The East PacificBoard

"Holiness?" Rosa peeked around the bathroom door. "Just wanted to let you know the main room's nice and warm for them now."

Thank you, flower. Would you get the towels, please? Snow pointed her tail vaguely at the three big, fluffy bath towels draped along her side. I think the little ones are all fine, but still, extra garlic in supper tonight? Just to make sure no one gets the sniffles. Meanwhile inside her head, the litany of maybe I'm a monster droned on uninterrupted.

Triraxus swished cold, thickening blood around her mouth and scowled. "It's been weeks and she's not broken yet. This is taking an awfully long time, Mikhail."

"Ah . . . yes, my queen, but --"

"In fact, I'd go so far as to say she's mending. Healing! Learning to ignore me! While the traitor vermin FORGIVE!"

Mikhail blanched. "Surely they can't --"

"Oh, surely you say? Surely they couldn't get the council's protection! Surely my bauble couldn't hold herself back long enough not to kill them all! Surely, SURELY! Oh SURELY nothing will go wrong!" Triraxus' voice rose to a shriek and she flung her wineglass in Mikhail's general direction, letting it shatter on the wall above his head; blood rained down. "Now go and kill that Wheelwright for me. NOW."

The position within the wall had not been pushed back overnight, and reinforcements were being brought in as quick as could be. Iàsõtsk was off directing diversionary attacks on other portions of the wall, but his lieutenant, Márotsk, was able to fully focus his attention on the breach. He had spent a considerable amount of time in the city of Vàlgós, and knew many of the regiment's officers personally from before this campaign. This did not make issuing his next order easier.

"You want us to advance out of our cover? Reinforcements won't be here for another 4 hours!" "I am well aware of the fact, Companion. Nevertheless, we must destroy that barricade before our men get here, lest they be pelted with fire as they enter the city." The barricade was technically out of range of the walls, just enough to give the Grand Vûlakìs's forces a few yards of space, but any approach was forced to come head on due to the abundance of buildings to either side of it. Side alleys did exist, but they were all dead ends, and the road that led around the inside edge of the wall would expose the men to the garrison's fire as they passed. No, they had to advance into the city's heart, and that meant clearing the barricade.

Neither side had much in the way of heavy weaponry -- the usual armament on the steppe was a sword and revolver or, for city-born infantrymen, a black powder lever-action rifle with a bayonet. However, through its trading connections, the city of Võlatsk had been able to procure a small handful of newer automatic rifles, and the raid on the barricade was intended in part to get one such weapon into Iàsõtsk's hands. This in mind, the order was given to advance upon signal, and every man awaited the appointed hour.

"Company, advance!" Men began filing out of the position and dashing for the cover of alleyways, bullets landing at their feet as they ran. Those who had remained at the foothold returned fire, but they were unable to prevent several waves of heretic fire from cutting down attacking soldiers who were too slow in their race for the buildings. Márotsk followed behind the first group, dodging behind a building to avoid a burst of automatic fire and leading his squad in covering the advance of the next team. At length, each team alternating fire to allow the others to advance, the barricade was reached, and the work of clearing it was begun.

"Hold them, boys! Here's where we break the arch-demon's advan--" A heretic officer's inspiring speech was cut short by a shot from Márotsk's pistol, sending the would-be hero tumbling over the barricade's railing. The enemy had, evidently, turned to accusations of demonhood to dehumanize Iàsõtsk's forces, and Márotsk decided to embrace the image whole-heartedly. Roaring like a tiger, he climbed onto the barricade and drew his sabre, skewering the closest heretic and sending several others running. His men began to join him, gaining the barricade by push of bayonet, and the close combat gave the advantage to the attackers, who held greater zeal for their cause than the heretics ever had. The special rifle, which shot several times before reloading, was captured by a sergeant who had tripped over it while charging a squad of heretics, and the engineers had been able to plant the explosives in order to destroy the barricade as originally planned. The order was given to retreat back to the fortified position.

"Go, go! I'll hold them off!" Márotsk, with this final act of service to Iàsõtsk, had determined that his call in life had become complete, and he was ready to join the hosts of Ãdàmrìtsk in their heavenly camp. As the men began to pull back and he stood alone upon the doomed barricade, he sheathed his sword, holstered his pistol, and kneeled down in prayer.

"Ãdàmrìtsk, the One Unity of Sky and Earth, calls me,

I will heed His Voice and join His heavenly hosts

In service to the Vûlakìs Õmnàtskì I offer my soul, which is of the Sky, through which I may inspire His soldiers;

My body, which is of the Earth, that I may stand and weather the troubles of the Õmnàs, I offer in His divine service

I fear no evil, I fear no death, I fear not the heretic nor the monster

For Ãdàmrìtsk comes for me in His Glory."

A great explosion rocked the city, and the Champion of Iàsõtsk was no more.