Medice Ceres

Chapter 51

"Another favor have I to ask of you, my Lady." Graham took a swig of his tea as Alina laid a platter of eggs, sausage, and bread on the table. "There be a smelting operation to the northeast near the river where this Darkness infects the workers, like that at the foundry. The gold and silver processed there finance Scias' army, the loss of which would greatly hinder his efforts."

Waithe scooped eggs onto his plate. "But how well guarded be it? With our success at the foundry, they would likely have tightened security."

Graham pulled a rolled-up piece of paper from the pocket of his cloak and spread it out on the table. "Two dozen soldiers patrol the perimeter, but mostly on the south side, away from the river. They bring ore in on barges to the docks, but the refined metals leave by road, so the security be mostly there." He pointed at the diagram map. "Our forces would attack as a distraction on that side to draw them out. Meanwhile, an elite force with Lady Ceres would approach from the river."

Ceres shook her head. "Director, I came here to heal, not fight a civil war."

"I understand, my Lady. Your part would be only to purge the Darkness and free those enslaved by it. Once done, we would escort you away to a waiting boat. The lifting of the Darkness would throw them into disarray, as it did in the foundry. Our forces would steal as much of the gold and silver as we could and destroy the smelter. Think of it. A great blow this would be against Lord Scias' plans."

Ceres turned toward Waithe. "Is the plan sound?"

Waithe frowned. "In general, it seems so, but for one aspect. We would not know what we would face within the building. Easily might it become a trap, so nearly it was at the foundry. My dear daughter, I would not allow you to go within."

"I think, perhaps, that would not be not required. My abilities to control the Darkness has grown stronger. Just bring me close, perhaps even from there off the docks." She pointed at the diagram. "That should be sufficient."

Waithe lifted an eyebrow. "You would agree to this, Daughter? Even a sound plan carries risk."

"That I understand. But if this would succeed, not only would Scias be weakened but also his Chief Shaman, Raste." She narrowed her eyes. "I cannot let them go unchallenged."

*****

A nearly full moon cast a quivering line of light along the river. It flowed westward, widening and slowing as it neared the sea. The only sounds were the gentle lapping of water on the sides of the stolen flat-bottomed ore barge and faint splashes made by the two polemen as they guided it toward the docks. The air held cool and still. Waithe grasped his daughter's hand and nodded to her, putting on as confident a smile as he was able, although in the darkness he doubted she saw it. He pulled down the edge of the large tarp that concealed them and the others, a dozen of the Freedom Alliance's best fighters. Young men all, they seemed eager to bloody their blades. Soon they would know if all the careful preparation paid off.

Two of the men noiselessly slid off the stern as the barge rounded the last bend. Free-Fighters, they proudly called themselves. Nearly forty well-armed fighters hidden among the forested hills on the opposite side of the smelter waited for the signal to launch their attack. That should be more than enough to overwhelm the soldiers that stood guard. The plan was good, Waithe thought, but still, he felt apprehension prickle his gut. But he always felt that before battle and welcomed it. That feeling kept him alert and focused, no battle ever went exactly as planned.

The barge clunked against the dock, jarring its hidden passengers. The ropes scraped across the deck as the polemen secured it to the dock beams.

Someone spoke with irritation in his voice, likely a soldier from the dock. "Y'er late."

One of the polemen responded with a verbal shrug. "Hung up on a sandbar in the flats."

"I'll have to inspect your cargo. Step aside."

"Whatever, fine."

The barge listed slightly as the soldier stepped aboard, shuffling as he made his way toward the stern. Ceres jerked at the quiet thud as the soldier's body slumped to the deck. Waithe knew this part of the operation distressed her, but it was unavoidable.

A poleman pulled back the tarp that hid the Free-fighters and nodded. Two other men drug the body of another soldier off the dock into thick brush along the water's edge. The other poleman cupped his hands around his mouth and made the sound of a night owl in three short hoots. The sound repeated in the distance and once again further away.

The Free-Fighters took up positions off the dock, but not far from the river, and waited. With their dark brown cloaks they were difficult to discern in the dark of the night. Waithe led Ceres beside a series of chest-high berms meant to store the enriched ore waiting to be smelted, some empty and others piled high. She nodded as she knelt. Three other fighters crouched nearby, including Clavis. Waithe had insisted that these men be dedicated only to Ceres' safety, to get her in and then out again unharmed.

The smelter itself gave no hint of the riches of gold and silver that passed through it. The building, constructed of rock block walls and timber roof, sprawled low on a hill not more than fifty paces ahead. Smoke, barely visible against the night sky, rose from several stacks. Flickering light showed through a few windows and a large back gate. The ruts before it indicated that the raw ore entered there. A pair of black-uniformed soldiers lingered at the gate, leaning against the walls, seemingly oblivious to the events unfolding.

Waithe shook his head and allowed himself a small smile. The incompetence of Lord Scias' Army was an advantage that the Freedom Alliance now exploited. The security here should have been much tighter, especially after the loss of the foundry. But he had seen such before, an overly authoritative Lord often resulted in decision paralysis among his officers and, from that, a lack of adaptability. Perhaps also they did not realize how much a young Lady of the Order had emboldened the Alliance.

Shouts and clashes of steel in the distance indicated that the landside assault had begun. The two soldiers at the gate straightened up and then dashed around the building to the other side. Waithe shook his head again. Well trained soldiers would not have abandoned their post like that.

On Waithe's hand signal, Clavis stood and sounded the call of a thrush. With this signal, the Free-Fighters advanced to the smelter building, except for one that waited at the dock and the three assigned to Ceres' security detail.

Waithe whispered to his daughter. "It be your time."

Ceres nodded and sat down cross-legged. She held her hands out, palms up, as she closed her eyes. She whispered back to her father. "The Darkness is here. It infects the workers and some of the soldiers."

In the dark of night, the lifting of the Darkness was difficult to detect. Only as it obscured the stars did Waithe see it, like a rolling black cloud above the smelter. Ceres lifted her arms and drew her hands together. The stars returned. In only a few moments had she purged the Darkness. It seemed too easy.

The humdrum of activity within the smelter ceased, then shouts rose. Waithe stood and motioned to Clavis. He sounded the thrush call three times. With that, the fighters at the building perimeter poured into the building through the open gate. More shouts and the sounds of fighting came.

Waithe took hold of Ceres' hands and lifted her. A distant concerned look on her face gave him pause. "The Darkness, it be gone?"

She replied, "Aye... but nay. From the smelter it is purged, but I sense more." Her eyes widened. "Somewhere close!"

Waithe suddenly felt a coldness in the air that clung to his throat. Their breath became visible as a fog. Tiny webs of ice crept along the wet ground. With a whoosh, one of the fighters crouched on an ore pile yelped and fell, his body frozen rigid. A line of fine ice particles shimmering in the moonlight extended away from him like the path of a burning arrow, but with cold rather than smoke.

Waithe turned toward Ceres. "What be this?"

Ceres grabbed his arm and pointed at a pulsing indigo light that hovered just in view near a small dark building. "Rak! The Spirit of the cold. And she is corrupted with the Darkness!"