Chapter 23 – Entrapment
Sweat poured off of Desdemona in what felt like cascades. Once her demonic heritage had become undeniable and she had been run out of her fishing village, she had spent many years in the infernal realm. She was no stranger to excessive heat. But desert fighting was a different thing. Especially with the level of constant engagement they were experiencing.
Her mount, Cookie, was not faring much better. Sweat also stained his flanks, and the fire in his eyes was dimmer than usual. More than the glare of the sun could account for. None of the rest of her troops were mounted. Being both the most mobile, and most experienced, she was dashing back and forth as all sides were repeatedly tested.
She had been asked to lead a small selection of hastily assembled troops. They were inexperienced and untrained in the advanced equipment they had been issued by the Romitu regulars. The force was more symbolic than tactical. Desdemona understood that. The gods wished to be seen to be helpful and cooperative with Romitu in matters that affected their worshipers. And hordes of undead invading their homeland counted.
In appreciation of their gesture, the Romitu command issued them honest orders. Rather than sideline them into some rearguard patrol, they had been selected for one of several special missions. Although honored, Desdemona questioned her wisdom now in accepting it.
“That was rather a pickle”, said Miasma. The mage had been attached to their unit to give them magical support. She swept down now and hovered at Desdemona's height. “Almost makes me wish we were back fighting demons.” Then she looked slightly embarrassed. “No offence meant.”
Desdemona shrugged. “None taken.” Her skin was darker than her sunburnt relatives, but not darker than a trader from Sindhu. But a stranger would note something suspect in the cast of her cheekbones, and prominent incisors. If she were to remove her helmet her sweat matted hair wouldn't conceal the two stubs of horns. She was well used to taunts and abuse. The fact that Miasma had forgotten her origin long enough to make an inadvertent remark about demons, and the sensitivity to then apologize for it, was rather touching.
“Here”, said Miasma. “Let me invoke an invigoration.” Her brown tunic and trews were embroidered with the insignia of the 9th Army. Her greying hair was held in place with some form of invisible band and there was a barely detectable heat shimmer of sight enhancement magic hovering in front of her eyes.
She waved, making complicated gestures, and a cool mist settled over everyone. There were sighs of relief from everyone as sticky skin was cleansed, their armor cooled, and the dust rinsed from their mouth. They all stood a little straighter. Where before her troops looked like they were ready to pack it in, they now looked ready to go on. Even Cookie had a new spring in his step.
“Many thanks, Miasma”, said Desdemona. She felt she should more formally address her by her rank. But Miasma was quite casual and didn't include her rank when introduced. And Desdemona hadn't learned all the insignias.
“We'll need it”, said Miasma. She had cast another spell while everyone was recovering. She showed her palm to Desdemona with the pinpricks of light from her scan. “They've regrouped and are closing in. Again.”
“Form up!” cried Desdemona. “Action inbound.” There were general grumbles, but people fell in promptly.
Miasma flew closer. “Do you think we've got their attention?”
Desdemona nodded. “I do. Let’s move into phase two.” She trotted around the troops. “Time to go back”, she said. “You're all fresh. Let's double time it.”
“Cool wine and fresh beds wait for you!” added Miasma. That got a low cheer. Miasma glanced, worried, at the light on her palm. “I'd better cast celerity as well.”
Once Desdemona had set the direction, she circled back to rear guard with Miasma. “Have they decided to stop toying with us?” she asked Miasma. “Are they going to close from behind?”
“Not at this speed”, said Miasma. The magically enhanced troops were moving at quite a pace. She glanced at her scan again. “I'd say they're going for an ambush up on yonder ridge.”
Desdemona looked ahead. They were coming up to a gully that crossed their path. It ran back towards the 9th's camp and would make easy going for their troops. It made sense to follow it. It also made for a perfect killing ground. “Will they make it in time?”
“I wish my old bones moved as fast as theirs”, said Miasma ruefully. “I don't know how they do it without magic. But they're fast when they want to be. They'll be there.”
“Fine”, said Desdemona. “Then that's where we'll confront them.”
“Got it”, said Miasma. “Are you sure you can handle them all?”
Desdemona shrugged. “Usually I can be pretty intimidating. But I'm not sure these types intimidate easily.” She slowed Cookie, letting the troops get ahead. “Stick to the plan. You play defense until the troops are out of harm's way. Then I wouldn't say no to some backup.”
“Okey-dokey”, said Miasma. She hovered close to Desdemona and transferred the scanning spell to the pommel of her saddle. “Just so you have full information.” She gave a wave and sailed off.
Desdemona trotted on. She kept an active lookout for a rear attack, even though the scan showed it to be empty. These creatures were incredibly tenacious. She's fought some particularly skilled demons in her time. But not entire squads of them. But if they were going to read her every move and anticipate her every action, then the only thing to do was to do dumb things. Or, at least appear to be doing dumb things.
Her troops were entering the gorge ahead. The scan spell showed, not far down from where they were, a cluster of lights on the ridge above them. Although they were wily and strong, the enemy was extraordinarily underequipped. They probably intended to throw down rocks with the strength of the damned. Normally that would probably be enough. But not today.
Desdemona spurred Cookie on. Sparks struck from rocks as he put on speed and raced forward. She drew Seeker, the great sword whose name was her own for many years. She held it high behind her and blackness flowed from it like it was tearing a smoky hole in the sky. Cookie accelerated until he was running along, feet barely brushing the ground. Leaping from one rocky promontory to another like an enormous diabolical goat.
Desdemona grinned as she began the see the figures on the ridge line. They had just begun their attack, but were distracted from it by her approach. That, alone, was telling. Up until now they had been able to assess any tactical situation immediately. Miasma must have been putting up a good defense. And there should have been little Desdemona could do to stop them. The gorge was far too wide to be jumped, even at her speed. By a horse. But Cookie wasn't a horse.
With a kick to the ribs Cookie leapt into the air. Massive black bat-wings unfurled and beat in massive strokes. Up they sailed, over the ravine and down they came, crashing into the midst of the forsaken.
They were stunned, momentarily, as Desdemona swung around her with the massive sword, screaming an undulating battle cry. Few strikes connected, but their plan was disrupted. They did the tactically smart thing and beat a hasty retreat.
Desdemona's grin widened. As quickly she slung her sword and pulled out a lariat she had prepared. With a few more wingbeats, she was up, over, and down upon the most exposed enemy. With a toss and pull she had the creature looped. She lashed her end of the line around her pommel and goaded Cookie over the rim of the gorge. With an unearthly howl the undead monster was dragged over the edge and down the side.
“Oh”, said Miasma, who was just flying back. “That's gotta hurt.”
Desdemona flew up the ravine, dragging the body behind her for a while for good measure. “Seal it!” she cried.
Miasma swooped to the ground. Approached the moaning body gingerly, and cast a spell. Blue light shot from her hands and enveloped the creature’s hands, and then its feet. Blue crystals grew around it, immobilizing it.
Desdemona alighted next to her. She bent down to look at it. Severe abrasions had wor
n away part of its face, but it still glared back at her with malevolent eyes. She smiled at it, showing it her incisors.
“Well there's a pretty package for HQ”, said Miasma. “Just let me do a heft”, she added. After a few gestures, she made a grunting noise and lifted the struggling form into the air and over the back of Desdemona's mount.
Cookie swiveled his head a disturbing half turn and glared at the creature now on its back. A sound came out of his mouth like water being poured on a campfire. Desdemona moved to him and patted his flanks.
Miasma looked sadly at the bound creature. “I hope HQ can talk to you and find out why you guys are fighting”, she said. She made a few more gestures and a healing nimbus spread over the creatures face. The rough abrasions faded away, restoring the grey, wrinkled face. But the healing continued. The face smoothed out, and grew less distorted. Underneath was clearly the dark skin and features of someone from Kemet.
“All'enh 'elyk alklbh!” the creature screamed at her, its countenance fading back to grey.
“You're welcome!” said Miasma, cheerily.
“I don't think it was saying 'thank you'” said Desdemona.
“I know”, said Miasma, hovering into the air. “I just choose to interpret it that way.”
The celerity spell was still in effect and they made rapid progress back towards the 9th Army's camp. The enemy forces shadowed them, but did not engage. The troops were in high spirits, proud of being successful at their mission even though they were irregulars.
However, as they approached the outer sentries of the camp, their prisoner started kicking and bucking. Desdemona slowed down to secure it, but it only wiggled off.
“There's a lad”, said Miasma landing next to it. “Don't struggle. Really, we just want to talk.”
Desdemona dismounted and held Seeker loosely.
It's twitching subsided and it looked from one to the other. Then it began hissing quietly, uttering what seemed to be words.
“What's that?” asked Miasma. “Are you trying to talk?” She leaned in closer, as did Desdemona.
The creature quivered and beckoned them closer. When they leaned closer again, it arched its back, screamed, and exploded.
Miasma and Desdemona staggered back, stunned, and covered head to toe with gore. The rest of the troops came running up and started to cry and shout. Blades were drawn and there was a general scuffle.
Desdemona wiped at her blurry eyes vainly. Then she staggered suddenly as she was hit with a blast of cold water. Dimly she saw one of the troopers standing out of her blade's reach with one of the magical water skins. He pointed, and she looked up, seeing her troops vainly chasing a spectral figure. It was gliding easily away, making obscene gestures.
“Miasma!” shouted Desdemona. A sputtering came from nearby. She lay on the ground, trying to spit out the ichor dribbling down her face. “Wash her down and send her after me”, ordered Desdemona.
She grabbed Seeker and headed off to where the troops were, but it quickly became apparent there was no point. They cast about fruitlessly, but their prisoner was nowhere to be seen.