no man, he said. Least of all that one. He came to speak with me, you know. I turned him away twice, but he was oddly insistent on meeting with me in person; I let him in the third time intending to kill him. A sniveling, cowardly man. He thinks he hates me, and tries to hide it, but could not hide his greater hate for himself.

His eyes had wandered as he spoke, looking off to the side. Michael took a step in the other direction, but as soon as he moved Friedrichs eyes snapped back to him, the smile returning with greater vigor.

And yet I did not kill him then, pathetic though he was, because he said something of interest. When I asked why I should join him in his foolish romp, he told me that you would be here seeking blood. That I would find you with resolve and intent, if I came. Friedrich took a step closer; the dust around him was suddenly gone; cleansed from the air as though it had never been. And I cannot name him a liar, for here you are.

Michael nodded slowly, taking desperate inventory of everything around him. Nothing changed the situation much.

Here I am, Michael agreed.