Nanowrimo Experiment

[edonil]

The explosion snapped Colonel Patrick Carlisle out of his sleep. He sat up in bed, blue eyes wide, and turned to look outside his tent. Seeing the fire coming from the outer perimeter of the base, he grabbed his rifle and ran outside in only his breeches. “Damn this place,” he muttered. “Can’t even get a good night’s sleep anymore!”

The moon was high and full tonight, so he was able to see everything as gunfire was exchanged between the Drasvarian soldiers and the raiders. He sprinted to the edge of the camp, directing soldiers to their posts as he did so, yelling orders as calmly as possible. With sheer force of will, the men and women began to settle into their roles, the panic from the unexpected assault disappearing.

“Where are they?” he asked Sergeant Varick running to the command post of the picket guard.

“I don’t know, sir,” was the distracted reply. The sergeant aimed his rifle, eye pressed to his scope, hunting for targets. The man let out a breath and fired, and Patrick heard the sound of a startled scream from off in the distance.

“First hint we had of the attack was the fireball that struck the outer pickets,” Varick said as he pulled back the breech of his rifle to reload. “I’m gonna guess that we’re looking at that warpriest’s group, he’s been awfully energetic the past few weeks.”

“Anyone seen him?” the colonel asked.

“Nope. I’m betting he’s not here, his white robes would stand out a little bit in the middle of the night, especially with the full moon. Still, one of his disciples is, and I’m keeping an eye out for that bastard,” the sergeant said grimly. “My sister was in the picket line that he exploded, and I owe him a bullet or two for the favor.”

Patrick nodded. “Keep up the fire here, sergeant. I’m going to go see if the mages will let loose some of the hunters tonight, we need to start thinning out the numbers of these bastards if we’re not going to be driven out of here.”

“Yes sir,” Varick said, sighting down his rifle again. It cracked once more, but the sergeant frowned. “Dammit, they’re getting better at ducking behind cover. I hate these militias, they learn far too quickly.”

“Agreed with that,” Patrick said with feeling. They had been in Telios for over a month now, and the fighting was hell. He wondered as he ran, body hunched over to make himself shorter, how the war was going on other fronts. The citizens of Telios had immediately begun digging in once the Drasvarian armies had landed.

Every step of the way in had been met with dozens of raids, hundreds of raiders, and one hell of a resistance. While the Teliosian army was nothing too impressive when it met Drasvar on the field, the militias were fanatical in their attitude. Men, women, even older children, all had joined in the fighting, led by the priests of the Telosian church. While not all of the priests were mages, enough of them were to make Patrick wish he had more control over the ones attached to his regiment. Unfortunately, his mages stood outside of his command because of the quirks of this front, and so far they hadn’t been as useful in raids as he would like.

He arrived at the section of the camp the mages had claimed for his own to find a handful of them outside. At least two of them were doing something useful, he thought to himself, preparing a hunter automaton for combat. The three others were standing there, looking in the direction of the fight with frustrated expressions.

“This is unacceptable, Colonel,” one of the three said, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Then do something about it, Gavin” Patrick snapped. “I need some of you out there on the frontline to help with the defense, we’re seeing what looks like at least one disciple, maybe even a priest, and my soldiers aren’t equipped to find them.”

“We are here to help you against the Telosian army, not some civilian rabble.”

“Then get out of my way so I can find some mages who are actually useful,” Patrick said, glaring at the other man.

“Both of you, calm down. This isn’t helping,” one of the mages working on the hunter said. She came over to them, and looked at Patrick. “The hunter is ready to go. Farril is connected to it, and will guide it. You want us to focus on finding the disciple?”

“Thank you, Sabina. Think you can find him?”

“Possibly. We’ll send it out, and go after secondary targets along the way. I’ll join you at the battle shortly.” She went back to her partner, and Patrick turned to leave.

“Colonel,” Gavin said as the colonel started walking. Patrick paused, waiting for the mage to speak. “We are here for a purpose at the request of the Council, not to serve as your personal shock troops. Keep that in mind. And learn to speak with some respect to your betters, if I’ll teach it to you.”

“If you were actually better than me,” Patrick fired back, “I might bother. In the meantime, I have a job to do. Since you obviously are too much of a coward to care, you are welcome to go back to bed, milord.”

“Lowborn bastard,” the mage snapped. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

Patrick pointed his rifle at the man’s face and snarled, “I earned that right by fighting your wars. If you want my respect, you’ll earn it out there.” He lowered the rifle, spat at Gavin’s feet, then stalked off.

----

Meryn Kell lit the soaking wet fuse to the bottle of alcohol she carried, then sprinted forward in the night to toss it at the Drasvarian invaders. It flew through the night air burning brightly, and exploded as it hit the ground, sending fire everywhere. She could hear the sounds of screaming as her enemies caught fire, and snuck back to the woods where the rest of her group were planning the next assault in the raid.

Disciple Mallory stood in the center of them, giving out instructions as people came back from their assigned tasks. She felt a burst of pride in her heart as she looked over the other members of their flock. Only a handful of them had any military training before the resistance began, but they were veterans now. The weeks had been long, but with the leadership of the church, they had managed to hold the enemy off, keeping them away from the cities. Their flock was one of many, under the overall command of the Warpriest, and everything she had heard was that the enemy was stalling everywhere the citizens of Telios fought back.

“I want everyone to keep safe,” Mallory said. “No one do anything stupid. Right now, they’re off balance. Once they figure out where we are, it’s going to end badly. Alright? Everyone without a weapon, get ready to head back. We’ve done most of our job for tonight. I want volunteers to go get our fighters.”

Meryn raised her hand along with a few others. The disciple nodded and gestured for them to go. She headed out, carefully placing her steps as she ran, and found the first of their gunmen, Daegal. He was reloading when she arrived, and grabbed for his knife when he saw her coming.

“It’s Meryn. Disciple Mallory says it’s time we were done,” she whispered. The man nodded, flinching as gunfire flew by overhead. He finished reloading his rifle, then stood up to follow her. Meryn heard the crack of a rifle and screamed as Daegal’s head exploded, blood and viscera covering her face and shirt. Shrapnel struck her cheek, cutting a thin line through her skin.

She dropped to the ground, arms covering her face, trying to keep herself from falling into hysterics. Her mind scrambled in panic for a few moments, then sanity returned by degrees. She found herself crawling along the ground away from the body, rifle in her hands. As she continued moving, she tried to remember everything she knew about guns, which was precious little.

She froze, and wondered why. Suddenly, she looked up to see a massive cat standing nearby. “Oh God,” Meryn whispered, recognizing the machine from stories told around the fires back in the meeting areas. She hadn’t seen a hunter in person but she knew what they could do. Hands shaking, she brought the rifle up, resting it on the ground in front of her. Deliberately, she closed her eyes and said a prayer under her breath.

She opened her eyes, watching the hunter with a great deal more calm now. More of the lessons on firearms returned, and she picked up the rifle, prepping it to fire quietly. Propping herself on her elbows, she braced the rifle against her shoulder, sighting down it. The hunter had to be looking for Disciple Mallory, and she wouldn’t allow it to find him without at least attempting at stopping it.

Meryn took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The crack of the rifle was deafening, but in spite of where her aim was, the bullet appeared to completely miss the hunter. It growled, head snapping around, and began to stalk towards her, low to the ground. It reminded her grotesquely of a kitten she had kept as a child when it went hunting mice.

She fired again, missing once more. Again. This time there was a spark on the slow moving creature’s shoulder. It ducked low, then leapt toward her, shaking the ground as it landed heavily to her right. She squeaked, dropping the rifle to the ground as she frantically backed up. The panic was too all encompassing this time, and she curled into a ball on the ground as the machine leaned over her.

Meryn wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she opened her eyes to see fire all around. She quickly got to her feet, staring as she watched a man in the white robes of a priest fighting the hunter. The machine had rivers of molten metal pouring down it from lines that seemed to be carved in its side, and it swung frantically at the priest. The man stepped around the attacks, staff spinning in his hands to shove aside the slashing paws.

“In the name of God Almighty, you will not have this woman, Drasvarian hellspawn,” he said, elderly face harsh. The hunter jumped into the air and he shoved his hand up. “Teine!” he yelled. A glow appeared around his hand, and a bar of white hot fire burst from his palm.

The amount of noise the headless machine made as it crumpled to the ground made Meryn jump. She stared at it silently, amazed at how quickly the fight had ended. The fire around her disappeared, and she smiled broadly at the priest. “Thank you, Father Malvyn,” she whispered.

“I am glad I was able to reach you before it had finished its awful work. Come, daughter. It is time to go home,” he said, gently enfolding his arms around her. Trembling, she leaned against him, allowing herself to be guided back to their encampment.

[edonil]

Wintertide stood over the burned corpse of the mage, staring down at the woman, face hard. Abigail had been a member of his crew, one of the first mages to be assigned to the Huntsmen. He had watched her grow from a midshipwoman to a lieutenant, and she’d done everything well. And now? Now she was dead. But why?

He looked at Abner with a frown. “Why would anyone be in here last night?”

“I... I don’t know,” the librarian said, wringing his hands together. “It’s just the records room, after all. I mean, some foreign nation might have a use for some of the stuff in here, but even then, all this information is at least five years out of date. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Foreign nation? Like Drasvar?”

“Well, of course, but why would they want anything in here? It doesn’t help them. And destroying everything else in the room? I’m just counting it lucky that only this room caught fire, the whole building is made of wood.”

Wintertide turned to look at the walls, taking a deep breath to steady himself and keep his temper under control. He studied the pattern of the burns on the wall, looking for something useful in vain. “This is the only room that was damaged?” he asked finally.

“Well, yes. Why, is that significant?”

“Abner, don’t be so dense,” the captain snapped. “A woman is dead in a room that no one should have been in, and this is the only room that’s had any damage? Someone was looking for something in here, we just need to figure out what.”

The librarian shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any idea what could have been in here. I’m rarely in here, and I have more reason than most.”

There was a shuffling noise from the hallway, and Wintertide’s attention shifted to the commotion. A few men in somber outfits stood patiently in the entry, holding a large bag between them. “Excuse me, Captain,” one of them said politely. “We’re here for Abigail’s remains.”

“Of course,” Wintertide said stiffly, making room for them. He watched as they worked, putting the corpse into the bag, and found himself memorizing the scene. Abigail deserved to rest in peace, and he was going to give that to her. He looked around the room one more time, looking for some pattern that he could find. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think of was that it had to be the work of a mage. The flame was too localized, too contained. Which left a lot of people.

“Where to start?” he wondered aloud.

“Why not start with Drasvar?” Abner asked quietly.

“And start a diplomatic crisis on day three of the negotiations? Are you insane?” Wintertide sighed. “If I had some reason to, I might. Do you have any way of knowing if anyone’s had any interest in this room lately?”

“Nothing formal, but I can ask around. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thanks, Abner,” Wintertide said. He put his hands in his jacket pockets, then headed out. He had a letter to write to Abigail’s family.

-----

“Soli! My god, girl, it’s been a long time!” a deep voice said as arms wrapped around her waist. She struggled for a moment, then her eyes went wide as she recognized the voice.

“Marcus!” she said with a laugh, spinning around to wrap her brother in a hug. “You’ve been gone too long! How are you? How’s the traveling been?”

His brown eyes met hers, twinkling. “Oh, not too bad. A bit lonely at times, but there’s all sorts of interesting things out there. And there’s people everywhere looking to share a bit of their story with a traveling bard, so at least I get to hear new things on my trips. Come on, let’s go find somewhere to eat. I know a few good places in town. The food isn’t quite like home, but it’s still good.”

“Lead the way,” she said with a grin. They started walking through the port city, chatting idly. They stopped a few times in the market as Marcus pointed out different merchant’s wares. Soli found herself relaxing for the first time since leaving Drasvar. She had forgotten how much fun it was to be around Marcus.

They arrived at a small restaurant out on the pier, and Marcus held open the door for her, continuing with his story. “You’d be surprised,” he said, “just how many of the priests in Telios are easy to get along with! I know that lots of people think they’re some kind of religious nuts, but, honestly, they’re quite nice. I met this one, a warpriest named Malvyn, who just had a faith that was inspiring. Very gentle and humble man.”

“Really? That’s definitely not what most people talk about when they come back from Telios,” she said.

“Well, think about it. Unless you’re a great storyteller, what’s going to be easier to get people interested in? The gentle old man who talks softly and feeds kittens, or the one spitting hellfire and fury, pronouncing judgment on the unbelievers?”

She started laughing as they sat down. “Put that way, I can see your point.” She looked down the menu engraved into the wood, not recognizing any of the names. “Anything that you’d care to recommend?”

“They have a grilled fish meal that’s quite good. Sea bass, if I remember right. Myself, I’m starting with a bowl of clam chowder,” he said with a grin.

“Sounds like a good place to begin,” she said with a laugh. They placed their order, and her brother leaned back in his chair, resting his arms on the table.

“I must admit, I was surprised to see you here, Soli. And with a captain’s rank at that! Last I heard, you had just gotten your first posting on an airship.”

“That was two years ago,” she said with a laugh. “I was on the Destiny up until it went down.” She frowned and began running her finger around the rim of the glass of water. “I was given this rank soon afterwards. It’s been an interesting time.”

“You were on the Destiny? That’s a story I’d like to hear someday. What I heard from the gossip didn’t really make a whole lot of sense. I wasn’t in Assar or Drasvar at the time, so all my information was handed down the grapevine, and that’s never very reliable.”

“Some other time,” she said, frowning. Soli looked up to see him staring at her with frank concern. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. “It was several months ago.

“So, what about you? What are you doing here in Assar?” she asked, deliberately changing the topic. He grinned at her, as fully aware of her tactic at this age as he was when she had been three.

“Just traveling through, actually. I rotate through places every few months, and it’s been a while since I’ve been into Assar. I was in the capital performing at court when they hired me for the masquerade ball, and any other of the diplomatic events. Considering how much they offered, I get the feeling Assar really is interested in this treaty.” He paused as the food arrived, and laughed. “And this is why this place is one of the best in the city. Good food, pleasant atmosphere, and lots of cooks so the food gets done quickly.”

Brother and sister dug in, the conversation slowing down. When Marcus started using his silverware to act out scenes from an adventure story he had picked up while in the capital, Soli found she couldn’t stop laughing. He finished with a flourish, and there was applause from others in the restaurant.

Marcus bowed, laughing the whole time. He took his seat, setting down the spoon, and grinned at her. “So, who was the young man with you at the ball? It seemed like you were both having a pleasant conversation.”

“Oh no!” she protested. “We are not having this conversation. Not at all.”

“What? I haven’t gotten to tease you about your suitors for two years, it’s only fair I get to do so now!”

“He’s not a suitor, I just met him. Besides, he’s an Assarian captain. I took a shot at him during the war!” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “How did you see us, anyway? You were playing the whole time!”

“Ambassador Thay told me you were there. Once I knew that, well, it wasn’t too hard to find you. You always did like foxes, and I’ve met few women with your shade of hair.” He winked at her. “Call it a lucky guess?”

She snorted, and he started laughing. “Anyway! So, what’s this ‘not a suitor’ like?” he asked.

“Off limits in conversation,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

“Fine!” Marcus threw his hands in the air with a smile.

“What about you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Found yourself a lady love yet? Or several, perhaps?”

“You wound me, dear sister!” Marcus said, miming an arrow hitting his chest. He settled onto his elbows grinning. “No, I’m still a bachelor yet. Met one girl, but she was a little bit off, if you know what I mean. Things definitely weren’t going to be working out, so we both moved on.”

“Too bad,” she smirked. “Would’ve been fun to have a sister to harass you with. Payback and all that.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would have enjoyed that a great deal,” he said, then glanced outside the window. “What time is it?” Marcus pulled a watch out of his pocket, then jerked upright in surprise. “Damn, it’s almost three. I have an appointment in a half hour!”

Soli stood up with him, waiting as he left money on the table. “This was fun, thank you,” she said with a smile. “We’ll have to do it again. Hopefully next time you’re in Drasvar I’ll be there too.”

“We’ll have to see what we can manage, won’t we?” he laughed.

[elril]

Liked this one section a lot. Trying to figure out if Marcus is one of the circle of bad guys or not... Looking forward to Soli doing something awful (and terminal) to Zygmunt.

Side note: I have gathered that this is a very "shades of gray" world and nothing is white/black, cut and dried. I like that Marcus put a "nice, gentle old man" spin on the priest that just melted the hunter; but it is a fine line to walk between making that point and beating it over one's head. I am sensitive to such things, so I am putting it out there.

[edonil]

Side note: I have gathered that this is a very "shades of gray" world and nothing is white/black, cut and dried. I like that Marcus put a "nice, gentle old man" spin on the priest that just melted the hunter; but it is a fine line to walk between making that point and beating it over one's head. I am sensitive to such things, so I am putting it out there.

...eesh. Didn't even think of that when I did it, it was more for comic relief. Ugh, yeah, that's going to be something I'm going to pay more attention to. Think that it should be changed, or just be careful in in the future?

[edonil]

Faulkner limped into the warehouse slowly. Days later, his leg still wouldn’t work properly. According to the former army surgeon who had looked him over once he found the resistance, it probably never would. As nearly as the surgeon had been able to tell, his knee had partially fused during the torture from Isabella. The colonel added it to the list of offenses that he’d be calling her to account for eventually.

He was stopped at the door and a man checked him for weapons. Sloppy, thought Faulkner, as the man skipped checking his forearms. Well, at least it meant his holdout pistol wouldn’t be found. If anything went wrong, he’d have an advantage. He waited as the man checked his two guards, then they walked further in together.

In the center of the warehouse, hidden behind the piles of boxes and crates, sat a table with a single lamp on it. Faulkner grunted as he took a seat at the table, giving the others who sat there an odd look. “Bit melodramatic, isn’t this, gentlemen?” he asked.

“What can I say,” one of them said, spreading his hands. He had a scar running across his face, splitting it diagonally. “I like the atmosphere. I hear you’re looking to get some people out of the country. We might be able to arrange that.”

“Oh?” the colonel asked, glancing back at one of the soldiers behind him. “How about bringing things back into the country?”

“Eh? What are you talking about?”

“Well, I do have some people I’d like to hire you for to get out of here. But, I’m far more interested in hiring you to acquire some things for us and bring them back…without Drasvar noticing,” Faulkner said, adjusting his position to sit more comfortably. “Can you do that?”

The three men on the other side of the table looked at each other uncertainly. “I’m not sure who told you about us, but we’re not interested in getting involved in your little resistance,” the largest of them said.

“Well, who said anything about that? I thought you were here to do business. Of course, if you’re not, I can take my resources and go elsewhere.”

The scarred one laughed, snorting through his nose as he did. “Oh really? What resources would those be? Your nation is dead, Drasvar’s got hold of your treasury. What can you offer us?”

Faulkner pulled a pouch out of his boot and undid the strings that held it closed. He tossed it onto the table, spilling out a handful of gems onto the table. “Drasvar has our treasury, but the resistance still has its sources in the mines,” he said as the smugglers stared, raw avarice on their faces. “Uncut gems. In the right hands, which I’m sure you’ll be able to find, they’re worth a fortune. Consider this a down payment on our first order.”

The third man, who had been silent up until now, picked up one of the gems, a sparkling ruby, and looked at the colonel. “You’ve got my ship,” he said, voice rough. “I’ve no love for Drasvar or what they’ve done to my homeland. What do you need, Colonel Faulkner?”

“You have me at a disadvantage, mister…?”

“Captain, actually. Captain Kuno Eichel.” The smuggler held out his hand, and Faulkner shook it. “If you can supply me with enough gems to make your purchases and cover my expenses, I’ll bring in whatever you need.”

“We’re going to need firearms, explosives, along with a few more normal essentials. Especially food to supply ourselves and give to the city. We’re going to need the people on our side to make this work.” The colonel looked at the other two smugglers. “Well, what about you two?”

The scarred man spat to one side. “Lovely as this all is, I’m not about to risk running weapons back into this country. I’ll take the contract to get people out, but if you want supplies, you’re on your own.”

“Alright,” Faulkner nodded. “We do have some people who need to leave. Ten people, to Telios. I’ll pay ten of those uncut gems a head. Fair enough?”

“So that’s what, a hundred gems? Go one-twenty and we’ll have a deal, colonel.”

“One-ten.”

“Done.”

The colonel looked at the last man, the largest at the table. “And you? Are you going to help us out?”

The man crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back into his chair. “I don’t see why I should. There’s a lot of risk here, and those gems aren’t worth enough money to justify it for me.” He shoved his chair back and stood up. “I’ll go find something with a little less risk for my return, I think.”

“Really? That’s unfortunate,” Faulkner said. The pistol dropped into his hand from its holster. With one smooth motion, he raised it, and fired. The shot was impossibly loud in the quiet warehouse, and the smuggler stared down at his chest as a red stain spread from his heart. Without a word, the corpse tumbled onto the ground.

The room exploded into action. The smugglers and their guards drew weapons, mostly daggers, while the two soldiers stepped forward to protect the colonel. Faulkner smiled, calmly setting the smoking gun on the table. “I do apologize for that, gentlemen. But I didn’t think it worth our lives to let him decide that his ‘less risk’ was to go talk to Drasvar about what we’re doing.”

“Dammit, you crazy bastard,” the scarred man snapped. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the man who’s had everything taken from me by Drasvar, captain,” Faulkner said, slowly getting to his feet. “My country, my reputation, my family. Everything. I have nothing left, not even my honor. But I do have this one chance for revenge. And I won’t let anything get in my way for that. Understood?”

Eichel frowned as he looked at the cooling corpse on the ground. After a while, he nodded looking back at Faulkner. “I understand, colonel. But that?” he said, jerking a thumb to the body. “That’s going to cost you extra. We’ll need to find a new captain for his boat now.”

“That’s fine,” Faulkner said with a grim smile. One of the soldiers handed him another pouch and he tossed it on the table. “I believe that covers everything, correct?”

[edonil]

Zygmunt looked over the notes carefully in his cabin aboard the Wave Dancer. He recognized some of the concepts from his days in the mage academy, but most of it was incomprehensible to him. Something about all of it was just strange. Was he missing a page? Frustrated, he shoved himself away from the desk and began pacing. Very deliberately, he walked wall to wall, pressing his fingers against them each circuit before heading back.

Damn that Assarian mage! After killing her, he knew his time was limited, so he had been forced to rush the job. He probably was missing information, just because of that. Still, he had at least some of it. They’d have to be content with that. He’d burned the rest of the room, after all, so there wasn’t anything left to get the information from.

His head jerked up as pounding struck the door to his room. He spun back to his desk, slamming closed the book he’d hidden the notes in. “Enter,” he called out. The door swung open, and Zygmunt frowned as he saw Ambassador Thay come in.

The mage grunted and returned to his pacing. “What do you want, Rath?”

The ambassador closed the door behind him carefully. “Did you get it?”

“Of course I did,” Zygmunt said, pointing at his desk. “All of the pages I found are in there. I hope the masters can make sense of it, I know I haven’t been able to. It’s almost as if the manuscript is only a part of the whole.”

“You didn’t miss any pages, did you?”

“I don’t think I did, but I was rushed a lot more than I would have liked,” the mage said snidely. “Having an enemy mage walk in on you tends to do that.”

“You should have been more careful. Right now, it’s being kept fairly quiet, but I don’t expect that to last long. You just had to go asking them about the records room, didn’t you? If any of the assistants at the library remember you, I’m going to have to turn you over to them just to maintain this charade.” The ambassador ran his hands through his hair. “Dammit, Zygmunt, you couldn’t have just waited a few more days, could you? We’re supposed to start the war back up only after we confirmed we had what we needed!”

“I know that! What do you want me to do about it now?” Zygmunt stopped his pacing to glare at the other man. “It’s too late for us to follow through on the other plan. I messed it all up, so we’re going to need to make this up as we go now.”

“Any suggestions?”

The mage fumed. “No.” He started walking back and forth again, increasing his speed as his anxiety rose higher. How did they fix this? Would it be possible to fix it? Thay was right, once any of the assistants remembered him, he’d be dragged in for questioning and it wouldn’t be long before he started telling them everything.

His head snapped up as he heard a commotion on deck, and he muttered a curse. “Sounds like they may have figured it out already.” He moved back to the desk, picking up the book and tossing it at the ambassador. “Here, hide this. Odds are I won’t be able to deliver it, so that’s your job now.”

“What are you going to do?”

Zygmunt’s smile was grim as he pulled a short-barrel pistol out of his desk. “Something stupid to keep them from looking at you too closely. You’re going to want to practice some very good lies, Rath. It looks like it’s time for me to pay the piper.” He positioned himself so that he stood over the desk, back to the door.

There was no knocking this time, only the door being smashed open. Zygmunt turned, carefully concealing his pistol under the sleeve of his robe. He glared at the Assarian captain who stepped through. “Captain Wintertide,” he said. “Did no one ever teach you to knock?”

“Zygmunt, you’re coming with me,” the captain said, eyes furious.

“Oh? Why should I?” The Drasvarian mage’s hand trembled as it clung to the pistol tightly. Carefully, quietly, he pulled back the hammer of it.

“We have reason to believe that you were involved in the death of Lieutenant Abigail Mihas, and we’re bringing you in for questioning,” Wintertide said. He turned his head to the side, and thunder exploded in the cabin. Blood burst through the air almost in slow motion, and Zygmunt immediately began to aim again as the Mage-Captain’s headless corpse dropped to the deck.

“For Drasvar!” the mage yelled, pulling the trigger of the second barrel. One of the marines who had been behind the captain fell back, grabbing for his wounded shoulder. Zygmunt could hear the yelling from outside and charged the second Assarian marine, whipping the pistol across the man’s face. The soldier fell back, and Zygmunt stumbled outside, landing on his knees.

He froze as he felt a steel blade touch the back of his neck. He carefully craned his neck to stare into the cold, hard green eyes of Soli Navin, and forced a grin onto his face. “Going to kill me yourself, eh, Wing Captain?”

“Oh, I’d love that. I really would, Zygmunt. But right now, I think Assar has a better claim to your neck.”

He snorted. “How typical of you, Soli. Letting others do your dirty work so you can have a good night’s sleep. It must burn you so, knowing that you failed to get me in time to stop this little disaster.”

“You can try all you want, Zygmunt, but you’re not going to goad me into killing you.” She reached out with a booted foot and tapped it against his chin. “Come on, up with you now. Now you have two murders to answer for. And I’m going to look forward to seeing your execution.”

Not pleased with that last set of lines...in the meantime, though, I'm running away from any potential anger at how I killed Wintertide. Not that I regret doing it. If you really don't like it, blame Fell...my muse stole it from her.

Edit: Found what bugged me and changed it. Why did I write her smiling? Oi. I blame exhaustion. Alright, now it seems to be a bit better...

Edited November 5, 2011 by edonil

[edonil]

“Arias, get out here! Captain Stormhand’s going to rip the place apart!”

“What in hell?” He looked up from his book, then dropped it onto the table in his living room. The captain stood up, running over to his door, sticking his head out into the courtyard. “Dammit, what’s going on?!”

Alexis stood in the middle of the courtyard, lightning arcing off her. “Oh bloody hell! Alexis!” he called out, running towards her. What had set her off? He could see several soldiers trying to get close to grab her, but the lightning was getting in the way.

“Let me through,” he yelled, pushing past the crowd of observers that was gathering. Arm raised to shield his face, he slowed down as he got closer. “Alexis! Alexis, calm down!”

“Why should I, Arias?” she yelled, tears running down her face. A bolt flashed from her hand past him, and he flinched from the heat and the light. “He’s dead, dammit! That bastard from Drasvar killed him! And you want me to calm down?”

“What are you talking about? Who’s dead? I don’t understand,” Arias said, trying to inch closer to her. Another burst of lightning nearby, and he swore, all the hair on his head standing straight up because of the static that surrounded her. “Tell me what happened, Alexis, I don’t know!”

“Matthias is dead,” she snapped, heading for the gate. “And I’m going to send that bastard to hell for it!”

Arias stopped, his mind grinding to a halt. Dead? His old friend was dead? That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. “That can’t be right,” he whispered, staring dully at her. A bolt of electricity hit the ground in front of him, and his world disappeared in a flash.

He woke up a few seconds later as his body limply hit the ground. Gritting his teeth, he levered himself up, then collapsed again as his muscles spasmed. “Damn it all,” he bit out. He could feel liquid running from his ears, and vomited onto the ground. Stubbornly, he got to his feet, wiping the vomit from his face and watched one of the field medics run toward him.

“Sir, hold still!” She grabbed him by the arm, flinching at the bolts still bursting all around them. He stared at her, unable to understand. All he could hear was the ringing, but he could sense the lightning through the trembling of the ground. Arias shook the woman off, trying to get his legs to work right, but stumbled to the ground again.

Alexis continued her steady pace, ignoring the shouting around her. Suddenly, she stumbled is if she’d run into a wall. Arias watched uncertainly as she shook her head, and said something he couldn’t hear. Why couldn’t he hear anything? He looked up to see another one of the mages, Arthur Windborn, standing in her path, dust swirling around him. Alexis threw her arm up, sending a lightning bolt crackling past the man, who flinched away from it.

Windborn said something back, face tight from exertion. The commander took a half step away from the woman, fists clenched. The two mages spoke again, Alexis shaking her head angrily, tears running down her face, then she threw another bolt of lightning at Windborn. Expression frustrated, he threw his hands up and made a pushing motion. Arias tried to stand up again as he watched Alexis fly through the air, slamming into a wall.

“Alexis!” he yelled, starting to run toward her. Immediately he fell to the ground, vomiting again, head spinning painfully. After a few moments, he looked up to see the Mage Captain lying limply on the ground, eyes closed. Arias felt the medic grab his arm again and shook the woman off angrily. “Go help her!” he snapped.

The medic frowned, saying something to a person behind Arias. He turned to see who was there, and felt a stab of pain in his arm. He opened his mouth, then collapsed onto the ground as darkness overwhelmed him.

-----

Zygmunt sat in the dark cell, whistling idly. He was surprised at how calm he felt. After all, he had just murdered an enemy captain under a period of truce in front of dozens of witnesses. He knew that he’d be sacrificed in a heartbeat as an attempt to placate Assar… just as he knew that the whole thing was a sham anyway. Too bad he had managed to mess up the timing of the plan. The negotiations were supposed to implode from unreasonable demands, not a true act of war.

He leaned back against the wall, blindfolded eyes staring up at the ceiling. He would have loved to have been pacing, but they had chained his ankles to the floor. Assar obviously wasn’t used to dealing with mages as prisoners, but he had no reason not to play along at this point. The blindfold was an interesting trick he hadn’t thought about, nor had his mentor, Lady Isabella. What the purpose behind it was, he wasn’t sure.

He stopped whistling as he heard footsteps and the door to his cell creak open. He tilted his head toward the entrance, listening. After a few moments of nothing, he said, “Can I help you? I’d offer you a seat, but that’d be a bit difficult at the moment.” The chains around his wrists clinked together as he attempted to spread them in a welcoming manner.

He heard footsteps again, and flinched away as he felt the blindfold being removed. His eyes watered at the bright light that now filled the cell, and he blinked a few times to clear them. A sardonic smile lit his lips as he saw his guest. “Librarian Abner, what a pleasant surprise.”

“You know, Zygmunt,” the other man said, leaning against the bars of the cell. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned all of this insanity. That, or you’re just one hell of an unlucky bastard.”

“How about we go with a little of both. I’m guessing you want to know if I found the book?”

“Amongst other things, yes.”

Zygmunt chuckled. “You can rest easy, the book was found. Not without a bit of work, though. It was hidden in the covers of the oldest books in that record room. Honestly, it was a clever little scheme that they pulled off.”

Naked avarice was clear on the librarian’s face. “And the contents? What was it?”

“It seemed to be everything we’ve been told, but it wasn’t complete. I’m sure I found every page that was in that room, but I couldn’t make any sense of the details. Still, it’s enough to know that the legends are true.”

Abner clapped his hands together, a broad smile on his face. “That’s excellent! Then all of this will be worth it after all.”

“You had doubts about that?” Zygmunt shook his head. “The master has never led us wrong before.”

“Hmph. Of course I had doubts. The idea that this kind of knowledge ever existed, much less still does, is a bit of a stretch. Still, now that we’re certain that it is real… well, that will certainly change things.” The librarian arched an eyebrow. “Of course, you know that this forces my hand in this situation.”

“I expected nothing less. I know too much to be left alive, after all.” Zygmunt raised his head proudly. “I gladly give my life for this cause.”

“You’re remarkably calm in the face of your own death.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I know just as well as you what the legends are about this information. Death holds no final barrier to us once our master holds all the pieces. ‘Even though I die, I shall rise again’,” Zygmunt quoted.

Abner stared at him uncertainly for a few moments. “You are one hell of a disturbing fanatic, Zygmunt. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Well, I’ll hardly be in a position to regret it, will I?” the mage asked with a slight smile. “And perhaps I am a fanatic. It does seem a little insane, even to me. But at this point, I don’t have anything else to trust in. Did you at least make sure to bribe the guards?”

The librarian snorted and pulled a metal gauntlet out of his robes. “This is supposed to cause more problems, remember? I used electricity to knock them out. People who take bribes are just more people who can talk, and that will lead to more complications.”

“I didn’t think you used lightning.”

“Normally, I don’t,” Abner said, pulling on the gauntlet and flexing his fingers. “I don’t tend to use gauntlets either, but lightning isn’t my specialty. Fire would be aptly fitting, but it’ll be harder to try to pin the blame on Alexis Stormhand if we did that. Even if they prove that she had nothing to do with it, it will finish the damage you’ve done and absolutely ruin the talks of peace.”

“Ah.” Zygmunt slowly stood up, joints stiff. “Is this going to be quick?”

“Unfortunately, no. A woman out for blood with Stormhand’s reputation? This won’t be quick at all.” Sparks began to fly from the gem at the center of the back of the gauntlet, and Abner nodded in satisfaction. He looked at Zygmunt thoughtfully. “Do you want a few moments?”

“I appreciate the offer, Abner, but no.” Zygmunt smiled. “Just get on with it. The sooner it’s over, the better.”

“Of course,” Abner said. He raised the gauntlet, and ignored the screaming that started shortly afterwards.

[Absolution Black]

Wow, I had a lot to catch up on and in the space of those six parts or so, a lot has happened: the plot has thickened, characters have turned one way then another and the pace is starting to crank up!

Everything is flowing nicely along and its good to see you are not afraid to kill off major characters.

Looking forward to the next parts...and when does Black reappear!

[Thechosenone]

Another enjoyable chapter sir. thanks for the good read

[edonil]

Thanks, glad you guys are still enjoying it. I want to do some editing of that last scene when the muse is more cooperative...elril very kindly pointed out a plot hole. I'll call it out when it happens. Have a short (very short) scene up today, didn't have time to finish the second part to it, but this section of it will make sense, so here you go:

General Drake looked up in surprise as he heard the sound of engines in the air. “What the hell?” he muttered, stepping away from the table where a map of Victrix lay. He winced as he looked into the sky, the bright sunlight stabbing into his eyes. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he scanned the air, not seeing anything, but the noise was certainly getting louder. The sound was coming from the east, towards the coastline, but there was nothing out there.

The first explosions came from behind him, and Drake spun, stumbling backwards as the first aeroplane roared overhead from the west. He stared at it dully, unsure of what he was seeing. The plane was unlike anything he had ever seen, with one set of wings and a sleek, rounded fuselage. A different kind of roar ripped out from it as machine gun fire lanced from it towards the ground. He turned his head and watched in horror as the bullets tore lines in the dirt and blood flew through the air.

His bodyguards ran to him, helping him up out of the dirt. “Sir, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, shaking off the soldiers. “Get me a radio, now!” Drake looked up, cursing under his breath as he saw a second plane on an attack run. Where had these things come from? They certainly weren’t Victrixan planes, those had been destroyed during the invasion. Even if they hadn’t been, the design was all wrong! He took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists, forcing down his emotions.

“Calm,” he whispered, eyes closed. “I am… calm.” His eyes opened and he began to clinically study the second plane as it committed itself to its run. He memorized the layout of the wings, the placement of the weapons, the lack of visible landing gear. Of particular interest to him were the colors, a pale bone white with blood red trim. If these were mercenaries, his spies would be able to recognize them based on those colors alone.

A communications specialist ran up with a radio on his back, ducking down as the second plane dropped its bombs and sent fireballs into the air. “Sir! Who do you want to call?” he yelled over the explosion.

“Get me the Ascension,” Drake ordered, dropping to one knee to make himself a smaller target as the machine gun fire started. The bullets landed closer this time, sending dust into the air close enough to make the soldiers huddled together start coughing.

The radio officer pulled his backpack off, adjusting the settings and pressed the headset against his ear. After a few moments, he held the headset up to Drake, who snatched it out of his hand. “Ascension? Get your flyers out here, dammit!”

“Who is this?” the voice on the other end snapped. “We’ve got enough problems out here without some jackass getting on the line making demands!”

“This is General Drake. Who are you, soldier?”

“Sorry, sir! Lieutenant (someone) (someone), sir. My apologies,” the voice said, obviously nervous. “We’ll try to get you some air support right away, sir, but Ascension is currently under attack.”

“What?! Under attack by who?” Drake winced as a third plane flew by, followed by more explosions and gunfire. “Ascension, we need your flyers out here, we’ve got at least three planes out here and they’re doing a lot of damage.”

There was a mutter of sound from the earpiece, then a different voice came on. “General, this is Wing Captain Voigt. Ascension is under attack by at least ten aeroplanes of a design I’ve never seen. At the moment, we haven’t taken too much damage, but I’d rather not risk the ship if I don’t have to.”

“Well, consider this one of those ‘you have to’ moments,” Drake snapped. In the distance, he could hear the deeper, throaty roar of gunfire from the Drasvarian defenders who had finally gotten their weapons armed. “Trust me, Wing Captain, a court-martial will be the least of your worries if this occupation gets wrecked by three damn planes!”

“Right, sir,” Wing Captain said, his voice trembling. “I’ll detail a flight to help your forces immediately. Expect them in five minutes.”

“They better be here, Wing Captain.” Drake threw the headset on the ground as the line cut out. He stood and froze as the radio officer screamed, the roar of the machine gun providing an unusual counterpoint to the shrill sound. The general felt liquid splash onto his face, and reached up to wipe it off his cheek. He glanced down at the warm fluid, and felt his stomach attempt to rebel as he stared at the blood.

He looked up and around, amazed to find himself still standing. Both of his bodyguards were dead, along with the radio officer, the ground around them stained crimson. Shaking his head to clear it, he began to walk away from the bodies, pausing only to grab a rifle from the blood soaked ground.

[edonil]

Another short scene today, continuing off the previous one from another angle...I'll have one more scene in this sequence and then we'll be moving on. Some more character development for Faulkner...

Faulkner watched the attack from a distance, holding a spyglass to his eyes. A sense of grim satisfaction filled him as he watched the mercenary planes systematically destroy the Drasvarian base. He turned to the man who stood next to him and smiled. “Your warriors are quite impressive, Chieftain Gansukh. I must thank you for so speedily considering my offer of employment.”

The tall dark skinned nomad nodded from within his bone colored robe. “It is my pleasure,” he said. “Not often that we get to face as capable a foe as Drasvar. The clan was eager for a fight, and your offer will allow us to earn some coin in return.”

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying the sport,” Faulkner said. “Now that I’ve seen your warriors in combat, I’m quite curious if any of the rest of your kinfolk would be interested in such a fight over the next months.”

“You must have quite the treasure if you expect to hire more than one clan,” the chieftain said, blue eyes curious. The Victrixan only smiled in return, and Gansukh grunted. “It is possible. How many clans do you have use for?”

“How many clans are near Victrix?”

“Twelve. Two other clans travel the skies, three hunt on the seas, the others find their way on the land.”

“Then I have use for twelve,” the colonel said. He held out his hand. “Will you find your kin and join them to my cause?”

Gansukh looked down at the hand, face hard, and drew his knife. “You think me a fool, Victrixan? You seek the death of the Bedere in this land! Why else would you want us all in one place?!”

“Heh.” Faulkner shook his head, letting his hand drop. “I know that my people have done yours many disservices over the years, Chieftain. But I mean you no harm now. Look around! Victrix is bleeding out. We have no leaders, no government. The citizens are only too gladly embracing the Drasvarians.” He spat on the ground, face twisted in rage. “There’s no way to keep this country together now. It’s dead and gone, it just doesn’t know it yet. I don’t seek to restore my home. It cannot be done. No, I want to punish Drasvar. I want to hurt them, to bleed them.

“Your warriors were eager for this fight? I assure you, my men and I hunger for it. There is only one outcome to this war: annihilation. Whatever the cost, we will pay it. What we can’t pay for, we’ll steal. If we can’t steal it, we’ll kill for it. There is nothing left to lose, except our lives, and even those are pitiful things. This war is happening, Gansukh. I wish to do it with the Bedere at my side, for none are as skilled or fight as hard as your kin. But if you won’t fight for me, I will find someone who will. And after Drasvar is beaten, I will remember the Bedere, and how they refused to fight for us. Then I will devote my life to hunting down you and yours.”

The colonel glared at the taller man, eyes filled with murderous flame. “I will not allow for failure. Do you understand me?”

The Bedere returned the glare, then began to laugh. He rammed his knife back into its sheath and grabbed Faulkner’s hand, shaking it heartily. “You have spirit after all, Galjin! You have my warriors and their Falcons. I will talk to the other clans.”

The colonel smiled hesitantly. “Galjin? What does that mean?”

“Of fire,” the other man explained. “You will lead us to the shores of hell, yes? It is fitting for you to have a name showing who you are, in the Bedere way. We will follow you, Galjin.”

“Good. I think we are done here, Gansukh. You’ve shown Drasvar that their victory here isn’t as complete as they think. If you wouldn’t mind withdrawing your warriors, I think it’s time we start planning for the next part of our little war.”

[edonil]

Meryn stood from her morning prayers, knees aching some. Sleep the past few nights had been difficult to come by. She couldn’t help seeing Daegal’s death in her dreams, smelling the blood and gunpowder… she shook her head, concentrating her thoughts on the challenges of the day. After the raid on the Drasvarian base, her flock had been taking a break from the fighting, receiving training and supplies. Tonight would be their first time back in the field, and she had much to prepare for. The woman picked up the rifle she had been given to learn with, and carried it outside.

Learning the weapon had been difficult, and she wasn’t very good with it yet. She had figured out the breathing, though, and managed to hit her target at least half of the time. Her instructor assured her she was doing fine, saying that she would improve the more she practiced.

Meryn smiled as she felt the warm sunlight on her skin, turning her face upwards and closing her eyes. God’s creation was a wonder to her, and she received it everyday with joy, especially since the war’s beginning. After a few moments, she sighed and proceeded to the area where Disciple Mallory was holding audience, meeting with those of the flock who would be involved in the raid.

The small crowd around the Disciple had their heads bowed as he lead them in prayer. Some of them stood, others kneeled, depending on their personality. Meryn’s flock was one of the most mixed, with people from several different traditions joining together to defend their homeland against the invaders. Even now, in this simple act, she could see the diversity in how they acted, some of them holding symbols of the faith in clenched fists, others mouthing the words the Disciple spoke, still others with eyes closed and not moving. It humbled her to see the people of the church join together, setting aside their traditions for their greater call.

Her own faith was an intensely private one, but she could appreciate the power of the Disciple’s faith as he led the prayer. She bowed her head, adding her own words silently to his prayer, feeling the presence of God in the company of these other believers. After a minute, the Disciple stopped, and Meryn lifted her head up. She braced the rifle on the ground, leaning against it to make herself more comfortable as the Disciple started talking.

“Tonight, we’re going to be leading the way in for a larger assault,” he said. “As such, we’re not interested in fighting a normal battle. We don’t have time. We’re going to be trying to do as much damage as we can to their supplies and machines, then pulling back. As the fighters for our flock, the bulk of this will be on you. I wish I could say that we were going to be getting help, but we won’t. We’re the closest ones to the base we’re attacking, and that’s why we have the job.”

“Disciple,” one of the men asked quietly, raising his hand. The priest nodded, and the soldier continued. “What kind of supplies are we going to be hitting? And do we know where they are?”

“We’re going to be destroying all of the food, but leave the ammunition alone. If the raid goes off as planned, the larger force led by Father Malvyn will capture those supplies and we can use them ourselves. We have plenty of food coming from the villages, but we’re running short on bullets for our rifles. We think that the supplies are to the east of the base, back towards the coastline, but that’s only guessing.”

“Targets?” Ella asked, her scarred face eager. Meryn shivered slightly as she watched the other woman. An intense believer that all who were not part of the church deserved death, Ella had always bothered Meryn.

“Nothing has changed along those lines. Leave the wounded and anyone not fighting back alone. Knock them out if you feel they are a threat, but we are not going to be active in wanton destruction. We want to drive Drasvar out of our land, not encourage them to start slaughtering our people out of hand.”

The woman grunted her acknowledgement, clearly unhappy. Meryn couldn’t fathom what had made Ella so bloodthirsty, and hoped that she’d follow the Disciple’s instructions. Disciple Mallory looked around, apparently waiting for any other questions. He nodded in satisfaction, then turned to Meryn.

“Meryn, would you start a hymn for us? Something to focus our minds the rest of the day.” She started, staring at him uncertainly. He hadn’t ever asked her to do anything like this before. She didn’t even think that he’d known she was a singer back home. At his encouraging smile, she began to sing, an old hymn from her home about the mercy God offered those in His service. Her voice trembled at first from nervousness, then strengthened as the others joined in.

The group stood after the song finished, then separated to their tasks. Meryn stayed behind for a few moments, hoping for the chance to speak with the Disciple. When the others had left, she walked up to him. “Disciple?”

“Yes, Meryn?” he asked with a smile.

“I’m… I’m not sure I should be doing this, Disciple. Being a fighter, I mean.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s just… I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said hurriedly. “I’m not a warrior. I barely know what I’m doing with this thing! I know why I’m here, I believe God called me here to fight for Telios and defend my home, but I certainly shouldn’t be somewhere important.”

“Meryn, you’ve been with us since the very beginning. You’ve been at a dozen raids, and you even faced down a hunter. And still, you’re here. In spite of everything that you’ve seen, you’re alive and staying. That matters a great deal.”

She started to chuckle bitterly. “Does it? I’m anything but a brave woman. When that hunter came after me, I panicked. I felt like a scared child, and wanted to do nothing but run.”

“Did you have to shoot that hunter before it started to chase you?”

“Well… no.”

“So why did you?”

“To keep it from hurting anyone.”

“Well, there you have it,” he said with a smile. “That’s why you’re here. Meryn, you sought to protect others over yourself, and did it without hesitating. That makes you perfect for what we’ve asked you to do. You don’t know much about fighting, no, but you know a great deal about courage.”

“If you say so,” she said doubtfully.

Mallory chuckled and shook his head. “Meryn, you are an unusual woman, and you have a good heart. Go in peace. Try to relax some so that you’ll be ready for tonight. We’ll be counting on you.”

[Thechosenone]

Good addition sir. For me, reading through it, I get a sense of great reluctance on the part of Mallory to even be sending people out on this particular mission. It seems like such a delicate surgical mission to be on, causing destruction while at the same time being careful about specifically what is targeted. The mission itself seems difficult.

The characters are spot on and well written as always and I say it every time but i'll say it again. Wonderfully edited and readable.

[edonil]

Holy crap, the muse seems to be back from her coffee break...well, just two more scenes before I come to an actual 'break' in the story, and I'll make a new thread once I do. This one is getting a little unwieldy...Some notes on this scene at the bottom. Enjoy!

Isabella looked up from her work with a barely restrained scowl. The building shook once more, dust falling from the rafters, and she set down the scalpel on the metal plate that rested on the table in front of her. “What’s going on?” she demanded, glaring at the guard who stood at the door.

“I’m, uh, not sure, milady,” the veteran soldier said nervously, scarred face pale.

“Well, go find out!” she snapped.

“Yes, Lady Leon.” The guard snapped to attention, boot heels clicking together, and left the room at a run. She shook her head and rested her hands flat on the table, staring at the corpse that lay on it with frustration.

“Why is this so difficult?” she asked no one in particular. Isabella snarled as the building shook again, grabbing a knife and stabbing it into the corpse. Unfortunately, the act did nothing to slake her aggravation. She took a deep breath, brown eyes closed, and let it out slowly. That didn’t help either.

“Dammit,” she muttered. “What am I missing? What is it that I don’t understand?” She walked over to the book on the table, and started flipping through the diagrams, eyes scanning it hungrily. The pages were weathered and yellow, the ink fading, and she stopped at every section of writing that had worn away to try to make out more of the details.

“Bah,” Isabella said finally, shoving away from it. “Worthless thing!”

She walked over to a small stand in another part of the room and poured water into a glass. Taking a sip from it, she turned back to contemplating the book. The book had been retrieved from the ashes of the Victrixan Academy that the fortress of Dragon’s Teeth had been guarding. The Academy had been destroyed so many years ago, that few, if any, of the Victrixans remembered it had existed. The superstitious populace had torn the building down, burning it and the mages inside. Idiots, she thought. Weak-minded fools always would destroy what they failed to understand. Still, at least they had missed this manuscript.

The knowledge it gave was archaic and bizarre, and it sounded almost like those ludicrous fantasies of changing lead into gold. If she didn’t know better, she’d have dismissed it out of hand as just another madman’s ramblings. But, she did know better. The book was part of a set spread throughout the Academies around the world, hidden and suppressed because of what it contained. It had been considered too dangerous, too unstable to work with, and the Telosian church in particular had called for the destruction of the knowledge outright. They hadn’t wanted anyone messing with-

“Isabella!”

“Hm?” The mage looked up, thoughts interrupted. She arched an eyebrow as General Drake entered the room, covered in dust that fell off him while he stalked towards her, then narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “What are you doing here? I said I didn’t want to be interrupted.”

“Too bad,” he bit out, stepping close to her. Sensing the anger coming off him like waves of heat, she took a step back, fighting her own anger. Who the hell did this normal think he was? How dare he act like this toward her?

“You’re too close,” she said quietly, fingers clenching into white knuckled fists.

“I don’t care. Your little experiment with that colonel just exploded at my feet, and I’m not about to put up with it. What the hell were you thinking? I’m not sure if you’re stupid or incompetent when it comes to planning. Now that he’s started this insurrection early, all of my planning is going to fall apart. We were supposed to be done with this campaign and leaving in a week, so all this would be handled by my replacement.” His eyes burned as he glared at her. “Now, we get to deal with it, and the entire scheme is affected by it. I will not have my glory stolen from me, do you understand?”

Isabella forced a laugh to cover the murderous feelings that crept up on her. “I think you forget what’s going on here, General. Shall I remind you? You’re a pawn, you insignificant fool. A tool, however valuable, but a tool nonetheless. And you think you can dictate orders to me? You barely know your part in the plan, and nothing about the greater portion of it.”

“A pawn?” Drake reached up and grabbed her shirt by the collar, teeth bared. “I don’t think so. I won this war, and I’m going to get exactly what I deserve, dammit.”

Instinct overrode everything, and the mage grabbed his arms to pull them away. When nothing budged, Isabella let a savage grin on her face. A sharp crack filled the air, and the smell of ozone and burning flesh wafted into her nose. Drake screamed, dropping to his knees as electricity charred his skin.

She had to fight down the urge to kill him. Of all the non-mages she had encountered, Drake was one of the most frustrating. Most feared her, or at least respected her. Drake thought himself superior to her, and she hungered for the chance to prove just how wrong he was. But she couldn’t.

“You’re lucky, Drake, that those above me value you more highly than I think they should. Otherwise I’d kill you right here. As it is, we’ll need someone here to take the blame when this rebellion proves too strong to overrun. Thank you ever so much for volunteering for the position. Your dedication to the cause rather than your honor is commendable.” She punctuated her words with another charring bolt of lightning to his chest and smiled as he fainted.

Isabella walked back to the book and picked it up, snapping the cover closed with one hand. It was time to leave, and move on to her next task. She glanced at the unconscious general and paused. After a moment, she decided that it would be best to let the soldiers know where he was. The object lesson would be better if they knew she had caused the wounds, after all. Nodding, the mage walked to the door, letting her mind wander to where she would be in the next few weeks. Why her master wanted her to work with a Wing Captain on the Assarian front was a mystery that would be intriguing to speculate on during the trip…

So, the one regret I have writing this, is that the tension between Isabella and Drake is extremely abrupt. It's something I want to work on when I start revising stuff (which is going to happen, I swear... sometime, lol) and I plan to add in some scenes of these two showing it. Hope it didn't throw anyone off too much.

[TheOneWhoFell]

wow... I finally got caught up (I started at the party where Soli meets what's his face). And all I have to say is WOW. I'm really mad about the bloke you killed... and I'm looking forward to reading more

[elril]

wow... I finally got caught up (I started at the party where Soli meets what's his face). And all I have to say is WOW. I'm really mad about the bloke you killed... and I'm looking forward to reading more

It is a war (several in fact) and wars aren't believable unless people die. I am going to miss wintertide, but I am guessing his death is going to fuel the other protagonists on.