Chapter Four.

Authors Note: I apologize for chapter three, it ended up being uninspired, shitty filler. I'm going to take a queue from a terrible band with their album title, "All Killer, No Filler," from here on out. As always, enjoy and give me feedback!


After crossing the bloodied bridge, Caliph Nereef ordered his army to set up camp. They were a day's march from Shreel, and the sun was setting. He fancied himself in a perfect position. He dispatched his finest scouts. Since no one had been near Shreel in months, he needed information. He held a caucus with his generals in the command tent; they reported nothing unusual or interesting. Confident in themselves, Nereef's army slept well.

Dawn greeted the encamped army with a kind smile. The warm sunlight roused the soldiers and because of it, they prayed; the men were extremely devout. The chants of morning prayer rang out from the camp, flowing over the rolling waves of grain. They uttered their oaths and augmented the chants with masterful poses, designed to improve their spiritual power's connection to their body. Eventually the soldiers emerged from their tents, spiritually satisfied, but with filled ravenous hunger from the night's fast. The smoke from a hundred fires wafted, like a prayer, towards the heavens. Satiated in all ways, every man donned his armor, steeled his courage and collected his every nerve. Ranks formed. Orders were shouted. The massed army sighed as one and so began the slow march to Shreel.

Caliph Nereef lead his army. If there was to be action, he would lead the charge. The road to Shreel was lightly cobbled dirt hemmed in by tall grass. His horse marched the drum's cadence, but his mind raced. There had been no word from the scouts, this disturbed him. His eyes flicked from right to left scanning the terrain at various distances. He expected an ambush at every moment. So he proceeded for hours, perched to the brink of madness by his paranoia.

Miles from Shreel, Nereef spotted a wall. It was wooden and tall. He had never seen this wall before and it showed no signs of being fresh. The grass ran up to the timber, as if the poles had been inserted by Bahmut himself. The Caliph ordered his army halted and his finest guard summoned. They organized a protective phalanx, creeping towards this new wall. Thoughts wandered; questions without answers. As the group advanced they could see a gate across the road. A peculiar smell graced their nostrils. The steady drumming of heavy armor clad feet was drowned out by the pulse thundering in each man's ears.

The gate was an enormous, and ornate, construction. There were two dark-red doors that created enough space for an army to pass with ease. The timbers of the wall looked to be entire trees, stripped of branches and lashed together. Each side of the gate had a pair of large pikes, set at upward angles, pointing in to the oncoming army.

The sergeant-at-arms, Lauguin, gasped. His mouth contorted, stifling a scream. Hanging from the four pikes were four bodies, each bearing the crest and tabard of Bahmut. The point of the poles erupted from the mouths of the scouts ensuring their eternal silence. His eyes twitched with rage. The act of barbarism was unforgivable. He whispered fresh prayers. Despite his efforts, hate streamed in to his heart and coursed his veins.

The phalanx approached the doors. They were greeted only by a faint scent of iron and sulfur. No gate-keeper offered passage, nor warning. Nereef broke from his line. He carefully inspected the doors. There were no locks or any iron to speak of. The dark-red hue was the same as the bridge they had crossed days before. Fury boiled his innards. He reached out to shove the door open.

The moment the armored gauntlet touched the door, Caliph Nereef was rocked with an incredible pain. It jumped from the door through his fingers, across his palm and down his arm until his entire body was consumed with an unspeakable misery. He stood, mute, his body was incapable of loosing a scream. The pain intensified. His eyes fought the boundaries of his skull, the searing pain covered the totality of his large frame. Mercifully his muscles began to spasm. The seizure started in his feet. The small muscles in his feet contracted, curling his toes. The strong calves pulled his weight upward. When the massive structures in his legs jerked violently, his arm was torn from the door. His sizable bulk was flung to the dirt and cobbles. The muscles, free of any control, contracted and released at random, flinging, flailing and floundering.

The soldiers watched. They were paralyzed with fear. Each knew the almost-legendary constitution of their leader. They could naught but stare at the writhing mass of man and metal at the foot of the gates. Breathless seconds later the body halted its spasmodic motion. Rapid, shallow breathing filled the ears of the on-lookers; with each passing second the breathing normalized. The body gave two deep, heavy breaths.

The soldiers watched. They were paralyzed with awe. Each knew the now-legendary constitution of their leader. They could naught but stare at the once-writhing mass of man and metal as he first knelt, then stood. Defiance echoed his every move as he shook his powerful limbs. The caliph cleared his throat, took a step back from the door and readied his shield. Like a bull, he flung his body in to the blood-soaked planks. Splinters exploded from the man-sized hole in the gate door. There was a great creaking sound, wood rubbing wood, and the massive doors collapsed in on themselves. A torrent of blood poured down across the now open gate. The blood flooded out towards the soldier's line before the ground absorbed it. The men groaned in disgust as the scent of sulfur stung their noses. Where the blood flowed, the ground was charred and black.

Brasque watched the gate fall. He laughed hysterically.

Nereef never saw the doors collapse. He stared at his new surroundings in confusion. When he crashed the gate, he entered an alien landscape. A front of gnarled, twisted trees met him with boredom. Their stretching branches intertwined, mingling with their neighbors and forming an impenetrable canopy. His greaves trod on a blackened mud, not the expected road. The thick tree line extended as far as he could see in both directions. Ripe with disgust, the caliph returned to his guard. Nereef and Lauguin discussed strategy as they marched back to the main army.

To cut through the forest would take months, but there were no other options. The main encampment was slowly moved to the wall. Crews of ax men began the tedium of hewing a pathway through the black forest. The timber was stout and the work was painfully slow. The crews worked day and night, alternating as they tired out.

Nereef sat in his tent. He was clad in his white prayer robe. He was seated comfortably, his knees and arms both crossed. He controlled his breathing, his body began to feel weightless. His mind recited the prayers to Bahmut for guidance and patience. He felt his spirit tugging away from his corporeal form. A great racket broke his concentration. He gradually returned to normal. The sound became clearer as he opened his eyes, suddenly cognizant of his surroundings. Cheers of joy filled his ears.

“Caliph! Caliph! Sir! We've broken the tree line!” Lauguin's deep voice burst forth with glee. “The trees formed a second wall, sir. Some sort of natural fortification, it would seem.” His joy left as he mechanically relayed the report.

“Excellent work sergeant! Gather an expedition squad, we've work to do!” The caliph was most excited with the swift progress. He hurried to don his armor and meet the troops. They marched down the path, black mud sticking to them. The trees became less tangled as they drove deeper. The canopy remained intact, but the trunks were far less dense. Abruptly the forest ended. There were thick black clouds above blocking out the sun, much as the trees had done earlier. Every man needed a torch to see his feet. Nereef carefully wandered about, exploring his surroundings. They appeared to be standing at the top of a cliff, or a very steep hill. In the distance he thought he could make out a light, but he couldn't be sure.

His musings on the light were stopped when he heard the rumblings and the screaming behind him. The caliph and his guard ran towards camp, the sound of battle increasing with every closer step. They emerged in to the dwindling sunlight confronted with a massive slaughter. Spiders the size of oxen were assaulting the camp. Instinctively the caliph's men formed up and marched in to destroy the creatures.

The arachnids were vicious. Several men were cocooned, wriggling in futile escape efforts. The massive spiders were destroying the unorganized army. Bodies were every where, some clad in armor, others had been interrupted while praying. Tents had been kicked in to the fire, creating barriers. The fire warded the beasts away. The smoke around the camp was thick and choking.

Brasque watched the chaos. He laughed hysterically.

Nereef and his platoon slowly crept up and flanked the horrid beasts. The caliph lead a precise strike, hacking down the hell-spawned beasts as they marched across the camp. The phalanx marched from fire to fire. As they marched and killed, they gained men and organized themselves. Through the heat of combat the regiments united. The mindless beasts stood no chance against the organized soldiers. Darkness crept across the plains, and still the battle raged on. Thousands of bodies littered the ground. On the verge of exhaustion, Nereef and Lauguin pushed their troops to concentrate, and to finish the beasts off. When the last spider fell, the great fires had been reduced to smoldering ashes, and the sun peeked at the horizon.