Book 4 - Chapter 75 - Assassination (1/2)

Skye Polaris had taken Roc and several of their best soldiers to hunt down Abaddon and Autumn. They’d been successful in beating the two mighty beings back, but they couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t return and attack the expeditionary force during its retreat.

Both had the capabilities to destroy an entire ship on their own. If they were allowed to attack as they pleased, they would use whittle away at Skye’s forces when no one was paying attention. They were also sure to gather more enemies to help them, so it was imperative they were dealt with now before they became too much of a threat.

Yet for the time being, the war was over.

They’d lost hundreds, perhaps a thousand warships in the assault. Fallowmoor still stood. Skye’s eyes were a mess of conflicting emotion, as the War-God’s typical rage was being undermined by exhaustion and confusion.

He felt himself succumbing to age, growing weaker. In his prime he could hold the front lines for three days and three nights without the need for rest. Today their battle hadn’t lasted three hours and he could feel the effects of fatigue creeping in. With the addition of old wounds that would flare up from time to time, it was a bitter lesson that he needed to accept. He was old.

Men weren’t Gods. They withered, grew old, and died. It was their fate.

Both sides had suffered from this violent exchange, and neither could walk away saying they were the victor. The wasteland forces might have lost more ships and soldiers, but to Skye not winning was the same as losing.

It would be one or two months before the expedition force was back in fighting shape.

The expeditionary force’s failure would soon make its way back to Skycloud. Painful consequences will befall the Polaris family. Skye knew this, so the pressure to do something about it was growing heavier. He was patriarch of their family, after all, and the responsibility to guide them to back to prosperity fell on his shoulders!

Skycloud’s eighty year old Commander in Chief sighed defeatedly. I’m not enough… but perhaps that’s alright.

Dawn and her appointed fianc, Cloudhawk had tremendous potential. With time and appropriate cultivation they could be great leaders for the family. Through the, the Polaris legacy will reach into the future.

As for Skye himself? Once this war with the wastelands was over he would find a suitable time to retire.

“Commander!” Roc hurried toward his to deliver a report. “A scout ship ahead has made a distress call. They found a wounded man on the route, and by his description it sounds like Mr. Ink.”

Did that mean Dawn and the others had returned?

They were still within the swirling, unnatural dust storm that surrounded Fallowmoor. They had to be wary of an ambush. What if this was just a ruse to lure Skye into a trap? He wasn’t going to wildly charge forward without knowing more.

Skye delivered his orders. “Continue the search. I’ll go and see for myself.”

Roc nodded. “As you say.”

Skye dashed off quickly toward the indicated location. He arrived quickly without encountering anyone.

When he got there he spotted the dark figure, enveloped in black clothing. His face was covered in a mask, revealing only his inscrutable eyes. His clothing was torn in places and was wet with blood. It looked as though he’d taken a serious beating.

Mr. Ink sighed when he saw his master.

“Didn’t I tell you to protect Dawn and Cloudhawk?” Skye said in lieu of greeting. “What are you doing here by yourself?!”

After twenty years the relationship between Mr. Ink and Skye was less master and subordinate, and more like that of friends. Skye knew what sort of power Mr. Ink was capable of, and if he were so badly wounded it didn’t portend well for Cloudhawk and his granddaughter.

“Don’t worry, General, I wasn’t wounded in Fallowmoor. I stumbled into some combat after fleeing and was injured. I got separated from Cloudhawk and Mistress Dawn in the city, but I’m sure they’re fine.”

Mr. Ink stopped and doubled over in a coughing fit. Copious amounts of blood leaked from his mouth.

Skye hurried to his side. “Tell me what happened in Fallowmoor.”

“The Crimson One and Wyrmsole are slain. Fallowmoor is in chaos.”

Was this true? Then they’ve succeeded!

Skye felt his heavy heart suddenly freed from burden.

Now that this rabble had lost their leader, he could expect them to turn on one another. Cloudhawk and Dawn had done an incredible thing, single-handedly ripping victory from the jaws of defeat!

The Crimson One and Wyrmsole had been the two heads of the snake, the core of their Conclave of Judgment. With them gone, the expeditionary force’s actions here in the Northern Barrens were justified. At least it wasn’t a total loss.

“We also learned very important information.”

“Speak!”

“We suspect Hell’s Army is operating under orders from Arcturus Cloude.”

“What did you say?” Skye’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Do you have any proof?”

An accusation like this was no trivial thing. Skycloud has already labeled Hell’s Army as a rebel terrorist organization. If it were discovered that they were following orders from the Governor’s mansion, then Arcturus would be implicated in all of the terrible things they’d committed since defecting to the wastelands.

Like everything that had happened on the Blisterpeaks…

“Arcturus was using the Crimson One. After Sterling spent years cultivating friendships and building the Wasteland Alliance, Arcturus ordered Hell’s Army to infiltrate the organization. Now that the Crimson One is dead, command of their forces fall to the Giants. Arcturus’ goal is to take control of the wastelands through this proxy.”