The Prophesy: Book 3 - The Hammer of Atlantis

 

«It is time, dad!» informed Harp, as the last unit of the Usurper entered the southern tunnel and the steel doors closed behind the troops, effectively isolating the regicide from the outside world.

Barely had the message been received that the southern exit of the northern tunnel was blasted by magic, flying ten miles in the air before crashing down in the western forest, converting quite a few trees to instant toothpicks, and making a nice fire cockroach sauce from the underground nest it happened to rip open, exposing its occupants to the bite of the coming winter. The explosive noise, outside, was heard from several dozen of miles, but the sound wave resonated against the magical shield Enron, Sitar, and Paschal had built collectively, adding to the thrust the explosion had imparted to the door. The northern tunnel was effectively useless forever as a protection against the breath of the Atom God.

The city guards that had been left behind, mostly trainees, were totally lost as to what to expect, and the echo of the explosion, that seemed to come from the west due to the mountains, misled them to move to defend the western door.

The Atlanteans came marching along the northern road, the drums of war resonating in the hills, and completing the confusion. For the defenders, it seemed the entire circumference of the valley was being assailed. The military march of the Elves rose crescendo, drowning any command ordered by the few officers that still had the sense to mount a defence. The drums of the legions, projected forward and amplified by magic, added to the overwhelming feeling of dread; the number of dragons and Pegasuses was such the rising sun was blacked out. Wolf howls, roars of fury shattered eardrums and walls and the legionnaires sang of a thirst for blood and guts. The earth shook so violently from the combined violence of the hoofs of the Equines and the maces of the Trolls that the alarm bell fell off its rocker, crushing its handlers. As the legions reached the northern walls, a tremendous explosion tore through the copper door, which, even with its twenty-four inches thickness, crashed backward, crushing in its fall a few misfortunate soldiers that had been in its path.

"Can't make omelettes without breaking eggs!" explained Harold at a wide-eyed Samson.

The Atlanteans rapidly took the city's outer wall, and obtained unconditional surrender from the poor units assigned to the defences of the city. Things went slightly differently at the royal castle's entrance. It was doubly fortified, and there were still a few good units within its walls. Realising the weak spot was the door leading to the outer courtyard the commanding Centurion concentrated his troops at the defence of the narrow passage leading to the reinforced doors.

What he had not expected was that the Atlanteans would take the wall from the opposite direction. Dragons dropped Elves, Fairies and Dwarfs on the abandoned wall segment. By the time the Centurion realised his error, it was too late; three of the five wall segments encircling the Pentagon Castle had fallen, and the enemy was literally pushing his men off the last two segments. He ordered retreat to the inner walls, hoping to mount a more successful defence on a restricted perimeter.

Unfortunately for the Centurion, he had not really understood how the enemy had managed to take the back wall, and was unprepared for the arrival of foes from the air. The entire fortification concept had been based on a ground assault, with, at most, the use of catapults and mobile siege towers to put the defenders in trouble. Another wave of dragons dropped their load of assailants on the roof of the castle, in effect placing the defenders between a hammer and an anvil. The defenders, even if they had better knowledge of the castle's design, were at a disadvantage because they were below the Atlanteans, who used their vintage point very effectively, as arrows, pila and darts rained on the quickly diminishing units.

Meanwhile, Harold had entered the outer courtyard, and, assessing the situation used the Hammer of Atlantis to shatter the wooden door leading to the Grand Hall. Once this obstacle was removed, wolves, elves, dwarfs and legionnaires spilled into the building, in effect cutting the defending forces in two separate groups: those above and those below the ground floor.

Below, within the five basement levels, the Atlanteans met with ferocious fighting. A haunting music played, coming from below. These were the last elite soldiers left behind by the usurper, those in charge of the political prisoners, fanaticized by empty promises of glory and riches. Harp, Paschal, Sitar and Thorsten led the assault with the help of Typhoon; the dragon boy's scaly skin was impervious to all weapons, and he had learned from Thorsten the proper use of a battleaxe. He led the assault with determination, butchering defenders right and left with redoubtable efficiency. Bata burned doors, melted locks, and cut through steel bars like a hot knife butter. Thorsten kept throwing his axe from the right hand and his war hammer with his left, cutting head and limbs or crushing bones like rock in mortar. Paschal tackled the defenders with a bloody red Mitsuko, whose blade sliced indifferently meat or steel. Sitar could be heard singing with Excalibur a battle song that talked of blood and guts, of dismemberment and painful death for their enemies.

Above them, in the upper reaches of the Pentagon Castle, another battle had taken place, involving Ian, Samson, Annabelle, Diamondcutter and Harold. If it was finished more quickly, it was no less bloody. Harold had used the sword taken from the Orc general with finesse; Annabelle used her short legionnaire sword with no less dexterity; Diamondcutter used his axe while the fairy princess used her blowgun to deal with long-range threats. Ian, taking his wolf form, was seen snapping necks, crushing hands and otherwise incapacitating the defences. Timor and his Trolls collected those that surrendered and were not too mashed up. The Mages centurie split in half, and, walking behind the advancing Atlanteans, took care of porting to Thebes those in need of immediate treatment for their insertion into 'tubes', whatever their origin.

The first group to finally lose all hope was the one trying to survive the descent from the roof and the climb from the ground floor. Realizing the inanity of losing their lives for a lost cause, more and more soldiers dropped their sword and came out their hands in the air.

The most ferocious battle of all was within the lowest floor, deep below the ground level. The boys walked into a room where there was a rather strange, oblong object, and there was a group of fanatics hard at work on it.

The boys did not wait to figure out what it was: they immediately took to assaulting the last men, killing without hesitation the last twenty-five in less then three minutes.

"I wonder what that is?" asked Paschal, as he eyed the oblong object suspiciously.

"Let me look?" Sitar suggested.

After a few minutes, Sitar became as white as a sheet.

"This is a nuclear device! These fools have activated it! We have half an hour to get everyone out of here! The timer says twenty-nine minutes thirty seconds and it's counting backward!"

"Can we port it?"

"Maybe, but I'm not sure how this thing will react to a sudden displacement. If it is inertia-sensitive, it might blow up the moment it materializes; if the core is unstable, the simple act of dematerialization would trigger it!" Harp replied. "The consequence on the magic field would probably blow the planet up!"

"What do you suggest?"

"Port everyone out, no filtering. Let's port them to where Eloise stood. We will be able to clean up the ranks once this is done."

«Everyone! Emergency evacuation! Nuclear device activated! Port to the outer wall! We will port everyone out in a go! Twenty-eight minutes to detonation!"

«I am porting everyone out of the higher levels,» replied Harp.

«Upper levels evacuated! Joining dad on the outer wall. We are beginning massive porting to Eloise. Moving twenty-five centuries as well to keep order in the fields. Filter out known risks during the city's general evacuation.»

«Lower levels evacuated, Harp, we are the only ones left.»

«Ok, twenty-five minutes to detonation assuming that thing functions as it should! Let's get out of here!»

The next fifteen minutes were extremely tense. People were ported as they were, some wearing nightshirts if anything, and others, which had been sitting or doing other activities suddenly found themselves outside, in a snow bank, barefoot! The Atlantean army was ported directly in the southern shelter, overwhelming the tail end of the usurper's army.

"Five minutes to detonation! Let's get to the shelter!"

The last to leave were again the royals; they had helped some of the panicked mages port inside the bunker.

«Regroup to my location!» ordered Harold.

After a quick count of head, finding no one missing, he signalled they were ready to port. The royals left the doomed city three minutes before the fatidic explosion.

"Shields up! Full power!» ordered Harp, at one minute to detonation. «Countdown, Paschal!"

As everyone held his or her breath, the only voice that could be heard in the bunker was Paschal's, as he enumerated the seconds backward. At two seconds Harp hollered:

"Brace! Brace! Brace!»

At one second after zero, the earth shook violently, dislodging a cloud of dust from the bunker.

Figure 7: The Devil's Mask

"Wind reversal! The thermonuclear mushroom is sucking wind from the sea!" informed Viola, which had been charged with monitoring the flag from a secure point. "Flag burning! Flagpole melting! The temperature outside must reach two thousand degrees! I see trees exploding in flames. I can see the mushroom rise! It must be at least a hundred thousand feet! This is the face of evil in all its horror!"

"Radiation detectors inside the bunker?"

"No detected leak, dad. There was a short glow from excess neutrinos, but that was it. They are harmless."

"Well, the Ancients did know how to build these places. Too bad they never were able to use them for their population in their folly! What is the situation at the other end?"

"At the present, it is unknown. The mountains shielded the usurper's troops from the blast, but the wind reversal most definitely must have caught some of his units off-guard."

"Can we do anything for them?"

"We could always port them to another shelter in the Elvin Kingdom. We need to activate at least a thousand or so decontamination chambers if we are to be effective. I've asked for this by telepathy already."

"Ok, Paschal; how would we proceed to do this?"

"I think we need to port in the high atmosphere and take dragon form; from there we can see where the stranded units are and port them, starting from the rear and moving forward. The more advanced a unit is, the less exposure it gets from the seaside winds, so we must move in such a way to minimize exposure."

"Harp, you assume they haven't closed the doors at the other shelter. I am sure the shockwave has alerted them to the issue, and their first reaction would be closure!"

"Sacrificing their units?"

"Certainly, especially if the usurper is with them!"

"We'll see when we do the porting. Ian, you deal with telling us if the northern door is closed at the other shelter. Paschal, Thorsten, Sitar, Typhoon, with me to port the units stuck outside! There is no time to lose! Strip them of anything inorganic! We won't have time to deal with any hardnosed bastards! Timor, you and your group, handle policing in the ported units. Use force if necessary!"

The Trolls were ported back to a clearing deep within the Elvin kingdom, and Timor immediately disposed the Trolls in a circle at its edge. Ian ported in his dragon form at sixty thousand feet, and quickly glided at the northern entrance of the next bunker.

«The door is closing! They are abandoning those outside!»

«OK, Ian, Paschal and Thorsten will be joining you shortly they are turning their glide pattern to reach you in two minutes! The others, port with me at the southern exit of this tunnel! Timor, expect the first block of transports in three minutes. The cliff on the north side has a fall, force everyone to go under it a minute to remove radioactive elements!»

The porting began in earnest, as, first one centurie in the front was ported, then the next, regressing every five minutes by one centurie. It took fifty minutes to port everyone to the clearing. Then they were ported again to Thebes for final decontamination in decontaminating chambers, which took two hours, because Paschal had to smack a few heads with the flat of his sword to make some sense enter stubborn jerks.

«I'll be going to Thebes to help you with the influx from Washton. Two hundred and fifty thousand souls is a lot to deal with,» decided Harp.

«You are welcomed. I've already asked for another hundred mages from Nestor. And the 101st legion has been moved to the hospital to assist in security. I doubt anyone would dare face a thousand well-armed men. Bring Viola with you. Maybe he will be able to identify his sisters. Just one thing I'd like to know: do we have Diviners in the lot or Crocodile priests and their Hunters?»

«Don't be daft. They were the only life forms left in Washton when we ported to the safety of the southern tunnel. By now, they should be in gaseous form! Will we have enough stasis chambers?»

«We cannot put everyone in stasis, and there is no need. We will focus primarily on those that are hurt, giving priority to the prisoners we rescued from the cells in the palace, our wounded, and the numerous trainees we had to disarm All in all about ten thousand stasis chambers will be occupied, most for short stays of a day or two. I have set the triage to red, so everyone is on standby for the first transfers.»

«Did anyone check on potential kids that might be held by the Diviners, or food prisoners by the Crocodile Priests?»

"I took care of those, Harp," replied Sitar. «There were fifty-eight kids held by the Diviners; and seventy-nine were held by the Crocodile priests. I have tagged them for treatment both physical and psychological; they carry a yellow tag visible only by mage sight.»

«What about those held in houses of pleasure?» asked Viola.

«Well, well, Viola, you have been listening in, now you talk! Good. I did mark them too, big brother. They carry an orange tag. Some were quite young, apparently sold to these bordellos by their own parents before the Diviners came to pick them up. It is a mix of both male and females, aged from four up. Now, given you have mage sight already, I'll have you at the triage! I put a black mark on those that handled the houses. Do not generalise that all those that handled the houses were bad. Quite a few seemed to really have cared for their charges. There are rotten apples in the lot, so scan the memory before beheading. We haven't found a way to glue back a head once it's separated.»

«Thanks a lot Sitar! At least I'll feel useful! Are you telling me there are limits to magic?»

«Certainly! How would you tell magic you want the head to reconnect? The order has to be specific.»

«Maybe slamming the head on the shoulder and saying 'Glue it back!' would do?»

«Ah, the naivety of novices at magic!» said Harp, roaring with laughter. «I'll let you try it with the usurper, Viola!»

«Timor is asking when his unit will be back with the army?»

«Right away, thanks for reminding me, Enron.»

Timor's unit, having regrouped in the centre of the clearing, was ported right back in the Tunnel, covered with snow from the waist down.

"There seems to be a thick cover of snow?" asked Annabelle.

"Yes, very thick. It was quite refreshing for us!"

"I can imagine!"

"When will we be moving again?"

"I have no idea, Timor. We are waiting on the return of the others to discuss the issue. The situation outside this shelter is quite insane."

"OK. I'll have the unit take its usual position in the column, and be back for news."

"You are welcomed, Timor."

The shocked population of Washton was ported from the freezing Eloise lakeside in blocks of one thousand every minute to the triage area. To keep people from freezing, Enron placed a magic shield around the impromptu campsite, as it would take nearly five minutes to port the population to the sorting area, in temperatures well below -40°F. Most quickly found themselves in confinement rooms, pending a more careful sorting by mind readers; others were ported to the higher levels of the hospital to be placed in stasis. In all twelve thousand and twelve chambers were required, with at most three thousand for long-lasting stays, either from severe wounds or abuse or for mental therapy. Viola did not see his two sisters, but Harp and Paschal reassured him. If they were somewhere they were in either a sorting cell or a stasis chamber. If not, the crocodile priests had used them as breeders and they were better dead. The idea that his sisters might have been used for this brought Viola to tears.

"Anyway, Viola, we have to get back to the column. Harold is waiting on us, and it's better to do something then dwell on options. The mind healers will be dealing with this, and we might hear of them at some point. They have been instructed to verify the memory of everyone and to call us if any drastic measure is envisioned."

"Drastic measures? What kind of drastic measures are you talking about, Harp?"

"Termination. I am sure there are quite a few highly shoddy individuals in the quarter million people we rescued, Viola. Those will be separated from the rest, to pass in judgement when we are back to sit on the royal bench. If history is guide, twenty-five thousand will get judged; of those maybe a thousand will not be given a second chance. There is very little chance that your two sisters are part of either group."

"Isn't prostitution a crime?"

"Not really; what is a crime is forcing someone to sell his or her body against his or her will. If a person so decides to earn a living that way, who are we to moralize? Anyway, there is no need for this in the kingdom, since every basic need is covered. Someone that does it either is forced to or wilfully engages into it for personal satisfaction. There is no need to worry about food, medical care, or shelter. Again, in the former case, the person is a victim, not a culprit, and gets assistance in escaping the abuser."

"How so?"

"The abuser is executed."

"Where will everyone find a home? That must put Thebes under stress?"

"Not really, Viola. There is a lot of space in tessaracts yet unused. We are also able to build Atlantean high-rise buildings in some areas outside tessaracts that were, up to now, vacant lots. The Atlantean architecture is both sturdy and versatile, allowing blocks of two hundred and fifty families to live in close proximity, which gives living quarters to one thousand five hundred people. It will take somewhere around one hundred and sixty-seven of these blocks to put everyone in a clean, safe, and convivial living space, assuming everyone passes muster. Paschal will see to it when we get back from this clean-up job."

***

The return of the boys to the Southern tunnel brought an immediate strategy meeting involving everyone that might have an input on the situation and the decision process.

"What is the situation outside?" asked Harold, to start up the discussion.

"I have been monitoring the situation, my Liege lord," began Typhoon. "The passage from this tunnel to the next bunker further south is now impractical. It is awash in radiation coming from both the coast and the new explosion in Washton."

"Ok. Sitar, what was the detonating power of the device?"

"I overflew the site from a very high altitude, nearly one hundred miles. The hole is impressive. The dust is highly radioactive and is creating a fallout plume well within the mountains west of here. What we get is nothing compared to what's falling down there. From the shock we felt, I estimated that the explosion was several thousand kilotons of TNT, approximately fifteen Megatons, the measurement favoured by the Ancients for that kind of device. The Nuclear ordinance manual gave a name to this: the Castle Bravo doomsday ordinance, to be used in desperate situations only. Apparently, we were the desperate situation. How it managed to stay operational for six thousand years, I have no idea, but given the half-life of plutonium and weapons-grade uranium, apparently, it survived quite well. I am surprised the core deuterium hydrogen did not breach. It would have reduced the efficiency by a good three quarters, still a formidable explosion."

"How long before it can be practical to pass on the surface?"

"For us, never. The radiation level is too high."

"How do we lure the orcs to follow us, then? Our whole strategy resides on their units following us."

"The orcs aren't the only ones able to dig tunnels. Give me a week, and we will have a rather narrow two-mile long tunnel joining the two lowest levels of the bunkers. Magic has its uses," replied Harp.

"I see. What is happening with the usurper?"

"I don't know dad. Good sense tells me that the units have resumed moving south, since coming back is now impossible. The usurper must be hopping mad, but the alternative is quick cooking for him and his men. However deranged he is, the usurper must realise his power resides on the support of at least some of his troops. Most are probably regular people, interspersed with political appointees and fanatics," replied Sitar.

"Do you think he might consider making that bunker his new capital?"

"It could be, but it's a bit small, even if it measures sixty-six miles in length. This one was designed to service Richmond. There is a much bigger bunker further south, in the Atlanta area."

"OK. Harp, Thorsten, and Samson, come with me. We're going to dig that two-mile long tunnel. Are there any surprises, such as underwater rivers?"

"No, this is a granitic foothill. I did a check below. There is a segment of the wall that never received a concrete cover, probably because it was planned as an expansion point by the Ancients."

"Ok, Thorsten. We'll start there."

"The only thing is it's facing due west, we will have to cut a south-west tunnel to reach the other one."

"Nothing's perfect."

***

It took a week to get the narrow, two-men wide tunnel done. The granite proved to be more resistant then expected. The other issue was that they actually missed the other bunker by fifteen feet due to lack of precision in measuring the right angle. After all, it was a question of approximation, since no one in his right mind wanted to go out and use a theodolite to do a topographic measurement! It was only the noise of running water that caught the fine ear of Harp that revealed they were off. They turned the digging a bit east and found the bunker's concrete wall in front of them after only a few minutes of delicate work.

"We need to know where we will emerge, dad," said Harp, as he looked at the imposing wall.

"How do you propose to do that?"

"Drill an eyehole at my level. I'll use Bata to disintegrate the cement and, if we are lucky we may be able to get a view of what lies on the other side. If I meet with metal, I'll change position and start again."

"Why not drill through the metal?"

"And risk getting flooded by a water main?"

"Harp has a point, Harold," said Samson.

"Proceed!"

Harp drilled three holes, aligned on a forty-five degree angle, before succeeding in getting across the wall without surprises.

"Damn it!" he said after taking a look.

"What's the issue?"

"We are at floor level. This hole is barely two inches above the floor. I can see feet, but nothing else."

"Can you tell us what is the function of this room?"

"Paschal is the architect. I'm calling him."

Paschal quickly made the two-mile walk to their position and peeked inside.

"That place is covered with tiles, the floor is tiled as well. I would say it's a restroom, bathroom, or loo!"

"And it seems busy! I've counted at least fifty pairs of feet coming in view, in the past half-hour!" said Harp.

"What can you tell us about this type of room?"

"First, there is a lot of pipes in the area, not all containing clean water, I can tell you. The next issue is, given the frequency of use, it must be a public restroom, used by all stuck in the bunker."

"Could we dig below?"

"I don't know, dad. The problem is we do not know exactly how deep we are, and at what level that restroom is. All we know is there are only three layers to this one. Are we looking at level one, two, or three?"

"I could make the hole a bit bigger, convert to mouse and go on the other side?"

"That's an idea, Harp. At least you could tell us what level this is. There probably are indications on the door frame, if they follow the pattern we have seen in other bunkers."

"Military minds are static. Unless there is an absolute necessity to change something, they will repeat the pattern ad nauseam," replied Samson. "Why reinvent what works?"

"To surprise the enemy, that's why," replied Sitar.

Harp increased the hole to three inches, wide enough for a big mouse; he then changed to rodent form. It took him a few minutes to scurry through the hole. He peeked out, and, when he sensed there was no one nearby, moved in the middle of the room. Recovering his human form, he looked around from his new vintage point. He knew he had little time to do his spying mission so Harp moved to the door, opened it, looked at the frame and found BB-234 inscribed on the upper frame. He realised he had the best occasion to gain control of the room and materialised a red sign with an 'out of order' text, glued it on the door, closed it back and sealed it.

«I've sequestered the room and sealed the door. Everyone will feel it's defective and unoccupied. Paschal, translocate to my location. We need to do some work!»

"We are at the second level, room 234, Paschal. What do you make of this place?"

"That's a communal loo, for males; see the urine disposal units along the far wall there? And there are the sinks and mirrors. Where is the hole's exit?"

"Right there!" pointed Harp.

"Well man, you were lucky you did not drill a hole in the service pipes under the floor! We would have been in shit to the neck!"

"You have images!"

"I know! What do you want do?"

"How can we open a hole in the wall behind the shit-disposal units without getting in trouble?" replied Harp without blinking, to mock Paschal's military parlance, eliciting guffaws from his brother. "Luckily I placed a silencing spell on this place!"

"Let's work from this side. I'll remove the tiles and pile them up at the far end. As soon as I've removed them, we begin disintegrating the concrete. Leave the metal intact, we need to study its disposition before tackling it."

«What's happening?» asked an impatient Harold.

«We'll work from this side dad. Given how narrow the space is, the two of us will work alone. This should be done in thirty minutes.»

Paschal cleanly disposed of the tiles in neat piles on the far floor, and then Harp and him began disintegrating the cement, leaving the pipes and steel reinforcements for later.

"Ok, that pipe supplies the water for the system. The control valve should be in the false ceiling above... Yes, it is there. I'm turning it off. Now we can flush the water and it won't get replaced."

Harp flushed the toilet repeatedly, until the reservoir was empty. Paschal took control and guided the disassembly of the toilet.

"Let's unscrew the toilet. There are five screws hidden by little ceramic caps. Ah here they are. A twist of magic... and it's free to be removed. Unscrew the four that hold the tank to the seat assembly... next let's lift this carefully. There is still some water in the tank, below the draining ring. Put that reservoir near the pile of tiles. Be careful, it's fragile."

"Who cares?"

"What can I say? I'm a neat freak!"

"OK. Some more magic, and the seat is removed... See that gooey-looking ring there? It's the sealant that keeps the water from seeping on the floor when the toilet has water. Next, the sealant! And here is the four-inch pipe that evacuates the stuff! Get me a screw-on cap, four inches major and with an one/eight pitch, length ten inches! This smells like an orc is rotting down below!"

Harp materialized the requested plumbing cap, and Paschal screwed it in place, sealing the bad-smelling passage.

"OK, Harp, cut the water pipe at the ceiling, just below the control valve. I'll begin removing the steel rods. Dad, you guys can begin your end by building a slant in the tunnel so its floor comes flush to this one."

Another half hour of work was requested to finish the heavy work.

"What time is it?" wondered Thorsten as they finished.

"Ten minutes to matins, why do you ask?"

"I feel like a bank robber trying to get away with the safe!"

"Well, we'll be robbing his troops. Reinforce the seal Harp. We are going back to rest. Tomorrow night, we begin removing units. Maybe we'll get lucky for once, and catch him before he moves out further south."

***

The next night, at matins, fifty Atlanteans congregated in the lavatory, and Harp removed the seal on the door. The hallway was deserted, closed at both ends by sealing doors. The capture of the troops began in earnest. Each door was opened silently; the men and women ported into the thick snow in Eloise for a rough wake up call, and then ported into confinement cells down below Thebes. Most were fresh troops; the elite was located at the upper level, ready to move out. Once the segment was clear of any unit, more Atlanteans moved in and the two sealing doors were opened. Again the hallways were empty, and the process got repeated. Fifty segments, each measuring five hundred yards, were visited without a hitch. It was nearing prime by then, and the Atlanteans were getting anxious; any moment now, someone was bound to be awake in one of the next segments they were to visit. Furthermore, the stairs leading to the upper level needed surveillance. A decade per staircase was needed, which took position just beyond the door leading to the upper floor, out of sight of passing people. The furthest occupied lower segment was finally reached, and the Atlanteans got ready to storm the upper level.

Just as the Atlanteans were ready to charge up, men came running down the stairs, yelling:

"Move out! Move out! Twenty minutes to departure!"

Before anyone of them could say a peep, they were ported into Eloise, stripped of any weapon or cloth.

"We got to move! The usurper is moving out in twenty minutes!"

"Hold it, dad!" said Sitar. "Let them get organized in the upper level and start moving. We'll take them from behind! It's going to go faster then searching each segment! We intercept any nosy bastard coming down."

Harold immediately understood the advantage of this tactic. They waited, impatient to get moving and begin the cleanup. A few more people fell into their hands before a horn resonated along the upper passage indicating the army was beginning to move. The Atlanteans waited for the last unit to move out and leave the northern segment before moving into it. The door's closing resonated in the long, empty segment.

"OK, occupy segment one!" ordered Sitar.

Immediately, the five doors leading from the lower tunnel opened and an entire legion streamed out. Harp opened the airtight door separating the segment and the next and moved forward with Thorsten, Sitar and Paschal. They quickly caught up with laggards and ported them to Eloise. The process progressed rapidly as they walked further south. The boys kept up with the constantly advancing units, disposing of several hundreds at a time.

Meanwhile, mages were at the reception end, disarming the soldiers and stripping them of any clothes before porting them into holding cells below Thebes. Hour after hour, the process continued, displacing fifty thousand men in the process. By sext, the rear army, that had been collecting to follow the Usurper south as a backup was history. Still, the boys had not caught up with the Usurper, much to their frustration.

"Ok, I gather he left early for the other end. It's not surprising. We have covered thirty-three miles since we began moving on them. They should not be that far away, unless they have moved out of the shelter. There is a long segment that has no shelter at the other end, because the road winds deep in the mountains and the coast is gradually moving away," explained Paschal.

"How is the army keeping up?" asked Diamondcutter.

"Those that used the narrow tunnel are with us. Our bonded are porting the units from the tunnel to the upper segment, legion by legion. There is a thirty-minute lag between them and us. The Canines should be the first to connect, followed by the Equines. The others will follow in due course."

"Let's wait for the merge to continue. I don't like a spread-out army."

"We know dad. The dragons are doing a fine job of getting things in place. Let's wait two hours before getting on the move again. Knowing the legions' predictable behaviour, the usurper's army will have stopped as well, take an hour to eat, and then walk at military pace for four more hours. Since we move a lot faster then they do, we will be on their tail when they stop for the night."

"Some may have exited by then. Anyway, who cares? In fact it might be advantageous for us to catch them outside."

"True, but unlikely. I believe they do not want to risk camping outside at night until absolutely necessary. And the Atlanta shelter is four hundred miles off the southern end of this shelter. As for an advantage, dad, I don't see where. We have a lot to gain by catching them in narrow passages. They have little to no place to place traps or other niceties."

"I wonder why there aren't any shelter in between."

"Who knows? Maybe the Ancients thought the urban centres between these two were unlikely to be targets. Reality proved them wrong. Anyway, their population would have suffered the fate of other centres. The only positive that came out of these bunkers is they supplied food and resources to those that did make it out of the Cataclysm. For years, the only uncontaminated food was stored within these bunkers, along with water. Eventually, things stabilised, and the civilization re-emerged from the mountains and these caves to begin anew."

"Ah, here are the wolves, Paschal. The Equines shouldn't be too far behind."

«Have you managed to port all the units across the gap, Typhoon?»

«Yes, we are behind them, Ian.»

«We are not moving until everyone has joined us. The wolves just made their junction.»

«Should we progress forward to join the advanced units?»

«No, I want the dragons to be the rear guard. The orcs should have gained on us considerably due to the delay imposed by the construction of the narrow passage.»

«Fine by us, prince Sitar.»

Half an hour later, the entire army had rejoined the advanced units, and Typhoon signalled the fact to the princes. The army began progressing anew, at a good pace, expecting to catch up with the usurper's next army group any time. As vespers was nearing, the vanguard noticed the smell of men getting ever stronger, and, at a curve, they spotted an airlock door being closed.

«We caught up with them, Sitar! They are in the next segment!» transmitted the centurion.

«Good, progress to the door but leave it closed! I'm getting to you now.»

It took five minutes for the princes and other royals to reach the vanguard, and they delicately opened the lock to peek on the other side. Ahead of them they saw the back of a column, and a legionnaire taking a leak against one of the walls. As he got ready to move back to rejoin his unit, he was ported to Eloise to be pre-processed before ending up in Thebes. The last soldier had disappeared out of sight by then, so the Atlanteans opened the sealing door widely and began progressing. They caught up with the back of the unit and began porting its members as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, one of the lead unit legionnaires felt more then saw anything and turned around just as the last members of the unit that was following his vanished! Surprised, he freaked out and yelled. His terrorised voice resonated along the tunnel ahead of him and as more and more of his fellow legionnaires realized that an entire centurie had vanished, the terror spread faster then fire in a dry pine forest.

"Bye-bye surprise," muttered Sitar

"No, Sitar. Let's use this to our advantage!" replied Ian.

"Yes! Hello! Surprise! You were looking for us, I think? We have been kicking your butts for the past few days!" hollered Harp as he used Bata to port everyone visible in front of him to Eloise.

The Atlanteans, led by Harp, charged the shocked troops, quickly porting everyone they could see. The Usurper's troops, still mostly composed of green yearlings, were totally disorganized and offered next to no resistance. The next straight section offered Harp a clear view of the next segments, the separating airlocks still wide open for over three thousand yards! He didn't miss the occasion and ported everyone in sight, about three thousand men. By the time they reached the end of the line and engaged in the next curve, the airlock had been closed and disabled.

"Damn! What now?" Paschal asked, as he tried to move the stubborn door lock.

"I figure the next segment is like this one. Notwithstanding the disgraceful legionnaire, there are restrooms every one hundred feet, I'll port into one!" decided Harp.

"No, you won't! Miss it by an inch and you end up in rock!" countered Sitar. "Use your magic to remove whatever is locking that door!"

"There is a couple of pila blocking the mechanism," Ian told them, after concentrating. They are of wood. With enough strength we can break the hems and open the locks."

«Timor, we are in need of your raw muscles!» Sitar told the Troll prince.

«What? Have you finally discovered the pleasure of raw meat? Anyway, I'm porting to your location, Sitar.»

«Why didn't you ask for me, son?»

«Dad, you will be next, along with Thorsten for the next few doors. I'm sure they are going to close every damn door now that they know we are on their ass."

Just then, Timor popped, rather noisily at that, right beside Paschal.

"Ooops forgot to displace the air! I need to practice!"

"Yes you do! But for now, open that door. The wheel must be turned from right to left, several times, for the lock to release."

Timor grabbed the wheels with both hands and gave a mighty twist. At first he met resistance, but suddenly it gave, and he quickly rotated it several turns until the locking mechanism fully disengaged.

"Back behind us, Timor. I'm sure they are waiting for us behind the door. The breaking of the hems must have been rather noisy!"

Timor did as he was instructed, and Harp erected a magic shield, before pushing the door open. As expected, he was met with an arrow shower that rebounded on the magic shield. A flick of Bata disposed of the weapons, before sending away the legionnaires. Behind them came a running centurie, four abreast, but the sudden disappearance of the previous unit slowed down their ardour. Another flick of Bata, and they too found themselves in the muddy fields of Eloise.

"Let's get moving, I want to take them head first, before they have time to figure what's happening!" ordered Sitar. The royals immediately began running the five hundred yard dash to the next lock, still open. They could see in the next segment another centurie trying to beat them to the door. Without thinking Ian converted to his wolf form and took the lead. The other princes took the hint and also converted to their wolf form. They reached the air lock well ahead of any opposing legionnaire, reconverted to their human form, and Bata again came into play to dispose of the opposition.

"Timor, have you tried wolf form yet?"

"Yes, I didn't think of it. I've been playing with my dragon bonded, and I like that form, but it seems a bit oversized for this battlefield. I'll do it now." Timor converted into a giant black wolf that was well over ten feet tall from nose to rump, not counting the tail, which added another sumptuous four feet to his overall length.

"Well, well, Timor is impressing in wolf form! Anyway, let's get moving! I hear another centurie running up to its fate!"

Sitar and the others converted to their wolf form once again, and raced along the tunnel. Indeed another centurie was coming up on them and was only beginning to make its way through the narrower airlock. The arrival of the wolves shocked the legionnaires who tried desperately to retreat behind the lock. It was a stampede, and those who could see what was coming their way were literally climbing on those behind them to get back on the other side.

"Wolf! Wolf!" was heard resonating down the tunnel. Those behind couldn't believe their ears, and dismissed this on freaking tenderfoot panicking at the sight of dogs. The impression was dispelled by a chilling howl sent by Ian and repeated by the other royals. Panic spread and however hard the officers tried to control their centuries, they couldn't stop the exodus. It was the most disorganized retreat ever done in a narrow passage, and quite a few legionnaires died, crushed by the pressure of their fellow men of arms.

Meanwhile, Harp, amidst the royals in wolf form, rode on Timor's back, disposing of the enemy forces as the wolves ran head long in the tunnel. He did not bother separating the dead from the living. All that mattered was maintaining the pressure on the retreating units, and pressure them the royals did. By vespers, the entire bunker was under Atlantean control, and the boys could see the retreating army disappearing in the darkness along the road.

«We can continue the pursuit, dad. They are too freaked out to bother about setting up traps or taking defensive positions.»

«I agree with Harp. With our enhanced night vision and dragons overhead, we can see anyone that might be lying in ambush. Let's keep them running until matins. By then they will be too tired to fight a mouse!»

«All right boys, let's continue the hunt!» decided Harold.

The Legate's decision was acclaimed by a number of wolf howls that resonated in the dark mountains, adding to the despair of the retreating army. The echo made it like there were wolves all around their column, and insured that no one would leave the road until daybreak! The wolf packs emerged from the bunker and, led by the Heir and Timor, took to men hunting!

Each royal took the lead of one wolf Centurie ready to port anyone they would catch up with. It took less then five minutes for the first engagement to occur, at the top of the next hill. The cries of terror as the retreating legionnaires saw the multiple amber eyes converge on their rear was heard across the valley beyond, and acted like darts in the ass of the soldiers ahead of them. Many Olympic records fell that day, as men dropped anything that might slow them down, in an effort to outrun wolves. After Harp disposed of the last man on the hillcrest, Timor howled and his deep voice resonated several seconds in the still night! Many legionnaires lost their bowel control at that call, and, however tired they were they resumed a frantic run south!

The wolves began running downhill following the trail of bodily dejection, abandoned swords, lances, and breast plates. The legionnaires wanted to travel light, decided, ironic, Harp.

The Atlanteans had disposed of another three legions by matins. The last one was so tired it did not even react to their sudden surge over a rise in the road. The soldiers were all wide-eyed, totally out of contact with reality.

«Where is the next unit?» asked Harold.

«They are across a bridge, five miles off. They collapsed immediately after crossing it. I suggest we take it right away before they have time to recover. It's a centurie,» reported Typhoon from his vintage point in the sky.

«OK. We can do that last bit, Harp?»

«Five miles isn't too far. We should be there in ten to fifteen minutes!»

«OK. We take the bridge, dispose of the centurie, then rest!»

Everything went as planned for once, and the usurper's centurie never understood what hit it. One moment they were near a river, under trees, and the next, they were in icy, muddy and damn windy field beside an unknown lake, encircled by a sea of exotic animals, all more ferocious-looking then their worst nightmare.

The royals occupied the bridgehead, waiting for the Atlantean army to catch up with them. The army had not halted for the night, and came upon the bridge in the wee hours of morning.

"Everyone rest. We inspired the fear of their lives in the units. Where is the usurper?"

"He is in the next legion, Harold," told him Typhoon. "I saw him camp on a defendable position some fifteen miles ahead of our position. We should catch up with him tomorrow. I don't think he will move. He seems to dig himself in."

"Another one that believes in static defence. I'll give him a lesson he won't forget!" decided Sitar.

"Tomorrow, son, tomorrow! Head to bed, it is an hour past matins, and a tired strategist makes mistakes!"

***

The final play in the hunt for a usurper was anticlimactic. Sitar held his word and proved a static defence was a prison. He had the dragons and Pegasuses drop five legions behind the usurper's lines, in the western forest off the road. Then he moved them on the road facing on the back of the enemy legion. Meanwhile the main Atlantean army advanced on the road, drums at hold position tempo, their noise covering any the other units might do in the bush, while the wolves took position on the western flank of the defensive position, well above it and totally silently. On the eastern flank, a lot more denuded, the cavalry lined up along with the Centaurs, hidden behind hedges.

«Forward! March! Parade cadence!» ordered Sitar.

The drums could be heard for miles around, and the ever-increasing noise sent bird flocks in the air, bringing panicked responses from the rather poorly trained archers of the opposition. Quite a few arrows were lost to no avail, as the archers couldn't even shoot down a bird in flight.

Behind the usurper's units, the infiltrators waited for Sitar's signal. As the main army was less then five miles from the front lines, the signal came in the form of a red flare. The units began their silent progress. They would be coming into view of the second defence line barely five hundred feet from them.

The main Atlantean army was a mile off the front line when a green flare was sent from their lines. Harp, in his human form, was riding Timor in his wolf form.

«The signal! Move on their flank! No quarters! These are their elite units!»

The wolves emerged silently from the timber, their colour matching the forest's black and grey shade. They were less then one hundred yards away when the alarm about their presence was raised. A group of archers swung on their left side to face the advancing units and began raining the wolves with arrows. Unfortunately for them, Harp has set a shield that filtered any fast-moving object and sent it right back to the sender. Quite a few archers lost an eye or his life to a returning projectile. The cries of pain from the archers alerted the rest of the army that the offensive was on.

At five hundred yards, a very bright yellow flare rose from the advancing Atlanteans. This was the signal the cavalry had been waiting for. It emerged from behind the hedges and charged the right flank of the opposition, taking them by surprise. Seeing that both flanks were collapsing, the general that had charge decided to fall back on his second line in order to mount a more compact defence.

This had been what the Atlanteans had been waiting for. As the usurper's units retired from their front line, another flare went up, a superb bloody red. The infiltrating legion, which was now less then a hundred feet from the rear of the usurper, saw the signal and charged silently, taking them totally by surprise. Before anyone had time to understand what was happening, the legion had broken the line, and was busy filling the defence trenches with dead bodies. The usurper realised all was lost and took to his horse, trying to escape with his praetorian guards around him, the only mounted group in the whole army. He took off toward his left flank, hoping that wolves would be too busy with his units to bother his sorry carcass.

Meanwhile the main Atlantean army had caught up with the retreating opposition and began a carnage that left no doubt this was a clean up job. The units fighting the Atlanteans were experienced, ferocious, and unyielding, but they were outnumbered, outperformed, and totally unready for the ferocity of the Dwarfs, Elves, Fairies, and Atlantean Legions. The Trolls, albeit not that numerous, were worth twenty men apiece, and used their mace with unbridled ferocity. Shields were reduced to shreds and bones crushed without mercy, before heads caved in to the ever-flying instrument of war. The line held, barely, for a few minutes, before they felt the pressure of the infiltrators on their back as the Atlantean rear attack reached their line from behind. The melee was bloody, but one-sided, and lasted less then a quarter of an hour.

Meanwhile, Harp had spotted the praetorian guards framing the usurper. Thorsten, Ian, Enron and Paschal displaced their centurie to encircle the fleeing guards and their precious leader.

Harp ordered the horses to eject their horsemen, using his status as Liege Lord of the Equines. The result was as expected, as king and centurie ended up on their ass in the timber, quite a few having broken legs for their ride. The horses took off, a couple of horsemen foot caught in stirrups. The result was a few smashed heads, as the horses jumped over logs to obey Harp's imperative order to get out of there!

As those that could stand did, Harp began incinerating them before they could mount a defensive square around the usurper. Thorsten beheaded the luckier before the flames engulfed them, while Enron's bow sang a death song as arrow after arrow found its mark and pierced their voice box and cut their spinal cord. Ian kept his wolf form, his powerful jaws breaking the neck of the fallen; Paschal was busy eviscerating others with Mitsuko. When silence fell on the battlefield, the only sound was a sob coming from the only survivor: the usurper. Not a single prisoner was taken; two legions died that day.