Percilus Mebane watched in silence as the sun eased over the ridgeline to the east. His palms rested on two boulders as he squatted between them.
The narrow view of the canyon below revealed Kantarian troops in black and gold armor. Some paced along the wall – at least the intact portion of it. Others moved about the prison, emerging from tents and bunkhouses, entering the mess hall and exiting the latrine. Minutes passed and more soldiers appeared, bringing his count beyond four hundred but less than five hundred.
He had heard stories about the prison from his uncle – the man who had raised him since he was thirteen, the same man who trained him to hunt and shoot. His uncle and many others had spent more than a decade working the mines and living like animals in this very canyon. Percy wanted nothing more than to destroy the place. Now would be the perfect time, he thought. Crush this little army and wipe out the prison all at once.
Having seen enough, Percy backed out of his hiding spot in a crouch, making sure the boulders remained between him and the canyon floor as he climbed along the narrow trail. A few hundred feet up, the incline began to level. He looked back and found the canyon fully obscured, which meant nobody would see him. Breaking into an easy jog, he crossed the top of the ridge and soon spied another ridge to the south.
He continued jogging downhill, watching where he placed each step as he sank into the shadow-covered ravine. At the bottom, he slowed to a walk and began climbing the next hill. The sun rose higher, chasing the shadows and the lingering chill away. While Percy continued south, he considered what he had seen.
There was only one way to get an army or war machines close to the prison: through the opening at the western end of the narrow canyon. The march from Hipoint was more than twenty miles. Pressed, an army could make it in two days, but it would probably leave them exhausted. Even so, the Imperial force greatly outnumbered the Kantarian soldiers. And, then, there were the flashbombs.
Percy crested the next rise and found the view far more expansive.
The morning sun reflected off the Sea of Fates a few miles to the south. Like much of the coastline between Wayport and Yarth, sheer cliffs hugged the sea, defining the shoreline and limiting where one might land a ship. A gravel road ran along the top of those cliffs, stretching west and then curving south toward Wayport. In the other direction, the road would take Percy to Hipoint, where the Imperial Army waited. With the thought of a hot meal in mind, Percy broke into a run, hopping over rocks and navigating twists and turns as the trail took him toward the road below.
The sun was well beyond its apex when Percy arrived at camp – a camp that had grown noticeably in the three days since he had departed. Tents now lined the road for a mile, and thousands of soldiers milled about the area, most in white tabards, some in the brown of musketeers. Wagons waited along the other side of the road, not far from the cliff edge. A glance toward the sea revealed the town of Hipoint, built in tiers along the hillside. The sea was calm today, the water in Hipoint Bay a deep blue. A single pier split the bay, and workers were busily unloading cargo from one of the two vessels moored there. The activity level was a far cry from when Percy had first arrived at Hipoint two weeks earlier.
He spotted a white tent with a listing flag beside it. The banner included a blue Order rune on a field of white – the emblem for the Empire. That tent was the officers tent – Percy’s destination. He briefly considered getting a meal before visiting the tent but thought better of it. Mollis, assuming he remained in charge, was a hothead and might take offense if Percy didn’t report immediately. The man was still stewing about the losses he took in the capture of Hipoint, along with the subsequent desertion of his remaining mercenaries.
He approached the pavilion and addressed the two guards standing near the entry.
“Percilus Mebane here to report to the commander.”
One of the two guards ducked inside while the other eyed Percy. My bow is still on my shoulder, Percy thought, imagining the conversation he might have with the two men. You needn’t worry. Of course, if it were in my hands, you would be dead before you could cry for help.
The guard reappeared from the tent. “Commander Mollis will see you now.”
“Thanks,” Percy ducked inside.
The tent was expansive – as big as the chamber Percy and Iko shared in Sol Polis. Two blanket-covered pallets sat on one side of the space, the rest filled by three tables and a dozen chairs. Mollis stood over one table, looking over a map while, Jorgan, his second in command, stood beside him. Both men looked up when Percy entered.
“So, our scout has returned,” Mollis said as he stepped away from the table. The man had black hair, a black, bushy mustache, and a stern expression. Percy didn’t care much for Mollis, who always seemed more arrogant and self-assured than was justified. “What did you find?”
“It took some searching, but I located the Kantarian force twenty miles west of our location.”
“If they are so close, why was it not easy to find them?”
“Someone who knows what they are about hid their tracks, and I spent time searching further out before doubling back. You see, their position is away from the sea, in a hidden canyon. You may have heard of it.” Percy glanced at Jorgan and found the big, blond man staring at him intently. “A secret prison is located there.”
Mollis’ eyes grew wide. “The same prison that held Kardan and Archon Varius?”
Percy nodded. “The same.”
The man’s fist smacked his palm, his eyes alight as he grinned. “We could crush them and destroy the prison all at once! This is my chance for redemption after…after what happened here.”
Hearing a rustle behind him, Percy turned to find a man wearing a blue officer’s uniform entering. The man stood six feet tall and was bald despite a face with few wrinkles. Behind the officer was a woman not much older than Percy. She was fit with short, dark hair and hawk-like eyes.
“Commander Brillens,” Mollis said. “Your timing is perfect.”
Brillens glanced at Percy and turned toward Mollis. “What do you mean, Sergeant?”
Mollis visibly bristled. “It’s Commander, now. Same as you, Orville.”
The grimace on Brillens’ face made his unhappiness clear. Percy was unsure if it were a result of the man’s dislike for Mollis or for the use of his first name. Perhaps both.
“Fine. You requested me, Mollis. What is this about?”
“Very well. I had originally requested you join me so we could go over the daily ration plan. With your added troops, we must ensure we don’t run out of food.” Mollis moved back to his table and swept aside paperwork marked with tables and figures to reveal a map underneath. “My scout just returned with important news.” The man looked at Percy. “Come and point out the enemy’s position.”
Percy and the others approached the table, everyone looking down at a large map of the south-central region of Issalia. Hipoint, their current position, was near the center.
Percy put his finger on Hipoint and ran it along the coast, imagining his journey and how it aligned with the mapped terrain. When he reached a low spot in the ridgeline, he ran it up and back east, pointing at an unmarked spot among the hills.
“They are here, in a box canyon that terminates at the eastern end. There is a narrow, difficult trail allowing you to enter from the south at about here.” He tapped on the spot where he had been while spying. “However, the only way to get an army, wagons, and catapults in or out is through the mouth of the canyon to the west. Right about here.” He tapped on the map and lifted his head to find the others studying it.
“They are trapped, Brillens,” Mollis said. “We could advance and take them out with ease.”
Brillens frowned. “Sculdin said we are to remain here until further notice.”
“Yes, but that was based on the information he possessed at the time.” Mollis sounded confident. “If he knew of the Kantarian Army’s position, he would strike.”
“What happened last time, Mollis?”
Mollis shook as if he might burst, his face turning red. “That was not my fault. We were tricked by their magic.”
“How will this be different?” Brillens’ tone was cold, lacking the heat coming from Mollis. “How many squads would you sacrifice to take a worthless prison?”
“I’ll not take the enemy lightly this time. Nor will I send soldiers in without ensuring their safety.” Mollis tapped his finger against the map. “We now possess two dozen catapults with flash bombs for ammunition – firepower I am not afraid to unleash. My men will ensure the war machines safe passage. Once in position, we will rain Issal’s fury down on them.”