Valor and Violence

Ferez glared at the table in front of him as a goblet of wine slid past. A few seconds later, it slid back the way it came. His stomach churned along with the ebb and flow as the cabin rocked in time with the choppy sea outside.

Gods, how much longer is this going to take?

War meeting. That’s what they called it. Though it seemed more likely he had actually died in his sleep last night, and was now stuck in some form of divine punishment for his transgressions during life. Reichblut was standing a little back from the table, arguing with his father’s back, who in turn was ignoring the boy in favour of shouting at Leo, who was busy making sweeping declarations and just generally grandstanding, while Ingrid grew progressively redder in the face along with the vitriol in her insults.

The various other clan leaders and marine lieutenants had long since excused themselves, probably to maintain plausible deniability when things turned violent, while Ferez, for his money, had been too fixated on not vomiting to contribute much. He wanted nothing more than to sprint out the door and across to the deck railing to purge his innards, but he knew the second he was out of sight, someone was going to stab someone else.

“Leo, last I checked, no one elected you general of the army,” Ingrid hissed, slamming her fist on the table.

“Uh, last time I checked, this was my damn ship! And I’m actually the admiral, so you can take that spicy pot of stew and shelf it up your-”

“Be very careful, wretch. We need your ships, not you.”

“Sure. Murder me on my flagship, see how far you make it surrounded by my pissed off sailors.”

“I could carve apart this ship’s compliment in my sleep!” Reichblut’s father, Jarl Wogenreiter, growled as he stomped up to, and stood over, the privateer, errant strands from his wiry beard threatening to poke out Leo’s eyes.

“I doubt that, old man.”

“Why don’t we find out?”

“Sure. Oh, hey, what’s that on your chest?” Leo asked, putting a finger on the raider’s cuirass. Wogenreiter looked down and Leo uppercut him so hard the clack of his teeth would have been audible in the crow’s nest. The grizzled warrior crumpled as his son, along with the two hauskarls in attendance, whipped out their axes, and the marines around the edge of the room snapped crossbows to their shoulders.

“Enough!” Ferez shouted, punching a fist into the table. The wood cracked under his knuckles, an impressive effect, though the mage suspected the furnishing was probably just rotting a bit from the constant moisture. Still, it stopped everyone in their tracks as all eyes turned on him.

“You’re all here under my command, because I’m the one paying you,” he said, projecting angry confidence while the contents of his stomach tried to exploit his split attention to force its way to the surface. “But to be honest, I don’t give a shit who assumes control, because the only thing that matters is dropping the Wail into the ocean and freeing the slaves.”

“So we can take them ourselves? Right?” Wogenreiter asked, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. “Tch, that was a decent punch, southling.”

Leo smirked and nodded, then extended a hand to help the big man up.

“No,” Ferez said, curt, though internally he was sighing in relief that they had already made up. While Ferez was technically in command, Leo and Wogenreiter represented the two largest factions in the ramshackle army. Ingrid’s clan answered to her directly, but most of the others seemed to follow Wogenreiter as their de facto representative. Probably because he was the head of a collaborative coalition, while Ingrid had spent the last eighty years getting her way through brow beating and wanton murder.

“We are Skjar. We have to take a few home at least,” Wogenreiter said. “Otherwise, it’s not a proper raid.”

“There will be no slave taking,” Ferez replied, then swallowed a spoonful of bile moments before it reached freedom. “You get your coin and all the material spoils you can carry. No slaves.”

“What about the pirates?”

This old coot was really testing his patience.

“No, Jarl Wogenreiter. I know how much spoils of war motivate Skjar. I can’t afford to have your warriors pulling punches for fear of killing a potential slave.”

The Skjar grunted and shrugged. “Alright, have it your way. The plunder will have to be enough. I’ll make sure everyone knows.”

“But, father!” Reichblut protested, his axes still drawn though they now hung loose by his side. “Slaving is what we do.”

“Not when we’re being paid this much, it isn’t. No prisoners. Anyone who disobeys will taste my axe.”

“But without slaves the profits will be-”

The Jarl silenced his son by gently placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“My son,” he said with a gravelly, sombre timbre. “You’re the pride of my life, you know that? You are strong of arm and quick of mind, and I take more joy in thoughts of your future than is proper for an old Skjar warrior. My clan will be yours one day, and I know you will achieve great things. Having said that.” He punched Reichblut in the gut, folding the boy in half. Spit and bile spewed from his mouth as Wogenreiter grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him upright. “You still have much to learn about being a Skjar.”

The Jarl smashed an elbow into his son’s face with enough force to nearly flip him before he thudded to the floor.

“Wealth. Power. Prestige. These are the trappings that a Skjar dresses himself in so that others can see his accomplishments at a glance. But the beating heart of a Skjar, the one thing that unifies us from lowest serf to highest lord,” he said, planting a heavy boot on Reichblut’s neck. “Is our thirst for battle. There is no greater shame to bear before the Ice Father than to die peacefully in your bed. Always remember that, boy. Gurgle if you understand.”

“Ggguurrrg.”

“Good lad. On your feet,” he said, removing his boot and hauling his son bodily off the floor. He slapped the kid on the back, then turned to Ferez.

“As I was about to say. High Mage, you’re in charge. What is your plan?”

Ferez sighed and leaned against the table, his eyes roving over the model in front of him. It was a recreation of Widow’s Wail, or as good an approximation as they could come up with. Based on the height of the fortress, they had estimated there would be at least twenty to thirty floors above sea level, with who knows how many subterranean ones. Sharpened wooden stakes surrounded the diorama, placed more for artistic value than as an accurate representation of the tangled maze of stone. In short, they had no idea of the internal layout, or even how to approach the stronghold.

He closed his eyes. Dare he say it, but he was perhaps a little out of his depth here.

“I’m a battlemage, and a high mage. I’ve fought in countless wars, slain foes without number,” he said, slowly opening his eyes. “But I’ve never been a commander. I’m a weapon that commanders use. That’s why I called you all here. You have experience I lack, and I intend to leverage it.”

“Aquina’s resplendent rear,” Leo said. “I think that’s the closest thing to humility I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t. I just want to savour this moment a little more, though.”

“Do you have anything useful to provide or not?”

Leo chuckled and came to stand beside Ferez, staring intently at the model.

“Time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted,” he said. “We need to get inside if we want a plan that’s worth more than wiping my arse with.”

“As always, your gift with words astounds me. Any ideas on getting in?”

Leo grinned. “I believe so. But I must warn you, it’ll be dangerous. Success will require almost divine quantities of bravery, tact and derring-do. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Just tell me what the scheme is, Leo. Before I come to my senses and ask Ingrid.”

“Alright, but remember this when the urge to have a whine strikes during the mission. Two nights from now, it will be a new moon. Visibility will be shit. No one would ever be insane enough to brave that forest then, even if they knew the route.”

“Exactly. No one would be insane enough, Leo.”

“Ah, but I happen to know two strapping young gentlemen who are just the right amount of bonkers to give it a crack.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“It’s suicide. Do you remember what happened last time we tried something like this?”

“Yeah, you almost drowned,” Leo said, laughing. “Hilarious stuff. But anyway, I’m older and wiser now, and my power has grown exponentially since you saw me in action.”

“Do you even know the meaning of the word?” Ingrid muttered, shaking her head.

“I’ve a fair idea. Don’t ask me for an exact definition, though. At any rate, this is our best chance to get in and out without raising the alarm. Even if they have lookouts, they won’t be able to see us coming, and I doubt they would really try.”

“I may have an alternative,” Ingrid said, prompting Ferez and Leo to glance at her in surprise.

“Will it get a small group of people inside the Wail without being spotted, and then extracted again after the recon is finished?”

“Well, not really. It’s more a method of assault my clan and I have been working on.”

Ferez shook his head. “I’m sorry to say this, Ingrid, but I think Leo is rrr…”

Leo looked at him, his brows knitting together.

“Leo is rrrrr… rrrrr…”

“Oh fuck off, you old prick,” Leo said, throwing his hand up and turning away when he realised what was happening.

“Leo is right!” Ferez shouted, then devolved into a wracking fit of coughs and collapsed against the table. “That was a lot harder to say than I expected.”

“You’re such a shithead,” Leo said, but Ferez didn’t pay him any mind. He was staring at the small smile playing about Ingrid’s lips. She noticed him after a second, and quickly fastened a scowl to her face instead, but the damage was already done. He smiled back at her as warmth spread throughout his chest.

“But seriously,” Leo continued. “If we can figure out the internal layout and a route for our ships, our plan will be much more likely to, you know, work. All in all, it’s the least risky course of action.”

“You two gallivanting off into the fortress by yourselves is low risk, is it?” Ingrid asked.

“We can handle ourselves,” Leo said, draping a pudgy arm around Ferez’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure your little loverboy makes it back with at least as many intact limbs as me.”

“Not reassuring,” Ferez growled. Leo just looked sideways at him and winked.

“Fine, do what you want,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and turning her nose up at them. “I sincerely hope you both die.”

“Awww. That’s not very nice,” Leo replied, then patted Ferez on the head. “Don’t worry friend, she doesn’t mean that. Well, she probably wants me dead, but she would be devastated if you died.”

“Leo, shut up,” Ferez said.

“In fact, if this goes tits up and we bite it inside, I reckon that, driven by rage and sorrow at the loss of her one true love, she’d storm the place by herself and finish the job.”

“I think I’d actually send them a gift basket as thanks,” Ingrid said. “Honestly, can you two act your age for a few seconds and take this seriously?”

“We agree,” Asim said from the back of the room. Ferez craned his head to peer at his guardsman. He was leaning against the wall beside Leanne, both of them looking very cross.

“Ah, shit. I forgot they were there. Leo, I think we’re in trouble.”

Leo blanched and swore. “How are those two so quiet? Mine is decked out in plate armour and yours is basically a slab of muscle with teeth.”

“It’s our job to be nondescript until the right time,” Leanne said. “Which is now, Patriarch.” Despite her position in their relationship, her words carried the stern rebuke of a mother scolding their child.

“Hey, don’t forget who pays you,” Leo whined back.

“No one, if you die. That’s why we’re coming with you.”

“Absolutely not!” Leo and Ferez said in unison.

“And why not?”

“Because, uh…” Leo glanced at Ingrid, his eye twitching at the expectant expression on her face.

“Go ahead idiot, you can say it.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were about to say, ‘because it’s too risky’, weren’t you?”

“No. Not at all. Not what we were going to say, is it, Ferez?”

“Oh, right you are, Leo. No, we were going to say, uh… the boat is…”

“Too small! That’s right, the boat is too small. Only enough space for Ferez and I.”

“That’s right. It’s tiny. Embarrassingly small, really.”

“Hey!”

“And not very comfortable.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“Either way, no possibility of you two coming, I’m afraid.”

The pair of bodyguards stared down their charges in a silent clash of wills, before Asim finally sighed and rubbed his bald scalp.

“I knew I should have brought that Resonance leash the Arch Mage offered me.”

“He what now?”

“Said I might need to rein you in if you grew overexcited. I dismissed the notion as ridiculous.”

“I’m certainly glad you did. What a completely inappropriate concept. Thank you for refusing such an outrageous request.”

“I’m bringing it next time.”

“You are not!”

“I am. And I’m getting one for Leanne, too.”

Leanne nodded her thanks and stood up from the wall, walking towards the door with Asim in tow.

“Come on, Asim. Let’s work on our resumes together. We’ll probably need them when these two die.”

“This is all your fault, Ferez,” Leo said as he watched them stalk away. “Before she met your attack dog, Leanne practically worshipped the ground I walked on. Now listen to her! Talking back. Making plans for my death. How are you going to compensate me for the emotional stress this is causing?”

“My fault? Your fault! Asim was the very image of a stoic, professional phoenix guardsman until he started associating with your bodyguard!”

Leo scowled and smacked Ferez upside the head. Or tried to, at least. He had somehow forgotten that his left arm was missing, and he ended up waggling the stump by Ferez’s shoulder instead.

“Ah,” he said, staring ruefully at what was left of the limb.

“You know, you haven’t told me how you lost it yet,” Ingrid said. Ferez arched an eyebrow at his friend.

“Same here.”

Leo just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told anyone now, would it?”

“Ah, I’ve heard the story!” Wogenreiter said, staring conspiratorially about the room. “He lost it when his fleet was attacked by… the Leviathan!”

“I’m sorry, the leviathan?” Ferez asked.

“The Leviathan, a giant whale the length of four longboats. Instead of baleen, the vicious beast has fangs as long as a man’s forearm. It attacks ships that stray too far from the coast, smashing them to pieces and feasting on their crews. The tale goes his fleet was attacked many years ago. It would have spelled disaster for his men, but Leo, at the time known as Three Fingered Leo, ordered his ship to charge the monster. As the vessel and the demon bore down on one another, the admiral stood in the prow of his ship, roaring his challenge. Moments before they collided, he summoned his magical might to drive a lance of ice right between its eyes. The beast thrashed in a panicked rage, but he refused to relent in his assault, and was dragged below the surface. The red stained water frothed and roiled as they battled, and when his sailors finally recovered the unconscious admiral, his arm had been taken. But not before the beast had been driven away, forever sporting the scars from its battle with the only man to ever hurt it.”

“Not true,” Leanne said. “I was there for the ‘battle’ with the Leviathan. It was maybe two longboats in length, and it was curious more than anything. Came up to have a look at the Patriarch’s flagship, and he flicked an ice cube at it. The whale blasted him with its blowhole and swam away.”

“Damnit, Leanne! I was enjoying that story. I think it’s my favourite so far,” Leo said. She just rolled her eyes and left, though she had a little smile on her face as she did so. Asim gave Ferez a quick bow and followed.

“Well, if there’s nothing else to discuss, who wants a drink?” Leo asked, prompting an enthusiastic cheer from Wogenreiter and Reichblut. As the three wandered over to the drinks cabinet against the wall, Ingrid shook her head and left. Ferez watched her go with a frown.

“Oh, great high mage,” Leo sang as he poured whiskey into crystal tumblers, “are you partaking?”

“Maybe next time,” Ferez said, making up his mind and hurrying after Ingrid. He shot through the door into the hallway just in time to see her turn a corner towards her quarters.

“Ingrid! Wait!” he called as he ran to catch up with her. She didn’t stop, though, and he had to dive for the cabin door as she closed it.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, making no effort to open the door. She didn’t try to force it shut either, though, so that was a good sign.

“I just wanted to talk.”

“About?”

Ferez stammered as he tried to sift through the sudden explosion of conversation topics racing through his mind. How she had been these last eighty years? How much he had missed her? Why she never tried to contact him? Why she had turned cold again after the brief glimpse of happiness on her face when they first laid eyes on each other outside her village?

“You seemed resistant to Leo’s idea,” he said in the end.

You fucking simpleton! He screamed at himself. Is that really all you’re going to say?

Ingrid seemed similarly unimpressed.

“The matter has been resolved. I won’t push the issue any further. Good night,” she said, pushing the door closed. Ferez leaned forward, sinking his weight through the foot blocking the door. The gap between the door and the floor was unfortunately larger than the width of his sandals, and the hard wood passed above the sole and crushed his little toe. He bit down on a sharp hiss and fixed a strained smile to his face.

“Oh, grand. That’s grand. Why were you opposed, though? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Are you seriously still talking about this, you moron?

The muscles in Ingrid’s face twitched as she fought to keep her expression neutral and a pit opened up in Ferez’s stomach. He had always prided himself on reading her facial twitches. What no one else noticed, he had read like an open book. To him, she was as expressive as Leo when he was half a bottle deep. But in this moment, he had no clue what emotions and thoughts swirled under the surface. Finally, she settled, face as blank as the sheets of ice and snow that blanketed her homeland.

“Because it was Leo’s idea, of course.”

“That’s really it?”

“Really. Good night.”

She placed her hand tenderly against his chest, and a gust of wind launched him into the hallway wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but it was a clear enough message.

Leave me alone.

With the obstruction gone, she shut the door. Not slammed, just calmly closed. Ferez went to knock again, but a sudden crack in his back persuaded him against that course of action. Instead, he remained outside, hunched over and staring at it for several long, excruciating minutes. Eventually, he turned and hobbled back to his own cabin, his mind churning in turmoil. He was certain that what Ingrid had said, and what she meant, had been two very different things. But for the life of him, he had no clue as to the latter.