Chapter 24 – Beyond Containment
“Hellfire, Miasma, what happened to you?” General Alessa had been working at her camp desk when her aide announced that Miasma was here to report to her. But when she glanced up and saw the state of her, she dropped all of her paperwork and jumped out of the chair.
Miasma stood, drenched, nearly head to toe in dark chunky fluid. She shrugged, apologetically, and pushed some sticky hair out of her face. “Sorry. I thought it best to report in before cleaning up.” She looked resignedly at her clothes. “It could take a while.”
Alessa went up to her, but hesitated from touching her. Her nose wrinkled as the smell hit her. “What did they do to you?”
“We actually managed to catch one”, said Miasma. “But when we got to camp, it sort of self-destructed or something.”
“You were with that patrol of auxiliaries Desdemona brought in?” asked Alessa. She glanced back at her desk. She had gotten some notice about it earlier in the day. She hadn't really thought they were the best choice for this mission, but she saw the political wisdom of it. Also, she had been there when Demara intervened on Desdemona's behalf. She thought it was a good thing and it felt right to do her a favor.
“Yep”, said Miasma. She kind of looked for somewhere to sit, but thought better of it. “Sorry it got away.”
“Hmmm”, said Alessa. “I'm reporting to the Queen tonight. I had hoped to have something for her.” She ran her hands through her fringe of black hair. “I don't know if there is any point in sending out another patrol. Any reason to think the next one won't 'self-destruct' as well.”
Miasma shrugged. “I don't know. I don't get it. He seemed like a nice boy.”
“A nice boy?” asked Alessa, in disbelief. “The Forsaken?”
“Yeah”, said Miasma. “He got a bit roughed up during the capture, so I did some healing on him. He looked quite human for a moment. Like one of those scared street urchins we saw when we marched through Kemet.”
Alessa looked away into the glowing brazier. “It's easy to forget they are human. Or once were”, she added.
“Still”, said Miasma. “To... blow oneself up. Just to avoid us talking to him. I don't get it.”
“The new moon”, said Alessa, smiling thinly. Miasma looked blank. “I guess rumor hasn't got so far around. I probably should make some sort of formal announcement anyway.” She stood up straight, bowed her head and began pacing in front of Miasma. “You've noticed they're awfully hard to hurt, right?”
“This huntsman from Syros put three arrows in one. Barely slowed it down”, said Miasma.
“And that they're pretty much fearless”, continued Alessa.
“Did my best phantasm on Seeker to make it utterly awe inspiring. I thought I did a good job. But they barely flinched.”
Alessa nodded. “You see, it doesn't matter what we do to them. Hack a limb off. Slice them in two. We just destroy their body. Their soul lives on.”
“Oh”, said Miasma. “Kind of like our swords?”
“Kind of”, said Alessa. “Only they're still fairly destructive in their phantom form. And even harder to hurt.” She rubbed her war painted cheeks. “What's worse is that every new moon they get their body back.”
“They regenerate?” asked Miasma. “Or resurrect? Or is it a new form?”
Alessa held her hands up helplessly. “I don't know. You're the mage. We only just found out about it when we had a new sudden onslaught.”
“So it was just, basically, slipping the knot we tied it up in, then”, said Miasma. Alessa nodded. “Hoo boy. That's a quandary.”
“That's precisely my problem”, said Alessa. “What's the point of fighting them tooth and nail, when they'll just be back where they were in a month's time?”
“It also explains why they're so battle savvy”, said Miasma. Alessa looked questioningly at her. “Well, they've probably been passing the time cooped up in there fighting all the time. At the end of the month, poof, back they are. Ready to go at it again.”
“That makes a lot of sense”, said Alessa. “I kind of feel we're heading in the same direction.”
Miasma rubbed her chin. “It is kind of like they're spreading their curse to us. I mean, we can't just let them wreak havoc over the countryside. But we can't just eternally fight them here.”
“We've got four major break outs”, said Alessa. “Our troops are pretty good, and extraordinarily well equipped. The gods are chipping in mana to keep the reservoirs full. We've got them contained, mostly. But we're not making progress.”
“If only our swords would capture their souls. Then at least we'd just have to kill each one once.” She looked contemplative. “I wonder why they don't. Maybe it has something to do with how the departing souls are keyed.”
“Could be”, said Alessa. “We do know that there's certainly no bias pulling them to any aligned divine realm. They just hang around like ghosts.”
Miasma nodded. “A ghost is a spirit that is so consumed with some task, that it overrides its bias to return to its god, or to be drawn into a new fetus. I wonder what drives them so.”
“Killing everyone else?” asked Alessa. “That's seems what they're bent on doing.”
“That would be rather unfortunate”, said Miasma. “If there was a way to get them in touch with their humanity. Get them back to what they were before all of this.”
Alessa pursed her lips. “Actually, I don't think they've all completely forgotten.” She waved her finger. “The 22nd has made some sort of progress.” Miasma looked up with interest. “Porterhouse dredged up some Orcish legend about some hero of theirs who had to hold off the invading Romitu army while all the other warriors were under some witch's curse. He challenged them to single combat. And, as long as he won, the army wasn't allowed to advance.”
“Certainly sounds Orcishly heroic”, said Miasma.
“Ainia says it's probably older than the Romitu conquest. She's seen similar stories whose main purpose is to remember name lists. It's how important people get recorded. Or something like that.”
“That's Ainia”, said Miasma. “One for the history books.”
“True”, said Alessa. “I think Porterhouse was just trying to give a pep talk to his myrmidons, but it struck a chord with the Forsaken. They liked the idea and came to an arrangement. Whichever side's champion won, their army got to advance a hundred paces.”
“Really?” said Miasma. “That's almost... civilized.”
Alessa grinned ruefully. “We tried the same with the other breakouts, but they didn't buy it.”
“That's a pity. How's the 22nd holding up?”
“Not badly”, said Alessa. “Porterhouse and the Forsaken leader seem to have some sort of arrangement where they each first brag about their chosen champion. Devonshire's been doing the interpreting. They seem to try to create fairly equal matches.”
“Very curious”, said Miasma. “I wonder what's different about this group.”
“Hard to say”, said Alessa. “They look as dried and wrinkled as the others. But their commander seems to have a tight rein on them.”
“How have the troops responded?” asked Miasma.
“Porterhouse has a pretty tight rein on them too”, said Alessa. “Helps that he's personally faced off three times against their leader.”
“Good gravy!” cried Miasma. “Three times?”
“Yes, and he lost each time”, said Alessa.
“Oh dear”, said Miasma. “Isn't that a bad thing for Orcs? To lose face in front of his troops?”
“Well, maybe traditionally. But death isn't exactly permanent anymore. I think they've modernized their attitudes somewhat. Also, from what I heard he acquitted himself to the satisfaction of his troops. And that's what counts.”
“We've got to find a solution”, said Miasma. “This can't go on.”
“Actually”, said Alessa, laughing quietly. “Among the lot of us, I think Porterhouse is having the time of his life!”
Miasma joined i
n. “Maybe I need to do a tour of duty with the Orcish Army. Broaden my horizons.”
“They're an interesting lot”, said Alessa. “But I should let you get cleaned up. You've at least given me something to pass on to the Queen.”
“Oh?” said Miasma. “And here I thought our mission was an abject failure.”
“Well, you had some good ideas about Souls”, said Alessa. “We're not going to win this one by force of sword. We've got to find something in the Six Books of Magic to pull a rabbit out of a hat.”
“It always seems to come down to that”, said Miasma. “Well, good luck with the Queen then!”