Andrei returned the smile, and nodded. “That is generous of you, Kommander, and it will help us a great deal.” One warjack was the equal of twenty strong men, and they would speed up the rebuilding process considerably.
“Never be afraid to tell the me the truth, no matter how unpleasant it may be.” Harkevich said. “If Riversmet is to be rebuilt, I must know the situation of those rebuilding it.”
Harkevich made arrangements with a ’jack handler among the workers and introduced his ’jacks, including the Destroyer named Black Ivan that had served him for many years. Ivan did not like being separated from Harkevich and could be a bit surly when left to the direction of others.
It vented a sharp whistle of steam, as it often did when agitated, then turned to follow the handler.
Izak Harkevich walked down the wide thoroughfare of central Riversmet, listening to the din of construction.
When he had arrived it had been little more than a burnt ruin. Although there was still much to be done, seeing the town take shape was remarkably satisfying.
Riversmet was on the eastern edge of what was presently Khadoran-occupied Llaelese territory. During the invasion of Llael, its destruction had been arranged to demonstrate the cost of resistance. The city was razed, its buildings completely destroyed, and thousands of its inhabitants slaughtered. The barbarity of Riversmet’s ultimate destruction had accomplished one important goal: the
in Leryn had yielded without siege.
Since the beginning of the occupation, Riversmet had become an increasingly sore point with the conquered Llaelese. Harkevich had seen how the memory of its destruction fueled the Resistance and made it more difficult for the Llaelese to accept Khadoran rule. It was for this reason that Great Prince Vladimir Tzepesci had initiated a plan to invest in rebuilding the city, hoping to appease the displaced by providing homes and livelihoods to replace those shattered by war. The High Kommand agreed on the condition that proper defensive measures including a fortress be built there. Contributions from the Tzepesci treasury was insufficient to the task, so a number of kayazy were enticed to pour vast wealth into the city, treating this as an investment.
It would fall to Harkevich to protect the workers so that Riversmet could join the Khadoran Empire as a thriving city. It had once been a vibrant trade hub with a vital connection to Rhulic lands to the north and might be again.
It also had undeniable strategic importance, as it stood at the far edge of Khadoran lands in an area contested by the Protectorate of Menoth. The High Kommand hoped a
Northern Crusade ensconced to the east along the Oldwick
military commander to have the opportunity to see ruins become a city rather than the reverse, and Harkevich felt pride at being instrumental in this.
this plan to fruition. The construction of the hilltop keep at the town’s heart proceeded at a reasonable pace, but only because of direct pressure applied by Harkevich. Other
As Harkevich approached the refurbished manor house where Lord Vasko Durga had taken up residence, one answer to that question suggested itself. Clearly the man considered it his right to live comfortably even if no one else in town had that luxury. Lord Durga was the kayazy who had been appointed as administrator overseeing the Riversmet construction efforts. Like most kayazy Harkevich had known, he was ruthless, pragmatic, and unafraid to use whatever means necessary to further his economic goals. It had become quite apparent Lord Durga was cutting costs to line his own pockets. Some graft was expected from Durga’s type, and since Harkevich technically had no authority over civilian kayazy, the kommander had turned a blind eye to it.
He was starting to think the problem was more serious than
Harkevich entered the manor house and proceeded into
furniture and other accoutrements from Lord Durga’s Korsk estate. He found Durga seated behind a stout desk of exotic, polished wood, scribbling in a ledger. The kayazy looked up as Harkevich entered, his lips curling in a smile that never reached his eyes.
brutally ugly, with small, deep-set eyes peering out above a squashed nose and thin, cruel lips. His face and hairless head bore the scars of a pox he had suffered in his youth, giving his skin the look of uncured leather. Flanking the desk stood two large men, each wearing heavy gray cloaks that did little to hide the telltale bulge of the wide-bladed swords they carried at their hips.
“Kommander Harkevich,” Vasko said and gestured to one of the delicate chairs in front of his desk. Neither chair had any hope of accommodating Harkevich’s bulky warcaster armor. “How fares Riversmet’s military today?”
“Poorly,” Harkevich said, ignoring the chairs, “I have learned of some startling deficiencies.”
“Oh?” Vasko said. He set down his pen and sat back in his chair expectantly.
“I’ve spoken with one of our master builders, and his assessment of the working conditions and morale of the laborers is rather grim,” Harkevich said.
“Who is this man?” Vasko asked, his face crinkling in a frown.
Harkevich knew better than to answer. Andrei Ladislav had
to give his name to Vasko Durga and his two thugs. “It doesn’t matter,”
he said. “But I trust his judgment.”
“And what does this learned master builder say, Kommander? I am, of course, always concerned with the plight of those who work for me.”
Harkevich smiled, trying not to make it a sneer. “Doubtless,” he said. “But I am quite displeased with how slowly the construction of the city’s outer walls and the buildings on the interior is proceeding. I believe this is largely due to poor labor conditions and second-rate tools.”
Vasko said, “We cannot do everything at once. I have already bent over backward to accommodate the demands of the Khadoran military for your fortress.”
“I would not normally meddle in civilian affairs, Lord Durga—”
“Then why are you?” Vasko interjected, his face pinched into a scowl. “I am doing what I can, Kommander. I have been involved in this sort of work for many years and know what I am about. If more men are needed, perhaps you can
city from the south to work.”
“Famished elders and children?” Harkevich asked. “Hardly a labor force to speed reconstruction. I am only asking you to consider what I’ve said. It is my duty to ensure defenses here are in place as soon as possible. If we can rebuild housing and get Riversmet back on its feet, more people will move here. That will give you your larger labor force, which will help all projects. But the workers need adequate food, supplies, and living conditions—none of which is currently being provided.”
“As I said, Kommander,” Vasko said peevishly, “I’m doing what I can. I will look into the matter.”
“That is all I ask, Lord Durga,” Harkevich said, pushing irritation away. He had felt similar frustration every time he had met with the appointed kayazy, who was shielded by the authority given him by the posadnik in charge of this region. Harkevich was not comfortable meddling in politics,
but the memory of the master builder’s forthrightness prompted him to try one more time. “I hope things improve so I need not report delays repairing the walls to Kommandant Ivdanovich. An inspection would be . . . unpleasant for both of us.” Accusing him of graft directly would require proof, but the kayazy’s eyes narrowed at the veiled threat. They both knew the kommandant in charge of the occupation army had little tolerance for corruption.
Before Vasko could reply the ground shook and the dull thud of an explosion shuddered through the building. Both
toward the city’s main gates. A plume of smoke was visible in the distance, rising above the walls and staining the clear morning sky a greasy black.
He stormed from the room without another word, his mind already preparing for battle. He sent a summons to Black Ivan and his other ’jacks, telling them to put aside the stones they carried.
the ragged walls of Riversmet was screaming. A force in the colors of the Protectorate of Menoth waited three hundred yards from the walls amid the smoking ruins of the shantytown that had sprung up around the city. The clusters of shacks and hovels had housed many of the refugees from central Llael displaced by Cryxian raids to the south. The large force of Protectorate warjacks and soldiers had marched though the shantytown with steel
into the ruined city.
Not content to simply destroy their homes, the Protectorate warcaster, huge and imposing in his massive, ornate armor, had captured a number of the refugees and set them before his army on iron wracks. Their screams as they were bent and broken rose above even the hungry crackling of the
Even at this distance, Harkevich recognized High Executioner Servath Reznik standing well in front of his army, leaning on a great broadsword. The high executioner, Khadoran by birth, was one of the most feared warcasters in the Protectorate. His relentless pursuit of “heretics and heathens” had earned Reznik a reputation for cruelty. He was also a highly skilled warrior and military commander.
Harkevich glanced behind him as he advanced across the open ground. His small garrison was arrayed in front of Riversmet’s gates: a full kompany of Winter Guard supported
squad of Man-O-War bombardiers. His warjacks—three Destroyers, including Black Ivan—waited in front of the troops. A team of Widowmakers stood atop intact portions
It was obvious Reznik sought parley, standing alone.
Looking at the wracked men and women Reznik had used to make an opening statement, Harkevich considered
Reznik commanded a force at least double the size of Harkevich’s. The high executioner was supported by at least four phalanxes of Exemplar knights and two more phalanxes of the heavily armored Exemplar bastions. Behind the heavy infantry a full interdiction of Temple Flameguard waited in tight formation, their upright spears creating a forest
stood dozens of Deliverers, ready to unleash the fury of their skyhammers. Reznik also had half a dozen light warjacks, a trio of heavy Reckoners, and an unfamiliar ’jack resembling
parley was in the best interest of those within the city.
“High Executioner Reznik,” Harkevich called out as he drew within a dozen paces. He set his gigantic, voltaic battle mace Minister on one armored shoulder, balancing the huge weapon with practiced ease. “You are trespassing on Khadoran lands.”
“Territories change hands.” Reznik’s voice echoed from within his masked helmet. The high executioner’s Khadoran was perfect, although years living in the Protectorate had
“What do you want, Reznik?” Harkevich said, ignoring the barb. “You have harmed those under my protection.”
“I administer Menoth’s justice.” Reznik replied, his
great sword. “But the suffering of these few heathens is not the reason I am here.” He reached down and removed a sealed metal scroll tube from his belt and brandished it at Harkevich. “I have a list of names requiring just attention:
I read them, Kommander?”
“Save your breath,” Harkevich growled. “I won’t turn anyone over to you.”
“Unfortunate,” Reznik said, his voice hollow and emotionless. “If you were to deliver these heretics, I would leave without further incident. If you refuse, many within the city will die for your obduracy.”
Harkevich took Minister off his shoulder and let its head fall to the ground with a thump. “Why not settle this now, High Executioner, between the two of us?” he said.
Reznik inclined his head toward Harkevich. “Kommander, I will indulge you if you wish, but your name is not on my list. I give you four hours to decide. Surrender the heretics to me or I will send everyone here to Urcaen.”
Harkevich did not answer. He could not. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to order an attack. Instead, he began walking back to Riversmet’s gates. The screams of those suffering on wracks followed, their pitiful cries and pleas for mercy piercing the red haze of his fury.
Fifty yards away from the city, Harkevich looked up at the Widowmaker marksmen atop the wall. He raised one
off the stone walls. The screaming behind him came to a sudden and merciful end.
“What names?” Vasko Durga asked, frowning as he walked beside Harkevich. The streets were empty, most of the refugees and other noncombatants having moved to the center of Riversmet and the fortress under construction.
“It doesn’t matter,” Harkevich said.
Harkevich snorted. “I will not submit to fanatics.”
“Be reasonable,” Vasko protested. “A few deaths to buy
“I will not give anyone under my protection to Reznik,”
Harkevich insisted. “Not even the boy who empties your piss pot.”
“It is madness to make such a decision without all the facts!”
Vasko suddenly fumed. “How will you protect everyone in the city if Reznik attacks?”
Harkevich had no reply. He hated the thought that Vasko
more time to prepare defenses and ultimately save lives.
Reznik’s force was much larger than his own, and the high executioner did not need to worry about collateral damage or protecting thousands of refugees and workers.
Moral choices aside, Harkevich was loath to submit to Reznik’s demands for the simple fact that showing weakness would invite an even larger Protectorate force to test them. He had no doubt Reznik was here to collect the individuals on his list, but the high executioner’s presence was also a convenient way to inspect Riversmet’s condition. Harkevich already viewed the city not as the ruins it appeared to be but as the prosperous town its reconstruction would create.
Harkevich smiled down at Vasko. “Let him come, and I will show him why I am called the Iron Wolf.”
Fire! Harkevich sent his will through the link he shared with Black Ivan and felt the sudden shock and recoil of the Destroyer’s bombard discharging. He watched the arcing shell land in the middle of a group of Temple Flameguard
shells landed short of the small Protectorate force storming a breach in the town wall, one struck the crumbling edge of a ruined building and toppled it. The resulting cascade of rubble was enough to halt the Exemplars’ charge and crush two of them beneath stone and wood.
Luckily, Reznik had chosen to come through in a spot that was uninhabited and had as yet seen no new construction.
It was a rubble-choked wasteland of collapsed buildings and weedy ruins, a place where Harkevich felt comfortable
the Protectorate advance costly and slow. Harkevich met his enemies with a token force; he had sent the majority of his troops to the center of the city where the noncombatants
pounding the Protectorate force with artillery from the
the wall. He knew it was only a probing attack, but he wanted to send Reznik a clear message: trespass on what belongs to Khador, and pay in blood.
The remaining four Exemplar bastions had recovered from Harkevich’s earlier attack and resumed their charge supported by what was left of the three units of Temple
Protectorate heavy infantry. Many of the Flameguard were felled by the volley, but the bastions’ thick armor repelled
advance to within a short distance of Harkevich’s forces.
Harkevich urged one of his Destroyers to charge. It crashed into the remaining Flameguard at full tilt, its executioner’s
bone. The Protectorate forces were brave, but their weapons
of the Khadoran heavy ’jack.
The four bastions did not halt their charge, leaving the Flameguard to their fate. Their goal was clear: they were charging directly at the greatest threat, Harkevich
Within the heart of Riversmet, the foundations and walls of a fortress had risen amid the rubble. The area was the
of buildings that would eventually house the Khadoran garrison. It was here Harkevich had sent the majority of the noncombatants in the city, as the sturdy stone buildings
however, many of the outer buildings had been reduced to burning ruin by the assault of deliverer rockets and the condemner cannons of Reckoner warjacks. He could hear the shouts and cries of those taking refuge within.
The majority of his Winter Guard, along with the Man-O-War bombardiers and the mortar crews, had taken position in front of the great iron gates of the fortress, doing their best to keep Reznik’s warjacks and heavy infantry at bay.
Harkevich’s troops were pouring a steady stream of artillery
from closing to melee range. The ranks of deliverers that stood behind the main Protectorate force were slamming their rockets into the fortress walls and gates in an unceasing barrage, however, taking a toll on Harkevich’s men.
Khadoran fortress, leaving some hundred yards of open ground between the two forces. Harkevich spied Reznik standing at the fore of his small army, heedless of the mortar shells bursting around him. The high executioner
Khadoran ranks and shedding enough heat that Harkevich could feel it on the stiff breeze blowing through the city.
Just as Harkevich and his warjacks emerged from one of the side streets on the plaza’s eastern side, Reznik raised his right
infantry moved back, out of range of the Khadoran artillery.
Thankful for the respite, the Khadoran line fell silent.
Harkevich could see their fear and exhaustion.
In the momentary lull, Harkevich and his Destroyers moved to join the Khadoran troops massed in front of the fortress gates. Before Harkevich had made it halfway across, however, the booming voice of Servath Reznik rang out. The Protectorate warcaster held something in his right
Harkevich’s heart sank.
himself. He could not tell whether his eagerness fed Black Ivan or the reverse, but it was infectious.
Harkevich urged Black Ivan into a charge and followed. The big Destroyer did not wield the usual executioner’s axe;
twelve-inch claw of sharpened steel. It was with this “bear claw” that Ivan tore into the bastions, slicing through armor
but the fourth skirted the warjack to make for Harkevich.
Despite his bulk, Harkevich moved adroitly over rubble and corpses toward the charging bastion. The bastion’s halberd had considerable reach, far more than even Harkevich’s long-hafted battle mace. The warcaster spun away from the great steel blade as the Protectorate soldier lunged forward, obviously expecting a slower, clumsier opponent.
Harkevich’s spin carried him past the bastion’s guard and allowed him to bring Minister around in a two-handed blow. Bolstered by Harkevich’s focused will and the steam-driven strength of his warcaster armor, the voltaic battle mace struck the bastion’s heavy breastplate like a battering
but still alive, the bastion struggled to regain his feet, but
but still alive, the bastion struggled to regain his feet, but