The Prophesy: Book 3 - The Hammer of Atlantis

 

Crawling on all fours was a man with a crown on his head, sobbing heavily.

"What do we do with that?" said Harp, pointing at the pathetic figure.

"It is not for us to decide," declared Enron. "He is to be held for judgement by those he offended."

"I agree with Enron's assessment, Harp. However tempting it is to dispose of the man here and now, it is not ours to do so," Thorsten said.

"And this kingdom is not vassal to ours, so we have very limited authority to dispose of him without first consulting with the lone survivor of their Royal Family."

"OK. I understand the arguments. Let me port to Thebes, and I'll create a safe confinement room where no one will know he is in it. Magic can be useful in these circumstances."

Harp ported to the lowest basement of Thebes, conjured a room with a thick layer of soft carpeting acting as shock absorber as well as silencing buffer; he added a bed and a table screwed to the wall with rounded, blunt edges, a source of water, a commode, and a source of light. There was no door and no opening to the outside. He then returned to the scene of the battle.

"It is done. He will be unable to kill himself. I'll port him directly inside the cell, nude as a newborn. He will receive three meals a day, ample supply of water, and have anything he needs to feed, yet not harm himself. The cutlery will bend at the slightest excessive force and get replaced instantly the moment it is damaged. Food will appear by magic and the residues disappear the same way. No hanging or killing yourself!" said Harp as he looked at the still wallowing man.

"Ok, I'll inform dad. I am sure he agrees with our decision. Port the guy."

Harp snapped his fingers and the man vanished, leaving a pile of empty clothes, a crown, and some hidden weapons. "Let's go check on the rest of the battle. It's mightily silent for a battlefield!"

"Why bother about snapping your fingers Harp?" wondered Thorsten.

"For show. It distracts the persons and they think it is the move that does the trick. I'll bet with you that he will spend the next few days snapping his fingers, trying to get out of there!"

"You are bad!"

"I know! And that's why you love me, Thorsten!"

***

The boys walked back to the battlefield after Harp had recalled the runaway horses and detached the dead riders from their stirrups.

"Should we dispose of the bodies?"

"I'm feeding them to the nearest volcano, the Pele on Martinique. No food for orcs if I can help it," replied Harp as more and more bodies vanished.

"I'm not too worried about orcs finding them Harp; I'm more worried about attracting fire cockroaches and fire ants."

"You have a point. Let's comb this place clean. We need not worry about the weapons; they are of rather poor quality. If it is what this kingdom has come to, it's a disaster."

With the help of the fine sense of smell of the wolves, it still took half an hour to dispose of every bit of cold cut on the battlefield. Every piece of weapon got examined, and judged of poor make, and were dispatched to be melted by the volcano.

"Aren't you throwing away good metal, dad?"

"We need not worry about that. I can extract metal from any of our copious reserves in Thebes. And I hear you did a remarkable mineral-processing Spider, Paschal. It might come into use one day."

"Yes, but it is less effective on Earth then on the Moon because the atmosphere filters out the sun's light."

"Who cares, we aren't in a rush for that. And other planets are untapped. If we do need minerals that much, I'm sure you could send an army of these Spiders on Mercury and devour the entire planet from surface to core."

"Probably, but I don't see why."

"Neither do I... for now."

"We moved the usurper to a holding cell under Thebes," said Harp, looking at Harold.

"We figured it was not the Atlanteans' job to judge the man," completed Enron.

"He will be safe and unable to harm himself until such time as the prince of this kingdom is fit to sit on the Royal Bench to render sentence," completed Thorsten.

"I agree with this decision, boys. Nonetheless, we must resume our walk south, to finish disposing of any unsavoury individual that might use the power vacuum to his own benefit."

"And we must try to locate our two brothers," added Harp, Sitar and Viola.

"Yes. Typhoon, I want you to overfly the road to the next bunker today and report any human on the road. It's four hundred or so miles, there are bound to be some legions moving south. Tell us how many, and where. We will port massive troops just on their heels and capture as many as possible. If you see any other movement, such as orcs, or more important, those dreaded cockroaches and ants, warn us immediately."

"Yes, your majesty."

Typhoon took to his dragon form and flew forward with a wing of dragons. Less then five minutes after takeoff, his first report came in.

«I see a lone rider on a horse, running south. It is probably a messenger trying to alert other legions of our presence on their rear.»

«Port him to Eloise for processing by the mages stationed there, horse and all, and continue patrol.»

"Did we lose many in this battle?"

"None died, we had several severely hurt, but immediate porting to Thebes for treatment in the stasis chambers has saved all. The worse case was a sectioned arm. The guy will be out of commission for a month."

"What happened?"

"He slipped while stepping into the open guts of a combatant; the guy in front of him hit him with a slicing blow, but the guy had the reflex to turn and present his breastplate to the attacker. The other guy never saw one of our boys slide between them at knee level and insert a knife between his own breastplate and his guts. It was over in a second, as the guy emptied himself on the boy below."

"Shit happens."

"Yes, and from now on, he'll think twice before stepping into a corpse to hit an attacker. It's a painful lesson, but a lesson well-learned."

"What about the boy?"

"He was covered from head to foot with blood and guts, eyes on fire, and grinning from ear to ear. I cleaned him up to find that Ian's dressing code has been spreading," replied Harold as he looked at Ian, winking.

"I see what you mean!"

"He left riding a wolf he called by whistling. That tells me he is less then six years old. Our six-year olds ride ponies, because they have become too heavy for wolves. Son, emulating you is a damn powerful driving force behind these successes."

"Let's get moving dad. I don't like staying at the same place too long. Mobility is our forte," decided Sitar.

"Have we completed the cleaning of the battlefield?" asked Samson.

"Yes, my brothers have used the wolves to track down anything and they did a systemic search from left to right and front to rear using several hundred wolves. Every dead piece is gone, every cloth, every weapon, and every fortification. Harp says as soon as we leave this valley and enter the next, the door at the last shelter will go flying into the forest. He doesn't want any of us in here since he expects it will fly overhead and fall somewhere nearby. It's no use putting any of our troops at risk. Dad, we have lost a centurie in all; Yamato has already prepared the first centurie of the thirtieth legion for porting, all luggage included. We will continue with our current complement of packhorses. As soon as the first legion moves off five hundred feet, Harp will port the replacement centurie in the gap," replied Sitar.

"OK. Let's get moving. Do you think we will catch up with another group today?"

"We'll make sure we do before nones, dad. We have some catching up to do."

***

"So, Viola, how do you feel after your first real battle?" asked his legionnaire friend.

"To be honest, I feel queasy. I was too busy charging the flank to worry about the mess Pokawonka and I were doing, but it was driven home when I cleansed her up after the battle. She had blood and guts stuck to her coat right to the collarbone. I had to wash her several times to remove the offending material from her coat; then it was the saddle and the belly strap. It was incrusted with blood and I had to let it soak in oil for half an hour before I could begin cleaning it up."

"I'll have to ask Harp to teach you the cleansing spells, Viola. You are a mage after all. We would welcome such a spell. None of us can do it, and we do not wish to bother the prince with such a futile request."

"I'll ask myself, I expect to be at the meeting tonight. By the way, we are again jumping to gain time. I feel the waves of magic each time Ian or Harp does it."

"You can tell who does what?"

"Well, yes, each magical creature has his own signature. Harp is more experienced and does it more progressively; Ian is more decisive and it's more powerful and brusque. I am not saying that Ian is more or less powerful then Harp, mind you. It's just the way magic is used."

"What else can you tell me about this?" asked the curious legionnaire.

"I can also feel the nature of the magic being used; a shape shift does not feel nor sound the same as a port or a time-shift or whatever else they are doing. And when I'm not listening, I hear the buzz of telepathic conversation all the time. At first, it unnerved me; I was always looking for the damn bee, but now I know it's that, and I hardly notice it anymore. There is one thing I noticed while killing our opponents today. I need to ask Harp about it."

"What was it?"

"Each time I killed, and I mean really killed a person, my magic core got a boost. It bothers me."

"And what happened if you only maimed?"

"The boost was not there, unless the person died after I had left it alone, because, sometimes, I felt it a few minutes after engaging another fighter, like a tiny shot."

"Well, we do gain some magic from the killing of our opponents I guess. I know I am more powerful now then before, and it's been increasing with each battle. I had put it on my imagination, Viola, but since you mention it, I'll have to rethink that position. It might explain, in part only, the power shown by the Royals. They are always in the front line, and I heard Harp and Sitar killed thousands upon thousands of orcs in each battle, not to mention Thor! Paschal is no pushover either, and Enron and Thorsten sure are to be reckoned with! Thorsten and Harp killed a black dragon! Can you imagine the power it required? And the power they got in return? I heard from a mage that he saw first-hand Harp kill a male black dragon single-handedly, after disposing of a trolley of black mages! I would have dismissed the story if it weren't for the almost reverential tone the mage used to talk about the battle and of Harp. Did you know he is the Great Grand Master of the Order, at his age? Incredible! Ah, the sext horn, we can take a break from the riding, I'm pretty hungry!"

"So am I. I do need to talk to my brothers. You know more about them then I do."

Viola dismounted with the grace of someone that had acquired some experience but not all that he could. He brushed his horse, and examined the bridle. Then he thought about what Harp had told him about verb and will and concentrated.

"Water!"

It materialized over him, dousing him from head to foot!

"Shit!"

Again the request materialised over his head and covered him in foul-smelling stuff. The situation brought a roar of laughter from the other horsemen. Viola again uttered a request for water repeatedly, getting drenched thoroughly with cold, icy water, but cleansed of the disgusting material.

Harp materialised some distance away, and when he saw Viola's predicament, he burst into hysterical laughter, restarting the cavalrymen's mirth. Taking pity on his older brother Harp hollered:

"What were you trying to do?"

"I want to water my horse, and I need water..."

"... And a bucket! You need to not only think about the water, Viola, but where you want it and in what container you want it! I'll clean you up, big brother and dry you up. But why in the world did you think about human waste? You smell like a skunk!"

"I said the word while in shock from the first dousing. And before I knew what hit me I got covered in it!"

"Well, it was the funniest example of uncontrolled magic I've seen in years! You, brother, need to think things out before using your powers. You are fast gaining in strength. Materializing is no small feat!"

"I have to ask, while you are here..."

"Wait! Cleaning up time!" With a simple hand move, Viola was clean from head to foot, shiny as a new penny.

"Ok, can I ask, now?"

"Yes."

"Two questions. First, how do you clean things up? It took me most of the morning to clean up Pokawonka after the charge."

"That will have to wait, you could kill your horse if you aren't careful. Next question?"

"OK, I noticed each time I killed today, I felt a boost inside, deep inside me, and now, well, I can create water, and it didn't even dent that feeling of power."

Harp looked at Viola with a critical eye.

"I admit your magical core has grown from this morning. You are like us, Viola. Each time you kill, you drain the magical core of the dying person. Just don't do it uselessly to gain power for personal gains, brother. This is what doomed my instructor. He wanted too much power and in the end he lost all."

"How so?"

"I killed him and shared his power with those that partook in the battle. It was too dangerous to take all on my shoulder."

"I was told you killed two black dragons?"

"Much to my shame, Viola, much to my shame. I exterminated a species! As for the power gain, I gained from the male when I recovered the shield in which his magical core untwined; Thorsten recovered from the other dragon. She was possessed."

"How could killing a male dragon exterminate the species?"

"It was the last male," replied, sombre, Harp.

"You said the female was possessed?"

"By a soul-eater. They are the ones that guided mankind to the nuclear world and its final conclusion. One of them even showed his face in their first nuclear explosion to scoff at them, but they did not heed the warning. It was an ugly face within the explosion, the face of a soul-eater."

"Like the one I saw?"

"What? You saw what?" Harp literally jumped at his brother taking him by the collar.

"I saw a face in the nuclear mushroom over Washton. Get off me, I am not a perch!"

Harp exploded in a series of expletives that made even hardened legionnaires blush.

"Get your butt ready, we're going to the Royal table! Guys, take care of his horse!"

Even before Viola could blink he found himself at the royal table. Everyone stopped talking. Just the look of fury on Harp's face cooled down the meal.

"Viola saw a soul-eater! It showed itself during the last nuclear explosion!" stated Harp in an icy voice, barely controlling his fury. "We have one of these bastards on the loose!"

Viola described what he had seen, and as the description progressed, the fury spread from Harp to the other royals.

"Can I read you memory, Viola?" asked Paschal.

"Sure! How do we proceed?"

"Come stand beside me, close your eyes and think of what you were doing then."

As Viola played back his memory of the events, Paschal shared it with all the others.

"Thank you, Viola. There is no doubt. It is a soul-eater. He drained part of the energy from the atomic explosion. We would have continued to blame the lack of power on the age of the atomic material had he not shown himself. Now we know he is roaming in nature. Harp, Thorsten, track it. Harp, you know their signature."

"Yes Pharaoh Horus. We leave at this instant!" thundered Harp and Thorsten, slapping their fist on their pectoral.

Harp and Thorsten popped in the high atmosphere, containing themselves within a magical sphere, and moved back to Washton to pick the still hot trail of the soul-eater.

"Viola, eat with us," said Harold, pointing to the vacated place where once Thorsten had been seated.

***

"Ian, in view of the situation, no more finessing! As soon as we are ready to move, port us directly behind the next concentration of troops. Dragons, block any escape routes with fire. We will be disarming and stripping the entire group in a single go." Harold concentrated slightly, and everyone heard the command:

«Nestor! All port-able mages are to report to Eloise in an hour. Yamato! Three legions as support to the mages in Eloise! The others are to merge and reinforce Thebes's shield with magic! We have a soul-eater on the loose! Dunbar! Ready another three legions to make sure the filtered legions do not scatter in Thebes once they have been vetted by the mages and ported in the Field of Mars. Williams, use basement sixteen and seventeen of Thebes as holding cells until we have time to finish the filtering. If anyone causes trouble, kill him or her on the spot. All medical staff is to report to the hospital sorting area and be on stand by! All other units! Alert level five! I repeat! Alert level five!»

The result was felt immediately in the Atlanteans' organization. Everyone stood up and those that had horses settled on them to finish their lunch, while the others ate standing. Viola saw Pokawonka gallop to him, and he understood immediately the need to be ready to move. He settled himself on the horse, received his plate from a groom, gulped the food down, and, as he looked around did like the others: he threw it in the bush, which it never reached, disappearing before hitting the ground.

«Brace! Lance down! Charge!» thundered Ian. The lances' tip was bluish-white with magic, much to the surprise of Harold, which had not seen that before.

In a flash, the entire army jumped several dozen miles ahead and came charging on the back of the totally unprepared legion. As the tip of the lances touched them on their back, the legionnaires were ported on contact to Eloise, their uniform falling on the road to be stampeded by the charging horses. In the next four hours, the process repeated itself every ten or twelve miles. Bam-Bam, which was on the road to the next shelter, contained the highest concentration of troops, since it had been the scene of the first manifestation of Atlantean power. It did not even hold back the charge, as walls exploded sky-high under Ian's fury. A massive porting of anything alive and a flattening of anything left standing followed the Atlanteans' arrival from the east. Village, town, bridge, fortification, all went flying as their respective occupants materialized, nude and powerless in the fields of Eloise, until the army met the next nuclear shelter, the one that had been built for Atlanta.

Ian, still charging ahead of the legions, did not even slow down in front of the closed steel doors.

"Get lost in space!" he hollered as soon as the doors came into view. The sound of the five-foot thick door getting violently torn out of its rollers and rising at the speed of sound for space was horrendous, deafening, and terrifying. The power exerted on the metal made it white-hot and a long trail of melting metal fell off the now fast disappearing doors as it flew out of sight, setting the surrounding forest on fire.

Viola, still hidden by a rise, felt the extraordinary power Ian pumped into this exploit of pure magic and almost fell off his horse. It was only a quick adjustment by Pokawonka that saved his skin.

«Rider! What are you doing?»

«Didn't you feel the wave of magical power that washed over us? It was so intense I lost my breath!»

«I did feel like the air became like water for a fraction of a second, but nothing to hide under a mare!»

«That was more like a brick wall to me, Pokawonka. I am much more sensitive to magic than you are.»

Just then the sonic boom reached them and the flying doors came into view above the still looming hill.

«I see what you mean, Rider! That must have required magic of unheard strength to do this!»

«Ian did it. I recognised his signature. Are you doing ok? We have been running for four hours!»

«I know! But I feel fresh! There is someone feeding us faster then we can consume energy.»

The Atlantean legions entered the shelter at full charge, continuing to port on touch any defender. The foot soldiers spread around and, using wolves to track anyone, ported everyone to Eloise. As the first units reached the southern exit, Ian called for a halt.

«Stay mounted! We will resume the charge in an hour! I want this campaign done with by prime tomorrow morning, so it will be a night charge. Wolves with riders to the forefront!»

"Why does he order this?" wondered Viola.

"I hear the wolves and their riders have exceptionally good night vision. They will be able to deal with any obstacle faster then any cavalry. See the kids with their short lances riding wolves that are running forward at Ian's command. They know they have been called to duty."

"But these are toddlers!"

"Tell that to the legionnaires they butchered up that hill at the start of the day!"

Vespers' meal, albeit hot, was much simpler then usual. Everyone understood these were running rations, and got ready for a harrowing night. Horses watered and fed. An hour after vespers, the expected command came.

«Brace! Lances down! Charge!»

The Atlantean legions came out of the southern exit of the Atlanta shelter running. Pegasuses and dragons were like bats out of a cave, while the others drummed the earth with such regularity it created a resonance that spread around the encased valley and created landslides. An unfortunate landslide tried to block their passage at the narrowest point, only to find itself dispersed by Ian without even a word. Rocks, trees, everything seemed to run away from them in panic. It would have been hilarious had it not implied such incommensurable power it sent shivers down Harold's back.

Military camp after military camp fell to the Atlantean tide. Villages, towns, burgs, nothing slowed the progress. Caravans were caught off guard and found their wares confiscated while their members were put in detention for later filtering. One such caravan did catch Ian's attention. Composed of loggers and lumberjacks, it was headed south. He informed the mages at Eloise to take careful note of the names of anyone coming in, and if there were two with strange names of string instruments, namely Cello and Banjo, they were to be ported directly to Yamato for handling.

By matins, the Atlantean column, still progressing south, had reached the border separating Alabama and Mississippi. Ian ordered a break and camp for the rest of the night.

"We have some six hundred miles left to cover, mostly in swamps. I prefer we do it during the day," he declared to his dad, which found nothing to object, since they had managed to cover nearly a thousand miles in a day, dispose of at least fifty villages and other communities, wiped out several legions either in friendly or nor so friendly manner.

***

Meanwhile, Harp, Thorsten, Jormungandr and Anbraxias left the Atlantean column to hunt down the rogue soul-eater. Their first stop, if that can be a stop, was to overfly the crater created by the nuclear device. If the mushroom had vanished, the forest downwind was still in fire, pushed west by the strong wind.

«What are we looking for?» asked Anbraxias as be looked at the devastation below.

«You guys look for anything abnormal, Harp and I will try to use mage sense to spot the soul-eater.»

«Is there anything 'normal' in this mess?» Jormungandr piped up.

«I don't know. Look for a pattern, or a break in one. Anything!»

«While we search, let's try to understand what happened. Maybe it will help us figure out not only what to look for but where to look for it, or even predict the soul eater's behaviour,» suggested Harp.

«That's a good idea. As for a starting search pattern, I suggest we move in circles from the centre of the explosion outward.» Jormungandr replied.

The four, still in dragon form and shielded from radiation by magic bubbles that sparked violently from the constant impact of ionizing particles, took a circular flight pattern, spread half a mile apart.

«Ok, what do we know?» began Harp.

«First, it's a soul-eater; second it had been asleep for at least six thousand years, probably draining energy from the servants of the bomb. Third, it must have been very weak, due to the fact its body shell cost a lot of energy to maintain because of age.» replied Thorsten.

«What is the relation between the nuclear explosion and soul-eaters apart from the fact that they drove the Ancients to make them for their own need?" Anbraxias wondered.

«I think the radiation was detrimental to the body of the soul-eater, especially as it grew older. The thing is, for a reason I cannot understand it did not jump into one of the bomb's servants to gain a new body. When the bomb blew up, the body got vaporised instantly. I am not even sure the soul-eater expected to suddenly recover its freedom. We'll have to ask when we catch him,» commented Harp.

«So, what you are saying is that the Soul-eater does not have a body?»

«I don't know. Thorsten, you harboured one for some time, what does this discussion inspire to you?»

«I'm scouring Gabriel's memory. Apparently, the passage from one physical body to another could take some time, albeit most preferred to have a fresh, preferably very young body at hand when the time came, a new born or someone at least less then a year old in humans. Atlanteans are another story altogether. They seem toxic to them. The resurgence of Atlanteans as dominant was a disaster to them, and that soul-eater must be in total panic. He went in hibernation when the humans composed the dominant species, he wakes up and is faced with his worse nightmare.»

«That explains why it did not try to take any member of the column. The youngest are four, and are able to mount a formidable defence against a soul-eater.»

«Why are they able to do so?»

«Anbraxias, first we are Atlanteans, which means a powerful mind from the start; second, our children are encouraged to use magic from the first time they express a need, which means that they rapidly acquire a sense of who they are and the distinction between themselves and the outside world. Should a soul-eater try to tackle one of them, the battle to enter the kernel would be ferocious. I doubt the soul-eater we are tracking would come out on top."

«Could it gain much from an orc?»

«Enough to survive until it met a more potent host.»

«Are there any other hosts possible?»

«Certainly. Wolves, Elves, Dwarfs, Fairies, Centaurs, Equines, even Dragons, as the female Black Dragon demonstrated. But the honey pot is managing to get into a newborn Atlantean. And the opportunity window is very short.»

«How short?»

«A week at most, the child is still under the trauma of birth. After that, instinct takes over and bye-bye window. The Dwarfs are a bit more exposed, from what I learned from Thorsten's sisters.»

«What about other species?»

«Unfortunately, Anbraxias, I found no formal comparative analysis between species. It had been bothering me ever since we got rid of the Black Dragon. She was an adult when she was infected, since she was hunting alone. But can a dragon be infected in the egg? I have no idea, and I don't intend to test it!»

«This means we should mind bond with our bonded. We are vulnerable as dragons to that entity,» the taciturn Jormungandr judiciously remarked.

«Let's do this right away,» ordered Harp.

The tracking resumed a few seconds later, and again it was Jormungandr that noticed the first indication of the soul-eater's passage.

«Do you see that line on the ground? It is way too straight to be natural.»

«Maybe it's an Ancients' road?»

«It's not the case Thorsten. I see no pipes, no metal, no drainage. And look at the magnetic field. It's spiralled, not linear, like everywhere else. It will recover its linearity in a week or so, but meanwhile the spirals will grow in size and spread over the terrain. It's similar to the disturbances we do when we fly through a cloud formation!»

«Harp's right, I saw that often when we travel at high velocity in the upper atmosphere. Paschal could probably explain the phenomenon.»

«I can. These are vortexes. Each time you beat wings, you get the air rolling. It is also true when you move in it. If you are close enough or if the dragon in front of you flies into a cloud, the vortexes appear as spirals in the fluff. Don't mix that with contrails, which you produce by breathing out or by degassing from the rear! There, it's the water vapour that condensates and forms ice crystals.»

«Listening on us, brother?»

«Yes, Harp. We are at war, and air traffic control is essential!»

«Let's get back to our problem, guys. Which way to go?»

«Follow the needle, Anbraxias. That is, the fresher the disturbance, the narrower the area covered by it's effect.»

«Thorsten's right. Let's get moving! It's heading north and west. I wonder why?»

The dragon flight followed the magnetic disturbance, which followed the Earth's magnetic line, then suddenly skipped twenty-five miles west before heading south for another distance, then another jump, and heading north, a bit further then the previous northward path.

«That's really strange! What is it trying to do, Thorsten?»

«I'm not sure, but I think it's due to the current form of the soul-eater. Its manifestation is ethereal, a pure electro-magnetic containment field, and it needs a support to contain or maintain itself. It's using the magnetic field of the Earth as a source for a containment field, and once the field is strong enough it jumps by doing a polarity reversal. Then it goes in the opposite direction to load its containment field anew. I get this from Gabriel's memory; the entity must be relatively weak, because it only manages to jump twenty-five miles on its intended direction, that is westward.»

«Since it's moving north and west, let's try to estimate its route, and see where it will pass.»

Jormungandr's suggestion was approved and the heading from the cumulative paths revealed it was headed straight for Thebes.

«I should have known. The only babies available for it to parasitize are in Thebes,» said Harp.

«I have an idea. If I remember, molten rock demagnetizes. This can be used to our advantage! We can melt rock, and it won't be able to gain power from it. Since it is following the magnetic field, it must also be using it as a guide, like a compass. It would not only lose its power source, but its sense of direction. It must be using angular measurements to calibrate its jumps and maintain the heading to Thebes. A sudden disappearance of a reference point would put it at a loss.»

«Thorsten's analysis gives us a way to confine and direct its movement. If we do this right, it will be led to a death trap like fish in a bow net. Let's see, there is an active volcanic lake somewhat near the south-eastern tip of the kingdom. The lake has been active non-stop for three thousand years and sure doesn't seem to be in any way ready to give up on its activity. It was one of the Golden Dragon King's favourite swimming pools until we created the Dragon paradise in the tessaracts. The lava is contained, never leaving the caldera.» All we need to do is make it jump into the caldera and it won't be able to collect magnetism to sustain its form.»

«Harp's idea is good. However, we must make sure no dragon visits the pool. I doubt any other animal will survive a visit anyway,» Anbraxias said.

"Don't worry, I will have dad inform all dragons of the reason and of an upcoming royal edict banning any over-flight or visit closer then a hundred miles. Ok, let's implement this. First we need to project its current travel line. Then we need to find the best way to incurve the trajectory.»

***

«Your Majesty, I have news.»

«What is it, Centurion?»

«The orcs took the bait. Millions are following you along the Arc of Safety south. We are staying clear of their noses! The counter has reported twenty-two million six hundred forty-eight thousand eight hundred and twelve, climbing at the rate of five thousand per hour. They must be cramming the halls upstairs. None seems to have taken to the second or third level to progress. They are like ants playing follow the leader.»

«Don't mention ants! But it's good. They are late, but so are we in our progress. All things equal up. It's nice we can count on the enemy!»

"Ian, you heard the report?"

"Yes dad. We are waiting for dawn to resume our run south. We have only covered half the distance."

"Who is monitoring Harp and Thorsten?"

"Paschal was until matins. Typhoon took over and it will be Enron an hour before tierce. Paschal is sleeping, but will report to you at prime. You should head to bed dad. Annabelle will handle anything until prime. I'll be on standby should anything develop. Sitar will take the day shift."

***

Further south, along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, the Minotaur and Edward were progressing rapidly along a sandy beach. The Minotaur was getting ever more feverish, as was Edward. He sensed the approach of a deadly enemy, and his attitude rubbed on the king of losers. His main obsession still was Marlin, but as the days turned to weeks, and the feeling of danger grew, it was replaced by the urge to meet that foe head-on, like a bull meets any enemy. His sleep was punctuated with nightmares of dragons, giant white wolves, and fires from Hell that surpassed in fury those that had marked his passage to adulthood. He kept eating any scrap of vegetation to fuel his ever-increasing need in energy, killing any competition for the scarce resources, thus feeding Edward by the same token. Edward ate any animal killed by the Minotaur, raw or roasted, be it orc or crocodile priest. He was no longer aware of being human, and would have fought with a wolverine for its catch had he needed to. He held to his sword more by reflex then by remembering its true use. Neither the Minotaur nor Edward wore a scrap of cloth, or a symbol of civilisation except one a staff, the other a sword.

***

The morning came and Sitar called for the army to get ready to move on. The sun peeked over the horizon at half past prime, the horns blasted along the column, and the army was again on the move. By sext, another dozen legions had been sent for processing to Eloise, and the next to last bunker, Baton Rouge, loomed ahead, closed because of a storm coming in from the Gulf of Mexico. The bunker built for New Orleans had been flooded from bottom to top when the dams and dikes that protected the old French colonial city had given out due to lack of maintenance. The Eastern kingdom had lost a whole legion to the incident, but nothing could have prevented it; the dams were so awash in radioactive water they were dubbed the Toasters. Lake Pontchartrain had filled up with radioactive debris carried by the Mississippi and had become a deadly junkyard. Six thousand years of hurricanes had flattened what had withstood the nuclear blast.

The Atlanteans did not do in lacework. Ian pulled out the steel door, rammed into the panicked legionnaires, and ported everyone in sight to Eloise. Harold was wondering why he bothered carrying his Hammer around with Ian the Destroyer beside him.

Once the door and the shelter cleansed of prior occupants, the Atlanteans holed up in the breached protection. Ian sealed the northern end with magic, and the royals saw to removing any radioactive elements off their troops. The Great Washout included everyone from Fairies to Dragons.

"We rest for the rest of the day, dad. It pisses me off, but I don't think it is wise to venture from here to the final bunker with the current wind condition. And it does have an advantage. The orcs will be gaining on us, and they have a long way to go to even come close."

"Ok. Paschal, what happened while you were on watch for Harp and Thorsten?"

"Oh, we didn't debrief this cycle, did we? Well quite a few things. For one they found the trail of the Soul Hunter; they deduced where he is going, and before I was to be replaced by Typhoon, they had developed a plan to force that creep into a trap. By the way dad, part of their plan requires that the volcanic lake on the south-eastern tip of the Elvin kingdom be banned of access forever and one hundred miles around it; from what they need, I think it preferable to raise that number to a hundred fifty miles."

Harold snapped his fingers and a parchment, ink, and the Seal of Atlantis materialized on the table. After thinking about it, he decided to write the parchment in four forms of writings: the Atlantean Royal Script, the Hieroglyph, the Dragon Script, and the run of the mill common script. The next issue was deciding how to indicate the reason and the location of the ban, followed by the range of its extension. The reason was clear: a soul-eater was looming in the lava, prisoner of the crater; the danger was clearly indicated. The position was more complex. Coordinate systems tend to change, continents to drift, and other issues. After some head scratching, he decided to use the classical, still in use, Greenwich Meridian that had survived the Ancients' demise. If it had lasted so long, it would certainly last long enough for what he needed. The last issue was self-evident: draw a one hundred mile circle around the centre of the lake and you have the banned zone. The scroll written and sealed, he gave it to Ian.

"What do you plan to do with it?"

"Well, as soon as the our brothers and dragons have confirmed the soul-eater is trapped and that they are past the one hundred mile boundary, I'll have this enforced by magic. Not a single animal will ever come near the lake. The Seal of Atlantis will port the message and the magic prohibition far and wide."

"Since the paperwork is done, let's see what we can do about the situation outside of this rat hole."

"Let's think this out. The wind is coming from the south due to a storm. We need a west wind that pushes the crap over the sea rather then on us. We could redo the hurricane thing, a lot more easily because we are able to start it in much warmer waters, but we are far from the coast and it would take another level five to get this going, another damn week. I don't want to spend another week brewing weather. It's almost winter solstice, and the cold north should have frozen the ice so the orcs are actively digging their invasion tunnels in them."

"Let's see, the cold air is heavier then hot air, and should be coming from the north but that damn storm front is pushing it back west rather then letting it do what it wants. Let's trigger the storm, force it to drain all its energy. The cold front will be able to get to us, and we'll be able to move our ass with the wind in our back. We don't actually need to create a hurricane, Ian, let's just move the jet stream east. That will move the storm front coming on us over the sea, clear the skies, and we'll have a clear run."

"How long to do that, Paschal?"

"We can do it today. We create a moderate depression south and east of the jet stream's current flow. Wind being wind, it will get sucked into the depression, changing the path of that monster so it moves further south, deepening the freeze north, but who cares? As the jet stream travels the path we create with these mini-depressions, the underlying storm front does two things: it intensifies and drops more water, but, the most important, it moves over the ocean, leaving behind a high pressure area, which is what we need."

"You didn't answer my question Paschal. I asked how long to get the results, not when we would start. If I wasn't chewing my nails from impatience, I'd be up there already!"

"I estimate about fourteen hours. We should be ready to move tomorrow morning."

"Let's get started! I have an urge to move south that is eating me from the inside like a tenia worm!"

"Oh no, little brother! You rest today; tomorrow is going to be a long day! I'll do the weather thing with Sitar! Strategically, we have nothing to do tomorrow but run to the last shelter, and it will be your job to get us there in one piece, Ian!"

Ian grumbled but acquiesced to Paschal's comment.

***

Thorsten noticed from the projected path that the Soul-eater would pass about three hundred miles west of the caldera. After discussing things with his brothers, it was decided to influence the trajectory as early as possible by melting wide swaths of rocks, even if it created huge forest fires. Since it could jump twenty-five miles, thirty-mile wide bands of the forest floor would be melted in a form forcing the soul-eater to do a reverse jump thus costing him precious energy.

The plan was further fine-tuned: Anbraxias and Jormungandr would set the forest on fire ahead of Harp and Thorsten, who would use magic to melt the rock to about a mile deep, thus nullifying the magnetic field in the desired area.

The first try went like a charm, even too well! The soul-eater, ignoring the smoke and raging fire to his left, did a jump to end up directly in the temporary lava bed. It barely managed to make it back to 'shore' and on the wrong side of the lava pit for its plans! Cornered, it kept moving north, contrary to its initial plan.

«Given how weak it is, it's going to be a while before it can resume jumps!» commented Thorsten, pleased.

«Yes, we need to adjust things given this slight mishap on his part! It wouldn't do if it overshot the trap!»

«We can force it to jump by placing a lava bed across the magnetic line it's following. The closer to the lava bed, the weaker the magnetic line, and it is bound to notice it and make a jump to a stronger one!»

«Jormungandr is right. By keeping him weak and forcing jumps when he doesn't want to do one, we can drive him like a pig to the butcher.»

«Or is it to the roast, Harp?» Anbraxias corrected, a perfect dragon gentleman!

The net gradually forced the soul-eater off its planned trajectory, keeping it systematically east of its intended path and driving it ever further from it with forced jumps that kept the soul-eater weak and moving north against its will. It took the bait for any westward move hook, line and sinker.

«Why doesn't it realize all these lava pools are artificial and guiding it where it doesn't want to go?»

«It probably has, Thorsten, but it's too panicked to think things out, or too weak to do so. It's like a man in the desert, running after mirages.»

«We are fifty-five miles off target, it's time to adjust things so it gains enough energy to jump at the next opening right in the middle of the lava pool. If we force another jump now, the next magnetic line will bring it about a mile east of the volcano's mouth, well within range of its now restricted two-mile wide jumps,» Anbraxias commented.

«And it won't be able to sense the magnetic disturbance of the lava until it makes the jump,» completed Jormungandr.

«Ok, start the burns across the magnetic line five miles ahead of the soul-eater.»

«The land is scorched Harp. Your turn!»

The underlying lava field that had been covered with shrivelled conifers and moss was now bare for a mile on the west side of the magnetic line and five miles on the eastern side. This would force a westward two-mile wide jump from the soul-eater's energy form. It was moving ever more slowly, desperate to find a break in the trap, but finding none.

The soul-eater, faced once again with a lava bed, decided to try and 'swim' it, but the boys created an eddy that pushed it west hard.

«The bastard may be too weak to jump when we have him where we want!» thundered Harp, frustrated!

«You should know by now that if something can go wrong in a plan, it will! Let's adjust things. We have fifty miles to get things ready! At the speed it's moving, it's going to take it a day to cover that distance, Harp. We have that much time to find a solution.»

«My bonded is right, let's start thinking of a way to force it to do what we want one way or another,» replied Anbraxias.

***

High above the four dragons, the jet stream began responding to the ministrations of Sitar and Paschal, its trajectory gradually incurving itself ever further south and bringing with it arctic wind and a cold front that dropped temperatures like rock through void. It twisted, fought with all its might, but the call of a low pressure was too tempting. It extended, and extended again, moving east at each prompting, and pushing against the warm southern air, creating a snowstorm that extended from Canada to the tip of Florida, while creating tornados in the prairies and hailstorms with baseball-sized ice nuggets. The hot water rising over the ocean fell in rain were it could, flooding everything, bringing rivers over their banks, and overall, making life miserable for everyone along the arc, from the orcs north to the few humans still to be sent to Thebes by the Atlanteans. The night was horrible, even for the fire cockroaches, which froze by millions before being able to find shelter deep enough underground. Those that did manage to get deep enough were caught in tunnels filling quickly with water. The fire ants did not fare better. The sudden floods washed anthills away.

The storm also caught the Minotaur and his companion off guard. The weather had been stormy before, but never cold, and this was unexpected that deep south, as ice and sleet pummelled them, even under the palm trees that lined the beach. Huge waves battered the shore eating at the sand, washing it away and undermining the trees, which fell like dominos. They had to retreat further inland, to be met by swarms of insects chased out of their nests by the rising water. Even water snakes could be seen trying to make a hasty retreat further inland.

The Atlanteans, on the other hand, slept like babies during the night, the bunker silent even as the elements raged above it. It was only when morning came and they found the ground covered with three feet of snow they realized how violent the weather had been!

Just as the first rays of the sun shone on the white stuff, blinding all the onlookers, Sitar and Paschal returned to the shelter and ported inside.

"So, Ian, happy I hope? The western wind is powerful, cold as a cryogenic cell, and the sky is deep blue. We will be able to leave as soon as I've eaten a well-deserved breakfast!"

"You went overboard. There is three feet of snow!"

"So what? The cavalry will lead, and by the time the foot soldiers come behind them, it will be packed tight, if not pummelled into oblivion!"

"Ian, Paschal's right. He did his best and accept the result with grace, son."

"I wonder what's holding back the four dragons?"

"I'm asking myself the same question, Annabelle. They should be back by now, and Ian is still holding to the decree, which has therefore not been activated. We'll probably get news shortly. I'm sure nothing bad happened, or we would have heard of it by now."