Sext, Seventeen Day Before the Kalends of June

A Dried Creek at the Edge of Eastpoint, Bahim, Drum

Jack Anselm had attacked Logan Floyd eighteen times during the twenty minute walk from the quarry to the creek. In one of the attacks Jack had managed to make a nick in Logan’s trousers, but the rest of the attacks had been unsuccessful. By the time they reached the creek the boy was almost in tears.

“I am to teach you combat,” said Logan.

“Kate teaches me combat,” said Jack.

“Well,” said Logan. “I am to teach you as well.”

“Says who.”

“Says Captain,” said Logan.

Jack Anselm charged at Logan for the nineteenth time, brandishing a dagger in each hand. Logan drew his fauchard. Jack thrust forward, but Logan swung his fauchard, easily dislodging a dagger from Jack’s hand. Jack pushed forward with his other dagger, but Logan struck Jack in the chest with the handle of his fauchard and the boy fell onto his back. He scrambled to his feet, but he was taking shallow, pained breaths.

“Breathe slowly,” said Logan.

Jack huffed and puffed in anger.

“Retrieve your weapon,” said Logan.

Jack hesitated for a moment, but then reached down and picked up the fallen dagger.

“You are a dagger wielder,” said Logan. “But you are attacking like a sword wielder. Dodge first, then attack.”

Logan swung his fauchard at Jack. Jack dodged, but the blade still nicked some of his hair, which fell in dark brown strands around his feet. “Faster,” said Logan, swinging again. Jack dodged the blow cleanly this time. But the third swing found its mark on Jack’s cheek, dealing a superficial cut.

Jack cried out.

“You cannot let such a thing disturb your focus,” said Logan, but he withheld his attacks while Jack wiped the blood off his cheek and returned to his stance.

“Again,” said Logan, and began delivering more swings. Jack dodged the first two, then before the third he stepped forward, swinging his right dagger. Logan kicked out gently, and the bottom of his boots found the boy’s chest and the boy once again fell onto his back.

“Hide your intention,” said Logan. “You cannot allow me to Sense your Mind so easily.”

Jack got to his feet and growled. Then from the ground shot forward two great vines, as thick as Logan’s forearms. Logan Sensed this too, of course, but the vines were faster than him and both his arms were wrapped up in them. They were strong, pulsating against Logan’s skin. Jack leapt up, higher than Logan imagined a boy his age would be able to leap. Jack had his eyes locked onto Logan’s neck. Logan realised in that moment that the boy would not hesitate to kill him.

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Logan had no choice.

From his arms came forth arcs of lightning that shrivelled and burned the vines. Some of the arcs hit Jack and he was sent hurtling backwards. He landed on his stomach. His back smoked slightly. Jack raised his head and glared at Logan with a fury that he had never seen before, not in all of his years on the battlefield.

“Is that how you killed my parents?” said Jack.

Logan turned and walked away without answering.

Unnamed Quarry, Eastpoint, Bahim, Drum

“What is your plan,” said Kate.

“I did not call for you,” said Hazel.

“Marrow is coming,” said Kate. “I need to know what your plan is.”

Hazel did not answer.

“I am your Vice-Captain,” said Kate. “No, even if you rid of me and make Logan the Vice-Captain, it matters not. The men need to know. They are growing uneasy.”

“Eastpoint can be defended,” said Hazel.

“I am not speaking about the defence of Eastpoint,” said Kate. She was almost shouting now. “Defend Eastpoint? Then what? Die down here like rats? We had Larkins. We almost had Gulldon. Tarrin would have been next. You withdraw from Larkins, killing dozens in the process, to retrieve Logan, for what? For him to teach the Anselm boy? Teach him arithmetics and the classics?”

Again Hazel fell into silence.

“You are afraid,” said Kate. “I joined you because of the fierce flame in your eyes. That flame has long since died out.”

When Hazel did not reply, Kate turned to leave, but then stopped, produced a small bottle of Tarrin wine, and slammed it onto Hazel’s desk.

“Here.” she said. “Kimberley insisted that we save you a bottle.”

Then she left.

Hazel sat still for a very long time, looking at the bottle of Tarrin wine. At last she uncorked it and poured a glass into a dusty chalice. She looked down at the viscid wine and saw in it a distorted reflection of her face. Kate was right. The flame in her eyes were dead.

Hazel had never tasted alcohol. She had vowed not to. Even in the most lively of celebrations during the mercenary days, she had kept her vow. She had maintained to her men that this was because she believed that a leader should always be sober to prepare for any unforeseen circumstances.

The truth was that her mother had been an alcoholic. Hazel had seen what alcohol could do to a soul. She still held memories of her mother in her youth, smiling and radiant. Then her father had slept with another woman. She had withered, physically and mentally. She had become cruel, both to Hazel and herself. Eventually she became insane. She exposed herself in public. She beat Hazel. She sang foul songs. The only time she seemed to be at peace was when she was drinking.

Hazel looked down again at her reflection in the wine. She liked to think that she now looked like what her mother looked like in her youth. She raised her hand and conjured before her an orb of light. She then lowered it into the chalice. The wine began to boil. She covered her hands over the chalice. The orb glowed faintly under her palms. She placed her forehead onto her hands and felt against the warms of the orb. She could hear the faint bubbling of the wine.

Kate was right, she thought. She was growing afraid. She had known that a revolution would bring numerous deaths. She had known that the chance of success would be slim, and that annihilation would be the most likely outcome. And yet she had been firm in her resolution. So why was she faltering now? She was no stranger to death. She had taken numerous lives. No, she had to be strong. Her men needed her to remain resolute.

“Hazel,” said a voice.

Hazel looked up. It was Logan.

“Teach me Connexion,” he said. “Challis, Barrier Connexion, all of it.”