CHAPTER 36: Unshackling the Wolf - Part 1

  Hazar had only been the warden of Grest for a year. Seldom was he woken in the midst of his sleep, but he knew well that when it happened, he would face a perplexing problem beyond the ken of his subordinates. In particular when the knocks on his door were as soft as they were now, it was nothing but trouble.

  He grabbed his clothes, grumbling as he dressed, and did not forget to take the weapon belt, retrieving the spiked mace from the wall and fastening it. Whatever he was about to encounter, he had better come prepared.

  Upon opening the door, the battered expression of the fortress's guard captain, looking as though he had been sodomized with a cannon, summarized the tale he was about to tell.

  As they ascended to the surface on the moving platform, the fortress captain explained how they had come without any early warning from the Wraiths. How they attacked when all were unsuspecting, seizing the walls and controlling the courtyard. How their assault was organized, orchestrated with knowledge of the fortress's layout. And how they eschewed heavy armor, considering the fine sand surrounding the fortress.

  “Why are you here then?” Hazar asked.

  “Pardon?”

  Hazar slapped the back of the captain's head, causing his steel cap to tumble over his face.

  “If the situation is as dire as you say, why are you here instead of leading the fucking defense!”

  The captain stammered and dared not speak again until they reached the surface.

  The situation was as bad as Hazar feared. Fires and chaos wherever he looked. His soldiers were scattered and being picked off one by one by the enemy with shields and curved swords.

  Hazar observed the enemies from the mouth of the cave. They wore loose clothing suitable for desert combat with nothing revealing their origins. They did not fly any banners, which was expected – if they were attacking Grest, it was without a doubt to free prisoners. They would not liberate anyone if their origins were known, for he could take hostages among those intended for release.

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  The enemy fought in pairs, taking their time to dispatch his soldiers with an impunity reminiscent of eagles picking off scattered chicks. There were no renowned warriors shouting their names and challenging duels. Everything was meticulously planned. He had already lost this battle.

  “Move all the rations and weapons below. Burn any remaining facilities. Fill all the wells!” he ordered the fortress captain. After all, Grest, a relic of the Chaos Era Two, was designed to be defended from within.

  “Guard all possible entry routes throughout the day. We'll wait until their water supplies run out,” he added, turning back into the cave.

  Indeed, nothing but trouble.

  ***

  Kirya oversaw the Kargad liberation army entering Grest fortress. By nightfall, they had completely taken control. They removed the corpses of their enemies, burning them in the desert, cleared the debris, set up field kitchens, and erected tents. Scouts were already dispatched to prevent any surprise attacks from enemy reinforcements.

  “Kirya, come here!” Seriah called. Her left hand, missing some fingers, swept aside the command tent's flap.

  Inside the tent, Seriah discussed the next steps with Vraka Barga and Weital.

  “Argh, it's a shame I can’t join the assault on Grest! I was itching to break those damn Nits!” Barga crossed his arms, his skin reddish-dark from long exposure to the sun.

  “You're too well-known, Vraka. If you had joined the assault, the Terzionites would've known we are here to release Vraka Keragan,” Kirya said.

  “As for our plans entering Grest, there are no changes,” Seriah said, her hands pressing down on the table.

  A perspective drawing of the entire Grest lay spread on the table. Protruding steel blocks surrounded its spherical structure, anchoring it in place. Three cylindrical buildings, air regulation installations, jutted out from the main structure like its three legs. One of the cylindrical buildings was circled in red ink.

  “Kirya.”

  “Yes, Advisor.” Kirya bowed, pressing three fingers of the right hand to her chest.

  “You will enter Grest through this damaged wall.” Seriah's index finger tapped the red circle. “From this point and through the air ducts shown in the drawing, you can directly emerge on tenth sublevel where Vraka Keragan is held.”

  “My crew is ready at any moment.”

  “Move as soon as they arrive.”

  “When will they arrive?” Weital asked. He was a giant of a man. Even Barga, large as he was, stood half a head shorter. Weital had cropped black hair and wore a long brown robe, the badge of the deputy captain of the Dawn Rider cavalry pinned on his right chest.

  “Tonight. They despise light,” Seriah said. “Kirya, do not forget to bring that.” She glanced at a slender wooden box as tall as an adult.

  Seriah, she, and her three crew members waited outside the fortress. The starry desert sky reminded Kirya of Kargad's skies, though the constellations differed. Moonlight illuminated the wind-eroded sand dunes. The contents of the wooden box were tied to her back in a cloth bundle, towering over her. The twin scimitar hung from her waist.

  The sand grains around her feet vibrated. “They're here.”