The Vitalis Chronicles: Tomb of the Relequim (38 page)

Even had the opportunity arisen, he would never have done so. He was waiting for a different kind of opportunity. Biding his time until they slipped. But this situation had certainly presented him with good reasons to kill himself. In some ways, it would be better than continuing a puppet. Better than being used as the poster-child for a war he vehemently opposed. Better than dying for a cause that was set to undo mankind as a whole.

The truck shook as it hit yet another pothole. The roads south had fallen into disrepair over the winter. Ice had worked its way into the cracks and blistered until gaping wounds were left everywhere. The transport vehicle that he had been confined to offered little protection from the jolts. Each shock took him back to Elandir, to the shells hitting the tower he had been imprisoned in. The carnage that had been unleashed on his people. Had he been alone he might have even wept for his city.

But the guards sitting with him allowed no such consolation. Rather, he refused to let them see him break. But he was afraid he was already broken. He knew that point was coming. They knew it as well. It was why they paid him so little heed. They hadn't even chained him.

“
I'm going to win this war,” Merodach had said the day before. “I'm going to take the coast. And then I'm going to the southern cites. I'm going to break down the walls of Rinoa. I'm going to sink Rowlands. I'll fill the fountains of Altan with blood. I'm going to end them all.” The pudgy Mayor had smiled at the thought. “Then I'm going to rebuild them, Anders. I'm going to assign them new destinies. And we're going to grow, Anders. Oh how we'll grow!”

Keaton had felt like throwing up. Merodach was so pleased with his little plan. His little, petty, greedy, short-sighted, massive, overwhelming, world-ending plan.

“
The entire northeastern portion of our continent remains unclaimed, Major. There's so much to be won, so much to be discovered. And we aren't alone, Anders. We aren't hardly alone! Meddlands is ready to rise. Ready to swear their fealty. Silverdale will never be able to send an army north. Not quickly enough. Not without the river. Hell, after this skirmish, we may be able to win the rest with bloodless victories.”

And that's where Keaton played in, the Mayor said as he walked around his desk. He put those pink hands on Keaton's collar and smoothed where the pins had caught.

“
You see, Anders. If you don't play your part, we'll never galvanize the people. They want to fight now, yes. The attack solidified that much, certainly. But if the city were to lose a man of your stature, someone who so embodies everything it means to be Elandrian... well... they might just catch the passion. And I mean, really catch the passion.”

Those beady eyes had almost looked pleadingly at Keaton as the Mayor searched his pawn.

“
And that's what I want from you, Anders. I want you to unify the world's most powerful city state behind one cause: to dominate the rest.”

“
Why would I ever do that, sir?” Keaton had to resist the urge to strangle the Mayor on the spot. It helped that there were five other men in the room.

“
I can think of any number of reasons.” Merodach walked off towards a side table with a
flourish. He poured himself a drink as he continued. “For love of your country to start. If you do this, you'll save countless lives. Imagine every City State laying down arms before we ever reach them. A unified power like ours is terrible to see. And if Brenton and the Meddlands join us, we'll have a death-grip on the north.”

“
You think the south will just sit by and watch?”

“
Not entirely,” Merodach admitted after taking a sip. “But it doesn't much matter. Few of them have any military force to speak of. Only the western cities were ever truly raised to fight, Major. You
know this. And they're all soft from too much God-forsaken peace.”

“
It's quite a feat for three cities to take on nine, assuming the other two commit to your cause.”

“
You still have a mother, don't you, Major?”

The implication shot lightning up Keaton's spine. His gut dropped into his bowels as he tried to keep his knees from buckling.

“
I thought as much.” Merodach could read him so easily. “It's not much of a question when you already know the answer though, is it? In any case, for her sake, I would play along. I'm not above killing your mother, Anders. I should imagine that much is clear.”

Keaton cursed the Mayor under his breath.

“
Quite so.” Merodach wasn't fazed to hear it. “And of course your precious men.”

Anders Keaton swallowed hard as he closed his eyes and let his head tilt back.
No,
he couldn't take losing any more.
God... don't let this happen.

“Well, Sykes' men to be exact.
We've treated them quite well, Major. In fact, most of them have returned to duty since you've been imprisoned. They all believe you to be receiving special medical treatment before you're fully debriefed. At least most of them do. The fact remains, I know it to be your greatest strength. Your love for your men, that is. And thus your greatest weakness is presented in tandem.”

Merodach stood in front of Keaton, waiting when he opened his eyes again. “If you don't go along with my little plan, I'll flay each and every one of them. I'll have them branded publicly as traitors, collaborators with the enemy or something fitting like that.” The fat bastard had the gall to smile in Keaton's face. “And they all have mothers too, Major. At least, most of them still do.”

And that was where he was left. The cards had been stacked overwhelmingly against him.
What else could I have done?
The truck jolted again as they neared Liscentia.
I could die a traitor, my men with me. Or they could live... as I die a hero...
But the word turned his stomach sour. Hero. He was being just the opposite.

Merodach was waging his war. It was happening, and there was no stopping it now. The reality of it remained distant and unreal until he heard the noise of it.

The men in the truck with him grew tense as the sounds of battle rose around them. The thick metal of the cabin muffled the booms and cracks and screams, but they were there. Keaton's stomach remained unmoved. His nerves still. Brow dry. He had ridden enough choppy water getting here. Nearing the end brought a calm he didn't expect.

The guards set around him were dressed like Khrone's Hunters, though in truth he doubted they were. He had never seen any of them. Odds were they were men fiercely loyal to Rast or Lucius. Though it was hard to imagine anyone in the entire army could be loyal to Lucius. They were to be thrust to the center of the fight, to break through and bring about victory. And it was there that Keaton expected a bullet to the back of his head. More likely his heart. They'd probably want him interred in an open-casket funeral filled with patriotic fanfare.

A cheer went up as the truck rumbled through the lines. Apparently they had been spreading the word, but why anyone would cheer for the arrival of a few measly Hunters was beyond Keaton. Their reputation was grossly overdependent on a distant past. His brows drew together at the thought as the corner of his mouth pulled down. Let them cheer. If this was his destiny, he would give them something worth celebrating.

The truck lurched to a halt as the engine stalled. Doors in the main cabin slammed shut, barely audible in the din of the fight. The doors to the bed swung open, bright light spilling through in spite of the overcast skies.

“
Well, Major.” Lucius had a grin on his face that befit no man in the midst of battle. “Time to
break open the fight.”

The men filed out of the back of the truck. They even handed Keaton a rifle. He was tempted to put it to use right then and there.

“
These are your men now, Anders.” The Hunters' visors and masks made it impossible to tell who they were. “We're trusting you to break their center. Once you're through, circle around and clear out their artillery.”

“
Artillery, sir? What good is that against an infantry advance?”

“
Plenty. They're dropping some nasty shrapnel on our supply lines, not to mention our reserves.
The stuff has a brutal kill zone and is making it difficult to bring up our rear to support the fight. You take them out and we can push right over the top of them.”

How was it possible that Liscentia had managed to mobilize a fighting force so rapidly? Had his intelligence been wrong, or had things moved so quickly while he had been imprisoned?

“
Rogers here has the lay of the land; he'll brief you on your way to the front.” This felt like a real briefing. “Tallheart has your demo gear. As far as we know, there are three guns, Anders. When you've cleared them all, I need you to make for Liscentia. Beat their rearguard to the city, find their central command post, and eliminate it.”

Now it was starting to sound ridiculous. But they wanted a hero. A hero he would give them.

“
Our reports put it at the northern end of the city. Most of the wireless noise is coming from a warehouse in an industrial complex just within the walls. Slim over there will be able to guide you to it; he's got most of the sensors you should need.”

Keaton looked from man to man. Which one was tasked with putting an end to him? Or were all of them in on it. Those with their masks undone grinned at him. Excited. Exultant. Ready for a fight. None of them seemed any wiser to the plans of their superiors. They all looked ready to win a war.

“
What are you standing there for, Major? You've got history to make. Winning a war in an afternoon will look impressive on your list of accomplishments, don't you think?”

Major Anders Keaton didn't bother responding.
What list of accomplishments?
He hefted his rifle on his shoulder and made for the front of the truck. Rogers, if that was really his name, was at his elbow in a flash.

“
We're heading due south of this point, sir.” He produced a map printed on a thick plastic that kept it from floundering in the wind. “You can see our lines drawn up over these three hills. Better called dunes, as it were, sir. But we chose this area because there's healthy plant growth throughout. It should provide enough cover for us to make our way to the enemy lines without being seen.”

“
And their lines?” Hunters weren't made for this kind of work. Though he supposed there was a first time for everything.

“
They're drawn up on these hills here,” Rogers said as he pointed at a series of red dashed lines on the map. “The front is a few miles long. Their artillery is pounding us from behind those.”

They slowed as they made it to the top of the ridge they had parked behind. The noise grew exponentially as the firefight below came into view. Keaton crouched at the edge of the embankment and surveyed the scene. The lines were as clear to him in reality as they were on the map. Elandrian soldiers in carbon gray were spreading out along what looked like a long, wide, shallow valley. On the other side of the valley, troops in forest green spread out to match the movements of their enemies. It seemed suicidally ludicrous to Keaton.

Things looked veritably gridlocked. Pushes made by either side were thrown back contemptuously by overwhelming amounts of gunfire. Keaton's mouth twisted as he took it all in. He looked back at the map Rogers was holding.

“
Sir,” the soldier was saying. “We should make for the draw down there. It's where they figure we have our best shot of penetrating their line undetected.”

But the draw he was talking about was flooded with enemy troops on the other side. He could tell simply by their movements on the far embankment. They weren't blind to the threat.

“
What about that creek bed down there?” Anders pointed.

“
Sir?” Rogers looked to where the major pointed before studying his map again. “It's not on here, sir.”

“
Look.” He pointed again. “There's a good chance it wasn't there before, Rogers. Desert streams come and go faster than dunes.”

“
But sir, it's running parallel to the battle lines.”

“
But it's deep, and it juts between the hills to the west over there.” He pointed to the right. “If we can stay low and move quickly, there's a chance we can make it through on their flank. The fighting is less intense there, which bodes well.”

“
Sir, we've been ordered to penetrate the center of their lin–”

“
We've been ordered to wipe out their artillery and command center. Objectives and methods are very different things. How far from the city are we now?”

“
Three miles from the nearest point.”

“
So beyond those hills we should find mostly arid farmlands, correct?”

“
Yes sir, bu–”

“
Look, Rogers. I don't know you, and I don't know if you've ever been in a fight. But we're being thrown into a mission that reeks of suicide. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna do it on my own terms. And that means at least attempting to successfully complete my mission.” He paused as he looked at the men he had been assigned. He put on his helmet and lowered the broad, figure-eight visor over his eyes as he continued.