Pt4



Dozens of shin’hare militia were now entranced in the story. Their formation hadn’t quite dissolved but it had curved into a noticeable semi-circle around the dwarf. When it became clear that Morgan wasn’t going to continue, Taketuro verbally nudged him. “And then?”



“And then? Nothing.” He laughed and there was a hint of madness in the rumble. Madness and something dangerous. What was the dwarfs role in this army? “The world shook and split and it seemed whether we were struck or not there could be nothing left. Then Hex stopped coming forward. It hung there, like a portal to the abyss, and then moved back. Further and further away. Huge pieces broke off and rained more destruction down on the world. One final attack during the retreat. But it kept moving backwards until it was where it is now. Right in front of the old moon. The good one that didn’t try to kill us.” Whatever darkness he had dredged from his soul in the telling his story seemed to have lifted now. His joviality hadn’t returned but he was no longer in the dark place he inhabited just moments before.

“The world was broken, a quarter of it was dead, but we survived. The ones that were left started rebuilding and we found out that those crystal chunks that had done their damnedest to squash us could make some minor hedge-wizard into a grand mage. Could make a grand mage into a demigod Could turn a clockwork into something that lived. Could do anything really.” He smiled without humor and looked Taketuro in the eyes. They were old eyes, eyes that had seen the beginning and end of almost everything at one time or another. Any doubt he had about the stories veracity was washed away. “And here we are now Tak, in the wonderful present.”



“But what stopped Hex? Why did it go backwards?” and several more question poured from the collected shin’hare. The dwarf looked around in surprise as if only for the first time realizing he had a sizable audience. “Dunno what stopped it. Pretty much everyone’s given credit to some god or hero at some point. Maybe it stopped itself.”



“I’ll bet the Glorious Emperor stopped it!” One shin’hare declared. A chorus of agreement followed. “Who else could be so powerful? How could a rock, even a big rock defeat the Emperor?” Another voice agreed. Solemn nods followed at the obvious wisdom of this statement. The soldiers slowly began to return to their ready positions, chattering animatedly about how they envisioned the Enlightened Sire had fought Hex.



In low voice to ensure his fellows couldn’t hear him, Taketuro asked, “Could that have been what happened?” Doubt was obvious in his voice, though he tried to hide it.



“Sure. makes as much sense as anything else I suppose.” He kept a straight face but the smile was evident in his eyes.



“What in the unholy hells is happening back here?” Bellowed a sergeant who had come from the forward ranks to find out what all the noise was. “I swear i will make a cloak from your ears after i bite them off if this formation isn’t pristine in the next ten seconds.” He strode passed Morgan as if he was beneath notice. The shin’hare quickly found their positions, reached their right arm out so that their fingertips just barely touched the shoulder plate of the shin’hare to the right.and adjusted spacing accordingly to dress ranks, then held motionless. Taketuro was pretty sure the old veteran wouldn’t really bite his ears off. Not so sure that he’d give him any cause to test it though.



“Better!” The non com yelled. “You almost look like concubines in in armor now. Hopefully you’ll graduate to looking like raw recruits soon, and won’t that be exciting.” He spat on the ground then marched forward to rejoin the front line.



This stasis was held for another half hour. Morgan had returned to his semi-trance and Taketuro’s only relief from boredom was watching the metal bugs zip impossibly fast ahead and behind the formation on various missions, or perhaps they just enjoyed the freedom of flight. The tramp of many feet marching in lockstep behind him finally brought something different beyond endless standing. After the threat to his ears though, he was absolutely sure he wasn’t going to turn around to find out what it was.



“Special adviser Mcbombus! We’ve had runners out looking for you.” A cultured shin’hare voice spoke behind him. The nasal twang of the upper class accent forced a peek over his shoulder but he immediately snapped back around. The commander, the daimyo's 9th son himself was within touching distance along with his personal guard and what he thought to be every shin’hare battalion commander.



Shaking like shroompkin emerging from the dirt, Morgan came back to himself and turned. “Been here all damn day general. The dead boys finally close the pass?” Taketuro began to shiver uncontrollably. This dwarf spoke to a direct heir to the daimyo, a shin’hare in the line of ascension to the heavenly throne itself as if he were a servant. And he, fool that he was, had spoken to him as if he were an equal. He began to mentally categorize the most painful tortures he’d witnessed in the Temple of Disciple to try to figure out what was most likely to apply to him. Flaying, that seemed about right.



“Ah, yes they have special adviser. The necrotic apparently kept to the time table but the vennen were… slow in reporting that fact. I believe we will begin the advance immediately before they find an alternate route of retreat. Do you agree?”



“Hells, you don’t need my approval but yeah, that’s what I’d do.”



“Then let the attack commence.” He spoke to someone else, “Five minutes from now i want a full advance on the enemy excavation site, send runners now. Will you join us special adviser?”



“That is a cumbersome title.” he said to no one, “Yeah I’ll be there in a moment.” He turned and spoke to Taketuro. “Do me a favor Tak. Come out of this one alive. I promise you’ll have some more interesting work than spear carrier afterwards. Agreed?”



Was he supposed to talk? With the heir right there next to him? “Ah, uhm, yes Morgan, I will… try to do that.”



“Good lad,” he slapped him on the shoulder nearly bowling him over. He then strode away to join the command group. His buzzing artifacts turned as one and followed high in the air above them.



As they walked away he could hear the heir ask, “What was that about? I can supply you with samurai if you need troops. Although if you need fodder then i suppose the militia is the right place for that.”



“I don’t need troops and i certainly don’t want fodder, general. An assistant though is hard to…” they turned the corner of the formation and even Taketuro’s exceptional hearing failed him.



An assistant? To someone that could make statues fly and talk to powerful men as if they were lackey’s? It didn’t make sense, nothing today had made sense. He glanced around and saw all his fellows staring at him. Many in awe, some with unconcealed jealousy. Well that meant he didn’t just imagine the whole thing at least. He tried to contemplate a future and what he might be doing tomorrow or the next day or in week and failed. Assistant to Special Adviser Morgan Mcbombus. Morgan was right, it was an awkward title but he figured he could get used to it.



A horn sounded, followed by three more in short succession. The order to advance.



Oh right.



The battle.