The Prophesy: Book 3 - The Hammer of Atlantis

 

As they emerged from the trance of the Seer, the princes and kings began the analysis, again under Harp's guidance.

"First question: How close are the events we foresaw?"

"I counted sixty darkening as we went through time before things began to unfold," said Timor.

"I did the same and I arrived at roughly the same number," confirmed Sitar.

"So it begins in two months. Do we agree?"

No one contested the estimate.

"Next, why would it occur in sixty days rather then right away or later?"

"It would be the dead of winter, the coldest, Harp. During that time the ice will not flow as much as it does in the summer. The orcs will have to spend less time keeping their tunnels open."

"Paschal's analysis withstands scrutiny. Ice flows a lot faster in warm weather then in cold weather," Typhoon added.

"We know when, we know why. Now, to establish where?"

"That's going to be a bit more difficult. It appears they are attacking from everywhere," Thorsten replied.

"I had that feeling too. But maybe we can locate their exit point from prominent features of topography," replied Paschal. "Let me get the topographic map of the kingdom."

"Better still, Paschal, let's go to your Map Room. You have these huge tables and we have access to all the data right on hand."

Everyone silently walked to the Map Room, so as not to awaken the Palace staff needlessly. Ian took his favourite animagus form, a white wolf, and led them down the silent hallways, making sure they passed unnoticed by the few staff members and patrols that ran through the hallways during the night shift. Once inside the superb hall, Harp gently closed the huge double doors, set a silencing charm around the room and made sure no light filtered out from under the door.

"Let there be light!" stated Paschal in a strong voice, as a miniature sun lighted the room from the ceiling.

"Let there be light?" exclaimed Harp, looking at Paschal with a slightly amused face.

"I read that in a book called the Bible, and I wanted to see if it would work. It does, and nicely too. Naturally, I didn't order it with a bang. One Big Bang is enough. I also contained the emission to some infrared to warm the place up and visible light. We don't need ultraviolet and gamma rays, do we?"

"No we don't, and quite frankly, I sort of like the warmth that miniature sun give out. It feels nice," replied Typhoon.

"Let's get back to business. Here is the map of the Northern border, along with the automatic defence lines we have set up. Sitar, Thorsten, Typhoon, Anbraxias, and Ness, can you deal with the analysis? Try finding anything that ticks off a memory of the events we witnessed."

"Ok, where can we unroll that map?"

"There is a big table at the far end; it has a map of the world on it with pins marking the square miles we have searched. But the far end of the table is free. Do not be surprised to see pins appear at regular intervals. I have made it auto-updating."

"What do you mean?"

"Each time one of our exploratory team has finished exploring an area, the pin goes from yellow to green; as it begins a new area, a yellow pin materializes. The fastest changing areas are those done by the Spiders, as you can see the yellow line that crosses the North Atlantic. I had enough of putting pins on the map, especially in the middle! Can you imagine the painstaking care I had to put up with when I tried to pin some of these tiny bits of rocks protruding in an ocean of blue, especially along the Equator, where a square mile is smaller than the size of a pin head?"

"I understand now why there is a lot of space along the Poles and the pins are like a dense carpet along the Equator."

"That's the reason, Anbraxias."

"Well, brother, an auto-updating map is quite a feat of magic. I am proud of you."

Paschal beamed with pride at Harp's comments, and, to hide his condition, he took out another map of the Western frontier.

"Ok, Enron, Tiamat, Galeru, Brinsop, Apalapa! You deal with the western border," as he handed the map to Enron, while looking for the Eastern border map.

"Next, Harp, Uwibami, Jormungandr, Timor, Ian, you do the Eastern border analysis. And here is the Southern border map. Greywolf, Silver Moon, team up to analyse that map. It is smaller. I will act as focal point to consolidate your findings and answer any questions about the maps."

As images were compared to the maps, more and more items came to light. Some were cliffs, others landmark falls, still others bridges, and rivers. After spending the night on the maps, everyone was tired and decided to take a quick nap until sext. Paschal had recreated a consolidated map of the kingdom, and marked each identifiable exit area with a red flag.

They ate a quick lunch materialised by the care of Harp, the map was being discussed and studied.

"Something ticks me off."

"What is it, Paschal?" asked Ian, as he too studied the map.

"Did you notice that there is a certain regularity between these markers?" as he pointed out areas along all borders.

"Yes, but there are also big gaps," commented Typhoon.

"Yes, but these gaps could be filled by those locations we were not able to identify. And there are quite a few!"

"Paschal has a point there, guys. Let's assume we have simply missed these exit points. What gives?"

"A lot more orcs then we thought, Thorsten."

"That goes without saying, Typhoon. But what else?"

"I suggest we go check these missed points. Maybe we will recognise more and add them to the map."

"Sitar's suggestion is sound. I suggest we maintain the teams, and you guys get going. We will maintain contact by telepathy, and I will update the map, as each exit point is located. We know their invasion paths, even if they don't yet. Set booby traps at every step, every turn. Let them pay the ultimate price for each inch they gain in the kingdom."

Should we inform the Privy Council of our discovery?"

"Let's deal with this right away, and then inform Harold of our countermeasures. I know dad loves it when we show initiative. And he has enough on his shoulders as it is."

"Ian's right. Please make a show to the royal halls before getting to work. I don't want to give our dads reason to worry and search for us. Thorsten, release five hundred tons of explosives by team for the booby traps. Make sure it is divided into one-pound packets. Use magic to trigger them, with care to make sure it's only orcs that trigger the packets. We are here to save as many life forms as possible, not in the business of blowing up rabbits."

The princes and kings proceeded to the Royal Hall in a boisterous procession, intent on pulling a cloth on their intentions over the eyes of the others. Unfortunately, they were overdoing it, and Diamondcutter was not born out of the last rain.

"What are you trying to hide from us, son?" he said, as he looked suspiciously at Thorsten.

"Me? Nothing of importance for the Council!"

"You just proved to me there is something important going on. You never, ever, mention the Privy Council when you talk, even if you are a de facto part of it! And just by the few glances going on between you, it involves everyone, so it must be serious."

"I have to concur with Diamondcutter; the guilty look on my son almost spells trouble!" Samson said, as he eyed Enron suspiciously.

"And the four little devils smirking with you probably think I'm blind!" added Harold, as Annabelle eyed the four boys with a smirk.

"My little finger tells me you boys are planning some dirty tricks!" she said.

"How come my little finger never talks to me?" asked Ian, dumbfounded, to an explosion of laughter from the others.

Just then, a clerk came into the room.

"King Thorsten, the two thousand tons of explosives you requested are in the courtyard, packed in one-pound packages as you requested. However, we have not found a request for the proper number of detonators. We have added them to the packages, your majesty, in separate packs of fifty. Could you please sign the requisite form, please?"

Thorsten turned all shades of red, as the Privy Council members exploded into unbridled laughter at his expense, and to the total misunderstanding of the poor clerk.

"Now that you have done a dent in the Royal Explosives, Thorsten, would you mind explaining why?" asked Harold, with a grin wider than his face.

After looking at the others and getting Ian and the others' assent, he explained what they had been doing all night the previous evening.

"We have already located some exit points, dad," completed Ian. "However, we have decided to walk the border, or, more properly, fly them in an effort to spot other exit points."

"How do you plan to set the explosives?"

"Magical triggering by sensing the orcs, dad."

"What I want to know is in what sequence will the explosives be triggered?"

"Well, as one group walks into a trap, it blows up."

"There, sons, I do not agree with this idea. The traps are good, but the order of their detonation needs to be changed."

"How so, dad?"

"See, if you trigger the exploding devices as they walk on them they will become weary and change their path. Remember, foreseeing is not binding!"

"What do you suggest, Harold?" asked and interested Sitar.

"Set the traps so that the trigger is at the furthest inside the Kingdom and link them together. That way, you will blow up a whole column of orcs, and they won't suspect a thing until it's too late."

"That's a brilliant idea! I was wondering why the orcs kept following the expected path! Now, it makes sense!"

"Do you want our dragons for the task?"

"No, dad, you might need them for some tasks. I will take a centurie of Pegasuses, split in four, to carry the explosive and do aerial cover for us while we take on wolf or fox form on land to do our search."

"That's fine by me, Ian. I gather you are all going?"

"No, Paschal stays behind to update the map as we discover other points of reference. We will feed him the information by telepathy."

"How long do you plan to spend on this?"

"It depends on how difficult the task will be, Samson. We have to take into account the weather as well, and winter seems to be beginning early again this year."

"That's an euphemism, Enron, there was no summer!"

"Anyway, Samson, given how many points of reference we need to find, and since we have a relatively good idea of where they are, I think it should be done within a week," Paschal informed the Privy Council.

"That is fine by us."

"Do you have anything planned, dad?"

"Diamondcutter, Samson, Annabelle, and I have been planning a visit to Riverside and the capital of the Eastern kingdom, officially known as the United Kingdoms of Americus, within the next few weeks. It is past due we visit them."

"So? What does this have to do with us?"

"Because, Harp, you will be coming as Grand Master Mage of the Kingdom; Sitar will be the Grand Master of Arms; Typhoon will be Prince of the Dragons, Silver Moon, Lord Agramon as Prince of the Equines, Ian, as a White Wolf, will be Prince of the Canines, Paschal, you will be my son, openly. Thorsten, you will be king of the Dwarfs, Timor will be prince of the Trolls, Enron, king of the Elves. And I forgot! The Sword Master, albeit young, has been asked to lead the Centaur detachment during that expedition, which will comprise a combined task force of their tribes. I have asked Black White Wing to lead the contingent of Pegasuses and he accepted. Golden Horn Unicorn has volunteered to lead a few centuries of their kind as well."

"And you, dad?" asked Harp.

I will go as Horus, with all the trimmings. And just so you know, Annabelle will come as my wife and Queen; Theresa has accepted command of the Legions that will come with us, as well as the foot soldiers of the Elvin army. Diamondcutter and Samson will act as the visible face of the Privy Council. We will bring, hidden in our midst, princess Iridia and about five hundred Fairies. I believe in trump cards."

"Who will stay behind to handle the kingdom's affairs?" asked Enron, worried.

"I will give proper powers to Yamato, Dunbar and Williams. Do you have any name to suggest to bring that number to five?"

"Alaric would be good. He seems to have a solid head, and already commands a centurie; as for the canines, Blackie Dog would do nice, and for the Equines?"

"Silver Dart is used to command. He would do nicely," suggested Sitar, completing the list after Harp's suggestion. "Archduke Volant is a staunch ally, and would complement the quintavirate."

"And the Lance Master is staying back to hold the fort with the five other Centaur Masters to hold the Centaurs in check," completed Samson.

"And the Gold Dragon King will be staying back as well, Sitar. So don't worry, boys, you will have a home when you come back," Annabelle said, addressing their unspoken fears.

"That means we will have to wait on the return of Yamato, Dunbar and Williams before planning the expedition, dad. Paschal, when are they due?"

"Just about when we will have done setting the traps along the borders, Enron."

"How far has Alaric progressed, son?"

"He is beginning to gain inter-species telepathy; that position will kick him in the butt, and he will be ready to bond to a dragon when we come back from that trip," replied Harp.

"How nicely said, Harp. I have asked Nestor to handle the magic for the Kingdom while we are gone."

"That's a good choice; he needs to have some challenges, he has been sitting on his bums too long!"

"Harp! Language!" said Annabelle.

"Mom, I heard you dress down a legionnaire, and I though the needles of the pine tree would turn red in shame!"

***

It took slightly more then a week to booby-trap the expected paths the orcs would take. By the time the boys and their bonded had finished, Dunbar, Williams and Yamato had been back for a few days.

"So, how did your work progress?"

"It went well, Paschal. We have scoured the furthest reaches of Papua-New Guinea. We set up some points of reference for New Zealand. The thing is, we saw some strange flying animal in the distance, but we have not tried to capture specimens yet. We will do so as soon as we return there. It seems there is a side-trip planned by Harold, and we are needed here for a while."

"Yes, dad has finally decided it was time to visit his old roaming place. He plans to do it in style! Did you see orcs or crocodile priests?"

"Yes, in fact, the orcs were a good source of food for our bonded. I think they never saw dragons before and stood there, frozen in shock! The sea is also rich and our green dragons were pleased."

"You ate orcs?"

"No, there seems to have been a healthy stock of sheep on that island, at least in some areas, and we hunted them. There was quite a variety, differing in each valley in form and colour, if not in taste. I still have the impression I spent the last month eating a wet wool blanket!"

"We also finished Tasmania, Paschal. We met one heck of a nasty animal that looks like an oversized wolf. But it carries its young in a pouch."

"You found a marsupial, Yamato? That is bloody marvellous! Did you capture one?" exclaimed Harp.

"Yes, there are quite a few species, from rodents to that wolf look-alike. But it definitely is not a wolf! We tried telepathic contact, and a cesspool is cleaner than its mind! For it, all that moves is food! It attacks even orcs. It is highly individualistic, which is good, but we have had to inform the Elves to keep each specimen separate. Put two together and you end up with two severely mauled and dead specimens!"

"That sounds like the Tasmanian Devil. But from your description it seems to have benefited from the Cataclysm? The Tasmanian devil was rather small."

"That one isn't. The average weight for the females is one hundred and fifty pounds; and the males are two hundred and fifty pounds."

"That's quite a change from their ancestors! The Tasmanian Devils of old weighed an average of eighteen pounds for a male!" Harp stated.

"You said it attacks orcs?" asked Theresa.

"Yes, we saw one charge an orc at over forty miles per hour. The orc did its best but stood not a chance. It was the first and only orc we had met that was not in a horde. The beast isn't stupid, too: it runs away when there are more than two orcs; but charges the moment there is two or less. It was late dusk, and the animal was almost invisible. Their fur is black and camouflages them perfectly in the falling light of dusk. We saw it due to our dragon form's infrared eyesight."

"Did it attack you in your dragon form?"

"It's savage, not stupid! Would you attack a walking house?"

Theresa exploded in laughter at Williams' image.

"We need to get back to planning that trip," intervened Harold. "Where do we stand?"

"We have the dragons set at a centurie; a centurie each of Pegasuses and Unicorns. The five centuries of Fairies are ready and packed; we have five centuries of Dwarfs; ten centuries of Elves, and another ten centuries of Legionnaires. There is a centurie of Centaurs getting ready; they should be finished by sext today. The Equines pack are ready, at forty centuries, and there is twenty centuries of wolves, ten of dogs and another ten of foxes, all ready to move," said Dunbar.

"How do you plan to get over the mountain range?" asked Theresa.

"We will port right across Newbridge," decided Harold. "I want to see how things are there."

"The wolf spies we have there say the bridge is holding, but that the town has been evacuated after an orc attack," said Harp. "The wolves tell us the orcs are further inland, closer to the mountain range, beyond Command Rock, so we should be free of interference when we materialise."

"How come we suddenly find so much orc activity and it had been almost impossible to find any before?"

"That, dad, was due to the orcs changing their habits. We were blindsided! They have now taken to travelling in tunnels as much as possible, and living underground. We should have known!"

"What do you mean?" asked Samson.

"Well, remember the problem we had of finding orc nests? We were looking at the wrong places. Who would have thought they would dig huge underground caves to nest and nurture their young?"

"And we were set in our ways. We thought we knew orcs. Wrong! Let that be a lesson of war: never underestimate the creativity of your enemy!" said Sitar.

"I admit we should have understood this a long time ago. The orcs aren't the only underground dwellers we know of," added Enron, as he looked at Diamondcutter pointedly. "Remember your troubles adapting to the open skies, Thorsten!"

"Don't remind me! Anyway, given they already build their nests underground, it was a simple question of time for them to begin building tunnels as ways to travel undetected. In fact, I'm surprised it took them that long!"

"Necessity pressures change, Thorsten," replied Nestor, as he walked in the dining room. "Prince Harp, I have selected the mage centurie that will accompany you. They are packed. The representative of the school will be your old friend Ferriday. I hope you are satisfied with my choices, Great Grand Master, Prince of Magic!"

"Stop with the titles, grandpa! You are making me blush!" replied Harp, as he turned pink at the ears.

"You better be ready for that title, my favourite little devil, you! You are going to a court! By the way, I included Angostini, the apprentice Mage. He better perform up to expectations! It will be his first task leading to Companionship in the Mages' Order."

"That is fine with me; Angostini is a fine travel companion. I will take him under my wing, if you do not mind."

"I dared not ask, given the nature of the work you might have to perform. He will be pleased, and it will be quite an honour for him."

"As long as he doesn't get a ballooned head out of it!" commented Sitar, from behind the discussing couple.

"I doubt that. It's the others who try to make it a big affair. He is tired of being pointed out as Harp's friend in the school. He wants to progress on his own merits."

"Being my apprentice won't help him in that regard. He will be faced with even more of the same when he comes back."

"I am aware of that, Harp. I just hope that the pressure of being your apprentice will trigger in him what I see dormant. Once it's in the open, no one will dare bug him and call him names ever again. I've tried to stop this, but I can't be behind him day in day out."

As the exchange was coming to a close, the Lance Master walked in.

"Everything is ready, King Harold. We can leave at a moment's notice!"

"Fine, Lance Master. We leave tomorrow at dawn! Everyone is to be present and into their marching order as the sun rises! Dismissed!"

The Centaur slammed his right foot on the tile, slammed his fist on his torso like a Legionnaire, and turned around, followed immediately by the others.

"Well, Annabelle, another adventure begins."

"Yes, my dear. I am surprised the Lance Master came into the castle!"

"I was surprised as well. That is why I closed the meeting abruptly. I do not want him to feel more uncomfortable then necessary."

"I heard they have been working on trying to get over their claustrophobia. It must be one major accomplishment for the Lance Master to have made it all the way to the room without getting into a panic state."

"Aren't we accompanied by a strange lot? The Dwarfs suffered from agoraphobia; the Centaurs from claustrophobia; the Fairies had an inferiority complex! That army sounds like a psychiatric ward on the loose!"

***

The first rays of the sun were barely peeking over the eastern mountain range, as the ice caps took a wide range of pinks and ever-richer reds and gold when Harold walked out of Thebes on his destrier, to the sound of trumpets.

"Is everything ready?" he asked.

"Yes, Legate," replied Theresa. "Everyone was ready an hour ago! We are anxious to get on the move!"

"Fine. Mount!"

"Harp! To you the port!"

"First Fox Unit! Port on my mark! Mark!"

Immediately the foxes were transported along the road leading into Newbridge. The foxes dispersed on both sides and connected with the wolves of the area for last minute updates.

«All clear!» reported the fox commander.

"First Wolves unit! Port on my mark! Mark!"

The wolves immediately ported at the location previously occupied by the foxes and dispersed along the western side of the road to establish a first defence.

«Western edge secured!»

"Second Wolves unit! Port on my mark! Mark!"

The procedure was repeated for the eastern edge of the road and the all secure was sent.

"Coyote Unit! Prepare to port on my mark! Mark!"

The coyotes ported and began advancing on the bridge, entering the silent Newbridge and dispersing to find any threat. After a few minutes, the all clear came in, and the next canine unit, made up of Hyenas, ported on Harp's mark, to complete the box and ensure the rear guard.

"Dog unit! Port on my mark! Good luck Ian! Mark!"

Ian, in the shape of a huge white wolf, ported with the dogs. His magnificent stature stood out over the dogs.

«Form the box! Fifty feet on the side!» The dogs immediately dispersed and took position, looking outward, with teeth bared. «Inner secure box formed! Awaiting Royals!»

«OK. Porting Elves! Elves, port on my mark! Mark!"

«Port successful at the rear of the royal box!» reported Ian.

"Legionnaires! Port on my mark! Mark!"

«The legions have ported ahead of the Royal box successfully!» reported Ian.

"Centaurs! Porting on my mark! Mark!"

«Centaurs ahead of my front unit and ported successfully!» reported Theresa.

"Dragons! Ready to port on my mark! Mark!"

«Dragons to the air! Porting successful!» as the dragons materialised at thirty thousand feet above the column and after taking spreading their wings to hold their fall they climbed to sixty thousand feet in an air control pattern.

"Pegasuses! Porting on my mark! Mark!"

«Pegasuses in the air! Porting successful!" reported Ian as the flying horses took a lower flying formation than the dragons.

"Dwarfs! Ready to port! Port!"

«Porting successful," reported Thorsten.

«Trolls ported successfully!» reported Timor as his own unit found itself in an unfamiliar road, just behind the dwarfs. The contrast between their respective sizes brought to light the impressive size of the Trolls.

The Unicorns ported on Harp's command, and reported success; the packhorses, which completed the army's composition, were then ported, leaving only the mages, the Privy Council and the royals.

"Mages! Ready to port on my command! Port!"

Some had problems, and Harp gave them assistance, but finally, the entire contingent found itself ported where they were expected.

"Royals? Are you ready? We will port together!"

"Yes son, at your command!"

"Port on my mark! Mark!"

The Field of Mars were now empty of the huge army, and the quintavirate returned to the Palace to deal with day to day issues while the Kings were away on a diplomatic mission. Silence and a quiet hush descended on Thebes as everyone wondered what would come out of that mission.

***

As the army progressed south toward Riverside, at a good pace, reports began flowing in from the different canine units and the advanced aerial surveillance. A crocodile priests hunting unit was dispatched in the early hours of the day as it lay in ambush for an unsuspecting convoy. The convoy itself came upon the bloody mess at sext, not really understanding the signs of bloody battle it saw. How could they? Huge footprints were visible everywhere, trees were burning, and charred remains of Hunters and Priests were strewn all over the area. The military unit did what was best, and turned around to report the fact to Riverside, never even seeing the vanguard of the Royal army. Less then two hours separated Harold's legions from the rear guard of the aforementioned column. The foxes and wolves stayed on their tail, while taking the side of the road and the river's shores somewhat ahead of the returning convoy.

"Given the speed at which they are headed to Riverside, my dear, I would call this an all out retreat!"

"Annabelle, they see huge footprints, blood everywhere, bowels hanging in high branches of trees some of which trees have been broken like matchsticks while measuring thirty feet in diameter, dry and not so dry blood dripping from pieces of meat that show bite marks that spell big, and I mean really big predators; they count at least a hundred carcasses, wolves and all sorts of predators and scavengers are busily breaking bones and tearing meat out of everything in sight; what would you have done? It must have been like walking into Hell's Butcher Shop!"

"When you put it under that light, Harold, I can understand their reaction. They must have a fire burning out of their ass holes!"

"Wouldn't you?"

"How far away from Riverside are we?" asked Harp, which had never been in this area.

"About two days' walk at our current pace. It took us some time to travel from Riverside to Newbridge, and we were not in a rush. In fact, we were walking rather slowly, because we did not want to fall into an ambush. We are moving at a far faster clip!" replied Annabelle.

"And I was with Dunbar's convoy most of the way. We too were travelling slowly, son."

"Ok. Should we try to catch up with the unit ahead of us?"

"I wish I could answer that, son. We do not know who commands, what their instructions were, and what is their current mood."

«There, dad, I can answer,» replied Ian, still in his beautiful but huge wolf form. «They reek of abject fear. If they could fly, they would.»

"I can imagine so, Ian. Can anyone of you interrogate the canines in their midst?"

"There is none," replied Sitar.

«Lord Agramon, what kinds of information can the Equines supply us with?»

«Not much, I fear. It is composed of a group of foot soldiers, and a train of packhorses. The size matches what you call a centurie. That is all.»

"We need information, dad. I'll fly in when they stop for the night. I'm sure a night owl would go unnoticed around here."

"Ok, Harp. This is a new moon night, and the cloud cover is thick, so you should be able to glide in silently."

***

Harp shape-shifted into his dragon shape as dusk came, and caught up with the now resting legionnaire column. He slowly dropped from his twenty thousand feet cruising altitude to five thousand, shifted into a barn owl and glided down to the ground. He then took the form of a rodent and scurried from hiding place to hiding place, trying to be as invisible as possible. The deep black short hair that covered him from nozzle to tail helped hide him from the numerous patrols that were looking for a bigger, much bigger foe.

His aerial survey had revealed the legionnaires still held tight to their usual practice of building their camp around their centurion's tent; they had also taken the time to dig in some trenches and placing in hidden spikes. Harp ran behind the tents, but as with any idea, there comes a moment where things need to be adjusted: he needed to cross a wide area for a mouse, about forty feet, of open ground. He decided to bluff his way across, and took in the form of a dog. He knew dogs were non-existent in the camp, but he hoped that the presence of one would not trigger the alarm.

Harp waited until a pair of legionnaires began crossing the open area and walked behind them, his deep brown fur making him almost invisible to anyone. The legionnaires were talking loudly, complaining about the forced walk of the day, as any self-respecting soldier would, thus covering the tiny scratchy noises Harp's nails made on the rock-strewn dirt. The crossing went without any alarm being raised, and Harp quickly returned to his field mice appearance, to begin following a tent's side further inside. Three times, Harp resorted to the stratagem of the dog, until finally, he saw the Centurion's tent, right in the middle of the camp, separated from others by forty feet of open space. This time, he noticed that all the tents were looking away from the centurion's, but that there were four pairs of patrols walking around the central tent, and two legionnaires kept guard at the entrance.

His first move was to scurry around the perimeter until he faced the rear of the tent. Then he began watching the patrols. It appeared that the patrol's members walked to opposite corners, exchanged a word with the person that patrolled the perpendicular segment, turned around and then walked the entire length of a side, meeting in the middle. That dashed his hope to dispose of a clear time when no one might be on the side he planned to cross. He decided to consult with Sitar.

«You have two options, first, run across while they are moving away from each other immediately after meeting. Second, port across the gap.»

«OK. I have my solution. I will combine the ideas.»

Harp waited until the two legionnaires were halfway to the corner, took his human shape, ported across, and reconverted immediately to his mouse form. He began to gnaw at the tent's thick fabric intent on reaching the inside of the tent to listen to the discussion he was hearing faintly across the felt fabric.

Unfortunately, Harp did not expect to see a domestic cat waiting for him at the other end, and was taken by surprise! Not that the cat managed to do more then a swipe at him. As Harp went flying across the room, he ported the cat in the middle of the icy river! The noise of a few collapsing objects attracted the attention of the Centurion, who hollered at his cat for disrupting his meeting with his Decurions, as if the cat would have given a damn about human affairs, had it still been around to hear the holler.

Harp managed to hide in the pile of cushions while the Centurion looked around for his cat, intent to make his displeasure known to the feline. As the Centurion gave up on his search and returned to his men, Harp wove his way to the flap, and pushed it open to pass in the other room where the meeting was held.

«I'm in. Listen in! You might catch things I might miss!»

Harp peeked above a boot, and surveyed the conference.

«Hold it! Hold it!» exclaimed Annabelle. «Can you focus on the guy sitting on the central chair?»

Harp focussed on the person Annabelle wanted, to be met with a string of curses that made it clear to all that pigs were princes compared to that individual.

«What brings that string of invectives, Annabelle?»

«That guy is one of the most pompous bastards of the court! He probably needs someone to hold his dick when he pees, and never used asswipe on his own! I never understood how he managed to learn to walk, much less ride a horse! The state of that kingdom must have degraded considerably for him to have a military command! The fucker never learned on which side to do a woman to produce an heir! I wouldn't be surprised if his little baby brother had to teach him the other use of a penis and a hand! The last time I saw him he still wore wooden shoes and the court rumour was that he couldn't tie his laces.»

«That might not be such a loss then!» Enron commented.

«That also explains why he took the easy way out rather then investigate the events,» Sitar added.

«Let's listen to the conversation. We might learn some things on the situation at the court and how what he saw affects his judgement.»

Samson's recommendations brought back the issue at hand, and everyone listened in on the talk. It became apparent that the Centurion was totally panicked and had only one idea in mind: put the maximum distance between his carcass and whatever had caused the bloody mess his unit had fallen on. Another thing came to the forefront: the old monarch had died the previous year, and the rumour mill in the military was to the effect his brother, a notorious intrigue specialist, might have commandeered the disappearance. The event had left the kingdom divided into two opposing clans, one wanting the re-establishment of the previous house in the person of a prince Annabelle had never heard of, and the current brother. The factions were of approximately equal force, and the Centurion sat squarely on the side of the usurper, which did not go well with the Royals at camp. Further information was gained as to the fate of the prince; it seemed his granduncle held him hostage in a palace further south, in a place called Bam-Bam¹⁵¹⁵ ("Bam-Bam: Bamberg, South Carolina."). The Centurion was expounding on the possibility of getting invited to his execution by torture.

«Do you know where that Bam-Bam place is located Annabelle?» asked Enron, which remembered not too fondly his cousin's actions.

«Yes. Look into my mind!»

«Ok, I have it. Sitar, Apalapa, Uwibami, you are with me! We have a prince to rescue! Thorsten, Paschal, Jormungandr, Anbraxias, Brinsop, you help Harp deal with that rotten piece of meat! Ian, Typhoon, you ensure air cover to their intervention. Twenty-five Pegasuses with an appropriate contingent of Fairies insure the cover for my intervention. Let's move, it's nearly compline, and I want the prince extracted by matins and back here under our protection! The rules of engagement in Bam-Bam are simple: no quarters!»

«Harp, we will be on their position in fifteen minutes. Wait for our passage at match eight, right above their camp, to send the tents in the river. I suggest you leave the centurion's tent before we get there, since I suspect the sound wave will collapse everything. We will time you on our arrival,» Thorsten added.

Harp did not need to be told twice and he took to the nearest exit, passing right between the legs of the Centurion who freaked at a mouse in his tent! Harp found a hole beyond the next row of tents and quickly dove in, waiting on the arrival of the air force.

"Come on, Centurion! What do you expect? This isn't a palace, it's a campaign tent!" exploded the oldest of the Decurions, pissed at the freaking commander. "You probably share your sleeping covers with a dozen of these furry creatures at night!"

As the centurion left the tent running like his ass was on fire, another one of the Decurions added another barb: "He probably shares his palace bed with even more of them, and a whole collection of bedbugs, from lice to ticks!"

"The poor beasts must be starving! His blood is thinner then water!" added a third, to a general explosion of laughter.

Harp's fine mousy hearing lost nothing of the exchange, and he couldn't help but peep in laughter.

«One minute to over flight!» Thorsten informed him.

Harp left the hole he had been hiding in and ran to the space between the inner tents and the Centurion's. Just as he saw the dragons fly at speed over the camp, he took human shape and watched the sound front head his way. As he watched the dust cloud rise, he ported beyond it, thus saving his hearing the pain of a sonic bang.

As the legionnaires tried to get out of their collapsed tents, Harp began searching for the Centurion. He took the wolf form and began tracking the jerk. He found the jerk sprawled on the ground, ears and nose bleeding from the concussion of the sonic boom. Harp wanted information, and he took no white gloves to get it; he raped the Centurion's mind without mercy, extracting from it all the information he needed and more. It appeared that the Centurion had received his military commission from the usurper for his services in capturing the young prince and bringing him to his demise. His vile intentions were far worse than just watch the prince getting tortured; he had planned on being one of the major executioners of the boy, having carefully planned on the defilement of the boy. The images Harp got of his intentions were too much and Harp blew a gasket! In the time it takes to blink, the Centurion was stripped, castrated, chastised, and impaled on a sharp bamboo stick, with his manhood stuffed in his mouth, and the lips sealed, but quite alive, thank you! He was not even leaking blood as Harp had taken care to cauterize all damage.

Once his support group had landed, Harp ported the tents across the river, as well as any dead material. The centurie found itself disarmed, nude as the day they were born, and in the early hours of what would be a damn cold night! Using a voice-amplifying spell, Harp began exposing the situation to the dumbfounded unit.

"The prince has been freed from the clutch of the usurper! I know who to trust and who to kill in this unit! Traitors will not be tolerated!"

"Who says you are telling the truth?" yelled a Decurion.

"And who are you?" yelled another Decurion.

A third sneered, and hollered, dismissively, "How can you tell which ones of us to kill?"

"Look at your commanding officer, idiot!" as the group that stood with Harp parted to reveal the totally freaked out face of the centurion. Everyone could see he was alive, if not well, and that some important parts of his anatomy were missing!

"As to the how, this is how!" thundered Harp, as Bata flashed and killed thirty legionnaires and Decurions. "This unit is now purged of the traitors that followed the usurper!"

"As for who I am? I am Prince Harp, Merlin, and Great Grand Mage of the Throne of Atlantis! This is who I am! To prove my point, I know you have hearing problems due to the passage of the force headed to rescue the Prince! Let the ailment be healed!" As soon as the words left Harp's mouth, the torn eardrums repaired, and the hearing of all still alive was restored, even the centurion's, for what good it did him!

"Who did the mess we saw earlier today? And who were they?"

"The second question is easily answered: they were Hunters for the Crocodile Priests. They intended to assail you and serve you as food to their masters of the Glowing waters." Taking a break, to materialise a hot cup of tea, to the gasp of surprise of everyone eyeing the diminutive figure, he then completed his explanations.

"The first question has an even shorter answer: we did!"

A whoosh of disbelief spread around the men and women of the centurie.

"I think they do not believe us, Harp," said Paschal.

"You do not believe me, do you? Watch!"

Harp converted to a gold dragon, the spitting image of Typhoon! The legionnaires backed away and began to make a run for it until Paschal thundered "Stupefy!" freezing everyone in mid-step.

Harp returned to his human form.

"Do you fools think if we had wanted to harm you, we would be talking right now?" he thundered. "If we had been interested, you would have been converted to food before the sonic boom had made you deaf! We would have swept down on you like raptors, and your tents and weapons would have been used as tooth picks! Get your senses back and start thinking! You are the Legion! Act like it! Queen Annabelle would be shamed by your actions! And so would Legate Harold! I know your centurion was a spineless bastard, but get your guts back where they belong!"

«Spineless, spineless, not so spineless now that you saw to it, Harp!"

The explosion of laughter took the others by surprise, as they could not hear the telepathic exchange. Harp took pity on them and explained.

"Mom just told me I gave a spine to that coward courtesan. She met the bastard before his ass licking got him a military commission. Now, we will bring you back to our camp. Be ready to answer a lot of questions. We have been out of contact with the kingdom for years."

"What about our equipment? Our clothes? Our weapons?"

"They will be waiting for you at our camp, set up by the care of the Atlantean army. Just in case you have any will to start a fight, we outnumber you ten to one, we have trained and faced huge orc armies, and won! So, no stupid bravado if you value your life!"

Harp's icy tone competed successfully with the cold air to send shivers down the spines of the still stupefied troop.

"Enervate! At inspection! Attention!" thundered Harp in a tone that whipped what was left of the unit into instant obedience.

"Mom will be proud of your commanding stamina Harp," Paschal said, smiling with all his teeth, teeth that reminded quite a few of the huge dragon's maw raked with long sabre-like teeth. Thorsten couldn't help but laugh at the Centurion, who tried to obey the command even as he was stuck in the ground with a pole from his rectum to his sternum.

«Is the reception committee ready?» asked Harp.

«Yes, port their tents at one end of the camp along with their uniforms. Send their weapons at the other end. We need to finish getting them straightened out, and I don't want unpleasant accidents!»

«All right Dad! Tents and clothes ported! I have arranged them the way they were here, so they wouldn't be too lost! I am sending weapons in a pile off to the other end. It is done!»

«All right, give us two minutes to set up the tents, then you can port them!"

Two minutes later as the still immobile soldiers were beginning to clatter from the cold, they found themselves ported in a fully set up camp with fires waiting to warm them up. The camp staff quickly dispatched each unit into their respective subgroup, where the cold soldiers donned the warmed up uniforms rapidly. They then were informed to go to their mess tent for a hot soup, and some debriefing by the integration officers of the Atlantean army.

"Why should we get integrated into the Atlantean army? We aren't Atlanteans!" was the core of the questioning, and the officers answered invariably with "What do you prefer? Incorporation in an army that will give you a fighting chance against the orcs and crocodile priests, or to end up as main dish for them? Our spy network clearly indicates there are millions of them west of here, and it is only a question of time before you end up facing them as they progress further."

Another question was where their weapons were. Again the answer was straightforward. "You will need to earn them back by gaining our trust and showing proficiency! From what Harp described, you were handling your pilum like boy scouts! And none of you slept with his knife! Whoever trained you did a disastrous job. It will be a long way off before you can earn the name legionnaire in our book! Our weapons master is inspecting them while we speak, and from his report, the make of the blades is poor, and the quality of maintenance is terrible! Just look at your pectorals! You sport rust as medals! Look at ours! Do you see any rust? Do you see any dent? Look at this sword! Is it dented, bent, or otherwise defaced?" As they explained things to the units, each Atlantean Sergeant-master materialised a tomato, threw it up in the air, and sliced it in twenty thin slices. "Would your blade do this? Even if it could, I doubt you would not maim yourself with your own weapon!"

"Where is the little boy?" was also one of the preferred questions. "Doing his report to the king of the Atlanteans, King Horus! We hear it now, and it is not flattering to your unit. He infiltrated your camp for fifteen minutes before disposing of your centurion, which must be finding the mosquito and horse fly bites mildly unpleasant in the dark. You will see your centurion tomorrow when we run across your old campsite. By the way, rest! We run from an hour after prime until sext before eating lunch. Then it's another run from an hour after sext until an hour before dusk, which is lucky for you, since the sun sets a good hour and a half before vespers! You may not be fit now, but by the time we are done with you, you will! Breakfeast will be at prime, and be field rations of the Atlanteans. I know what you think. I was in the same army before: the more powerful the army the less palatable the rations! Well, sorry to disappoint you, the fare of the soldier is fit for a king, because we eat what the kings do! And yes, you heard me right! I said kings as in plural! Horus is king of kings. Now, eat that soup! I want lights out in ten minutes! And not a sound after, apart from snoring! Oh yes! Snoring is treatable, and the princes will deal with those afflicted by it. I used to snore so loudly thunder was shamed by it! Now, it's gone, and I finally sleep a full, restful night. You will learn to appreciate the extent of the care the Atlanteans take of their army. They have no civilians, by the way, everyone is in the army, from birth until death, natural or otherwise."

Everyone ate in silence and returned to their tent, too shaken to argue.

"Lights out!" thundered the command watch over the camp, as every lamp went dark by magic. The newly incorporated group, too tired and shocked, fell asleep rapidly, as the Atlanteans patrolled between the tents silently in their wolf forms. The new members were in for a resounding wakeup call the next morning!