The Plains of Neroth: a vast expanse devoid of trees that was the remainder of the Great Plains, once heavily populated by humans. That was before the Great Burn. The Neroth had been the site of many of URNA’s stockpiled nuclear weapons, and therefore the target of many of the retaliatory weapons that were launched automatically when the early warning systems were activated. The nuclear devastation, followed by the harsh fallout worked tenaciously to scour any human remains from the great plain.
It was only within the last two hundred years that life finally pushed back the black places of death to begin reclaiming the Neroth. First came the grasses and the weeds, followed by small bushes and shrubs. They were followed, in turn, by herbivores of all kinds. The small ones first, burrowing deep into the ground for protection, then the larger ones.
Last to return to the Neroth had been the predators. And they were yet scarce upon the land, allowing the plant eaters almost unlimited freedom. It was to this place that first the refugees of the Imperium had gathered, marking the place where the alliance would assemble, throwing up places of fortification in preparation for the devastation they knew would surely come.
It was upon this maelstrom of confusion that van Joss found himself looking some three weeks after leaving the Golden Kingdom, a heavy sleet lashing to the ground all around them.
“Well, I see Kanid, Tigris and Pantor down there,” Longspear observed quietly as she crouched down beside the lean operative. She didn’t really expect an answer to her statement. Van Joss had become even more taciturn after they had left L’nad, not speaking for days on end as he dwelt upon whatever horrors filled his mind’s eye.
“Mostly civilians, by the looks of it,” she continued after a slight pause. “Their respective militaries must have been virtually destroyed by the Primiad.”
“Or they’re hidden,” Kelly pointed out, kneeling on van Joss’s other side. The big elf glanced back at Kata and Salina, who stood shivering as they waited for the three to descend from the slight hilltop they had climbed to get a better vantage point.
“Just as our two princesses hide themselves as adventurers to prevent their capture.” Kelly grimaced. “We can only hope that the Primiad are somewhat less inclined to wipe out civilian populations than they are military forces.”
“No chance of that,” van Joss suddenly spoke, startling the both of them. “If they were less inclined, we wouldn’t have well over 200,000 civilian refugees down there.”
Abruptly the lean operative stood, his face stony.
“Now we must go down there and organize those civilians into some sort of defensive force. Or they will surely be slaughtered as badly as their militaries were. Come. We go.”
As the small company approached the mass of disorganized and ramshackle dwellings that formed the makeshift city on the edge of the massive encampment, several dark forms lurched away from the closest dwelling to approach them, weapons raised.
“Halt!” a big Fisted snarled in the Tigris tongue. “Who are you and what do you want here??” The big male gave his spear a shake in their direction for emphasis, the others hanging back behind him, looking uncertain as they peered at van Joss and his companions.
Van Joss gave a slight sign with his hand to stop and wait. He then stepped forward, drawing down his hood. As soon as his human features were clearly visible, the big Tigris took a startled step back.
“A human?? Here?” He was clearly surprised. Then, just as quickly, he leaned forward, his eyes intent.
“Are you the one they call van Joss?”
Van Joss let a slight smile touch his lips as they were quickly led through the close-set tents by their anxious guide, a Tigris male by the name of Grif. It seemed that every second face they passed by, regardless of dress, was that of a grim featured Tigris warrior, his or her clan colors displayed prominently on a sleeve. So Kelly had been right. It made sense; of all the Fisted that the Elves knew, they understood the Tigris the best.
It was also interesting that the sentries would know to look for a human named van Joss. Either Gar or Heg had survived the elven assault on Jekan Grim and had alerted the rest, or the Black Princes themselves had managed to meet and agree to join the alliance. But what amused him most was that he was passing through the midst of a Fisted host, head bare and revealed as human, and no one lifted a finger towards him. Or towards his companions, also bare headed, following close behind.
‘How the world has changed in a few short months,’ he pondered as they rounded yet another cluster of tents, these marked with the red and blue of the Copper Cliff Clan. ‘Only last summer they would have gladly slit my throat instead of look at me! Now they see us as the only salvation from the Primiad Horde which threatens their very existence.’
Finally, after what seemed like hours in and amongst the low tents, the ground between churned to muck by countless feet, Grif slowed to stand in front of a low, black fabric tent. As the sleet continued to pelt down onto their heads, he bent almost double to enter the tent’s low entrance. It was only a moment’s wait before he returned.
“Come,” he said curtly, waving all of them inside. Van Joss obliged with a nod of his head, taking a quick lungful of relatively clean air before he bent low to go inside.
Almost immediately the acrid smoke from a dung fire lashed at his eyes, forcing tears to well up in self-protection. Glad of his foresight, van Joss blinked the tears from his eyes.
And found himself looking at no less than the entire conclave of the Black Princes, the combined leadership of the Black Clans of the Tigris. It took him only a moment to recognize Heg. And just as long for the Black Prince to recognize him.
“Van Joss.” Heg acknowledged the human with a gesture, waving him closer. “You have arrived in time to find the alliance in chaos.” Then, in a lower voice: “And you have my thanks for pulling the elves off of us. Jekan Grim would have fallen, if you had not acted.” He glanced over at a grim looking Kelly before grimacing.
“Now it seems odd that our mortal enemies will be fighting side by side with us against the Primiad. Both of them!” A smile abruptly blossomed on the big Tigris’ face. “What we do for the sake of survival, eh, van Joss?”
Clapping a big hand on the human’s shoulder with enough force to almost force van Joss to his knees, Heg turned to face the other Black Princes, each looking deathly grim to the man.
“Brothers,” the master of Jekan Grim began, “here is van Joss, the human responsible for warning us of the Primiad threat. And for bringing this alliance together.” The big Tigris paused for effect.
“And now we must thrust yet another responsibility upon a being that, only a year ago, we would have slain without a second thought.”
“Let me guess,” van Joss began in perfect Tigris, “you need somebody to organize this rabble into some sort of defensive force.”
There was a soft round of murmuring from the assembled Black Princes, as the human seemed to read their very minds. Then one spoke.
“You have obviously observed the chaos that surrounds the refugee camp on your way in,” he rasped, his voice harsh and uncompromising. Van Joss nodded.
“I did, indeed. And came to the same conclusion as the lords of the Black Clans have: defenses need to be erected. Direction needs to be given.”
“We do need fortifications and organization,” Heg agreed, his expression dark as he shook his head in frustration. “And so we would build them, van Joss, if we could get one Fisted race to agree with another.”
“What we lack is a singular leader to unify us all,” another Black Prince spoke up, scratching his ruff thoughtfully. Several sets of green eyes swung around to focus immediately on van Joss.
Who just as quickly shook his head.
“That burden, good friends, I will gladly yield to another,” he said, holding up both hands in swift protest. “It will not bode well for the alliance if a human takes command, regardless of our current need and situation. Nor will the elves accept any kind of major leadership, considering the state of war they were engaged in when we approached the princes with the alliance. No, it will be a war council, selected from the ranks of the surviving Fisted militaries.” He looked over at Heg, who nodded in silent agreement, applauding the human’s diplomacy and wisdom with a smile.
“That is the only way. I will set up our small encampment somewhere central, where all parties can reach us. Send out your messengers to the other leaders and have them meet there in one hour. There we will convene the first war council. And hopefully decide on the best way to defend ourselves!”
That hope, unfortunately, was much too optimistic, as van Joss and his colleagues were to discover a little over an hour later.
“No, no, NO!” one of only four surviving Directors of the Protectorate snarled, standing abruptly to stare hard up at one of the Tigris Black Princes.
“Hit and run tactics will fail in these conditions! We must build walls, fortifications if we are to survive!”
“Foolish Pantor!” the Tigris barked back, towering over the smaller being, his face twisted in anger. “Do you see stone and mortar about?? Or shall we fashion bricks out of the muck to build your forts?”
“Director Pahn has a point,” Kata spoke up quickly. She represented the largest group of refugees that had made it to the Neroth, the Kanid. Kelly stood by her as support. She leaned forward to tap the map van Joss had made on a tanned hide with a charcoal stick, jabbing her finger down hard for emphasis.
“Only a plan of defense will satisfactorily protect the greatest number of civilians! Remember, lords, we are not defending a military installation.”
“Pah!” the Tigris snorted, making a derisive gesture towards the map. “Keep your plans, Kanid. They didn’t help your legions survive the Primiad assault, did they?”
“But they did delay the enemy force sufficiently for most of you to withdraw in force from the battlefield.” General Thompson of the elves interjected. She was using van Joss as a translator, the lean operative easily keeping up with the various languages that were being used in the low tent. Out of all the alliance forces, the elves had by far erected the most organized and defended camp, just north of the main refugee encampment.
To this point they had remained pretty much isolated from the others, concentrating on their own defenses. A quick scout by Kelly had yielded that Thompson had committed virtually her entire command. An impressive vote of confidence in the alliance, so far the greatest of any alliance members.
And when Thompson had been informed that van Joss had finally arrived, with Kelly, Longspear, Kata and Salina, she simply nodded.
“Now we will get somewhere!” she had commented before taking up the detailed maps and plans that she and her staff had been working on while they waited for the rest of the alliance to gather. Seeing that the others now focused their attention on the big elven commander, Thompson pressed on, quickly pulling out her maps. Unrolling them, the elven general continued to speak.
“We have an opportunity here, to both bolster our surviving military forces and to construct places of defense that will not only slow the Primiad advance, but buy us more time to prepare for their final onslaught.” A thick finger quickly pointed out several marked spots on her map. “My engineers have examined the terrain surrounding the refugee encampment and we have determined that these marked locations are the best for constructing defensive fortifications.”
Both Kata and Director Pahn leaned forward with interest, the two Fisted races heavily utilizing fortifications in their own defensive arrangements. But the Tigris Black Prince simply snorted, crossing his thick arms in a gesture of negation.
“More talk of building defenses and preparation,” he rasped tightly, his bright green eyes stabbing around the small circle, “when we should be talking about how we are going to fight this menace! Already refugees are pouring into the camp with stories of great monsters that the Primiad drive before their armies to act as shock troops, shattering fortifications and trampling even the most hardened troops. Those same stories speak of Wormwood, the fanatical leader of the Primiad and his powers of the mind, which he uses to strike fear into the hearts of those the Primiad face.”
The Black Prince paused to look directly at van Joss.
“And there are stories of wizards amongst their ranks, with power to move earth and sky to help the Primiad in their battles. All of this and still the humans of Gideon cower behind their walls of stone, sending only this spy and his comrade out to face them. Where are your people, van Joss? You have gathered this great alliance together and still they do not show themselves. Are they not willing to be a part of the alliance?”
“They will come when they are needed,” van Joss replied, his voice soft yet strangely intense. “It is no secret that the humans of Gideon are reviled for their ancestors’ unleashing of the Great Burn, as well as the remembered Sins of Blood against the Fisted. Their presence among the Fisted refugees would only stir up tensions, not allowing the alliance warriors to focus on the moment of battle.”
Abruptly it was van Joss’s turn to lean forward, his own eyes burning with almost unnatural determination.
“But I bear witness to you of this: when the moment of battle comes upon us, the humans will be here, ready to give their lives and their blood to save yours. It is that simple.” He leaned back to quickly glance over at Heg before returning his gaze to the rest of the encircled leaders.
“However, Prince Jek is right. We need to speak of how we are going to fight these Primiad living myths that are advancing on our position. Since I refuse to allow humans to lead the alliance, I call upon you, the Directors, the Black Princes and Princess Kata to somehow come to an agreement. Both on how to fight, and how to use the Elves and humans most effectively. Remember, if you will, that hopefully the Ryon and the Ursa will shortly join us. Both are strong peoples, with much to give to the alliance.”
“If they appear.” Jek rasped. Abruptly he made a chopping gesture with his hand. “Right! Enough bickering. Come, general of the Elves. Tell us of your fortifications and how we must build them!”