Boomer never went to high school in Ladysmith, but he knew the area well. It was situated along Sixth Avenue at the top of the hill. The school itself was fairly general. It covered grades eight to twelve, and featured a couple of large fields, including the main soccer field, which was lined by a fifteen hundred metre track loop. South of the High School was the Ladysmith Primary School, which taught students from Kindergarten till the Third Grade. Northwest, the field was bordered by high wooden fences that led into people’s yards, and a catwalk that led out toward Symonds Street. Directly North of the High School was the Frank Jameson Community Centre which featured a huge recreational swimming pool and gym facilities, and the Ladysmith Skate Park.
He wasn’t surprised to see the Skate Park still in full use by many of the teens, but the addition of a new modular fence around the edges was clearly meant to separate the Halish soldiers from the Skate Park.
Boomer could tell why it was needed. When viewed from afar, a thousand people didn’t seem like very much. But there was much more to the Halish Forces than just soldiers. Any sizable military force would have to have a respectable force of cooks, medics, animal wranglers, hunters and even prostitutes. And prostitutes meant there was going to be some activity happening in those tents they didn’t really need the teenagers knowing about.
When they’d arrived, it caused something of an uproar on top of the already extant uproar. Boomer found it funny that people could let the presence of armed soldiers camping out in the High School field slide, but they drew the line at prostitutes. Unfortunately, it was a necessary evil, and so long as the various workers were not being forced to ply their trades against their will, it shouldn’t really be anyone’s business.
It was the way things were done in the Pactlands, and it was no different to the way things had been done on Earth. So long as nobody was being hurt, and their chosen trades did not spill out into the town, the Emergency Committee would allow it for the time being.
But it did bring up an interesting conundrum. Eventually, there were going to be sexual relations between the people of the Pactlands and the residents of Ladysmith. People would fall in love. They might even have children.
The image of Arie popped up in his mind, then he immediately pushed it away.
No, that wasn’t a tree he should be barking up. She was a princess, and he was just some guy from Ontario who blundered his way into a small Vancouver Island town to keep a low profile.
His dreams still haunted him, even moreso since coming to the Pactlands. The dream where his mother would bang on his bedroom door was alway recurring, but since arriving in the Pactlands, it was almost nightly, although the more recent dreams contained another element he couldn’t make sense of.
It would still always start the same: The shadow under the door. The drunken slurring of his name. The incessant pounding on the door. The tightening of the chains, and hiding under his blanket. But then, the dream would shift in tone. The voice would become calmer, more lucid. It was still his mother’s voice, but it wasn’t at the same time.
Instead of screaming, the voice would plead with him. Open the door, the voice would say. You must. Then it would inevitably remind him again that the children of the Halo needed him.
A week prior, Boomer would have ignored it as he chose to ignore most of his dreams. But since coming to the Pactlands, he couldn’t help but think there was something else to that voice. It had, after all, instructed him to seek help from Arie. It seemed to want what was best for him.
Why, then, was it behind the door, taking on the role of his mother?
And was it just a figment of his dream state, or was there something conscious to the voice? Did it relate to his abilities? Was it a friend, or was it trying to trick him?
He didn’t know. And he didn’t know how to explain it to Lily and Arie, who were the only two people he could trust with it.
Boomer scanned the outskirts of the Halish camp, looking for signs of modern clothing. It was honestly the easiest way to tell where the officials were. Anyone in the camp wearing Earth fashions was obviously supposed to be there. It didn’t take him long to spot the familiar form of Andy Johnson standing under a tent awning next to Sergeant– sorry, General Boone. Ironically, his increase in rank had led to him specifically wearing civilian clothing more often.
It made sense. There was no real uniform for the militia.
Yet.
“You’re late,” Andy commented as Boomer stepped under the awning of the tent. Boone quickly turned around and regarded him.
“You’re the Gas Station guy, aren’t you?” Boone asked.
“Yeah, that’s me. Gas Station guy is my middle name though. My friends call me Boomer.”
Boone looked him up and down. “I can see why,” he said. “Andy tells me you were on track to get a Master’s in psychology.”
“Was,” Boomer said. “There’s not exactly any accredited institutions left to finish it anymore.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to work on that,” Boone replied. “How are you in a crisis, Boomer?”
“Depends on the crisis, I suppose.”
“That store you work at got robbed last year. Knifepoint if I recall correctly. Were you working?”
Boomer nodded. “Yeah, that was me.”
“How’d you react?”
“I gave him the money,” Boomer said. “I’m not risking my life for the forty bucks in the till while only making sixteen dollars an hour.”
“Were you scared?”
“Of a guy pointing a knife in my face and threatening to end my life for what amounts to table scraps? Yeah, I’d say I was scared.” He paused. “But I also recognized how desperate he was, and how much more dangerous he could become if I brought my ego into it. Besides, I’ve been through worse. Once it was over, it was over. He left, I pushed the panic button and Constable Littleton showed up a few minutes later.”
Boone nodded. “Yeah, Littleton vouched for you, too.” He looked toward Andy. “All right, that’s good enough for me. From here on out, it’s all you.”
A moment later, Lieutenant Wicket and another man emerged from the tent. Boomer nodded at him in greeting.
“Ah, we’ve met, haven’t we?” the Lieutenant said. “At your… magic society?” He looked to Andy. “Is this the second agent you were telling me about?”
Boomer looked over toward Andy. “Second agent?”
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Andy said. “I picked you first anyway.” He looked back to Keltz. “This is Boomer. He’s going to be the lynchpin of this whole operation, but we’re thankful for your help.”
“Technically, it’s you who helps us,” said the second man. He looked to Boomer. “Jerrin Syrel. Lieutenant of the Knights of Parrin Order.”
“You’re a knight?” Boomer asked.
“Only in name,” Syrel replied. “Like Lieutenant Wicket, I was common-born. But that doesn’t mean we don’t love Halen the same as any highborn.” He pulled a rolled piece of paper out from his side and opened it on the table. It was another photocopy of the same map Boomer had seen the night before. “Our scouts returned this morning confirming the information given to you by the captured Vectoran.” He tapped at the spot of the small Vectoran camp. “A full day’s walk through the forest will take you to their temporary camp. Our men managed to escape unseen, but they witnessed the arrival of several units, and there seems to be some expansion activities happening there. It’s unclear what it’s for, but our suspicion is that they’re preparing to march on Ladysmith.”
“How long do you figure?” Boone asked.
Syrel shook his head. “It’s impossible to know. They could already be en route. However, Ryde is known for a lot of things. Impulsiveness isn’t one of them. He is exacting, and thorough. I don’t believe he will order a march until he knows for certain what he’s marching them into. That means before any marching occurs, he will have the area scouted by his best artists, and–”
“I’m sorry, artists?” Boone asked.
“In a world without cameras, artists are the next best thing,” Boomer commented.
“Which is why we are grateful for your gift, General Boone,” Lieutenant Wicket said. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small rectangular object.
Boomer suddenly realised what it was. It was an iPhone. He watched as Keltz unlocked the phone with the methodical disinterest of a full-time user and tap on the photo app. He then passed the phone to Boone.
“The scouts took several dozen pictures, showing the layout of the camp, their supplies and the size of their forces. This one device was worth ten artists. It will definitely give us the speed advantage.”
“For now,” Andy said. “Eventually Vector’s going to learn about these things and put them to work for them.”
“They’ll need to learn how to operate them first,” Boone said.
“I’m not so cocky to believe they’re too stupid to figure it out,” Andy said. He looked over to Boone. “Joint Task Force operations in Kabul learned really quickly not to underestimate the offensive capabilities of what amounted to a bunch of radicalised goat farmers. History’s full of stories about technologically underdeveloped people taking on a superior force and winning. And in terms of numbers, they’ve got the superior force. The problem with our technology is that it can be used against us with the same level of relative ease as we can use it against them. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how to fire a rifle, and it might not take very long for them to adapt the technology.”
“Our alchemists are already working on adapting the technology of your rifles for Halen’s use,” Syrel added.
“Jesus, that’s a sobering thought.”
“It can’t just exist in a vacuum,” Boomer commented. He looked to Boone. “We just sprung into this world fully formed with technology several hundred years more advanced than theirs. It’s not like they’re going to observe the patents. If they see use in it, they’re probably going to try to emulate it.”
“They still have a pretty big hurdle to overcome,” Boone said. He motioned to the iPhone. “The camera technology in that thing is about a hundred generations of technology ahead of even the first prototype. They’re not going to be able to just invent the Pactlands equivalent overnight.”
“No, but we’re not exactly keeping that information close to heart. We have a library full of books, and plenty of them can read it. Some of those books have step-by-step instructions on how to develop camera technology, or radio technology. Or ballistic weapons technology, for that matter. They may be a far cry from iPhones and ICBMs, but I wouldn’t put it past them to start walking down that path sooner than later.”
“Then maybe we should try to delay that spread as much as possible,” Boone said.
Andy shook his head. “I don’t agree,” he said.
Boone looked to him. “How so?”
“We’re not going to win this without allies,” Andy said. He gestured to Syrel and Wicket. “Which means we should try our best to arm them.”
“Didn’t the US Government arm the Taliban back in the 80’s during the Soviet-Afghan war? That didn’t turn out so great for the US in the end.”
“I don’t think we can afford to look that far into the future,” he replied. “Besides, arming the Taliban was the best option at the time. It may have led to the creation of men like Bin Laden, but at the same time, it stopped the Soviets.” Andy pointed to the location of the Vectoran camp. “I’m not suggesting we give everyone a pistol and a box of hand grenades, but I think it’d be to everyone’s benefit, including ours, to start offering some level of technology to our allies.”
Boone appeared to chew on Andy’s words for a moment. “You have a point,” he said. He pointed to the location of the Vectoran camp. “What’s the terrain like here? Elevation in relation to Stone’s Mouth?”
“It’s in the lowlands near the mouth of the Senta Pass. Stone’s Mouth is at a much higher elevation.”
Andy looked to Boone. “What are you thinking?”
Boone looked up to the mountain ridge high above the town and scanned the ridge. “Mount Coronation is still the highest point in the region as best we can tell. If we were to put a repeater tower up there, and a second over here, above Stone’s Mouth, that should give us radio coverage spanning the entire pass and most of the coast.”
Boomer’s eyes popped open. “Can we do that?”
Boone nodded. “Sure,” he said. “We’ve got the supplies needed to do something like that. We could probably have a rudimentary network setup within the week.” He looked over to Boomer. “But we have to get it through the Emergency Committee first.”
“As I understand it,” Keltz added. “These towers are quite visible above the treetops. What’s to stop Vector from attacking these sites and crippling your radio capabilities?”
“We’ll see them coming,” Boone said. “And with the communication networks in place, we’ll be able to stop them before they can reach the sites.”
Boomer rubbed his chin for a moment. “I might have a better idea,” he said.
All four of them looked at him.
“Do tell,” Andy said.
Boomer took a moment to think it through, then began to explain his idea.
----------------------------------------
After the ferry had arrived on the other side of the Cantus, it was clear that they had managed to garner some attention from the people of Ansem. Several people in the midst of their daily business stopped to watch as they pushed the quads silently off of the ferry onto the docks. She could sense no small amount of chatter amongst them, but ignored it. They were alarmed, certainly. The quads were strange devices, and the dress of the three visitors to Halen were no doubt interesting to them, but they were commoners, and they knew not to involve themselves too much in the affairs of the nobility. Nalya herself might not bear recognition, but her dress uniform with the colours of Halish nobility would be instantly recognizable.
Eventually, the crowd dissipated as the five of them made their way into the main avenue of the village. The Lanternlighter’s Tavern was one of the central buildings in Ansem. While it served primarily as a public house for the people, it also contained a number of spare beds saved for travellers coming to and from the Disputed Lands. They would stay the night there, catch a bath, and make their way to Arronay in the morning.
The Canadians walked through the village mostly in silence as they pushed their quads. Children played in the streets, stopping only to point and laugh in their general direction before an adult would shoo them on their way. As they passed the square, they came upon a procession of men and women clothed in thin white robes who stood opposite one another, and took turns wrapping their hands around each other’s necks and squeezing.
“Why are those people choking each other out?” Terra asked quietly.
Nalya looked in her direction and spoke quietly. “They are the Disquiet,” she explained. “Are there not people in your world who fear the light of day, or meeting strangers?”
“Like… people with anxiety disorders?” Terra asked.
“Anxiety? Yes, I suppose that it the case,” she explained. “There are some people who are fearful of strange things. These people often fear their fellows. Many of it comes from past experience, usually as children. They become fearful in the light of the sun of what may happen, even if it is unlikely. Every month, those with such anxieties meet in a public square and take turns harming one another.”
“What do you mean harming one another?” Cale asked.
“It is not unwelcome,” she said. “The Disquiet almost always appreciate the experience once it is finished. They choke each other until they fall unconscious. Later, they will take turns beating on one another. Then, in the evening, they will run across a field one at a time while being chased and tackled to the ground by five others.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Terra asked. She pointed at one of the women in the group. “She looks pregnant.”
“Aye, the point of it is to accept the danger,” Bayne added. “At the end, it makes them less fearful of others.”
“And they… enjoy this?”
“Some do,” Nalya said. “Some look forward to the experience. Even battered and bruised, they walk away with a true sense of power from the ritual, and they may leave at any time if it becomes too much for them.”
“I think I get it,” Ryan added. He looked over to Terra. “If they’ve got anxiety issues, it’s like… forcing them to confront their fears. They’re giving them a controlled environment to simulate dangerous situations. Even if it’s only simulated, it probably feels pretty real while they’re going through it, and if you can walk away at the end of the day, after having endured it, you’re bound to feel pretty accomplished.”
“It’s a tradition that goes back several centuries,” Nalya added.
“But what if something goes wrong and somebody is seriously hurt?”
“That is always a risk,” Nalya said. “But so too is the mere act of leaving the safety of your home. This teaches them to fight for themselves and take their fates into their own hands instead of fearing to live a good life.”
“And if you don’t pass?”
Nalya smiled. “That is the beauty of the ritual,” she said. “The only way to fail is to not participate at all.”
Nalya could sense Terra’s skepticism. Still, Terra watched the group thoughtfully as they walked by.
Eventually, they made their way to the front of the Lanternlighter’s Tavern.
“We can leave the quads outside. Our things will be safe,” she explained, then nodded at a couple of guardsmen standing near the village square. They both saluted her. The scent of boiled mutton wafted from outside of the tavern. It made her mouth water.
Nalya entered first as the others followed her. It had been only a few weeks since she was last there. Immediately she scanned the room, looking for one particularly familiar face.
A flash of auburn hair in the sunlight drew her attention, and she smiled at the young woman who approached her.
“Ah! Lady! I had not expected you to return so soon,” said the young woman before them. She looked to her guests, and let her gaze linger on the Canadians for a moment longer than she might have otherwise.
“Rynn,” Nalya said. “It is good to see you again.”
“The pleasure it all mine, my Lady. I hope your trip into the Disputed Lands was pleasurable.”
“It came with some… surprises,” Nalya said. She motioned to the Canadians. “This is Terra, Ryan and Cale. They are friends. And of course you know Bayne. Please treat them with the same respect you’ve shown me.”
“I’ll have it no other way, my Lady,” Rynn replied. She flashed a warm smile at the Canadians. “I must say, your fashions are… most unique. Do you hail from the Free Lands?”
“Sort of,” Ryan said.
“These three hail from a place called Ladysmith,” Nalya explained. “You would think me mad by saying so, but I swear it is true: They come from another world entirely.”
“Another… world?” Rynn looked Nalya in the eye. “I take it you do not mean from across the Lost Ocean.”
Nalya shook her head. “Farther even than the Azure Dream,” she explained. “Another plane of existence. They arrived several days ago. Thousands of them, along with the city they came from. I have seen such wonders there, Rynn. I should like to tell you of them, but we are worn from a long trip and need a meal.”
“Of course! And beds for the evening, I suppose? Shall I draw baths for you?”
Nalya nodded. “Please,” she said.
“It will be done, my Lady,” she said. She looked suddenly to Terra. “Terra, is it?”
“Yep,” Terra replied with a smile.
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“Terra, I must know… your hair. I’ve never seen such a shade of red,” she said. “How did that come to be?”
“Where I come from, we have these dyes,” she explained. “I dye my hair. It’s not my natural colour. My actual hair colour is as blonde as Nalya’s.”
“Truly? The Lady’s hair is beautiful. I would die to have such fair hair. Why do you change it?”
“She’s fickle,” Ryan said.
Terra elbowed him in the ribs. “I like variety,” she corrected.
“It was green last month,” Ryan said. “Purple the month before that.”
Terra shot him a look and he shut up. Cale laughed.
“It’s still very interesting,” Rynn said. “I should love a dye that would make my hair blonde like the Lady’s.”
“I’m pretty sure we have some like that,” Terra said. “Bleach at the very least.”
“Truly?” Rynn asked. “How might I procure some of this… bleach?”
Terra looked over to Nalya. “I mean… I suppose we can find a way to get you some,” she said. “But first we need to go speak to your King.”
“That reminds me,” Nalya added. “Rynn, is there a Swift about? I’ve an important task for them.”
“As it happens, Hobb has just returned from Midsem,” she explained. She looked over her shoulder and pointed out a young man sitting alone at the bar. “I’ll have him attend to you while I prepare your meals.”
With that, the five of them took a seat at a table in the corner while Rynn went off to prepare their food.
“Rynn is a kind soul,” Nalya explained. “But she loves to talk. Between her and the ferryman, all of Ansem will know of Ladysmith before the day is out.”
“Are we sure that’s a good thing?” Cale asked.
“So long as you are regarded kindly, then yes,” Nalya explained. “We want word to go out.” She looked up to regard the Swift, Hobb, approaching the table.
“Countess Ruus, is it?” Hobb asked.
“It is,” she said. “I have need of the Swift. Two of you. Have you a partner, Hobb?”
“I do,” he said. “Young Havor is inexperienced, but reliable if you’d have him.”
“I will need a message sent to the King’s Chamber at the Sculpted Palace,” she said. “All may hear the message, but ensure it falls upon the King’s ears before any other.”
“We can be there by tomorrow evening,” Hobb said. “And the other?”
“It will take longer, I’m afraid. How versed are you with the Disputed Lands?”
Hobb rubbed his chin for a moment. “Everything east of the Spine is known to me,” he said.
“The village of Stone’s Mouth?”
“I know it well. There is an old alchemist there who sends for me from time to time,” he explained.
“There is a new settlement east of Stone’s Mouth, right on the Aegel Coast. It is called Ladysmith.”
“Oh?” Hobb asked. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Nonetheless, it exists. You’re unlikely to miss it. It is the sort of place that…” she looked to Terra and the others. “...stands out.”
“And what am I to do in this Ladysmith?”
“I will have a sealed message,” she said. “Only to be read to a group called the Emergency Committee. Ask any person in the town, they should be able to direct you to them. Also, are you familiar with the Quicktooth Hunting Territories?”
“I am, Lady,” Hobb replied. “I can’t imagine you have a message for Featherclaw, though.”
“No. In the grassy plains north of the river that borders their hunting grounds, there is a lone woman. A hermit.”
“Ah, the Tyl woman?”
Nalya nodded. “Her name is Erzabet,” Nalya said. “She will have a book for you. The book is fragile, and very valuable. I should like you to fetch it from her and deliver it with the sealed message to the Emergency Committee.”
Hobb nodded. “I’ll see your messages sent, Lady,” he said. “Is this business of the King, or of your House?”
“My House will pay whatever fees you require,” she said.
Hobb nodded. “Then your messages will be sent,” Hobb said. “I will fetch young Havor. When will you have the message ready?”
“Give us time to eat,” she said. “Then when you return, I shall have everything necessary.”
Hobb nodded, then quickly left the tavern.
“Are you sure you can trust these guys?” Cale asked.
“The Swift are above reproach,” Nalya said. “It is an esteemed role they fill. Every Swift is trained for years and swear an oath as strong as the one Bayne swore to my father and I. They will deliver the messages and parcels to the letter. Failure in their task means death.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She means,” Bayne said. “They will defend the integrity of their messages with their very lives, and if they fail to, they will fall upon their own daggers before their kinsmen. The Swift can be trusted.”
“Hence why they are so expensive,” Nalya said. “Even a single Swift to Cilasia from here could cost a farmer half the year’s crop.”
“Wait, so how much is it costing to send him to Ladysmith?” Ryan asked. He looked to Nalya. “Do you have that kind of money?”
Nalya looked Ryan in the eye. “That’s not a concern I care to discuss right now,” she said. She smiled out of the corner of her mouth. “For now, it’s time to enjoy some boiled mutton.”
----------------------------------------
Arie stepped off of the bright yellow school bus and quickly put her head between her knees as she propped her back against it. She had turned a sickly shade of pale about halfway down the highway, and the yelling and singing of the Halish soldiers on board the bus didn't do much to help her state. Lily was the next to exit, and she put a hand on her shoulder.
“You okay?” she inquired.
Arie nodded. “I'm just not used to that,” she said. She hadn’t felt ill when riding in the police car on the day she arrived in Ladysmith, but the way the bus bounced and bumped, particularly after turning onto the dirt road near the southern edge of town nearly made her vomit. Despite their singing, many of the Halish soldiers were in the same state. She hadn’t felt sick like that since she’d sailed from Dey to Telemenn after she’d rescued Tam from the Tear.
When Arie and Lily had walked up the hill to the High School field, Arie was surprised to see many of the soldiers were in the process of tearing down portions of their camp. The decision had been made to relocate a number of soldiers to the southern edge of the Halo, to a place the people of Ladysmith called Kamper’s Korner. She understood it was meant to bolster their defences once Vector decided to march. Arie thought nothing of it, until they found out that Lieutenant Wicket was also there.
But she hadn’t expected to get sick.
“Sorry about the ride,” Andy Johnson said. “It’s a little shaky, but you get used to it.”
Arie had seen Andy once or twice before. She knew that he had some sort of friendship with Boomer, as he’d seen the two sitting and talking with one another during their outdoor practices at Transfer Beach, but she hadn’t realised he held some sort of official standing with the Ladysmith militia forces. She merely nodded at him, then put her back up straight againt the side of the bus. The feeling was beginning to pass.
Once she felt well enough to walk, Andy led them down past a wooden building into a cleared out area. A group of soldiers, both Halish and Canadian, stood at attention on a concrete pad near the centre of the camp. Addressing them was Keltz Wicket.
As they drew closer, Arie cocked her head in order to hear better.
“It is an unfortunate reality that we do not know when Vector will come, nor what they will do if they come,” he exclaimed. “But depending on whether you are Halish or Canadian, the orders of our engagement here will differ. Men of Halen, we are still bound by the laws of the Pact. Therefore, any engagement with Vectoran forces must be done only in defence. Vector knows this. We know this. Men of Ladysmith, you are not bound by the Pact. You are free to defend your territories at will by whatever means you see fit. However, know that Vector may seek to exploit this. We can still lend aid, but we cannot draw Vectoran blood unless ours is drawn first, even if you are in the most dire of need. To go against this will dishonour our King and Country before all the nations of the Pactlands, and falls outside of our role here in the Disputed Lands. I trust this is well understood by all present.”
A moment later, General Boone began to speak. “The men from Halen are here under strict orders,” he added. “I don’t want any misunderstandings as to what they can and can’t do. If you are injured, they can drag you to safety, help you get medical treatment. They cannot fight for us. Nor should they have to. Ladysmith is our home, so in the end it’s our fight, and we will be grateful for whatever help they can offer, but their primary role here is to observe, and to report to their authorities in Halen. To that end, we will assist them however we can in order to help them with that goal. Remember, they are voluntarily assisting us. That assistance may yet be temporary, but we’re going to remain grateful for it nonetheless. Am I understood?”
There was a series of affirmations from the soldiers.
“Good,” Boone said. “Now another thing I need everyone to keep in mind. We might speak the same language, but there is a vast difference in our cultures. As such, things we Canadians take as normal seem strange to the Halish. And likewise, things the Halish see as normal seem strange to Canadians. Therefore, Lieutenants Wicket and Syrel and I have agreed that if any soldier, be they Halish or Canadian cannot hold their temper in, they will be put on latrine-digging duties together until they can learn to be patient with one another. Some of you may have heard the rumours about the brawl last night. Let me put those rumours to rest. Every man involved in that brawl on both sides are currently marching up the logging roads to dig holes for soldiers on both sides of this alliance to shit in. Canadians! If someone gives you beef, report it to Lieutenant Cooper, and it will be addressed. Likewise, for the Halish, if any Canadian gives you trouble, bring it to the attention of your Lieutenants and we will work together to mediate and solve the issue.”
“There was a brawl last night?” Lily asked, looking back to Andy.
“Yeah,” he replied. “It was bound to happen. It’ll happen again. This sort of thing is normal even when you’re in the same unit.” He laughed. “Someone makes a rude comment about someone’s girlfriend or wife or sister and all hell breaks loose.”
“Now report to your stations,” Boone exclaimed. “And get moving. I don’t want any bullshit today. Our very lives could depend on us getting along. Understood?”
There was another round of affirmations from the soldiers, and then they broke to move off toward various locations in the camp. Some started to set up tents, others grabbed tools and began to cut down trees above the ridgeline, while other men operated a large yellow machine that appeared to be for moving large amounts of dirt around.
Arie found the machine to be very interesting. It was large, slow and noisy, but she got the sense that the machine itself was incredibly strong. She felt a stab of pride knowing that they had to construct something that powerful in order to imitate something she could do naturally.
“Miss Rasmussen? Miss Boas?” Keltz asked, walking up to them.
“Hi Lieutenant,” Lily said, smiling.
“Please, you are not under my command,” he said. “You may call me Keltz. Miss Rasmussen.”
“I’m not a school marm, so you can call me Lily,” she replied.
“I shall endeavour to remember that, Lily,” he replied.
Lily giggled. Arie shot a glance in her direction and smirked. She’d only known Lily for less than a week, but already she knew giggling wasn’t something she did often.
“I assume you are here regarding the War Dance,” Keltz said.
Arie nodded. “Yes. I believe they are ready.”
Keltz sighed. “All right,” he said. He glanced back over his shoulder and scanned the area. “War Mage Paldin! To me!”
An older man wearing the badge of a Fire Mage turned his head toward the group and began to walk over. “Lieutenant? How may I assist?”
Keltz once again looked to Arie. “You’re certain?”
Arie nodded.
“Paldin,” Keltz said. “You have heard there have been manifestations of several Feral Mages within Ladysmith, I understand?”
Paldin raised an eyebrow. “I have heard, Lieutenant.” He looked to Arie and Lily. “Are these…?”
“Miss Boas here is Shavian,” Keltz said. “An Earth Mage trained at the Academies. She has a proposal for you if you’ll hear it.”
Arie looked the older man in the eye. She could already feel him sizing her up. He wore a look of skepticism. “War Mage Paldin,” she said. “It is an honour to meet one from beneath the Wings of the Raptor.”
“The honour is mine, Miss Boas,” he said. “You appear quite young. Have you received your colours yet?”
“I have. Under the Wings of the Loon. I had applied to study under the Wings of the Raptor, but… circumstance forbade me from pursuing it further.”
“A shame,” he replied. “Best years of my life were spent under those Wings. What is this proposal?”
“I have spent the past several days with Lily and those here who have manifested their foundations,” she explained. “And I believe they are gifted Mages. However, I can only guide them so much. We need one those who’ve studied under the Wings of the Raptor to help them further.”
Paldin reacted as though he’d been struck. “My apologies, Miss, but are you mad?”
“I understand your hesitance–”
“Hesitance? Hesitance?” Paldin nearly spat. “Do you even have the slightest inkling of what you’re asking? To ask a War Mage to violate the very creed upon which we–”
“I understand very clearly, War Mage,” she replied calmly. “Your creed is known to me. Intimately so.”
“Then how could you even make such a request? I will not suffer–”
“You shall not suffer a Feral Mage the delusion of superiority,” she said. “But I believe some of these Mages have a command of their abilities unheard of across the Pactlands, and I feel you will agree.”
“Like pox, I’ll agree, I–”
“Maintain your composure, War Mage,” Keltz said. “Just hear her out.”
“Lieutenant, forgive me for my insubordination, but you cannot possibly believe–”
“Hear her out,” Keltz repeated.
Paldin paused, then took a deep breath.
“I have chosen three,” she said. “Three whom I deem to be talented. They wish to invoke the War Dance with three of your Mages.”
Paldin’s eyes bugged out. “Are you mad? Even trained War Mages have been known to die in the Dance.” He looked to Lily. “These are but whelps. They’ll not last but a few seconds before they take their last breath.”
“I believe they may surprise you,” Arie said.
Paldin folded his arms. “Doubtful,” he said.
“If they succeed in the War Dance against three of your Mages, will you agree to assist in their training?”
Paldin threw his arms in the air. “Succeed? How could they possibly–”
“Will you agree?” Arie repeated.
The older man sighed. “If they succeed in the War Dance, then the creed would not apply,” he said. “And if we are ordered, then yes. But we cannot be ordered to go against the creed.”
“Then choose three,” Arie said. “For the day after tomorrow, at the field atop the hill where your main camp is.”
“Miss Boas, you can’t be–”
“Are you refusing the Dance, War Mage?”
Paldin stopped in his tracks. “Of course not,” he said. “To do so would be to sacrifice honour for cowardice.” He looked to Lily. “But you must understand, there is no guarantee the Dance will end with you still drawing breath. Are your Mages prepared for that?”
“We are,” Lily said.
Paldin sighed and remained silent for a few moments. “Name your three,” he said. “I will speak with the others and name ours when it’s been decided.”
Arie nodded. “Lily Rasmussen, Lightning Mage. Raine Walsh, Fire Mage. Misty Emery, Air Mage.”
“Lightning, Fire and Air?” he asked. With another sigh, he continued. “Very well. The day after next, at the cusp of dusk. You best prepare them, and have them say goodbye to their families.” With that, Paldin turned and started to stomp off toward the edge of the camp.
“Well this is certainly going to be interesting,” Andy commented.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” Arie said.
“We’ll do fine,” Lily said. “We’ll have Marie there if things get heavy. She can heal–”
“Body Mages can only heal so much. If the injuries are too deep, or if you’re bleeding from the inside, there’s little they can do,” Arie said. She looked to Lily. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Of course,” Lily said.
“I must go,” Keltz said. He looked to Lily. “For what it’s worth, I will pray for your success. I should like to see your face again, Lily.”
Arie noticed Lily’s face turn a shade of red.
“What’s the normal range on your magic?” Andy suddenly asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Like… how far away can you shoot your lightning bolts?”
“It depends,” she said. “It’s not really like I have control over the lightning itself, it’s more about the charged ions. I guess maybe about forty feet before I lose the charge.”
“It depends largely on the Foundation,” Arie said. “I’ve seen Lightning Mages with a range of about a hundred paces, but the farther it gets, the less precise.”
“What about your magic? What kind of range do you have?”
“It depends what I’m attempting to do. Moving loose earth? Sixty paces. Moving larger objects such as stones and boulders, ten paces. If I have high ground, I can turn larger stones into projectiles that could reach up to seventy paces or so before it falls to the ground.”
“What if you’re in the air?”
“I’m sorry?”
Andy looked to Lily. “She knows we can fly, right?”
“I… I don’t think it’s come up.”
“You can fly? Like on the witch’s broom in Wizard of Oz?”
“Something like that,” Andy said. “But similar principle, I guess. But say you’re a few hundred feet in the air and you have a few big rocks. How far do you think you can shoot it off before it goes into freefall?”
Arie looked to Lily for a moment. “I… I’m not certain,” she said. “But how–”
“Look, I’m just spitballing right now,” Andy said. “Might not even be feasible, so don’t sweat the details right now. But if you think of anything, let me know. I’ve got some ideas I’m working through that we might need the help of a Mage or two for. In the meantime, you worry about showing those War Mages what for. Sound good?”
Arie could only nod.
“Great,” he said. “Now I’ve got to run. You ladies are welcome to take a look around, but try not to get in anyone’s way, okay?”
As Andy wandered off, Arie looked to Lily. “What does he mean you can fly?”
----------------------------------------
The music was sweet, gentle. It flowed like water and consumed Ajjiro's attention. Zera played the strings masterfully. It was one of the things he liked about her. He closed his eyes and let it become a part of him. Each movement, each note was carefully crafted hundreds of years ago in an arrangement meant to honour Becca Ayre, one of the primary Founders of the Pact. It moved him, inspired him. If, in that moment, Ajjiro had been asked what the music was to him, he would have replied that it was a part of him.
Suddenly, there was a disturbing break in the music. A knock came at the door, and Zera immediately stopped playing, looking to Ajjiro. He frowned. His men knew not to bother him at night when the music was playing. It was the only time of day he could truly relax.
“What fool–” he began, then trailed off. He stood up and opened the door.
On the other side of the door was one of his men. “I beg your forgiveness, my Lord General,” he said. He motioned to a man standing behind him. He was dressed in a black cloak and wore the badge of an Earth War Mage. “But he insisted.”
Ajjiro gave his man a grave look. “What is so important that it caused you to lose yourself, soldier?”
“Western patrols returned a half-hour ago. They found this man. He says he comes at the behest of the High Magus Council. He bears a writ from the Council, identifying him as their man.”
Ajjiro looked to the Mage. “The Council?” He furrowed his brow. “What business does the Council have in these foul lands?”
“Lord General Ryde,” the Earth Mage said. He smiled warmly. “Forgive me this interruption. I know that you are a… busy man.” The Mage’s eyes darted toward Zera for a moment, then back to him. “Rest assured, I do come on a… private matter of importance to the Council where time is not to be wasted.”
Ajjiro regarded the Earth Mage for a moment. He wanted to tell him to turn around, but if he truly was there at the behest of the Council, Ajjiro knew better than to turn him away. He suddenly softened his look. “My apologies,” he said. “War Mage…?”
“Tome,” the Mage replied. “Errin Tome, of Shavi.”
“You’ll forgive me my impudence, War Mage Tome,” he said. “My men were given instructions not to bother me during leisure time.” He opened the door wide and stepped aside. “You are welcome to enter.”
Tome nodded and entered the room, closing the door behind him. “I thank you, Lord General,” he said. He looked to Zera. “I trust I interrupted nothing of importance.”
“Nothing that cannot be recovered,” Zera said. “I was only playing the General’s favorite piece for him.”
“Yes, I heard from the hallway. The Cremation of Ayre, a beautiful piece. You play it with the same care with which it was composed.”
“You are familiar with the works of the greats of Nostra, I see,” Zera said.
“I am familiar with all great works of art and music, Madame,” he replied.
“I trust you did not come all this way to discuss art and music,” Ryde added. “You said it was a matter of importance? I hope this isn’t regarding our operations here in the Disputed Lands?”
“Not at all, Lord General,” Tome said. “I have no desire nor duty to interrupt your rightful claim here. Rather, it is a matter of a fugitive that brings me here.”
“A fugitive?”
“Indeed,” he said. “Two dreams hence, there was a theft at the Tear in Dey, whereupon a criminal bound to a Widow’s Tear was taken. I believe the thief in question has made her way to the Disputed Lands, seeking safety from the laws of the Pact.”
“A theft at the Tear? I had heard the Tear was impenetrable,” Zera said.
“Indeed, it is. We believe she had help, which is why it is so important we recover her and the criminal she absconded with so they may be put to question. If there are forces working against the Council in Shavi, we must know of them.”
“So how might we be of assistance?”
“Alas, when your men came across me, they refused to let me be upon my way, citing some sort of Freeman resistance within these lands. They did not leave me with a choice in the matter, and instead brought me here despite my protestations.”
“They were correct, War Mage,” he said. “There are some unforeseen troubles brewing here that may present a… challenge.”
“Nothing too terrible, I hope?”
Ryde frowned. “That remains to be seen,” he said. “I have sent word to both the Council and the Emperor regarding these happenings. I believe the Council should be made aware of them, as they may have a much wider ranging effect on the Pactlands at large than what we had hoped. I still await their reply.”
“Might I be of assistance?”
Ryde had to be careful with what he said. Tome might be there on the business of the Council, but if he were to learn of Shilo Cahl’s activities, it might yet present a problem.
“My men returned word of a new settlement,” he said. “Upon the Aegel Coast. I’m told this settlement is not populated by Freemen, but of a people who hail from much further away. The rumours are they are from beyond the veil.”
Tome raised an eyebrow. “Beyond the veil?”
Ryde nodded. “A potentially otherworldly sort,” he said. “I await word on what’s to be done about them, but I am preparing my men to march at a moment’s notice.”
“Interesting indeed. Upon the Aegel Coast, you say?”
Ryde nodded.
“As it happens, that was where I had thought to search for my fugitive,” he said.
“I would not think to tell you that you shouldn’t go,” Ryde said. “I’m certain a War Mage of your standing, here by cause with the Council can handle himself in these foul lands, but much is still unknown with these people.”
“Be that as it may,” Tome said. “I must continue my search for her.”
Ryde nodded. “Then I will instruct my men to allow you free passage, and send you with a writ in case any more of my men attempt to stop you.” He paused.
Tome smiled. “That would be splendid, my Lord General.”
Ryde went over to his desk and picked out a piece of parchment and began to write. “If I may ask, War Mage, why does the Council deem this fugitive of such import?” He looked over. “I understand she’s to be put to the question, but even so, I cannot in recent memory identify any time a fugitive has been chased after they’ve passed into the Disputed Lands.”
“You are correct in that it is a rare occurrence to seek a fugitive so voraciously,” he said. “Unfortunately, it is business that is far above my station to share freely, even to one so reputable as yourself, my Lord General.”
“I understand,” he said. “I might, then, ask for a favour from you, War Mage.”
“If it is reasonable, and within my power to do, it shall be done.”
“If in your search you happen to come across this otherworldly settlement we know so very little of, any information you could share would us might prove to be invaluable. In return, I can promise the use of my own forces to help achieve your goals.”
“If that is all, you may consider it a gratuity,” Tome said. “I shall tell you of what I learn if I come across this place, and you may keep your forces. She will not prove to be a challenge.”
“She may not,” Ryde said. “But if she falls in league with these people, I warn you, we cannot fathom what they are capable of. That is why we must tread so very carefully.” He finished writing on the parchment and poured wax from his candle over it, then pressed his seal into the wax. He rolled up the parchment and handed it to Tome.
“I thank you, Lord General.”
“It is late, and your nights are beginning to grow darker as we approach Low Dream,” Ryde said. “If you desire it, I will have a room prepared for you and supplies for your journey in the morning.”
Tome thought about it for a moment. “I value your hospitality, Lord General,” he said. “But again, time is not a friend to me. I must be on my way.”
“Very well. Then I hope we should meet again as friends, War Mage Tome.”