Valor and Violence

Shit shit shit!

Calris tried forcing his fingers through the helmet’s eye holes, the beast laughing as the tips strained just shy of its face. As it laughed, a wave of noxious gas washed over the marine, and a thick gob of drool fell from its mouth. As Calris gagged on the smell, he couldn’t help but notice its tusks, sharp and yellow and about six inches long, ready to be rammed into his soft, fleshy throat.

And then it clicked. With the last of his strength, Calris grasped a tusk in one hand and wrenched as he drove the palm of his other into the beast’s face. With a crack the tusk came free, ichor and spit spraying Calris as the beast’s head snapped back and Calris reversed his grip, driving it down, through the eye socket, and into the monster’s eye. The beast dropped Calris as it clutched its newest wound, and he pushed off hard from its chest, rolling backwards as he shouted for Jasmine.

She obliged with a torrent of flame. Through the inferno, Calris saw the beast fall, first to its knees, and then its face as its skin blackened and cracked. Panting, Jasmine cut the stream and edged towards it.

“Thanks for saving my life… again,” Calris said with a nervous laugh as he joined her.

“You need to stop getting yourself in these situations. I will not be around to rescue you all the time,” she replied.

“It’s not exactly my fault. How do you suggest I stop ‘getting myself in these situations’?” he asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

Jasmine shrugged. “You could start by being better.”

Calris snorted and rolled the beast over with his boot to confirm the kill. He bent down and put his fingers to its throat, and its eyes flew open. It screamed and seized his head in a meaty fist.

Calris screamed too.

As did Jasmine.

The three screams died off as Ban brought a bone cudgel crashing down, splitting the helmet, and the head beneath it, neatly in two, finally finishing the giant bastard.

“By the gods!” he laughed. “Jaz, you should have seen the look on your face! And Cal… you screamed as high as she did, I didn’t think your voice could do that.”

He chuckled as he wiped the cudgel clean on the corpse while Calris and Jasmine stood mute, in shock. Calris was white as a corpse and Jasmine was as white as a Calandorian.

“Snap out of it, children, we still have a job to do,” Ban said, clicking his fingers in their faces. Calris nodded numbly and placed a hand on the small of Jasmine’s back, guiding her to the tower. Neither of them spoke a word as he helped her climb, and when she was in position lobbing fireballs, Calris leant against the column and slid to the ground.

“You alright?” Ban asked, sitting down next to him. Before them, the company was mopping up the rest of the monsters, the tide turning quickly with the reinforcements contained.

“Yeah, just… shit, Ban, I almost pissed myself. How was it still alive after all that?”

“I dunno, mate, it took a beating, that’s for sure. Here, have a drink. It’ll help you feel better.”

Calris gratefully accepted the waterskin and took a heavy swig, only to gag and almost spit it back up immediately.

“Gods! Is this whiskey?”

“Uh… sorry, wrong waterskin,” he mumbled as he grabbed another from his belt and offered it instead.

“Fuck off. I’m finishing this.”

“Cal, come on! That stuff’s expensive!”

“This whole thing happened because you started gobbing off! You owe me this!”

“Fine,” Ban said, rolling his eyes. “But don’t drink too much. We’ll probably be sweeping the Keep for stragglers later.”

Calris waved a dismissive hand and took another long swig before handing the ‘waterskin’ back. Feeling his nerves settling and the tremor in his hands cease, he got to his feet and checked on Jasmine’s progress. The beasts were still trying to force their way into the room, but without having to worry about friendly fire, Jasmine could unleash the full measure of her power.

A pile of charred corpses was steadily building at the entrance to the battlefield. Every so often, one of the demons would get lucky and slip through, only to meet Ferez, sitting on a low wall nearby and sipping from a canteen. The old mage flicked small balls of flame with unerring accuracy, blowing skulls apart with all the effort of an old woman knitting mittens for her grandchildren. After a few minutes, the stream of beasts dried up, and an eerie silence fell over the battlefield as the surviving marines took stock, tending to their wounded and executing the monsters that still drew breath.

The mood was sombre, tired. Monsters out of legend lay alongside dead comrades, the blood of the raiders from days before still visible in patches here and there. No one said a word until the captain broke the silence.

“Gather the wounded and take them to the field hospital. Gather the dead and build a pyre on the beach. High Mage Ahud, I would like to speak to you privately.”

*

Olic watched as his squad headed into the Keep with Asim and Jasmine in tow. The boss had picked the Sixth to sweep for stragglers and recover the Key because they were the only squad even close to full strength. Also, no one but Jasmine was remotely interested in touching the Key again.

The company had bled casualties since they left Calandor, and Olic ran his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sigh as he did the maths in his head. Three died during the most recent battle with the raiders, and about a dozen had fallen at the hands of the beasts. There was double that number wounded to a greater or lesser degree, which left just over half the company uninjured.

Uninjured being a relative term, he thought as he watched Sparrow leave, crossbow in one hand, his other arm secured in a tight sling.

Not to mention whatever in Cael’s name had happened to Calris. One minute he was on death’s doorstep, the next he was carving up seven foot tall monsters like he was harvesting wheat. Between surviving a magical onslaught from a death mage and his miraculous recovery, Calris was becoming something of an enigma. Still, that was a mystery for another time and someone else to piece together. His men were alive. That’s all that mattered. Instead, the mystery he concerned himself with was what the fuck just happened? He found the captain and High Mage Ahud deep in discussion in the corner of the room.

“Excuse the intrusion, gentlemen,” he said.

The captain turned to him with a scowl.

“What do you want, Nicholas? This is a private conversation, and you have work to do.”

“My squad doesn’t need me to sweep for stragglers, sir, and I want to know what the Pit happened.”

“You and the rest of the squad leaders, Sergeant. What makes you think you have special privileges?”

Olic stared at Erwell, deciding how to play this. He knew the captain well enough to pick his mood, and right now was not the time to play lippy squad leader. Olic had a lot of leeway with the man, more than most, but even he had to be careful not to overstep the boundaries.

“With respect, sir, the Sixth has been at the crux of every fight, ambush, and magical arse fuckery since we got the bloody artefact. One of my men is nursing a wound from a magical weapon no one knew existed, and another who should be dead, multiple times over, is running around like a cattle dog during round up. Despite that, we are the only squad left in fighting shape, and I know we’ll be called upon again before this is done. I’m just looking to be forewarned is all, for next time we’re thrown in the deep end.”

Erwell stared back long and hard, and Olic could practically see the argument playing out in his head. On one side, ‘yes, that’s a fair point, Sergeant, let me fill you in’ and on the other ‘fuck off, Sergeant, your entire squad is on latrine duty for the next month’. Olic held his breath, hoping he had chosen the right words. Erskine wouldn’t hold a grudge for long, he was good like that, but Olic wanted answers now and he had a terrible track record when it came to diplomacy.

His fears were allayed, however, as Erwell’s expression softened. The captain pulled out his ebony smoking pipe and packed it with tobacco. He patted his pockets with a frown before Ferez offered to light the pipe with a small flame from the tip of his finger. After it was lit, the captain took a few puffs and nodded his thanks before turning back to Olic.

“Those are fair points, Nick. I’m sorry I’ve been relying on your squad so heavily,” he said, exhaling a plume of pungent smoke. It didn’t smell like Olic’s cigarettes. It smelt… fancy.

“The price we pay for being the best fighters in the company,” Olic muttered. “A bit stressed, sir? The pipe doesn’t come out often, but that’s twice I’ve seen it now,” he said, taking out a smoke of his own and lighting up.

“You may have some of the best fighters, but even so, you and your men have done more than your fair share of the heavy lifting,” Erwell replied, pointedly ignoring Olic’s other question. “High Mage, can you please repeat for the benefit of the sergeant what you just told me?”

Shrugging it off, Olic turned his attention to Ferez, taking in the bags under his eyes and the slight tremble in his hands. The old man was exhausted.

“Very well, Captain. The artefact hit saturation and activated, but the enchantment is like nothing I have seen before. It’s a completely new branch of magic,” he said, hesitating before he continued. “I’m afraid all I can do at the moment is put forward a hypothesis. I believe the Key created some type of doorway.”

“What do you mean, a ‘doorway’?” Olic asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Just what it sounds like, Sergeant. I believe the artefact opened a rift that temporarily connected two points in space and enabled those creatures to come through.”

Olic’s stomach dropped out his arse.

“You mean there are more of those things out there?” he growled.

“Yes, but I think it may be more complicated than that. When the rift opened, I glimpsed the landscape on the other side. The geography of the place was like nothing I have seen before, and I am very widely travelled. Of particular note, it had two moons.”

Olic puffed thoughtfully away while his mind contorted itself in knots. He had heard clearly enough, but his mind still struggled to comprehend it, to give the words actual impact.

“How is that possible?” he finally asked.

Ferez sighed and sat down with his back to the glass wall, resting his head with his eyes closed.

“I have no idea.”

“So, that’s why you’re in a bit of a mood, sir?” Olic asked, directing the question at his captain.

Erwell glared at Olic and the sergeant worried he’d put his foot in his mouth again, but the captain just scoffed.

“You could say that. Half the company is dead or wounded and we find ourselves with more questions and no answers. The High Mage and I were just discussing our next move when you intruded.”

“Our next move? I suppose it’s too much to hope we’re going back to Calandor to rest and rearm?”

From his seat on the ground, Ferez chuckled. It was a sad, tired laugh.

“I’m afraid not, Sergeant,” the mage said. “If anything, we need to redouble our efforts now we know how dangerous the Key is. Fortunately, I have an idea as to where we should start.”

Olic glanced at Erwell and saw a resigned look in his eyes. After a moment, realisation dawned on him.

“Please tell me we aren’t going to that shithole…”

“We are.”

“Can we invade Emrinth instead?”

“No.”

Sergeant Olic sighed, accepting his fate.

“Marduk it is then.”