Chapter 27

Marcus had to admit that he had never been one for theatre or pomp – those domains were Mari’s specialties. But he was enjoying the charge his entrance had sent flying through the rats in the war room.

“Shai-Alud Marcus,” King Shrykul began, trying his best, Marcus knew, to conceal his surprise. “Thank you for joining us.”

Marcus could sense the eased tension in the ratman-monarch’s voice. But there was also an element of anxiety still present, as though the surprise of his entrance had changed the entire proceeding.

Good, Marcus thought. Perhaps its best that I keep you guessing.

“It issss being honor to meet the hero of the Gulch,” the most hideous rat at the table hissed like a serpent.

“Hmpf,” the other, much larger one huffed. “I am thinking the Shai-Alud would be taller.”

Marcus nodded to each of them and got their names. He committed them to memory. These were the Talon-Commanders he’d be shedding blood with, after all.

The time to get a good handle on them would have to come later, however, as the King nodded to Skeever to continue with his briefing.

“Commander Steelclaw was about to be informing this council of the results of his recon mission,” he said.

Marcus nodded at that and then gestured for Skeever to go on. King Shrykul noticed.

“We are seeing Grindlefecht defenses firsthand,” Skeever explained, pointing to the dark walls of the fortress’ exterior on the table-map. “Walls are strong. Cannons are deadly – but there are not being many of them. Skegga is not having good knowledge yet of Dwarven technology.”

“That is being good,” the humongous Festicus grunted. “Their guns are claiming the lives of many Clan Marrow warriors.”

Skeever went on, “We are capturing Kobold prisoners as we move North, Brothers. They are telling us many things – some nonsense, some truth. But more than one of them is telling us that Skegga is holding Prime Putrefact hostage.”

“Sssssilas,” the cloaked rat called Verulex hissed. “A beacon of He-Who-Festerssss himssselffff. How are they taking him?”

“He was on mission to give blessing to Fort Spearclaw,” Skeever explained, pointing out the Westernmost fort on the edge of the map. “Kobold raiders are attacking and taking him. They are torturing him for information on tunnels and armies.”

“Ssssilas would not give up information sssssso eassssily,” Verulex broke in. “He is being clever rat. Knowledge of the Unclean One isssss great within him.”

“Is it possible the Prime Putrefact is betraying us?” Festicus asked.

“Out of the question,” Shrykul said. “Silas has always being nothing but a loyal servant of the Queen. It is being more likely he is knowing his importance in staying alive. Both as great member of our faith, and…” The King cast a sidelong glance at Marcus.

And for being my only motivation for helping you, Marcus said.

“Bah!” Festicus roared. “How are we even knowing he is still being alive?”

“Thossssse of Clan Glumrot would be ssssensssing the Putrefact’s passssing,” Verulex replied. “He livvvessss, Brother.”

“Then our war is ending in rescue mission,” Festicus said with another bestial grunt. “But if they are knowing we come for them in force, it is likely they will be slaying Silas before we reach their doorstep.”

“This is not being likely, Brother,” Skeever said. “We are knowing more – Skegga is toad that is totally believing in victory. Right till the end, he will believe he shall be winning, and so shall not be slaying such a valuable tool. He is believing he is new God of Underkingdom. That his Kleansing will lead to his rise to heavens.”

“A toad leading a Theocracy,” Marcus scoffed openly. “A marriage of form and function.”

The rats chuckled with him, but in truth it was the next part of the briefing that truly interested Marcus the most.

“Heresssssy,” Verulex whispered. “Thisss, I can be believvvving. But from a horned toad of the ssssurfffacccce? They are not being known for faittttthh, or leadersssship.”

“This is being right,” Skeever nodded. “Skegga is believing these things because someone is telling him they are true.”

All the assembly leaned forward. The question ‘who?’ didn’t even have to be asked.

Skeever cleared his throat.

“The Yokun,” he said. “They are keeping Skegga as a slave, and then setting him up as God of all Kobolds. They are giving him orders to slay us, and he is obeying.”

A general murmur of alarm went up from all ratman gathering. Marcus, listening intently, tried to gauge the individual reactions of each.

“Those fiendish heretics!” Festicus raged, banging his great mailed fists upon the table that was now beginning to crack on his side.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“You are knowing thisssss for cccertain?”

Skeever nodded gravely. “We are seeing it with our own eyes. At the entrance to the surface jungles, Skegga is meeting with Yokun slavers who are giving him his orders. These orders I am risking my men to gain. These orders are why Skegga is hunting us all the way to Knifegut. Without the Shai-Alud, we would not be handing them to you now.”

The rats’ eyes all fell upon Marcus for a moment before lighting on the small, dirty parchment Skeever produced from under the table.

Just a little piece of paper. Something so insignificant that had cost the lives of – how many already? Hundreds? Thousands?

Marcus put the thought from his mind. He couldn’t afford distractions of conscience.

“For speed,” Skeever said. “We shall have Shai-Alud Marcus read this for us.”

Marcus nodded at once and took the document, having already seen its contents beforehand. He had insisted that Skeever give it to him and allow him to be the one to deliver to them the news of the grand plot against them all. The plot that they’d need him to break apart piece by piece.

Marcus cleared his throat before beginning.

“’Skegga. Your orders still stand: unify the Kobolds under your Kleansing and harry the ratman Clans. We shall install you in the fortress of Grindlefecht beneath the Southern jungle – use the stronghold as a staging area and as the locus for your worship. Welcome all Kobolds who travel there in holy pilgrimage as warriors that shall enter the heavens with you. Await them, and in the meantime, bolster the Dwarves’ defenses. Learn from and exploit their technological prowess. Then, when your numbers swell, launch your holy campaign.

Destroy Clan Red-Eye first through sheer force of arms, then swiftly move West. You shall push back Clan Marrow alongside their Dwarven enemies and then let the little men have their pickings of what is left. In the meantime, fortify the North Warrens and prepare for a direct assault on Clan Glumrot in the East tunnels. We shall supply you with thirty Hellfire Throwers when the time comes. The toxins of the rats shall be consumed in holy fire, and their cities will crumble – for their warriors are weak. In the aftermath, continue fortifying the tunnels against possible counterattacks from Clan Nightstalker, though we doubt they will offer much resistance when the time of your Ascension comes. Like all creatures of the Underkingdom, they shall bow to you in time.

Do these things, as the Patriarchs command.

-T”

Marcus stopped reading and handed the parchment to King Shrykul, who took it with a shaking claw.

The faces of all the rats were now blanched with fear. They had just listened to how their species was to be systematically divided and destroyed over the course of a few months, each of their weaknesses being perfectly exploited to bring their civilizations crumbling down, one by one.

When Marcus had convinced Skeever to let him see the orders ahead of time even he had been impressed. These Yokun seemed well suited to wars by proxy. They had provided Skegga with troops, supplies, a base of operations and a purpose. The general strategy struck Marcus as being remarkably similar to that employed by the USSR during the Angolan Civil War. The only marked difference being that Skegga’s prime directive was one of genocide, pure and simple.

But, just like that particular proxy war, this one spoke of tensions far beyond the current theatre. It spoke of a greater war yet to come.

“Why?” Festicus murmured, quietened by the harrowing news. “Why would the Yokun be seeking our extermination? For our raids against their cities?”

Verulex shook his hooded head. “They are already sssstriking back againsssst usssss,” he said. “Multiple timessss. They are ssssseing ussss assss a mere nuisssscence. They are thinking we fight amongsssst ourssssselvessss before posssing threat to them on sssssurfacccce.”

“But when your back is turned to your enemy, that’s when you have to start caring about them,” Marcus said, eyeing Shrykul.

The King sighed and leveled his gaze at the rat assembly. “You are knowing that we are being so hampered by Kobold war that we are not raiding the surface in months. Yokun are being free to pursue their true goal without worry.”

“Which is?” Festicus asked.

Shrykul sat upright as he delivered his answer. “War, Brothers. War.”

The King let his words sink in, eyes sweeping the table as the gravity of the situation only now began to sink into each warrior before him. Marcus could tell the King bore this heavy load well – better than he would have expected him to. He also knew that Shrykul could fill in the gaps in Marcus’s knowledge. He had also assumed these snake-people were making war on the surface. But against who, he couldn’t be sure.

“For the past year,” Shrykul continued. “The Yokun are making war against human Empire of Marxon II. Their conflict is boiling over all of Southern Thea, and the snakes forces are stretching thin. They are thinking to keep us in check so they can be fully committing their armies to war effort. This is why they are installing Skegga to lead Kobolds against us.”

“So we are being just toys,” Festicus seethed. “Nothing more than distraction!”

“The sssssnakes are clever,” Verulex said. “They are knowing we would ssssseize opportunity to raid sssssurfaccce and be taking advantage of war. They are sssstriking at usssss becausssse they expect worsssst of usssss.”

“It’s worse than that,” Marcus chimed in, leaning forward now, becoming more interested by the second as he let his military mind race towards what he saw as inevitable conclusions. “The minute they know your people have been destroyed, they’ll call upon Skegga to join them in their conquest on the surface.”

“How can you be sure?” Festicus asked. “You must be forgiving me, Shai-Alud, but you are not being of Yokun blood. You can not be knowing what they wish.”

At this, Marcus simply smiled. “It’s the job of a General to think ahead – to put himself in the enemy commander’s frame of mind. Besides, it’s what I would do.”

He looked down at the map and swept his hand across it.

“The way I see it,” he said. “You are fighting a war here not only for the survival of your own species, but that of every other species in this world.”

He let that sink in. Several inconvenient realities had dawned on these rats in the last hour or so, and with every new revelation their small brains swelled with the agony of knowing how close they were, right now, to total annihilation.”

“If the Nightstalkerssss are knowing,” Verulex hissed. “If we are sending message to King Naxus…”

“You are not knowing my Brother King well,” Shrykul scoffed. “We’d be spending a week at best just trying to find his lair in those Blackfog-infested tunnels down South. No – we must be dealing with this threat here and now. There can be no idleness. There can be no turning back.”

“But how are we to beat them?” Festicus hummed. “You are saying so yourself – Knifegut fort is being fallen. It was being best staging area for attacks on North.”

“I am agreeing,” King Shrykul said. “That is why we will be needing another plan.”

And, without even returning their gazes, Marcus knew all those beady little eyes had suddenly fallen on him.

He cracked his neck and smiled thinly in the dark.

“I guess that’s where I come in.”

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