Valor and Violence

Jasmine climbed stiffly onto the deck of the Tide. Although the sun was barely breaching the horizon, the heat was oppressive, and the air hung over her like a thick blanket. The effort of climbing the ladder had made her sweat, and she tried to subtly fan her robes around her armpits to stop the sweat patches forming. It didn’t work.

She scowled at the massive cloud banks crowding the early morning sky. Anywhere else in the world, such a sight would be associated with cold, wet mornings, but apparently, that was not the case here.

By the gods, I pray they drop some rain soon.

Looking around, she noticed Calris and Ban hauling a crate up the gangplank, both sweating profusely but otherwise seeming unperturbed by the heat and humidity. She discretely followed Calris with curious eyes.

The High Mage’s investigation into Calris’ magical abilities had proven highly interesting. It had begun with a battery of physical tests which, after Jasmine jokingly suggested Ban be there to hold Calris’ hand, had been greatly assisted by their combined knowledge of physiology. Evidently, they had learned a thing or two from Ban’s parents over the years. Nevertheless, though Calris was an impressive physical specimen, they had found nothing to account for his unique performance at the Keep. Until the magical tests had started.

The High Mage had created and coaxed magical currents around Calris’ body. Nothing dangerous, just some very mild energy to look for signs of latent Talent. If Calris had it, he should have had a deformative effect on streams travelling near him, his own innate Talent applying an external pressure forcing the current away from him.

The effect was well documented. In fact, some battlemages leveraged it during combat, the phenomenon making them all but impervious to attacks from weaker practitioners. When inspecting Calris, though, they found no deformation whatsoever, even less than they would expect from a regular person. Simply put, he had the magical pressure of a rock. At least, it seemed that way until they passed the current directly through him.

And then the current disappeared completely, as though it were hitting a magical wall. As yet, the old man had no viable theory on why this was the case as it violated everything they knew about Talent and magic. The mystery deepened when Ban had blundered into a stream during the testing and demonstrated a similar effect, not as strong as Calris’ but undeniably similar and abnormal.

Ferez had initially suspected some unknown familial link, but questioning Calris and Ban had quickly shut down that line of investigation. As it stood, the High Mage was talking about an expedition to their home region to search for answers there, once the matter of the Key had been resolved. In the interim, the two men were learning magical control theory in the hopes that actively reaching for it might unlock their abilities once more.

Jasmine smiled faintly at the thought of the research trip. She was enjoying spending time with the two marines, and looked forward to seeing the place and people that had created such peculiar young men.

And whatever forces are at play here could rewrite conventional wisdom on the nature of magic and Talent.

If Jasmine could figure it out, or even just assist the High Mage in the discovery, her graduation to Adept was all but assured. Between this and the Key, she was certain she would become known throughout history as one of the greatest researchers to have ever lived.

She gave a curt nod to the marines as they shuffled past her towards the cargo crane, receiving a smile and a wink from Calris as they did so. Jasmine rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight the smile forming on her face as she set off down the gangplank to where the captain and Ferez were talking. The old mage turned and waved at her as she approached.

“Good morning, Jasmine. Sleep well?”

“Barely slept at all,” she replied. “This heat is unbearable. I am very much looking forward to the rain.”

Captain Erwell scoffed and gazed at the sky.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Miss, but that’s not likely to happen this time of year. Not enough to cool you down at any rate. The locals call this the ‘build up’; all the heat and humidity of the tropical wet season without the wet.”

Jasmine groaned and started fanning herself again.

“This is why I never wanted to leave Emrinth. Where are we headed?”

“A tavern.”

She sighed and gestured for the captain to lead the way. As he brushed past and set off into town, she leaned over to Ferez. “Do these marines do anything other than drink?”

“I believe we are heading to a business meeting of some description,” he replied with a shake of his head as he set off after Erwell. Jasmine obediently followed her mentor, though she was sceptical of any businesses operating out of a tavern.

She took in the sights and sounds around her as she walked. She knew Port Pirie was the de facto capital of Marduk, and the only port that permitted docking of ships as large as The Tide, but she struggled to believe this was truly the greatest city in the country. Rotting wooden warehouses rose out of the shallows on equally rotten stilts. Ramshackle decking connected the warehouses to the actual jetty, over which locals rushed to and fro bearing cargo, their faces marked in a vibrant yellow paint.

The markings were unlike anything Jasmine had seen before, and she studied a man and woman as they passed. Both had identical markings; three vertical stripes on their foreheads and a solid dot on each cheek. Jasmine continued to inspect the faces of everyone she passed, well after the wood of the jetty gave way to muddy dirt paths and they entered a rickety shanty town.

She gradually saw a greater variety in the patterns, though she only ever saw one pattern in any given group. Once, a gaggle of children bearing one pattern strayed too close to a pair of men bearing another and one of them literally snarled, sending the children scurrying away.

Jasmine was still trying to figure out the significance of the patterns when she blundered into the back of Captain Erwell. He gave her an annoyed glance before nodding at the building in front of them.

“This is the place.”

Jasmine pulled a face at the dilapidated facade. The windows may once have had glass panes, but if so, they were long gone. The wood had a slimy consistency and the evidently homemade door was far too small for the doorway. All in all, the building gave the impression of severe structural instability.

“Is it safe to go in there? It will not collapse on us?”

Erwell shook his head. “It looked this way when I first came here twenty years ago. We’ll be fine. Just follow me in and stay quiet. The locals have some unique customs and they respond violently to perceived insults.”

“Again, I’ll ask, are you sure it’s safe for us to go in there?”

“Considering you can burn through companies of soldiers with a flick of your wrist, you’re awfully skittish, aren’t you?” he replied, smirking as he entered the pub. Jasmine briefly considered flicking her wrist at the captain to teach him a lesson, but a warning look from Ferez killed that idea.

She followed them in, taking in the room. She had always hated these sorts of places; they reminded her of the slaver’s tents. The smell hit her first, her nostrils recoiling at the familiar scent of pungent tobacco smoke barely penetrating the general miasma of vomit, beer and piss, and she made a disgusted noise as her eyes adjusted to the gloom.

One man had fallen asleep at the bar, his head in his drink, while two ‘friends’ tried to break each other’s faces over a gambling match at a table behind him. Working girls did their rounds, plying the cutest customers if times were good, the drunkest customers if they were tight on coin. The images from her dreams rose unbidden in her mind, and she had to fight to force them back.

I am not that girl anymore.

Spotting Erwell and Ferez talking to a figure at a table in the back, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves and walked over. The local they were talking to was a squat, powerfully built man with two inverted chevrons painted on his forehead and two diagonal stripes on each cheek. His broad grin was surprisingly friendly compared to the scowls their group received from the rest of pub patrons.

“Erskine! What a pleasant surprise!” he said in accented Common. “How many years has it been?”

“Too many, my friend,” the captain replied, grasping the offered hand with a warm smile of his own. “How has business been?”

The local made a non-committal gesture with his free hand. “Steady. Better times, worse times, but fortunately there will always be a ready stream of bored Aderathian nobles with more coin than sense,” he laughed.

The captain joined in with a rare chuckle of his own before turning to gesture to Ferez and Jasmine. “Levi, these are my associates; High Mage Ferez Ahud of the Mage’s College of Pyris, and his apprentice, Jasmine Fastra. They’re good people,” he said, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Levi.

“That is rare praise from Erskine. I think I could count the number of people he considers ‘good’ on one hand!” he said, holding up a hand, which Jasmine abruptly realised had only two fingers and a thumb remaining. He roared with laughter at his own joke, waving off Jasmine’s shocked expression with his good hand. “It’s alright to laugh as well, Miss, three fingers is better than none, which it easily could have been if I was a bit slower.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you lose them?” she asked.

“Swamp drake. Just a baby one, mind you, barely three meters long, otherwise I doubt we would be here having this conversation,” he said, roaring with laughter once again. “But come! Come! Sit! Barkeep!” he called, turning to the sour-looking barman. “Eight ales please! And you all feel free to order what you would like to drink as well,” he said, winking at Jasmine.

She shook her head, but smiled, despite herself. Levi was loud and constantly laughed at his own jokes, but she couldn’t help but like him. It reminded her of the marines back on the ship and she wondered if the whole world was like this, and it was only south of the Rift that people lacked a sense of humour.

“So, Levi,” Ferez interjected. “Out of curiosity, if Captain Erwell hadn’t specified we were ‘good people’, what would that have meant?”

“I’d take payment up front,” he said, downing a pint as soon as the barman set them down on the table. “And not be too concerned about whether you survived the expedition,” he finished, reaching for a second.

“Survive the expedition? I would have thought it would be in your interests to keep your customers alive?”

“A few fatalities are good for business. Keeps the sense of mystery and danger alive for the tourists that come after. ‘Good people’ is a sort of industry shorthand for clients that absolutely must survive.”

“I see. And now that we are ‘good people’?”

“Me and mine’ll wrestle a swamp drake to keep you safe, if that’s what it takes.”

“That is good to know,” Ferez replied as he collected an ale and took a long swig.

Jasmine watched the exchange in silence. While she didn’t doubt that being ‘good people’ was a good thing, she was still lost as to what expeditions they were discussing.

“Excuse me but, what exactly are we talking about here?” she asked the table.

Levi finished his second ale and raised a third to his lips. “I take it you don’t know much about Marduk, Miss?”

“Not really. I do not travel much.”

“Well, Marduk is unlike most countries. It has resisted attempts to ‘civilise’ it in any meaningful way, and as such, travel away from the villages is dangerous, even for us. This is both an unfortunate fact of life for locals, and an irresistible lure for stupid, rich nobles from other countries seeking adventure.” He downed half the pint, smacked his lips and continued. “And so, an industry arose whereby we escort the nobles around the swamps and jungles for a few days and they pay us enormous sums of money. Most of the time, they even survive, as long as they do as we tell them. A few tribes, like mine, actually make our livelihoods running these expeditions.”

“I see. And I take it we are about to embark on one of these ‘expeditions’?”

“I assume so. Erskine? Maybe you can educate us both?”

Erskine pointedly moved his ale aside. “There is an archaeological dig in the Sentinel Marshes-”

At the mention of the marshes Levi sucked sharply through his teeth. “You know I can’t take you in there, Erskine. That territory belongs to the Gundagaal.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. But we may be able to help with that. High Mage?”

At Erwell’s prompt, Ferez produced a folded letter and slid it across the table.

“My associates are working the site with Gundagaal blessings. This letter of recommendation should facilitate a client exchange at the border of their territory without it turning to bloodshed.”

Levi took the letter and scrutinised it before grunting and putting it away in his jacket pocket. “This will work. How many am I escorting?”

“Can you do the company?”

“Not without a flotilla. We can build one, but it will take a few weeks.”

“Too long. What about ten by foot?”

Levi scoffed. “No. I have most of my men out on a job with a merchant prince from Risim. I can do two safely.”

“Three plus Calris and Ban,” Erwell shot back. “They can handle themselves and an extra.”

The moment the name of the two marines left Erwell’s lips, Levi’s face lit up. “Hold on a second, they’re here? Why didn’t you bring them? We have so much catching up to do, and unlike you, they know how to have a good time.”

“Because, Levi, the last time I let them into a pub they started a riot.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Levi interjected from behind the rim of his glass.

“It is a bad thing. I know you, I know them, and I know I don’t want you lot drinking together. It was enough of a headache after the bloody pig incident and you weren’t even there for that one.”

“Ah! But I wish I had been. Ferez, Jasmine, have you heard the story yet?”

Ferez chuckled and finished his ale. “Not yet, but Ban has promised he will tell me at some point.”

“You are in for a treat. Now, if our business is concluded,” he said, smacking the table with his hands, “will you stay and help me finish these? Or are you back off to your ship?”

Jasmine looked down at the empty glasses littering the table. “I don’t think you need our help with that, Levi.”

“Suit yourself, Miss.”

Captain Erwell stood to leave, but shook his head as Levi extended his hand to shake goodbye. “I will escort these two back to the ship and then return. There are things we still need to discuss.”

“Things you cannot discuss in front of us?” Jasmine asked.

“I’m afraid not. There are certain topics which cannot be spoken of in front of outsiders.”

“And you’re an insider? Forgive the impropriety, but you don’t look like one.”

Levi chuckled and held up a hand to cut in. “We accepted him as one of my tribe after he and his marines saved the village from Skjar raiders a long time ago. He personally led a night raid to rescue our women and children while the rest of us assaulted the camp.”

“That sounds like quite a story,” Ferez said.

“Oh, it is. One for the records,” Levi replied as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes glazing over as he gazed off into the distance. “When the Skjar realised what was happening, they tried to get into the slave pens to take hostages. They found only Erskine waiting at the entrance. When we finally carved our way to him, he was on the ground, bleeding and on the edge of death, three dozen raiders around him. And not a single one had made it past him into the pens. There are some in the village who consider him our tribe’s ancestor guardian spirit.”

Captain Erwell coughed awkwardly, and Jasmine realised it was the first time she had ever seen him even remotely out of sorts. It seemed he did not know how to handle praise.

“By the gods, Captain! Is that true? Three dozen Skjar raiders?” she asked as Ferez kicked her under the table. He knew what she was doing.

“Yes, well, their assault was uncoordinated. And it was a single dozen, thank you very much, Levi. They mostly came on one or two at a time. It really wasn’t that impressive. And I doubt I’m your reincarnated ancestors, Levi, unless your people were white until fairly recently.”

Levi shrugged his shoulders. “No sunlight in the land of the dead. I’m sure I would come out looking like you too if I’d been there long enough.”

Jasmine grinned and kept pushing. “Do Calris and Ban know this story? Maybe we can get a retelling done in the mess hall? So the new marines can find out what a hero they are serving under?”

This time, instead of a kick, Ferez grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and spun her around towards the door. “That’s enough of that, Jasmine, leave the poor man alone,” he growled under his breath before turning to Erwell. “We can find our own way back, Captain, if you would prefer to remain here.”

The captain held out his hand for them to wait, but it was Levi who spoke first.

“Unfortunately, I think that would be a bad idea, Mister,” he said. “Foreigners in Port Pirie without an escort are frequent targets for robbery and murder.”

Jasmine started. He had said it so nonchalantly that she thought she must have misheard.

“Are you saying, that if we left by ourselves there is a chance we would be attacked before making it back to the ship?”

“Quite a high one, yes. Please don’t think poorly of us, Miss,” he said hurriedly, seeing her expression. “Many who live here are poor and jobless, and most foreigners who pass through are fairly wealthy. Sheep walking among hungry wolves, so to speak.”

“But we would be fine if we travelled with the captain?”

“Yes. Most of our people would not recognise your robes as those of a mage, but they recognise the uniform of a soldier. They won’t attack him because they know if they do, the rest of his marines would burn the place to the ground in retaliation,” he finished with a small smile.

“I see. So, travel with a marine at all times in the city,” she replied uneasily, the glares from the people in the pub and out on the street taking on a new, sinister significance.

As she left the pub, she struggled to reconcile what Levi had told her of the locals with Levi himself. Everyone stared at her, and while some seemed genuinely curious about her different appearance, others had a predatory gaze that she now knew was not her imagination.

Levi seemed so out of place compared to these others, and she wondered if it was because of differences between other tribe’s cultures or if Levi was just a unique individual. Either way, she reached out for the currents of magic and coalesced them around her fists, at the ready if the need arose. It would be a tense walk back to the ship.