12 Miles Below

The great thing about machines is that they can process through data stupidly fast. All I had to do was ask Journey to send Wrath a full data package of my prior actions down here, redact a few things like the miteseeker, Aztu, the Icon - and Wrath knew all about the Odin and the deadland walls over there without a single second spent to explain any of it.

As for Keith Superior? If they catch wind of that, they can keep thinking I’m just a crazy human that likes to talk to myself. I already have an engram of a dead human they’re aware of, an engram of myself or just myself talking to me, wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

“Birds?” She still asked. “These are the allies you find here?”

“Don’t judge them until you’ve been shot by them a few hundred times first.” I defended, “They might be small, but they do know their bombs. And fortifications. And guns. And politics apparently, but I managed to sidestep that one thank the gods. Plus they have wings, I thought you’d like them more for that.”

“You find the strangest allies down here, human.” She tutted. “Is this your full plan?”

“No.” And I was honest about that, so I knew Wrath could hear me. “But I do need to know - can I tell you the plan or is the information going to leak over?”

The answer turned out to be complicated. No, the other Feathers were likely too worried about Relinquished being there in the audience to meddle with anything, but one member couldn’t be trusted with just about anything so that was a coin flip. A bit of wielded hinting told me it was more likely To’Avalis was playing it extra safe with Relinquished right there to sniff out anything, but there was still that little chance he hated me enough to still make the attempt.

I told Wrath the parts of my plan that were safe to say. She ran the numbers, told me it was unlikely to work, and yet I told her to keep going and assume it would. Because in the end, the plan involved a bit of meta-gaming, and so I needed to go about it a little more carefully. Things that if I said out loud, would break the plan.

Dealing with Feathers and Machines higher up the food chain meant narrative and storylines were actual considerations to put into gear, in the same way I would employ anvil and hammer attacks, flanking, ambush, supply line discussions, and so forth.

“I did not know you humans had personal flight abilities based on my kind.” Septimus remarked, watching as Wrath flew off. “You do not lack surprises.”

“She’s not human.” I told him. “She’s a machine, and it get real complicated from that point downwards. I can tell you more about that later, right now I need you and your forces to prepare to mobalize.”

The bird general gave me a pointed look that I’d come to recognize from the Odin as ‘what the fuck human?’

“The rest of the machines are back, and I intend to deal with them in one battle. I think if we do it right, we might be able to eliminate the machine threat for good down here.”

He was skeptical of it all, until I supplied him with the information. And the full plan. And then I ran into an issue. Mostly common sense on his end warring with the absolute insanity that was Relinquished and higher tier Feathers.

“Human. Do you know who the Víkingr are?”

“I know there’s three of you, you’re all great schemers, and you personally made the entire line of defense here. The Deadlanders really respect you for it.”

The bird did some kind of movement, which I took to be the human equivalent of saying I was right about everything, and I should be rewarded in the finest silks and jewels.

I was a little distraught when the finest silks and jewels were not brought over to me, and instead Septiums tried to reason with me about my schemes. “The Víkingr is not a title we are voted on, not one the council grants us, nor is it one most Odin will ever get a chance to attempt earning. Three families have inherited the title each time, without fail, for the past few centuries. I was born in a clutch of seven others, and we spent every day of our life in competition with each other until only one of us proved to be the greatest strategic mind in the field of combat. War game after war game. I wasn’t simply trained for the role of Víkingr - I was born for it. Strategy is what we do. Which is why I cannot understand your logic. This To’Naviris is the leader of machines in this biome, he would be a poor leader if he did not see through this scheme.”

“That’s the thing.” I said, “He is. Feathers aren’t leaders for leadership qualities.”

“A ruler may lead without skill, but harsh times and millitary requirements will strip any found wanting down to their bone.”

I take it that was likely a shorter and more eloquent epitaph in the Odin language, but in ancient human, it was rather long. “Machines don’t follow the same rules you’d think they should. I can count on my hands the number of Feathers that actually employ strategy in their plans, and that number is two. Two Feathers. The rest all move according to very strict rules, and those rules are nothing conventional. You have to trust me. Say and do exactly as I tell you, and we’ll make it through this.”

The bird gave me a very deep look, but eventually he agreed after a few concessions and backup plans. Just in case the insane human was indeed insane, and an adult had to step in to do some actual battlefield planning.

Perfectly reasonable to me. I was only the main ideas guy, Septimus can handle all the details of leading an actual army.

He sent out his Odin to assist in setting up the field ahead, while I burned through the better part of a full power cell running around digging holes just deep enough for what I needed. Wrath returned sometime after I’d completed my initial setup, bringing with her plenty of power cells pilfered from the solo machines hiding out in the strata.

And with that, I had all the pieces ready to go. Only thing left to do was force things into the right position. That meant walking outside the safe walls behind me, out into the field. Wrath was on my right side, and Septimus took a small perch on the left.

Wrath had been better at her job then expected. It had been hours now and the enemy Feather still hadn’t shown up. “He is slow to move, as he has never left the organ instrument.” Wrath said. “Anywhere I hunted his subordinates and planted the suggestion we were running in that direction, he investigated himself.”

“You were that effective at defeating all his scouts?” Septimus asked, getting it translated through Journey’s armor.

“There were no scouts employed.” Wrath said. “To’Naviris likely does not consider that necessary.”

The bird turned his beak to me, and I gave him a mild shrug. “Starting to believe me now?”

“He may have been using alternative methods of scouting. It is impossible to consider an army of that scale and strength failing the most basic steps.”

“If he had, he would not have visited each location in person.” Wrath said. “Although, it is always possible he is doing this as a show of force and confidence.”

Septimus and Wrath continued discussing overall strategy for a while before the Odin scouts showed up. It turns out the bird general and Wrath actually had a lot in common: Mostly how to lead military armies and how those tactics changed compared to human, machine and Odin based soldiers. Flying around and requiring a lot less but more regular food supplies changed a ton in simple logistics. Wrath had entire books and just about every human essay on the topic, along with personal experience. Septimus had just about the same amount of knowledge but from the other end of the mirror.

All they were missing was some actual games of some kind and we might even have fun out here. And then the scouts Septimus had planned returned to alert that the machine army had been spotted on approach.

“He will go around us.” Septimus warned. “I have made the best attempts to protect our flank, however I will remind you both that this plan is illogical. We should be using proxy or ranged means of negotiating if we aim to discuss anything. Staying outside the fortifications makes little sense to me.”

I’d specifically asked him to focus our direct attention forward ahead of the walls, and generally just do a light job everywhere else. He had, of course, offered more sensible tiered defenses around the outpost’s weak points, multiple layers of scouts and information relay systems, along with a host of other items I didn’t even know were a thing but Wrath clearly knew the definitions of and approved.

He claimed the enemy wasn’t Bob, who could only come from one direction, we would need to treat this like an actual siege.

I wasn’t surprised Septimus decided the human was insane and he should prepare contingencies himself, so I didn’t knock him down for trying to play things smart. Rather, I did tell him if things went to shit, he should give a mass evacuation order and the next thing Wrath and I would do would be to go for an escape out of the strata.

My heart goes out to Drakonis, but I had a feeling he’d find a way out of this one alive. That was kind of what Deathless did after all. If I could beat To’Naviris, I’d go after To’Orda next and wrangle Drakonis out. The plan to handle To’Orda would be a lot more civilized than this orchestra obsessed asshole.

“Trust me. He’ll come.” And he won’t bother with any flanking.

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I couldn’t say that second part out loud without it being heard by Wrath however, and if she heard it, it would act like a jinx, because now there was narrative reason to subvert the expectation.

Septimus knew that, I’d already briefed him on everything. So he knew what I meant even if Wrath didn’t quite understand the full concept.

I knew my plan would work the moment I spotted To’Naviris. Because he’d arrived exactly as I’d expected him to. Not from the side of the wall, nor behind us, but streaming out from Bob’s domain across the deadlands. And he had to have angled his entire army in order to specifically come from this direction.

At the very center front of his formation, personally playing the giant organ as it moved on his wave, was the Feather himself. Trees of rotting Bob were cut into pieces as his entire orchestra and minions streamed through and began a full march across the deadlands, directly on approach to the three figures standing heroically before the walls.

Septimus stared, mostly just shocked an opponent with this many resources and power would decide to intentionally pick the most suboptimal approach known to birdkind. “I am in awe of the stupidity presented. How did they wipe your kind out?”

“Luck mostly.” I shrugged, “And by the time my ancestors knew what had happened, the war was already over.Relinquished was actually under threat back then when she was new to the whole war and hadn’t consolidated her power yet. If she didn’t exterminate us the right way, we could potentially fight back and squash her. She’s now so fully entrenched and invincible for centuries on centuries, actually making moves would be more a backhanded insult at her own power.”

I was well aware of who listened in through Wrath. And I was seeding the terms out.

“Power that grows fat, grows dull and flightless.” Septimus said and I could tell that was another idiom of some kind. “Very well, I will continue on assumption the basic tenets of warfare are warped. Should we begin the attack?”

“No.” I held a hand out to halt anything. “I did tell you to trust me about this, right? That he’s come from that direction in all directions should be proof I’m onto something.”

To’Naviris streamed forward with all his army, climbing over the ashen lands, looking very much like what I’d have thought an ocean would look washing over the beach. The numbers seemed almost endless.

Almost. But there was an end, and as the machine forces moved, I could see the back of the wave fully exit from Bob’s domain. There were millions of small crabs in there, but that number wasn’t close to the billions. “Hold fire, he will come to a stop right at the edge of the explosives. That’s where he’ll make his speeches from.”

The instant the little wave was in range of the explosives, they halted their progress. One solid line of soldiers, all piling over one another, not a single one ever stepping anywhere in the effective blast radius of the explosives.

“The music is ending.” Wrath said, pointing one blade forward. “He will speak soon, and then the battle will begin.”

The Feather did exactly that, ending the gothic song with a flourish of keystrokes, and one long tone. He held that position for a good ten seconds before finally lifting his head up, standing from his bench.

“IT SEEMS A BANQUET HAS BEEN PREPARED FOR ME.” To’Naviris said, turning to face his audience. Mostly stunned Odin, one frowning Feather, and one human clapping away enthusiastically. "How thoughtful of you to arrange such a splendid welcome!" He swept his arms wide, the machines beneath him rippled like waves. "Though I must confess, your choice of venue leaves something to be desired. These walls, these fortifications… why I hadn’t even seen they’d been built into my domain." His head tilted at that unnatural angle, eyes spinning independently, which was exactly as creepy as it sounded. "They speak of such... DOUBT in our coming communion! But fear not, for I am a GENEROUS shepherd. I shall accept this offering, despite its..." He paused to bite at a fingernail, "...imperfections."

“What is he saying?” Septimus asked. “I do not recognize that as ancient human.”

“It’s not.” Cathida answered over the speaker, “He doesn’t care enough about your species to speak your language. Don’t worry, I’ll have Journey keep you in the loop. But, believe me, don’t see how it’ll be worth listening to. He’ll attack us all the same.”

I let Journey handle that, while I took a step forward from my companions and started the actual war. “What, upset the venue isn’t dramatic enough for you?” I called out. “I even got an army of my own to hold you off, a fortress in the scene, and everyone’s ready to die fighting to the end. How spoiled can you get for choice? When’s the last time Deathless ever brought out all the stops like this when battling you? If you wanted something better, you should have given me more time to prepare or at least let me get the rest of my party here.”

“Is this dialogue a part of your plan as well?” Wrath asked, “Antagonizing a Feather does not increase your chance of victory.”

With an armored hand, I waved her off, “I think if you run the numbers, you might get an answer you’re not super happy with.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion at my perfectly innocent and entirely accurate assessment of Feathers, then frowned in general. Likely because she ran the numbers just now.

"ANTAGONIZING me?" To'Naviris laughed, pressing one hand to his chest while his other hand gestured at the walls dramatically. Went to show when there wasn’t any other sound out here to drown things out, a Feather’s hearing really could pick up chatter from a wide range. "My dear sister, can you not see? I could just WEEP at the sight I’ve been delivered. Your pet deathless truly UNDERSTANDS the proper way of things!" His eyes spun wildly as he turned to me, the wave of machines lifting him higher. "An army! Fortifications! A proper STAGE for our grand performance! Though..." He bit down on another nail, voice dropping and somehow could still be heard echoing even over here, "I do find myself wondering what other preparations you've made for our little… sermon. You wouldn’t happen to be scheming something?”

“Me? Scheming? Why I never.” One hand was raised up, holding my chest. “How dare you sir.”

To'Naviris clapped his hands together like an excited child, mechanical crabs skittering under him, all equally clapping for the performance. Or pinching the air. "Such indignation! Such delivery! Oh, I shall savor this moment." His head twisted at that unnatural angle again, one hand dramatically titled as if he were nursing a fever. While looking upwards into the heavens. Then he froze in that pose, and one eye turned to stare at me. "Though I must point out, dear lamb, that lying is a sin. When the time comes for your... confession..." His voice dropped back into that carrying whisper, "I shall ensure your suffering is appropriate."

“How about you come over here and say that again to my face. Say, within five feet right here.” I tapped the ground right in front of me.

That was all I needed to get the hangerball match rolling in my direction.

"Oh, but I SHALL! ONWARDS!" The mechanical wave surged forward, carrying To'Naviris and his organ closer - they rolled like a wave again and then instantly froze again a few dozen feet into the movement. And I mean actually froze, as if time had stopped.

"Oh my.” The enemy said, shocked, one eye still locked onto me, while the second one unlocked to look down at the ground. “What is this? What indeed is this?” The swarm moved, and only moved where he was, dangling him over the land until he was basically horizontal to it. And then it lowered him down further at an angle until his head was inches away from the dirt. His hand reached out, and speared into the ground. A moment later, the wave dragged him back up and away, as he pulled up a rough sphere like object out of the ashes, small enough he could hold it in one hand. He looked it over with a critical eye, bringing it basically close enough his eye looked li-- no, it was actually touching his eye.

Like he was licking the Odin explosive mine with his eyeball. Moving his head to get to looking at different parts of the thing instead of just moving the actual thing itself. “How adorable. How truly adorable, I love this. Did you think your little offerings buried in the earth would escape MY notice? That I, a shepherd of the DIVINE, would not see the wolves' traps laid before my feet?"

As he said divine, he turned and flung his arms out and accidentally tossed it behind him in the same motion. Letting it soar behind and hit some part further deeper into his swarm where it exploded right into their face. A small hole was formed of dead machines there, and was immediately covered over.

I seriously doubt that was an accidental toss, and I think I had his number fully pegged by now. Time for the next part of the plan. My helmet turned to look over at Wrath. She looked back at me. Then I looked over to Septimus who did the bird equivalent of a sigh. “I did warn you the machines would easily catch your plan, human.”

A for acting. I delivered my own lines with calculated ease. “I thought you told me you could bury them in ways they wouldn’t notice.”

Which was technically true. Because I’d told the bird to repeat those same lines back to me.

I coughed in my gauntlet, “Hang on, I can fix this.” Then turned to To’Naviris and upped my volume. “As you can see To’Naviris, we’ve mined the entire entrance. You’ll never make it here in one piece. Those explosives are beyond your ability to survive.”

Wrath gave an exhale, now actually realizing the plan. But she didn’t dare utter it out loud, because she knew that would mess it all up.

And that plan began with laughing. Maniacal evil laughing, coming right from my primary target. He threw his head back into it, giving the laugh the most unhinged quality possible, the sound echoing across the deadlands. "Do you truly believe your paltry fireworks could halt my divine light? I command legions beyond counting, an OCEAN of faithful, a tapestry of DOOM." He spread his arms wide, the mechanical swarm surged forward ahead. "Perhaps a demonstration of POWER is in order! FORWARD my children! BRING ME HIS HEAD."

Wrath drew her blades with the traditional Tenisent flourish, and I followed suit, holding my ground as the battle began in earnest.

The swarm did exactly what he ordered, rolling over the ground, while their commander turned back to his organ, sitting on the bench to resume his playing. The entire thing groaned as it was once more picked up and scuttled forward.

Then the explosions started happening. All the ones the Odin had helped dig into the ground by the hundreds. Each time they exploded, a few dozen mechanical crabs were taken out of commission, and replaced by a few hundred more.

I was going to beat To’Naviris with the same blade that cut To’Aacar all this time prior.

To'Aacar was second generation, and what had ended up crippling him the most was pride. I hadn't known at the time just how vulnerable that weakness was—I'd just stumbled onto it really. I'd aimed a knightbreaker right at his face; he knew it could be dangerous, yet he just stood there, demanding I try. Only so he could slap away my attempt. If anything different had happened, he'd have beaten me up exactly as planned. By sheer luck when making the knightbreakers, I'd just reused grenade launchers instead of making something custom. If I'd brought out a weapon he hadn't seen before, he would have handled it far differently.

Why? Because Feather mathematics.

The sum total of that Feather’s knowledge had been that this weapon was a grenade launcher and would throw grenades. All grenades he knew about were explosives and easily handled. And so he had just made the assumption that he could easily survive the event. It never went through his mind that there could be something else.

So that’s exactly what I did with To’Naviris: If the threat was below what he calculated he could survive, then he’d walk right into it.

Because that’s what a villain does. The greatest power move he could do is walk through my clearly set up trap and emerge without a scratch.

Rather, he almost had no other option but to do that, especially since I just told him he couldn’t possibly do it. Once he knew he could, he had to do it. In the same way a fish would eat food off a hook without a second thought.

Septimus didn’t see it that way, and that’s because he had been born and raised to win. To’Naviris wasn’t trying to win, else he’d have attacked me without ever alerting me to his presence. Avalis would have been the kind of enemy Septimus expected from a trained and deadly general.

But no, the Feather had brought an entire organ with him for a reason.

So he drew his entire swarm over the deadlands, explosions rocketting out of the ground and taking small chunks of his massive swarm. One even detonated under him as he passed over, and all that came out of the smoke was the Feather, still playing his organ without a hint of damage besides a few licks of fire quickly guttering as it failed to burn through even his hair.

It looked like he was unkillable. Unbeatable. His swarm passed the halfway mark, only seconds away from colliding against the three of us. Septimus took to the air, flying back behind his walls, while Wrath and I remained in position, waiting for To’Naviris to get into range.

That’s when the power cells deep within the centerfield exploded. Long after the majority of the swarm had crawled right over them, meaning the full radius of that explosive power was put to full, and efficient, use.

And boy did that piss him off something good.