Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen Book 5 - Old Histories: Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2025-05-28 11:00:06 +0000 UTCThe shores of the inland lake buzzed with restrained activity. Petor watched the traders organizing carts and people with practiced efficiency, their movements betraying the underlying tension. The morning sun cast long shadows across the water's surface, its light catching on the ripples stirred by the gentle breeze.
Valter crouched beside the enchanted plate, his fingers tracing the intricate runes etched into its metallic surface. The markings pulsed with a soft blue glow, responding to his touch. "That should do it," he said, drawing out the . With careful movements, he placed the conch shell onto the center of the plate and activated it.
The air crackled with energy as the portal grew at the edge of the lake - a shimmering oval that stretched just wide enough for a cart to pass through.
Petor stepped closer to examine their handiwork. Through the portal's opening, he could make out the familiar landscape of Anvil Spike Island. Rocky shores with the appearance of rounded stone from recently formed land.
"Alright, I'll see if Limos was able to send word," Petor said.
"See you shortly," Valter said, standing up and brushing dirt from his hands.
Petor walked into the lake, through the portal and out of the shallows on the other side up Anvil Spike's shores.
TThe ambient sounds changed abruptly - gone were the nervous murmurs from the lake shore, replaced by crying gulls and waves breaking against distant rocks. As his vision cleared, Petor spotted Jaxus standing with a group of traders, their empty carts lined up and ready for loading.
They looked at the portal as he emerged. Petor waved to them and started jogging in their direction, crossing the ground quickly.
Jaxus waved to the traders as they headed towards Petor and the portal.
Petor slowed his jog as he approached Jaxus, taking in the trader's familiar face. The salt air whipped around them, carrying the scent of the sea.
"Limos said you might be showing up here," Jaxus greeted him, holding out his hand, the sea crashing against nearby rocks—making it hard to hear.
"Thanks for showing up! We've got a whole lot of traders and their families looking for safe harbor for a time," Petor yelled back.
"I cleared it with Nether Forge already," Jaxus assured him. "We'll coordinate things on this side, just send them through."
Jaxus considered this for a moment before nodding. "We'll make room. Bring them on over."
Petor stepped forward, clasping Jaxus's forearm in thanks. "Appreciate it, Jaxus."
His boots crunched against the rocky shore as he jogged back to the portal. Stepping through, the transition hit him like a wall - the heavy air thick with gunpowder and smoke, the sea's breeze fighting to try and shift it. The booms of distant cannons those aboard the United Irdun fleet and those of the Mardun served as a grim reminder of the ongoing battle.
Bedrick and Valter turned to him as he reappeared, their faces etched with concern.
"They're ready for whoever we send over," Petor said.
The shoreline bustled with controlled chaos as families huddled around their carts.
A grizzled trader tightened the straps on his cart, his calloused hands moving with practiced efficiency despite their slight tremor. His wife kept their three children clustered close, shushing them when their voices rose above whispers. Their oldest daughter, barely into her teens, balanced a fussy baby while scanning the horizon where cannon fire echoed across the island.
Petor watched an elderly woman comfort a crying infant while her daughter secured blankets over their meager possessions. The air hung heavy with whispered conversations and frantic last preparations.
"Step right up ladies, gents, boys and girls! Time to ride the portal express!" Bedrick grinned, getting a few tight smiles.
An old man at the front squared his shoulders and leaned into his cart's harness. His family fell in beside him, the wheels groaning as they approached the portal. The shimmering oval flared bright blue as they passed through.
More families stepped forward, forming a steady line as they made their way through the gateway. Their expressions shifted between fear and tentative hope as they crossed the threshold.
Jaxus and his people guided them away from the portal and up the shore. Teams were marking out areas for people to put their carts.
Valter crossed his arms, watching the slow procession with a deepening frown. "Going to take days to get everyone through," he muttered, eyeing the narrow portal and the long line of heavily-laden carts.
Petor glanced toward the inlet. The horizon glowed with flashes of spells, punctuated by the steady boom of ship cannons. "I don't think that we have days" he replied quietly. "The United Irdun Forces came with the intention and preparations to win."
A small boy, no more than six, pressed closer to his mother's side, his fingers twisting into the worn fabric of her skirt. His eyes darted toward the flashes on the horizon.
"Are they coming for us?" His voice quavered, barely above a whisper.
His mother knelt beside him, her weathered hands gentle as she smoothed back his dark hair. "No, sweetheart. We're safe here." The steadiness in her voice belied the slight trembling of her fingers as she adjusted his collar.
Petor watched the exchange, his jaw tightening. The scene played out before him like a bitter reminder - children caught in the crossfire of conflicts they didn't start and couldn't understand. His fingers flexed around his spear as another explosion lit up the distant sky.
Valter raised his chin in question.
"The old start these wars, sending young men and women to bleed on distant shores and families bare the true weight of their decisions," Petor said.
"And the gods take the rewards, the bloody desperate and terrible rewards," Valter said.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of smoke across the water, mixing with the salt air. The line of refugees continued their steady march through the portal, each family carrying their world in carts and bundles. Some clutched family heirlooms, others only what they could grab in their rush to escape. Their faces showed the same mix of fear and determination, regardless of what they'd managed to save.
The boy and his mother stepped through the portal, disappearing into the shimmer of magic. Another family took their place, then another, each carrying their own version of the same story.
***
Lianne stood at the command table, clouds drifted over the map—a real-time illusion of Osola and the waters surrounding her.
Ships in minature were formed up in their fleet, depositing ships and melee fighters, while bombard ships were illuminated by shot from the gun batteries striking their barriers.
Osola itself smoked from the ravages of the champion's raid.
The room buzzed with controlled chaos as runners darted in and out, delivering updates from across the island. The air felt thick with tension and the lingering scent of gunpowder that drifted through the windows.
Joreck's boots scraped against the wooden floor as he stepped up to the table. Lianne raised her head.
He leaned forward, calloused fingers pointing to locations on the map. "The main ritual site is still intact, but we've lost three secondary positions. Captain Tilla is maintaining the main ritual."
Through the window, cannon fire echoed across the water, a constant reminder of the battle raging beyond their walls. Lianne watched a messenger hurry past, clutching dispatches to his chest.
"The magical fog we've spread over the island is holding, keeping the enemy blind to our actions. It's bought us precious time," Joreck continued. "Captain Davos has brought the cannons back under control, though several batteries were destroyed in the fighting."
"How many can we still field?" Lianne's brow furrowed as she studied the positions marked on the map.
Joreck hesitated. "Captain Davos has got the cannons back under control, though several batteries were broken. Enough to hold key positions, but it won't be enough for prolonged bombardment."
"We're going to need to have the dead to help us out and with only two undead captains and the ritual disturbed—" Lianne trailed off.
The command room door was thrown open.
Mya walked through with a swagger, the voices and movement stopping.
Lianne blinked, as if to make sense of what she was seeing. She'd always hoped and when Mesurial disappeared…
"You look as if you've never seen someone come back from the dead before," Mya said, her lips quirking into a half-smile.
Lianne stood frozen, her mouth working silently as she stared at her old friend. Then laughter burst from her chest, bright and startling in the tense atmosphere. She crossed the room in quick strides and wrapped Mya in a fierce embrace. "How?" she whispered against Mya's shoulder, her arms tightening as if afraid she might disappear.
Mya laughed, hugging her tight, her voice softening. "Its a long story, broken souls, devils, new line of work, it was a whole thing."
Lianne let her go and Joreck swept Mya up in a hug.
"Yah big brute!" Mya laughed.
"Mya," Joreck said simply, relief warming his deep voice.
"Good to see you, Joreck, my old friend." She pulled back, her expression turning serious. "Though I hear you all got yourselves in a spot of trouble recently so I thought I'd jump from a world away to give you all a hand."
"Petor and Valter, two of my fellow horsemen are up at the inland lake. They've set up a conch to transport people to an island called Anvil Spike."
"There's not anywhere on Irdun we can run to," Lianne said, keeping her voice low. If others might hear they might lose their last hope.
"Well its a good thing that this is a world and a plane away, its an island—convergence point place—in the water plane of Etera. That's Desari's world, and the island's tied to the Abyssal Plane too. It's connected to a god there—the Water Lord. He judges people on their actions, not their words. Stand-up guy."
Lianne blinked, suddenly noticing the silent figure who had entered with Mya. Despite her years of experience sensing the undead and living alike, she hadn't detected Desari's presence at all.
Joreck crossed his arms, his weathered face creasing with concern. "We're leaving Irdun?" The question hung heavy in the command room's stale air.
Mya's eyes met his, exhaustion evident in the shadows beneath them. "If we stay in Irdun, we can expect more of the same. This place has turned against us. The Water Lord's fair. Irdun's gods aren't."
Lianne felt each word like a physical blow, the truth of them impossible to deny. For years, she'd clung to the hope that someone would understand their cause, would see the injustice being done to her people. She'd waited for allies to emerge from the shadows, for someone to stand beside them against the United Irdun Forces.
But no one had come. No one except-
Her gaze drifted to Mya, and a small smile tugged at her lips. One person had come back to help them. Mya had crossed worlds to stand with them again.
Lianne straightened her spine, squaring her shoulders as she faced her old friend. "To the water plane, then." The words came out steady, certain, despite the enormity of what they meant. In her eyes, a fierce determination burned.
Mya nodded, approval flickering across her features. "We'll make it. One way or another."
They exchanged glances - Lianne, Joreck and Mya - each understanding what wasn't being said. The path ahead would be difficult.
"All we need is time," Lianne said.
"The most valuable resource of them all," Mya agreed.
