Fourth Vector Ch. 33

At least back then, hope was in the air. The war was finally over and the thought of getting Sorella back on track was on everyone's mind.

Now, that notion was dead and buried. While their small band of rebels froze on the top of the mountain, large bodies of Swabian soldiers remained at the base of the mountain, gradually closing the circle around them. The countryside had largely been pacified and all that remained was for them to ascend to the top of Mount Tarpeious and see an end to any significant resistance.

Hope was a foreign concept.

Now that the Swabians weren't killing every Sorellan in sight, many talked openly of surrender. Just two days before, nearly thirty warriors had called it quits, choosing to leave the mountain in hopes they could begin to start piecing their lives back together. Nikias didn't know what the Swabians did with them but their numbers continued to dwindle.

Soon, there wouldn't be any of them left.

Nikias knew that surrender wasn't an option for himself or his wife. As the sovereign King and Queen of Sorella, they would be marked for death if the Swabians ever got their hands on them. For good reason too, since they'd been behind the death of so many of them. Every incursion into the interior made by the enemy was marked with death and blood. Nikias and Elektra made them pay for every inch of Sorellan soil they dared to occupy.

Sooner or later though, they would run out of soil to defend. There would be nowhere left to go, and thoughts of what he might do with himself when that day arrived were always present.

Thoughts of leaving Sorella for another country were quickly squashed.

"I won't leave the country I grew up in and abandon her to such monsters," said Elektra one evening, firmly closing the door on the topic. "If I don't fight for Sorella, who will?"

"I'm not suggesting that we give up the fight," Nikias countered. "Just that we acknowledge that with our present forces, we can't win right now. We're better off regrouping and trying again another time."

"When will that time be?" asked Elektra fiercely. "When will the Swabians ever be weak enough for us to retake Sorella? More importantly, who will help us? All of our neighbors have been conquered. We're already behind enemy lines and the seas are teeming with Swabian ships. How would we get away?"

She brought up excellent points and Nikias didn't raise the subject again. However, the question still remained of what the two of them would do when the time came. Nikias wasn't opposed to a noble suicide if there was no other option for them but even the thought was vile enough to turn his stomach.

There had to be another way.

With the lack of warriors and the fighting starting to wind down, there wasn't much for their band to do these days besides await the inevitable. Many solutions were offered to get them out of their current predicament however none seemed to be anything other than a delaying action.

"I wish we would have gotten some of the fire out," said Elektra from beside him. "Some of the containers of the fire from the storerooms. Surely that could have helped us hold them off longer."

Nikias didn't have to ask her what fire she was referring to. The only weapon that could truly change the tide of battle was Sorellan fire, and all of their stores were still resting in the bottom of an armory warehouse in the capital.

During the initial invasion, the question had been raised about using the Sorellan fire in defense however Heron had vetoed it for two reasons. The first was that the weather wouldn't have supported it. With the storm in the ocean, visibility was poor and the first Swabians were ashore before it truly could have been used properly.

Another suggestion had been made to burn the city as the Swabians captured it but not only would that have killed many Swabians but it also would have condemned thousands of Sorellans to a fiery death.

For that reason, the Sorellan fire remained behind enemy lines, having been overtaken too quickly to do anything with it.

"Some of the fire would help a lot right now," muttered Nikias. "We could do a lot of damage to them."

Elektra nodded. "Although it probably wouldn't stop them totally. It's no good against moving targets. Now, fixed targets like the capital city? It would have incinerated all of them."

"Your father didn't want to burn down his city and kill his own people," said Nikias. "He wanted to protect the city for a day when we could reclaim it."

Elektra looked at him with serious eyes. "You and I both know that day will be far off indeed. He wanted to conserve the city for the future. There's not much to conserve there now. It's only a large open air barracks for the Swabians. It's their primary stronghold."

He nodded without saying anything more. Nikias knew her words to be true. Such were reports from anyone who still moved between the lines, mostly those that supplied their movement from the shadows.

"How I wish I could see it all burn," continued Elektra, muttering breathlessly. "To see a fiery end for all the invaders."

Her words were followed by a moment of silence. A short distance away, one of the rebels went into a coughing fit that was only quenched after a minute of hacking. By the time he was done, Nikias noticed that Elektra bolted upright and looked at him with wild eyes.

"The fire. The fire, Nikias! That's it!"

He blinked as a confused expression took over his face. "What are you talking about?"

"The fire!" Elektra hopped on her feet and then helped him to his. "We know the capital city is occupied territory, right? The biggest camp of the Swabians in the whole country?"

"Right," he conceded but mostly because they'd been through this already.

"The Sorellan fire is still in the warehouse in the city. The war is winding down and sooner or later, they are going to capture us on this mountain and likely kill us."

Nikias frowned. "I thought you had agood idea. This sounds terrible so far."

She smacked his stomach. "The way I see it, we have one last chance to strike back at the enemy before they kill us. One way or another, we're going to die eventually. Let's go out with a bang."

"What are you suggesting?"

Elektra smiled. "The stores of Sorellan fire. We can sneak our way just the two of us back to the capital city and we can ignite the stores. There's enough fire to burn the entire city down. If we ignite the whole thing, we'll catch a good portion of them before they have time to run away. It'll weaken their hold on the island severely!"

Nikias stopped for a moment to think the idea over. From the start, he didn't care for it. There were just too many variables. Were the jars of Sorellan fire still in the warehouse or had they been moved by the Swabians? Did they even know what was inside the jars? How would he and Elektra get back to the capital without being recognized? How would they do it inside the city when everyone would know them by sight alone?

That wasn't forgetting another question--how would they even get out of the capital to avoid being burned alive?

"This sounds... crazy," he said finally. "It's a suicide mission, isn't it? You just want to do as much damage as you can before we go?"

Elektra's gaze softened. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe it really is a suicide mission. But if I go, I want to know that I took enough of them with me to make a difference. I want to make it easier for those that come after us to free the country. It's a long shot entirely. It would take careful planning and even then, we still might not get anywhere close to achieving our plan. But isn't it worth it? Isn't Sorella worth this one final gesture?'

When Nikias searched his heart, he knew her words to be true. So what if it meant certain death? Death would find them on this mountain soon enough. With the odds stacked increasingly against them, Elektra's plan to go out on their own terms only made sense.

It was the last thing they could do with the time they had left.

Nikias settled his gaze on his wife. "When do we leave?"

*****

The morning of the audience with the Elders was a foul one. For one, it was pouring rain in the city of Dobele, enough to drench anyone thoroughly if they spent more than thirty seconds trying to battle through the torrent. It was so loud that the steady patter on the roof kept Jack awake for a good portion of the early morning.

Not that the rain was the sole reason for it. He had enough on his mind concerning the audience to already find sleep elusive.

"Nasty little storm out there," said Bill as they prepared to leave. "The porter said these autumn gales usually blow right down the Slot this time of year and dump buckets in this area."

"Better to hit us here on land than out at sea," said Jack. "Hopefully, it wasn't this severe when it passed Arezzo."

To Jack's surprise, Santino answered that question. "Usually they get worse as they get further east. It was probably quite tame around Arezzo since that's where they usually form and then increase in intensity as they continue to move."

Jack nodded before shooting a weary eye at Bill, a move that was reciprocated by the older lord. Santino was eerily similar to his usual self this morning, even if it was a tad more muted than usual. Despite not having any leads on his family, he'd proven already that he would put aside his personal problems and show up when they needed him. Already, the calm veneer of a politician was apparent on his face, and no matter the maelstrom of emotions underneath, he would do his utmost today to see their task completed.

In the matter of the task, Jack had a quiet confidence about it this morning. It was hard not to be confident after the events of last night. Their ambush of the Swabian envoy gave them a small treasure trove of valuable information--information that Jack would use to sway the Elders to his side. All he needed was the floor, a chance to discuss their cause openly and honestly.

It was with that assurance that they left the lodging that morning to go to the palace. Today, Bill had hired cars to take them, saving themselves from arriving as drenched cats for their most important meeting despite the short distance. The ride over to the palace was uneventful and Jack felt his adrenaline rush as they finally stepped out and entered the center of Samaran power.

Luckily for them, Hendrick had expected their arrival and was waiting in the lobby underneath the giant center dome.

"Good morning, gentlemen," greeted the kindly Tribune as soon as they were near. "I trust you all are ready for your audience?"

"As ready as we can be," said Jack. "We're hoping for a favorable outcome today."

Hendrick raised an eyebrow. "Ihope that you're doing more than just hoping for it. I put a lot at stake to get this audience together so please make sure that you know exactly what you're going to say and do. There's too much on the line."

Jack looked over at Santino and Bill, both of whom were looking back at him with that shared confidence. "We know the stakes," said Jack to Hendrick. "And we're ready when you are."

"Come then," said Hendrick as he ushered them deeper into the palace. "Let's get to the meeting chamber."

Hendrick led them to the other side of the palace, a different course from the times Jack had been there before. He knew the original meeting room and Hendrick's office to be on the western wing of the palace but they were going east this time. They walked a good distance before the Tribune led them into one grand door which looked to be no more than a simple waiting room. In front of them were the other two Tribunes, Bram and Anton.

To say that Anton looked obstinate that morning was an understatement. When his eyes finally descended on Jack's, he looked like he was ready to charge.

"Well, if it isn't our erstwhilefriends," said Anton with a subtle sneer. "Tell me, are you gluttons for punishment? I thought my ruling earlier this week was quite clear."

"Your opinion was quite clear," said Jack, trading veiled insults. "However, I'd like to put this out to the rest of the Samaran leadership."

Anton's eyes narrowed. "I am Samaran leadership. You'd be wise to recognize that."

Hendrick stepped between them, his eyes fully centered on Anton. "We are Samaran leadership. And since this threat is to all of Samara, it's right for them to speak directly to the Elders."

The focus of Anton's glare shifted to Hendrick. "When this is over, you and I are going to have words."

He said nothing more but the threat behind his voice was clear to all of them.

A door on the other side of the room opened slightly, and someone stuck a hand through to make a small gesture.

"They're ready for us," said Bram. "Let's go inside."

The doors to the main audience chamber swung open, revealing a much larger room. At the same time, Anton stepped aside and swept his hand toward the chamber.

"After you then,friend," he said with a condescending tone.

Jack said nothing in response and followed Hendrick and Bram inside the room. The audience hall was the largest room in the palace from what Jack could see. There was a floor of level ground directly in front of them with seating for three that was clearly marked out for Jack, Bill, and Santino.

On the other wall was another three seats, these more comfortable and positioned on a raised dais, obviously meant for the three Tribunes.

The rest of the room was set up with amphitheater seating, and instantly thirty pairs of eyes descended on Jack as he walked inside. The thirty Elders were seated in a semi-circle pattern two rows deep. They were broken up so that ten of them sat in the very middle while another ten sat on either side to make up the full total of thirty Elders. In front of each section of ten was a small plaque that carried the ancient tribal name.

From the moment that Jack settled into his seat, he could feel the pressure of all their expectations on him. None of the Elders looked thrilled to be there and there was one in particular that seemed to focus an unhealthy glare in Jack's direction.

"See that man right there?" asked Hendrick as he spoke into Jack's ear. "The one that looks so irritable? That's Lars Becker. He is currently the eldest member of the council, and therefore, his word is usually held sacred."

"And he already looks like he doesn't like us," replied Jack. "Or does he always look like that."

Hendrick put a friendly hand on Jack's shoulder. "You'd find out he always looks upset. But if there's one person here whose opinion matters most, he's the one."

Jack nodded as he tried to digest the information. He made eye contact with Lars once more after he was seated, only to find the ancient man looking at him like he was a bug that needed to be squashed.

It was under those auspices that the council audience was kicked off.

"Honored Fathers of Samara, I bid you welcome," said Hendrick with a booming voice, his arms outstretched toward the Elders. "It is not lightly that I call upon you to weigh your judgment on matters of state but I believe today's audience should get a ruling guided by your many years of experience and wisdom." Hendrick raised a hand to Jack. "Let me introduce the newcomers in our presence. The heir to the Galician throne, may I present Jack Easterbrook."

Jack stood because he felt like he should. He nodded to the Elders before resuming his seat, feeling entirely like he should have done more with the time.

Hendrick wasted none of his in introducing Bill and Santino before once more addressing the Elders.

"The reason for our assemblage today is to answer a question posed to us by our foreign friends," boomed Hendrick. "An issue that points toward foreign aggression against the people of Samara as well as a plot to bring war and devastation to the country. To that end, I will let our friends here take over."

There was excitable chatter once Hendrick mentioned war but Jack took that as his sign to begin. Once more he stood up and focused his gaze on the men in front of him. Immediately, he felt the tension in the room, especially now that they were all silent and expecting to hear from him.

With a deep breath to steady himself, Jack began.

"Elders of Samara, thank you for granting your attention today," said Jack as he put on a diplomatic smile. "It is true what Tribune Hendrick has told you this morning. I am the heir to the Galician throne. Only within the past year did I find out about my heritage, one that was kept from me my entire life. After such a discovery, I've worked to be the king that the Galician people need me to be. One that will not only put their interests first but will also struggle to promote fairness and decency for all peoples of the West, not just Galicia."

"In light of that goal, there has always been one obstacle," said Jack before he paused for dramatic effect. "That obstacle has been the Swabian Empire."

There was another round of murmuring before Jack continued.

"Ever since I first entered the West, I've run into Swabian aggression and foiled it. I foiled it in Sorella when they used their limitless funds to start a civil war and then tried to steal the country's treasury out from under them. I foiled it in Andalucia when I took charge of the country and freed their slaves. I foiled it in Picardy when we identified the source of a plague and put their soldiers on the defensive. Most recently, I foiled it again when the combined union of Emperor Avila and Galician Regent Eric Rosdahl teamed together to kill me for the simple fact that I was born into the wrong family."

Jack stopped for a moment to appraise their faces. A small portion of them seemed to be hanging onto his every word. Many were now leaning forward and watching him carefully, wondering what he would say next. To his dismay though, Lars Becker still seemed unmoved behind his hostile glare.

"Under my leadership, I've assembled an alliance that ties in the free forces of Galicia, Picardy, Apulia, and Carinthia against Swabian aggression. An alliance with historical connotations but one that is rooted in simple geography that can contain the Swabian beast. Our alliance on its own is not enough. We will lose Apulia in enough time if we don't get further aid."

"Perhaps you should check with the Sorellans," suggested Anton as he hid behind an insidious smile. "I'm sure they have a few muskets they can lend you."

Jack ignored him and kept his attention focused on the Elders. "I hope to continue to be a foil to the Swabians' plans. In doing so, it gives life and liberty to the free peoples of the West. I've seen too much of what happens to a nation when the Swabians take over. They lose everything in the process."

"But to that end, I need your help in stopping the Swabians one more time. I need your aid in protecting a new country that has just entered their sights, a country they are determined to attack as soon as the flames of freedom are snuffed out in Apulia. I talk, of course, about Samara."

More murmuring greeted Jack. One of the Elders on the right was now openly shaking his head, already not agreeing with Jack's words.

"I've seen with my own eyes an order taken from a Swabian officer that detailed just such an attack on Samara," continued Jack. "Their forces will press north as soon as Apulia has fallen. It's not a matter of if but a matter of when."

For the first time that morning, an Elder in the front row spoke out. "And what would you have us do about that, son? Why did you come to Samara?"

"I ask for Samara's aid in fighting a common enemy," replied Jack strongly. "I ask that together, we join forces and push the Swabians back to their ancient homeland. To that extent, I ask that your armed forces join with us and come to Apulia to start rolling back our shared enemy."