Tokus Numas (21 page)

All great generals should be remembered, studied, and their techniques that produced the greatest of results should be applied. Any conqueror who goes into battle not knowing what the great generals of the past have done—how they overcame their enemies, won battles, crushed the lines of men, brought down the walls of those who they lay siege, or used diplomacy after they had completed their conquest—will suffer at the hands of the one who does.

—From
Journal of Fin
, by Fin to the Father

T
he walls were covered in war axes, antique swords, and century-old paintings of maps that showed strategic movements of generals who’d used their wits to win battles. There was one such general who stood out: General Sater, who had sacked the rebels of the desert lands two hundred years back. The rebels, whom some called the desert dwellers, had complained that their lands were being stripped of natural resources by industrialists from King Malic’s lands. What they pulled from the land was a rare light metal, which floated to the top of water. However, the only way to mine it was to drill thousands of holes into the ground, pack it with explosives, detonate, and then flood the ravaged soil. The desert dwellers claimed it harmed Spearca, that she was as much a part of them as they were of her. The industrialists saw it as dried desert soil, depilated of nutrients, and holding no value other than this rare metal, which they could extract. The desert dwellers had swarmed a mining operation and killed all the men. General Sater was sent to the site to revive and protect their operations. When the desert dwellers came back, he smashed their horde easily within a day and sent them back to their holes.

The Father stood next to a long, black, rectangular table covered with a map depicting Spearca with intersecting grid lines over the surface. The main locations shown were Dugual, the Free City, and Tokus Numas. His focus was on Dugual: the castle, the surrounding city, its forests, the mountains, and the roads. The map was a three-dimensional hologram, detailing the sides of buildings, the steep inclines of mountains, and the density of forests. There was a set of secondary information, showing underground water pipes and power lines that ran through channels under the city, as well as back roads for access behind dwellings. He ran his hand over Dugual’s wall; its width and height were set at scale. The Father lowered himself, stooping to where his eyes were level with the board.

“I grow tired of this game. The Numas are hiding technology from us. They’ve been hiding it for years. I wish I would have known before, when I was younger and stronger. But here I am, older and weaker, and still I’ve been unable to get them to give me what I want,” the Father said.

Fin walked along near the edge of the table, opposite the Father’s position. He studied the city and its walls, houses, and businesses. “In time we will have it. They cannot hide it from us forever,” he said.

The Father’s face twitched. He looked over the table with his red stare. “I don’t have time. You know that. If I could live forever, I wouldn’t be plotting a way to attack the remaining Keepers all in one movement while keeping Dugual busy at the same time. A huge risk, yes. When we run short of time, what else can we do?”

Fin moved down the table, looking deep into the hologram of a surrounding forest, seeing the paths that ran through it. “Attacking Dugual would be a mistake if you plan to attack all the Keepers at the same time.”

The Father kept his focus on the board. “Perhaps. I know this Mittere Ergon is only a fairy tale, yet the Numas have invested much into it. Is Petro still faring well?”

“Yes, my lord, he is. We are keeping a watchful eye on him. I hear he’s assumed somewhat of leadership role in his training.” In Fin’s voice was a hint of laughter.

The Father stood up and cocked his head. “It is good to know. I surely don’t understand why people follow these Numas.” His red eyes flared. “Sheep—those people are nothing but sheep. Prophecies are nothing but a way to control them, yet they don’t even see it.” He went back to the board, holding his hand under his chin with his other arm folded across his chest. His eyes widened. “Mothers who spoil their children and fathers who lack discipline make them that way. They do it unknowingly; their seeds are set up for failure to grow like weeds, yet it is those like myself who see them for what they are—a nuisance—and we yank them out by the roots.” He made a fist and a pulling motion with his arm.

Dugual sat against the flats, the main road leading out toward the west. Above her were the kingdoms of Morella and Nna; directly south were the lands of King Offing, but they now were Ardinias and Rednex ruled by his sons Dwuave and Odian. Farther south, the Father’s lands. To Dugual’s southeast was Clammer, touching the water’s edge. Dugual was slowly being surrounded, the southern lands having all been taken and controlled by the Father’s lineage. The east was still open with King Sirhe posed as Dugual’s ally; and then the north, too, was open to her.

On the table in the center of the war room were miniature men with banners, representing the different kingdoms and the quantity of their men on the field. The Father took a stick in his hand, reached out over the table, and moved a division of Ardiniasin men to the border of Dugual. He studied his move and thought this would be the line to hold King Amerstall’s men while he swept high and across King Sihre’s lands in a pincer move, flanking the men of Dugual. King Amerstall would expect it and would be ready, so the element of surprise would not be on the Father’s side. An opponent who is aware and ready is a formidable foe and, when in a defensive posture, could prove difficult to remove. Speed and confusion would remedy the lost advantage of surprise: coming at Dugual’s men at blinding speed, hitting the outermost edge, and cutting off the tail.

Fin, in his red cloak with his hood down, beamed at the excitement on the board. He stared at the kingdoms and the inevitability of war to come. With a stick in his hand, he moved two divisions of Dugual’s men to the southern border and then took another division and moved them to the eastern border to form an L shape around Dugual’s land. He touched the tip of his finger to his chin, looking on, scanning the table for other possibilities. Then he moved another division of King Sihre’s army to the southern border as a counter.

“It gives them hope, inspires their dreams, keeps them believing in something when there is nothing, and dulls their minds so they are easier to persuade,” Fin said.

“You are a fine product,” the Father said. “The people’s minds are easily captured regardless; they forget what happened just yesterday and go about their daily routines, trying to survive. Survival is key—give them enough to keep them distracted, give them enough so they don’t starve, but don’t give them hope. Apply the right amount of pressure to keep them from falling into discontentment.”

“Aren’t they still sheep?” Fin asked.

“You catch on quick. They are, but they are yours, not some god’s high above in the clouds or deep down in the ground, some god that makes fire, spreads the rains, or brings birth. If they are sheep, well, they go with the shepherd. I am no shepherd, and what I want are lemmings.” He chuckled.

“A man who will do what you want, when you want it,” Fin said.

“Exactly, and therein lies power. The ability to will so many to a cause, to obtain unfettered devotion so that they will do anything you ask—that is what you want. Sheep don’t die for their shepherd; the shepherd dies for them. Lemmings die for no other reason but to follow the others.”

The Father studied Dugual and its perfect position on the board, centered just before the flats, and the open plains where the main road went west to the Free City. Dugual held the key to the realm—all the coin that passed through her hands from the surrounding kingdoms to the Free City—all were investments into robust new technologies. Power came in different forms: military strength, political prowess, and abundance of coin, but the mightiest was the control of knowledge, of invention.

“The minds must be persuaded, and some minds are not easily taken. There is still much risk you must consider—for example, King Amerstall. He follows no gods, and he takes no prayer or meditation. He’s sharp, confident, and has a mind for strategy. You cannot dull his mind, and that is why you plan to attack the city,” Fin said.

The Father shook his head; his look was one of disappointment. “And there is one mind I aim to dull down.” He gave a tight thin smile.

“Who is it? May I ask?” Fin said.

The Father’s eyes darted across the table, and then he brought his gaze up to his son, his advisor. “Oh, come now. You’ve taken the amusement out of it already; try and imagine who it might be. In all the realms, whose mind would I want to capture?”

“I would think Queen Lilith would be a fine target, her being close to King Amerstall. With her mind dull, and with some prodding of making an alliance, she might become one of our advocates without even knowing it,” Fin said.

“She’s strong-minded, strong-willed, and devoted to her husband. Even with a dull mind, she would be of no real use to us,” the Father said. “Who else? Come now. I’m gaining the advantage against your men here.” He pointed with his stick.

“It’s someone in Dugual, that is a given; and it would be someone close to King Amerstall. Queen Lilith is out, so there is Princess Dia, Prince Sid, or perhaps Leader Gull. Yes, those would be likely candidates,” Fin said.

“Yes, those are good choices, but which one? Be a challenge for me; think—the signs are there,” the Father said.

“There must be reason, as you said. What sort of hope lies with these three?” Fin ran his hands together. “I think Princess Dia has hopes to become queen one day, maybe to rule over Dugual herself. And if that is true, she’d want to maintain her father’s affection. Prince Sid’s desire might even be greater, as he is second in line, though some may look on him as being first, but Dugual does not always follow traditional protocol. As for Leader Gull, his hopes, I believe, are met. There is nothing else for the man to hope for. He has all he needs, and he has no ability to move up in his position; perhaps he could be made a lord of sorts, but he strikes me as one who prefers his position, which gives him status and conviction. I will make you another challenge and then make my decision.”

“My lines are about to cut you in half and squeeze the life out of your men,” the Father said, sneering.

On the board, the Father’s division had outflanked Dugual’s men and were crushing them. The images were on top of each other, fighting, taking out the other, coming together and forcing the line backward.

“My challenge is this—of the three, which one of them seems most likely to have the greatest hope?”

“Go on; you have the name, I know. Tell me,” the Father said.

“Prince Sid,” Fin said.

“Yes, Prince Sid,” the Father said.

“But what gain will you have? He is second in line, unless Princess Dia chooses to give up her succession and becomes queen of another land,” Fin said.

“Think of sheep. When the mind is easily controlled, you have sheep; they follow because they know no better. If they understood they were to go to slaughter one day, would they continue to follow?” the Father said.

“People are strange—they are not willing to lift themselves out of their situations, because they see no reason to do so. They place all their hope in another,” Fin said.

The Father’s face lit up briefly. “People want the adventure without the risk. Prince Sid is no different. Over time, we’ll have him where we want him, but I’m running out of time. I am going to try and accelerate the process of dulling his mind.” It was the battle he needed to wage; it had to be now, not later, when his bones were all that were left and he was deep in the ground. “His father could sit on that throne for another thirty years. The crown may pass sooner, and not to Sid but to Dia, if King Amerstall allows one of his children to rule while he’s still in his prime. She could be persuaded to go elsewhere. It would only make sense to remove her from the equation, allowing Prince Sid to be next in line. But what does it gain me if he cannot rule for another fifteen, twenty, or thirty years? I’ll lose either way,” the Father said solemnly.

“This is why you cannot attack Dugual now. You aren’t ready,” Fin said.

The Father turned dark, and his composure stiffened. His red eyes bored through his son like hot metal through flesh, searing it as it penetrated.

Two gold orbs, tiny replicas of the Great Eyes, hovered over the battlefield. The Father pushed a button, and a beam of light shot out onto the orbs. He blinded them, keeping his activities hidden, concealing his next move, which would be treason against the entire realm. His finger pressed another button, and smoglike mist rose up around Dugual’s men, enveloping them. The Father moved his final division of men to the southern border of Dugual and replaced one of Dugual’s defending divisions with his own. He broke his division in two, leaving half to protect its rear while the other rounded to the west of Dugual to meet the oncoming division of Dugual’s men, approaching from the main road. He moved another division from Clammer to the southern border of Dugual and fired several miniature grenades into Dugual’s interior walls. The plumes of smoke rose up and out, hovering just inside the walls.

Fin split his remaining men into two separate groups, one retreating back to the castle and the other forming a thin barrier around the castle’s walls. This proved to be of no use. The Father’s men were beating Dugual’s men, who were outnumbered, and the toxins unleashed into the air were taking their toll on Amerstall’s men.