Valor and Violence

Calris stirred uneasily on his bed. Groggy, he cracked an eye to find Ban sitting on his own, flicking water at him from their shaving basin.

“Bugger off, Ban. Why can’t you wake me up normally like everyone else’s bunk mate?”

“Be grateful, Cal,” he said with a smirk. “I was going to put your hand in the basin and leave you to your devices.”

Calris grunted as he sat up, feeling far older than he was.

Gods, but this job takes it out of you.

“Why didn’t you? Would have been hilarious,” he mumbled, barely coherent, as he fought off the last vestiges of sleep. He couldn’t remember when he had finally passed out the night before, but he had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t long ago, if the burning around his eyes and urge to flip Ban the bird and go back to sleep was any sign.

“Ship is going on alert. We’ve got Emrinthians shadowing us.”

“Raiders? Again?” Calris asked, his eyes flying open. He pulled himself off the bunk and started kitting up. If they hadn’t learned from last time, Calris was happy to give a follow-up lesson. The prospect of fighting someone normal after the experiences of the last week made him damn near giddy. “Are they closing?”

“Not yet. They’re trailing us, keeping their distance. We’ll be at the landing location in about two hours, though.”

“Crap.”

“Yeahp. Best hurry mate. I’ll see you up top,” he said, hopping off the bed and strolling out the door.

As he dressed, Calris’ initial excitement became somewhat tempered. Something wasn’t right. The Emrinthians preferred to fight at sea, where the speed of their vessels provided an advantage. They lost this advantage if they let the Calandorians ashore, but by either accident or design, they presented the captain with a dilemma.

If he sent the company ashore to protect the Key, then the ship would be overrun and gone by the time they came back, but if they sent a smaller force with the Key, they would be vulnerable to ambush. The more he thought about it, the less likely this seemed an unfortunate accident. The Emrinthians knew where the Calandorians were going. Did that mean they also knew what they were doing? And if so, how? No one knew their destination except the people on the ship.

And Politis.

Calris cursed the arsehole noble as he climbed to the deck and sought his squad through the press of marines and sailors preparing for battle. He found them already at their positions by the deck guard, Olic and Erwell behind them, the sergeant calmly puffing away on a cigarette while the captain trained his eyeglass on the ships in the distance. As Calris jogged over, the squad sergeants of the First through Tenth convened on the captain.

“We’ve had five raider ships following us since dawn this morning,” Erwell said. “They have been maintaining their distance and look to be waiting for us to make landfall before attacking. I’m sure you all realise this runs counter to their standard operating methods.”

“Aye, sir, but why?” asked the First Squad leader.

“They must know about the Key. Someone tipped them off, no prizes for guessing who. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew about it before they attacked The Rambler. I suspect the Guild Master’s involved, too,” he said, frowning.

“You think the Emrinthians are working with the bastard?”

The captain shook his head, tapping his eyeglass against the rail as he thought.

“I doubt it. The Guild is an enemy of the state in Emrinth. They have no more love for him than we do. But one’s enemies can often be manipulated easier than one’s allies if the right strings are pulled.”

“What makes you say that, sir?” Olic asked around his cigarette. “Seems more likely to me that the two groups are working together.”

“Though I may not conduct myself like many of my peers, I am still a noble. Manipulating rivals is the first thing they teach House children once they have a handle on not shitting themselves. But we are straying from what is important; our current dilemma.”

“Aye,” Calris interjected. “Send a small force ashore and risk them being overwhelmed, leave a skeleton crew aboard the ship and risk losing it, or sit at anchor and hope our provisions last longer than theirs.”

He once again found himself with all eyes trained on him. The gaze of most squad leaders was openly hostile. After all, who the fuck did this lowly corporal think he was, right? But Erwell looked faintly amused and Calris swore Olic almost looked proud. In so much as could be told through the ever-present veneer of barely contained rage. He hoped it was pride, at least, or he’d be in for another gut punch later.

Gods be damned. Why’d he have to go and open his mouth?

“Correct,” Erwell said, addressing Calris directly now. “Of the three options, we can discount the last, as they have the luxury of sending for reinforcements. If we try to wait them out, we’ll be overrun by a larger fleet. No, we need to entice them into attacking us here and now. Tell me, Corporal Telruson; what do you suggest we do?”

Calris tried to ignore the bristling squad leaders as he stumbled over his words. He looked at his feet, his mind doing cartwheels as he tried to figure out a solution to the dilemma.

“With respect, sir, I think you’d have more an idea than I,” he said, gulping. Ban snorted from his position by the decking, and Erwell’s amused expression vanished in an instant, replaced with a hard gaze.

“I do. But Olic tells me you show a lot of promise. I want to see it.”

Calris kept floundering, wilting under the glares, until Olic put a comforting hand on his shoulder, leaning close to whisper in his ear.

“Calm down, Hawk. The boss isn’t trying to embarrass you, just see what you can do. You can figure this out.”

“Give me a hint?” Calris whispered back. “Surely you’ve got a plan.”

“Aye, and the boss does, too. The fate of the company doesn’t rest on your shoulders, boy. This is just a test.”

Knowing there were at least two other plans, both probably far superior to anything he could come up with, put Calris at ease. No pressure. The captain would hear him out, laugh at the suggestion, and then tell them all what was actually going to happen.

“Alright then, sir. I think I’ve got something.”

Erwell gave him a cold smile. “Pray tell?”

“Sarge probably won’t like it.”

“I rarely do,” Olic replied, exhaling a thick cloud of purplish smoke.

Calris opened his mouth to lay out his plan, but stopped as Ferez approached with Jasmine and Asim in tow.

“Captain, I wish to offer our services.”

“You’re aware of the situation?”

“I am. More than you, most likely.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, yes. Unless you already knew they have a mage with them?”

Erwell cursed and snapped his eyeglass shut as the wheels turned over in his head again, analysing scenarios and re-planning the battle from start to finish.

“High Mage, can this other mage sense you as well?” he asked after a few seconds of thought.

Ferez laughed, “Probably not. Jasmine’s aura tends to drown out those around her.”

The captain shot a glance at Calris.

“Well? Corporal?”

The marine’s eye twitched, and he fought the urge to curl into the fetal position under the captain’s scrutiny.

“Sir! I’d have Sixth Squad go ashore with Jasmine and Asim. Leave the Key on the ship with the bulk of our forces and High Mage Ahud.”

He blurted it out and winced, waiting for Erwell to harpoon his ridiculous plan and assign him more crow’s nest duties. Instead, the captain cracked a grin. It reminded Calris of a Mardukian swamp drake about to devour a hapless wanderer.

“You heard him. Squad leaders, dismissed!”

What?

“Sorry, sir, but don’t we need to hear the actual battle plan?”

“Corporal, that is the battle plan. Is there anything else you need?”

Calris felt the colour drain from his face as he looked around for support. Olic was unreadable, puffing away on his smoke. Ferez was nodding his head encouragingly, a wide smile on his face, and Jasmine looked pissed off as always. In the background, behind the command group, Ban shot him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

None of them were any help.

“I- I’ll need the High Mage’s robes,” he said, still struggling to comprehend what was happening.

Ferez’s smile was instantly replaced with a frown. “I’m sorry, what?”

*

Calris sat in the centre of the landing boat, grinning at Ban from below his heavy cowl as the short marine wheezed and puffed, working the oars.

“Faster, peasant!” Calris ordered in an imperious tone. His rising panic had been quelled when Olic confided that Erwell’s plan had been much the same. The ensuing boost to his ego when he realised he was every bit the tactical genius as the two veterans had made him practically giddy.

“I swear by Cael’s cock ring, if you say that one more time, I’m gonna drop these oars and throttle you.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, mate. You could have worn the robes if you weren’t so pathetically tiny,” Calris said, feeling like an arsehole and loving every second of it.

“Gods, do you two ever shut up?” Jasmine growled from her seat immediately behind him.

“I suspect they do not, Miss,” Asim chuckled from his position in the back as he worked his own oars to a flawless cadence.

“Primitive savages. We are about to go into battle, and yet they prattle on with such inane nonsense!”

Calris snickered at her annoyance. “It’s just what we do, Princess. Men like us? We can’t help but laugh in the face of danger! Isn’t that right, Ban?”

“Right… you are… Cal,” Ban wheezed, looking like he was about to pass out.

“Mate, we have to do something about your endurance when this is over. Asim, how are we looking?”

“The raiders have taken the bait. One vessel is pursuing us to shore, while the others close on The Crimson Tide.”

“So far, so good, then.”

The plan was risky, but clever, even if he said so himself. He had correctly assumed that, once they identified two ‘mages’ heading ashore, the Emrinthians would seek to overwhelm The Tide with the bulk of their forces, including their own mage. Meanwhile, a smaller raider force would follow the Calandorian landing party to slow them down. Once the Tide was captured, they would swarm the survivors on land with overwhelming numbers.

The Calandorian plan, on the other hand, was for Ferez to ambush the raider’s ships, turn them into so much charcoal and killing the mage in the process, land the company afterwards, and destroy the remaining raiders in a classic pincer manoeuvre. The plan was daring and posed the least risk to most of the company.

Except for The Mongrels, plus a mage in training and a Phoenix Guardsman, who needed to hold off roughly thirty to forty raiders until the naval battle finished.

It would be touch and go for a while.

Calris glanced at the other landing boat to check on the rest of the squad. Olic reclined on the back bench of the boat by himself, yet another lit cigarette dangling from his lips while he beat a steady rhythm with the oars.

Mouse was twitching nervously next to Badger, double and then triple checking her various knives. Badger, true to form, was eating what looked to be a chunk of cake he had no doubt stolen before they left.

Viper and Sparrow sat still and calm, the latter finishing an inspection of his repeater before pulling his cloth face mask up against the sea spray, while the former just stared at the shore, his face expressionless. Calris followed Viper’s gaze to the dazzling glass construct on the shore.

It had looked impressive from the ship, but the closer he got, the more Calris was struck by the sheer scale and beauty of it. The formation started at the water’s edge, a long sheet of thick glass running from below the waves and disappearing into verdant foothills, framed by curved walls arching towards the sky on either side, in some places coming so close as to almost touch, and giving the appearance of a half-finished hallway of ice. There were ripples and troughs in its surface, once jagged but now worn smooth by the comings and goings of the tide over thousands of years.

As the boat nudged ashore and the party jumped out, Calris spared a glance at the bubbles in its surface. They reminded him of the gurgling brooks of his home, as though frozen by some icy wind, capturing that one moment in time for eternity.

The effect was accentuated by the faint bluish white tone that irregularly permeated its entire length, creating the appearance of deep blue eddies where the glass was thickest, and white froth on the crests of the ripples and waves. The ‘river’ ended out of sight, but at its crux in the distance he could see a titanic, jagged tower rising high above the surrounding knolls, sharp crystalline shards jutting chaotically out of a central spire that reflected blinding rays from the morning sun. The sight was awe-inspiring and, to Calris, oddly calming.

Here he was in the presence of an echo. An echo of unimaginable, beautiful, cosmic power. Earlier the thought had made him scared, but right here, right now? It made him feel small, humble, and at peace.

Oh, crap, the Emrinthians!

Calris shook himself free of the daydream. It was his job to splatter that beautiful, cosmic landmark with enemy blood, not ponder the mysteries of the universe. He turned to check on the Emrinthian ship pursuing them, finding it far closer than he would have liked.

He hauled the empty crate out of the boat and onto solid ground. Ban quickly grabbed the handle on the other side, and together they sprinted into the structure. They weren’t so stupid as to bring the Key ashore with them, but they had brought a box to complete the deception.

The plan was to head into the structure looking for suitable ambush sites and chokepoints where they could hold off the larger force of raiders without being outflanked. According to Ferez, the river became more turbulent closer to the central spire, and the book he’d used as a reference spoke of closed switchback tunnels, open amphitheatres, and sharp edges that could slice through skin and bone. It was going to be hard fought, but it was the perfect location to stage a delaying battle against a larger force.

The rest of the Mongrels, Jasmine, and Asim fell into step behind them as they raced up the glass, and Calris heard, with some amusement, his javelin sling smacking against the back of Ban’s calves. It would have looked odd, a High Mage carrying a pair of spears in a leather sling, so Ban had been forced to carry Calris’ weapons until the ruse was up.

“How’re my stabby sticks treating you, mate?” Calris asked.

“I fucking hate javelins. I can never get them to sit right.”

“Your freakishly diminutive stature strikes again!”

“Why am I even carrying them? They’re your bloody spears.”

“Can’t fit them under the robes. And I can’t wear them over the top because that would look weird.”

“I swear I got the short end of every stick possible in this plan,” Ban said.

“Was that a pun?”

Ban scowled in reply, though Calris could see he was fighting the urge to laugh. He almost certainly would have made a rude gesture, though, if the combination of the crate, javelins and the running didn’t make it impossible.

“Look, Ban, I appreciate this, I really do. In fact, if we survive, next time we get into port, I’ll let you tell the pig story twice.”

“Really?” Ban asked, immediately cheering up.

“On my honour.”

“Well, that doesn’t count for shit.”

As they pushed deeper into the surreal landscape, Calris noted the book’s predictions were accurate. They slowed as they navigated the increasingly labyrinthine structure, taking care to avoid carelessly brushing against the jagged glass edges that had become ubiquitous. His nerves steadily increased, knowing that their pace was enabling the raiders behind them to close. They needed to find an ambush site soon.

Hearing a shout echo worryingly close behind them, the party redoubled their efforts, Calris and Ban dumping the crate to pick up pace. It wouldn’t matter if they discovered it was empty now, the battle at sea would surely have begun. Everyone was stuck playing their role in his plan now, both Calandorian and Emrinthian, for better or worse.

The raiders were close enough that Calris could hear the rattle of their armour when he abruptly launched out of the tunnel and into a giant amphitheatre. It was roughly fifty meters long and thirty meters wide, a handful of tall glass columns flanking the exit on the far side with a labyrinth of glass walls breaking up the space in between. The walls varied in size from hip height to almost two meters tall.

Wheezing, Ban staggered towards one of the shorter walls, reaching out to brace himself while he caught his breath. Calris snatched his hand away at the last second.

“Oi! What gives?” Ban protested, wresting his hand away. Calris nodded at the wall.

“Look closer.”

The top of the wall tapered at its peak into an edge so fine the final inch was translucent, almost invisible. It was more than sharp enough to slice through skin, muscle, and maybe even bone.

“Right,” Ban said, the colour draining from his face. “Cheers for that.”

Calris looked around at the other walls. Most of them had flat tops, but a few, scattered here and there, looked just as vicious as the one before him. The walls created a maze from the entrance, where they stood, to the exit; a small opening in the perimeter wall that led deeper into the Keep. The only other notable features were a couple of tall columns rising out of the floor on the far side.

It was perfect. Just enough space for a squad to stand their ground without treading on each other’s dicks, but not large enough to leave their flanks exposed. Olic pushed past Calris and surveyed the area, then nodded.

“Here is where we start,” he said, rounding on his men. “Mongrels, form up on the far side, Hawk, Bull, you take the centre, Mouse, Badger right flank, but stay close. Sparrow, I want you up on that perch,” he said, pointing to a column, “find a way up there. Viper, go with him.”

The marines hastened to their positions as the sergeant turned to Jasmine and Asim.

“Ma’am, Asim, I want you behind Calris and Ban. We’ll draw in as many as we can, then I want you to hit them with your magic. Just once, to break their momentum. As soon as that’s done, I want you to run, get as deep into the structure as you can. We’ll take things from there.”

“I am not delicate, Sergeant. I can fight with your men,” Jasmine replied.

“Ma’am, with respect, you’ve already almost killed Calris once.”

“He is fine now, isn’t he?” she said, turning a venomous glare on the marine in question. “Will anyone ever let that go?”

“Don’t misunderstand, ma’am. I know better than anyone how annoying the little shit can be, but I’m guessing you have trouble controlling the intensity of your magic, right?”

Jasmine stared at him silently before begrudgingly nodding her head.

“I will admit I sometimes have… difficulty, scaling its power.”

“Once they push us into the tunnels again, that will be a problem. Too much power and you’ll shatter the glass, which would be as dangerous to us as to them, and too broad an arc will force the flame through the channels, burning everyone. Us included.”

Jasmine stared sullenly at her feet, and Calris could tell her pride had been severely wounded. Olic clearly noticed as well, his expression softening as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Just make that first hit a good one and you’ll have done more than enough, ma’am. If you kill more than Calris, I’ll formally drop the issue of you attempting to murder him.”

Bullshit!

“Oh, believe me, if I had really tried, there would be no ‘attempted’!” Jasmine snarled. “Though, if it means you will let bygones be bygones… I agree to your terms.”

Calris shot his sergeant the most vehement scowl he could manage, but if Olic noticed, he gave no sign. Which is to say, he noticed, but didn’t care. Getting nothing from Olic, he turned his scowl on Ban instead, who just shrugged and waggled his eyebrows.

Ridiculous, Calris thought. There’s no way she’ll outperform me. I’m the best fighter in the company!

He turned his scowl on Jasmine next as she passed him, taking up position a few paces to his rear. She flashed him a cruel smile in response. Although she clearly meant it to intimidate, and as much as Calris hated to admit it, he found himself thinking the smile was actually pretty dazzling. How were her teeth so white and straight? Could mages magically clean their teeth or something? He briefly thought about asking Ferez about it, then decided it was too silly.

“Ready to be embarrassed, Ape?” Jasmine asked, bringing Calris’ thoughts back to the present and reminding him that he really disliked the woman.

“Hardly, Princess. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

“True, but can you smite your enemies with balls of flame?”

“For the love of- how many enemies have you smote exactly?”

“One.”

Calris did a double take. He honestly hadn’t expected an answer to that one.

“Really? Who?”

“You, a couple of days ago. I am not surprised you don’t remember; you were smitten pretty hard,” she said, laughing.

Calris’ face went beetroot red while Ban’s silent chuckle gave way to an explosive laugh.

“If you only knew the half of it, Jaz,” he said, deftly dodging Calris’ attempt to stomp on his foot. “Hey, Cal, interested in a bet?”

“You bet your arse I am,” Calris replied, knowing full well where this was going. “Five silvers says I kill more raiders than Miss Prim and Proper behind us.”

Ban kept laughing as he held out his hand to seal the deal. Jasmine scoffed as they shook.

“You’re going to lose, Ape.”

Calris gave her one last glare, but as he did, he noticed her expression seemed a little off. He narrowed his eyes, and she fidgeted under his gaze.

“What are you staring at?” she asked.

“You’re scared,” Calris replied. For all her bravado and magic, Jasmine was actually scared about the coming battle.

“Nonsense!”

“No, no you are! Don’t worry, Princess,” he said with a wink. “I’ll keep you safe. And win that bet.”

He ignored Jasmine’s disgusted grunt as he turned back to the entrance. With a flourish entirely for her benefit, he threw off Ferez’s robes and rolled his shoulders, warming himself up for the coming fight as the sound of running feet grew louder. He gratefully accepted his javelins from an equally grateful Ban and slipped the loop over his head as the first raiders appeared at the entrance, filing into the open space but keeping their distance from the marines. Calris pre-emptively slid a javelin free, scanning the raiders’ ranks for the best target, settling on a raider that stood a head taller than his companions.

Not only was he tall, but the bulk of his armour spoke to a build more akin to Ban’s muscular physique than Calris’ wiry form. While Calris would usually relish the chance to square off with such a formidable opponent, he didn’t like his chances of taking on the giant while dealing with his mates, too.

He brought his arm back, the javelin tip quivering in the corner of his eye just like last time, but before he could throw, the giant stepped aside to reveal a diminutive, pale man dressed in black mage robes.

A dark mage.

“Cal,” Ban whispered, “wasn’t the mage meant to be attacking the ship?”

“Yeah, mate.”

“This isn’t good.”

“No. No, it is not.”

The mage cleared his throat and held his hands up in a non-threatening gesture, smiling at the Calandorians.

“I came to speak to the mages in your group. I believe we can resolve this issue without further bloodshed. These men and I merely need the contents of the crate and we will be on our way.”

“I’m afraid we can’t hand it over to you,” Olic replied.

The mage turned his eyes on the sergeant, the amicable facade falling away.

“I was not talking to you.”

The sergeant smiled in a way that suggested the mage did not have long to live.

“No, but I’m talking to you, Champ.”

The mage sighed and put his hands on his hips, looking for all the world like an annoyed schoolteacher lecturing a dense child.

“Do you even know what that thing does?”

“No, but then again, neither do you. It doesn’t matter either way. I have my orders, so you can surrender, or we can kill you. Your choice.”

Calris admired his sergeant. Anyone else would have called it empty bravado, but Olic meant every word. He honestly intended to kill everyone in front of them, mage included, if they forced a fight.

“We have you outnumbered. If it comes to it, we will kill you and take it.”

“You can try.”

The mage waved the sergeant off and went back to surveying the marines. Calris supposed he was searching for the two mages, and he discretely kicked the robe by his feet behind the nearest wall.

“This is going nowhere,” the mage muttered, half to himself. “Where is the Pyrian Adept? I would like to speak with him.”

“High Mage Ahud is back on the ship,” Jasmine replied, stepping forward beside Calris. He turned to her, disbelief plastered across his face.

She can’t be serious, can she?

“And who are you?” the dark mage asked.

“His apprentice, Jasmine Fastra. I speak for him. We cannot give you the artefact, so please, turn around and leave. Any aggressive action taken against us will earn his wrath.”

Dear gods, she is.

Calris cursed. How could she be this naïve? The mage had been looking for, who he thought, was the most dangerous member of their little party before the battle began. And Jasmine had just told him he wasn’t even there.

“Bloody Pit, Princess,” he muttered.

Jasmine whirled on him. “What? Surely, he will not risk angering a High Mage.”

“The High Mage isn’t here right now. And thanks to you, he knows it.”

Jasmine opened her mouth to snarl a response, but she shut it when the black clad mage started laughing.

“In that case, I see no more reason for idle pleasantries,” he said. Darkness began swirling around him, coalescing in a ball in his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to give funerary rites to your remains.”