Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Four
The End of the Beginning
Oliver walked softly through the Defanin dorm and ambled over to Michael’s bedside. He sat down on the edge of the now empty bed, straightening out the blankets.
The door creaked open and Nichole stood in the hall with her hands in her pockets. “It’s about time to clear out. You ready? The others are waiting in the reception.”
Oliver nodded looking to the bright window at the end of the room, glowing with light as the sun rose beneath the tilting walls. The swordsman stood up slowly and fondly looked over the bedspace of his friend.
Nichole softly shut the door and leant against the wall. “So...”
“So?”
“Well, Ari says that Sarah saved your skin from a Yiraa.”
The swordsman smiled quietly and nodded. “A Mountain Wolf was about to make pretty short work of me when she stepped in.”
Nichole’s soft brown eyes wrinkled in smugness. “Did you kiss her?”
Oliver turned in shock so fast he startled Nichole. “What?”
She groaned, turned, and began knocking her head against the wall.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t the right time!” he insisted. “You weren’t there! You don’t get to judge me.”
Nichole finally stopped and looked back toward him sighing in amusement. “She was half-dead herself. Stepped in front of a Mountain Wolf with your sword. She basically fuckin’ proposed.” She smiled warmly, patting him on the shoulder then opened the door and left. “If I know anything, it’s women.”
“You know one woman!” he shouted back but only laughter echoed in reply.
Oliver shook his head mumbling, “That wasn’t the moment. It wasn’t.” He looked over the bed-set and frowned, “Right, Sparky?” The swordsman stood there for a long moment and slowly the doubt crept. “Nichole! Was it?”
*****
The last Legacies of Fort Guardian left their stronghold before the sun had properly risen, and before they’d mounted the great concealing bowl of the valley, thunderous cracks could be heard as the great slabs of stones slipped from the listing walls and smashed into the forum below. The final protections of the citadel faded and the walls slowly crumbled in on themselves like shedding ice-caps.
Jack led the survivors atop the hill as the barrage of shattering stone came down and the moment they stepped through the concealment bubble around Fort Guardian, silence returned and the hidden valley vanished, showing nothing more than a thoroughly uninteresting bowl of grass.
A league’s worth of hikes led them to the north where Flinn, Sidney, and Magnus sat watching over the carriage.
Before they made it to the Imperial Highway, Royston, Jordan, Karmony and some odd thirty others left the company heading south. Their goodbyes were brief and the chilliness which had been present in the moments following the battle was still very much present, though less outright than before. If nothing else, their exhaustion had thinned out their anger.
For the time of the burials Raeken had remained at Fort Guardian, but upon their exodus the Drakonian took to the skies again and headed west in a clap of thunder, searching for a place to rest and heal from his battle-wounds. In Drakonian he said a loving farewell to Sarah and in Common he looked to all the others, nodded curtly and croaked the word “Idiots,” rather softly.
Nydol also bid them farewell along with Avery. The Driftiken woman and the noble Paladin headed off toward Istol where she hoped to catch a ship down to her homeland and Avery intended to follow her, to study Drift mechanics.
Finally they mounted the last hill leading up to the Imperial Highway, where Flinn and Sidney cheered upon seeing them in the distance, sitting at the carriage, rather content with staying where they were as the fort travellers hauled their enormous bags.
Soon after, the remaining warriors crested the hill and began piling their various pieces of luggage onto the carriage until it was egregiously stacked.
Jack set down a crate he’d been hauling and sat down upon it, taking a head count. As he went through the names of all those present in their ‘mercenary caravan’, Magnus voice’ called behind him, “McKennedy, can I have a moment?”
The pale boy was dressed in fitted dark travelling clothes. He looked remarkably less wild than usual and his gaze even fell softer.
“I’m heading out. I just wanted to make sure everything got here.” Magnus stuck out his hand, avoiding Jack’s eye slightly.
The maceman was slightly taken aback shaking his hand. “Well, we’ll be sorry to lose you. You’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but I’ve rather grown used to you.”
Magnus didn’t smile but his red eyes were almost pink in the gentleness of their hue. “Good luck. I hope to- well. I hope our paths cross again.” He hiked his bag over his shoulder and turned to leave, catching the eye of the rest of his company.
Jack looked between the group and the young Setheen and called out at last, “If you ever find yourself short of some trouble, then you’re welcome back here, if you can track us down.”
Magnus nodded sincerely and began walking west off of the Imperial Highway. As he left he turned and nodded to the group watching him, and soon disappeared beneath the unending rises and falls of the Bawdion countryside.
Rose lowered her hand and glanced at Carter and James, vaguely disappointed. “I won’t miss him but I wish he wasn’t going. Is that odd?”
Carter combed back his beautiful hair and shouldered his ruck-sack. “I’m the same way... but still yes, it is. James, dear, gimme a hand will you?” he said, grabbing a heavy crate to load onto the carriage.
In front of the carriage gently tending to the four leading horses, Oliver and Sarah were making gentle conversation, laughing easily and generally enjoying one another’s company. They were both stitched and bandaged around their heads as were several of the worse cuts along their bodies and limbs, but they paid their injuries little mind it seemed. Occasionally, Oliver would see that her bandage was slipping and casually offered to readjust it for her, and after he’d turned away, she would jimmy a finger up between her head and the fabric, loosening it again.
Eventually, Lillian saw the consistent back-and-forth and either out of spite of their clear romanticism or just simple, unstoppable medical commitment, she walked up and tied Sarah’s bandage even tighter, leaving both warriors a shade redder.
Nichole and Aroha spoke in earnest with Karmine as the three of them tossed their bags into the back of canvas-covered carriage. Mostly they were stocked with armour-pieces and arrows, and by the weighted-sound they made upon hitting cart, not much else.
Syon, Kirkley, and Marken stepped out from the tall carriage as James and Carter set down the last of the crates, jumping down behind them.
Jack looked up the Imperial Highway toward the province of Stormhaven, then down back toward Istol. He’d almost hoped something would inspire his choice of direction but as the Legacies finished tying everything down and gathered around, he knew he had no idea.
In small pockets along the road, busy traders, mercenaries, and travellers made their way across the province, guarded by a sell-sword or two, and each who rolled past the stagnant carriage and its company eyed them suspiciously.
“Jack? Where are we headed?” Sarah asked.
He tried to think up at least something to distract them when a deep rumbling began rolling through the ground. He blinked as a small, quiet part of his mind flinched and his hand shot to his mace. For a soldier that sound was more familiar to him than a heartbeat.
“Cavalry,” he said, looking up the road passed his allies to a cloud of dust stampeding toward them in the distance, and idly before the billowing haze, a single rider galloped.
The rider’s shouts arrived before they did and the Legacies all looked to one another in confusion as, “Clear the Highway!” was shouted over and over again.
Jack looked to their enormous carriage and then saw Sidney climbing up to the driver’s seat, and he called, “Hold on, Sid!” Jack squinted through dust and to see glinting metal heading down the main road toward them. It was closing in so fast that the other traders were hurtling off of the main road down into the grass. By the shine of their armour and the weight of their movements, he knew they had to be an armoured cavalry battalion.
The rider came skittering to a stop wearing light leather armour with a spear in his hand, all adorned with the Imperial sigil, an arching duel-handled scythe. The scout was helmetless and their grip on the spear was shaking with nerves.
“Citizens!” he yelled. “Clear the road, his Imperial Majesty’s Army is making use of the cobble. Disperse now!”
The Legacies could have only moved less if they’d been dead.
The horseman blinked at their lack of haste, turning to see the rampaging cavalry closing in with every moment. He re-gripped his spear, clearly unused to being received in such a way by such evidently working-class folk, and opened his mouth to speak when Jack strolled forward.
“Is there some trouble down further south, herald?”
The man looked at the one-eyed warrior clad in full Javen armour, unable to keep his horse from shifting uneasily beneath him. “I don’t have the authority to say, Sir. Now, tell your associates to move!”
Jack frowned and said, “I’m not a ‘Sir’, but I know Ardic hates to order mobilisations in broad daylight... Looks like he’s in a terrible rush to get those forces somewhere. Not a great look for an Emperor.”
Syon stepped to his side, looking to the nearing sheen of armoured horses. “Should we shift, Jack?”
The scout rider was nodding profusely but the scarred man disregarded him, murmuring to the Archangel, “Not quite yet. I’m trying something.”
She hid her grin as he turned his gaze up to the nervous scout and shouted over the incoming rumble, “Okay, horseman! I’ll ask my companions to move-” he said, allowing the stranger a look of relief, “-on one condition!”
The official man stuttered, clopping backwards on his mount, “Wha- What conditions? You will be trampled by a battalion of armoured cavalry if you do not move!”
Jack nodded and didn’t even have to turn to know that not a single one of the Legacies so much as motioned toward the carriage. “Yes, we would be crushed and probably killed by the impressive array which approaches terribly fast. But, when a horse, armoured or not, hits a caravan as heavy as ours, that horse is maimed. And since we’re dozens of leagues from any decent animal surgeon, that means that horse is dead.” Jack turned back toward the carriage, sizing it up, as the scout’s face turned horrified. “And let’s be honest, it would be more than one. Now, I don’t imagine you’d want to be the reason one of His Imperial Majesty’s battalions was crippled by a single, stubborn wagon, would you?”
The man seemed to be having an internal debate when he looked back and the dust cloud of the nearing force rattled his will power over the edge. “Fine!”
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Jack’s grin stretched all the scars on his face. “Tell me why the Emperor’s mobilising this battalion, then we’ll move.”
The impending array was thundering toward them and dozens of travellers were stood on the sides of the road, watching as they refused to move.
The horseman was holding his steed keeping it from taking off again down the main road, blustering nervously. He gritted his teeth and looked at Jack, as though unsure how to berate a man who looked like faerie-tale meant to frighten children.
The scout lowered himself toward Jack and said, “There’s been an uprising in Leverest. Rumour says that rebels have already taken and fortified Carado. And now every other town in Leverest is revolting and the city militias are barely maintaining their grip. This division is headed to Carado to try regain control. That’s all I know. Now I must insist you leave this road!”
Oliver stumbled forward overhearing the scout. “Carado? That’s not fifty leagues from Bawdion! How did we not hear about this?”
Aroha looked to him wearily. “I don’t think Nikereus had been forwarding our mail.”
The scout frowned at her. “Who?”
The entire group gave her stiff looks while she bit her tongue, put on a frown and crossed her arms. “None of your damn business.”
Jack glanced around the rider to see the battalion of armoured horses were close enough to make out numbers. They were five hundred strong at the very least, and the world seemed to quiver beneath them as their hooves struck the road. Jack guessed they had ten seconds, so he simply stared at the scout.
The rider went into a full panic shouting, “Okay! There have been five declarations of rebellion all throughout the empire! Leverest, Stormhaven, Pridemia, Andelight, and Mhairia! All of them are in complete disarray. Camilla Oakley threw every Iron Suit out of Mhairian territory and claimed independence in response to His Majesty’s new conscription order. The other Provincial Reps claim they’re still loyal to him but that’s all I know! Now, you must move!”
“What was the new order?”
“You must move!”
“What was it, horseman!”
The scout looked back and forth, at last barking, “He lowered the Mandatory Service Age to twelve… now move!”
The rider kicked his horse into a sprint and they tore off down the road to redirect more traffic as Jack blinked and shouted, “Clear the road!”
Sidney shouted the horses into a panicking-tow, dragging the carriage down off the highway into a grassy ditch.
The other Legacies leapt aside and a rampage of heavy-armoured knights roared past at galloping-speed, leaving an overcast of dust in their wake. The ground shook and the smell of over-run horses was hot in their nostrils. The five-hundred mounted soldiers flew onward through Bawdion.
The other traders and tinkers muttered bitter things as they resumed their own journeys, towing carts and hesitant horses back onto the road, meanwhile Jack merely stood with a look of complete shock on his scarred face.
It was happening again. An uprising in response to a conscription order. He’d heard those exact words when he was ten and it had guided the rest of his life. Somehow the same phrase had passed his ears again, twenty-two cycles onward.
Rose stepped forward and turned him around. He wasn’t smiling but his good eye had never looked so blue in all the long days she’d seen him.
“Jack, did I actually hear what I think I just heard?”
The man looked younger with the new knowledge on his brow, creasing the edges of his mouth. Five out of thirteen provinces, he pondered, looking at all the expectant faces awaiting orders.
“It seems the Second Conscription War has begun,” he muttered, setting his hand on the helmet clipped to his waist. Jack looked over his soldiers, his Legacies, his friends, and began saying, “Look, you all just survived perhaps the worst odds you’ll ever face, but-”
Rose folded her arms and cut in, “But Ardic Grimhold the Second just signed an order which states that all pre-teens have to enter the Conscription Lottery, and after fifteen cycles of licking their wounds the rebels have decided enough is enough. Again. And that includes you?”
Jack averted his eye and gripped the breastplate of his armour timidly. “And I know I have no right to ask any of this. You’ve all lost more than most people could ever imagine. But-”
Oliver stepped forward, smiling. “But you want our help?”
Sarah shook her head, slightly smugger. “No I think he needs it.”
“Oh, yeah that’s it.”
Jack scowled and yelled, “Stop interrupting, I’m trying to be serious. This is-”
“Slowing us down? Agreed,” Aroha threw in.
Nichole hooked her arm around her partner’s neck and grinned as Jack stood up from the crate and shouted, “Enough! This is not a joke. Look at my face. These scars didn’t come from nowhere and this decision will take you down a road to a lot of them, or somethin’ worse.”
Karmine cleared his throat and stepped forward, stretching in the late-day’s sun. “Jack, you’ve also got plenty of scars from every-day-Legacy-life.” He turned to the other gathering of Legacies, glancing up to Sidney and Flinn, sitting on the driver’s perch. “We’re destined for scars, and I don’t know about you lot but I feel like getting some while doin’ a bit o’ good.”
Aroha ran her hands through her side-shave and wrinkled her nose when she found it at a surprising length. “There’s hardly a better cause than stopping an imperial tyrant from conscripting kids into war-slavery.”
Jack looked over the gathering of Legacies and slowly came to realise what they were saying. “Do you all feel that way?”
Lillian was sitting with her legs dangling out of the side of the carriage, leaning up against the enormous thicket of crates and bags. She held a rag to her nose clotting a bleed which didn’t seem to subside after the conflict. Her night-black hair fell about her face, accenting her serious eyes as she pulled away the rag to examine the blood.
“I do. But don’t forget that we also have another grave issue.” Lillian turned on the spot and dug around the lower boxes for a moment before pulling out a small iron chest, sealed with five thick bolts. The lockbox rattled as she shook it and sighed, “The remnants of the Heart Stone are in here, but it still came from somewhere. A spell ago we were all hesitant to believe it existed at all, and now we’ve just survived someone’s attempt to kill us with one. Not to mention the Immortal Flame. These are not small tools of magic. They are world-forging instruments.”
Jack frowned watching the Witchdoctor glance to his sister. “Rose?”
His sister lowered her head as she leaned on her bow-staff and added, “Which leads us to our other option. Anyone who doesn’t want to go home, or doesn’t want to go off and fight in another war, might want to consider an excursion with us.”
Sarah frowned, glancing between the two women. “Us? Who’s us?”
Syon raised her hand, as did Flinn, Karmine, Marken and Kirkley. The Ahuran harvester, Syon, looked to Jack and said, “We figure if we try to sort this then you guys could handle that, and together we can start to make something real happen. What do you think?”
Jack looked to each of the members of Rose’s team and at last to his sister. “I think you must be mad. But then again, it runs in the family.”
Rose wandered toward him and pulled Jack into a hard hug, mumbling, “Sorry to take your healer.”
Jack shrugged holding her tight in his arms. “Don’t worry, just gives us a reason to stay out of trouble.”
A small chuckle fell from James across the way as he sat, deep in thought.
“What’s funny?” Rose asked.
James rolled one half of his recovered Merhoii spear across his palm and looked out over the rolling hills. “I was just wondering which choice Michael would’ve made. Rebellion or Adventure?”
Carter hung off his arm and shook his head. “He’d have found a way to do both. That man was beggin’ to be a rebel but one born long enough ago to wander the world with a blank map in his hands.” Carter grinned sadly to himself and looked up to see Nichole, running her hands over the cold silver of Michael’s bow.
Nichole took a shaky breath and looked to find the company looking softly upon her. The ranger nodded to herself and finally said, “Well, I have some unresolved feelings to work out against classism. Count me in.”
Aroha looped her arm around her partner’s waist and spoke softly, looking only at her. “I go where she goes.”
Oliver shrugged, stepping her direction, and muttered, “Orphans gotta stick together. Pack-rats and proud of it.” He ruffled her hair and Nichole couldn’t help but grin.
Sarah looped her arm around Carter and Oliver’s, connecting the remainder of the company. “And I would enjoy helping you all bring the nobility down from within. Luckily, I have a couple ins there.” She gave a bright smile before glancing up to Rose with a worried look. “Hun, I don’t want you to feel like we’re leaving you-”
Rose shook her hands and stepped up to the group of her friends. “You go do what you need to do. Stir some shit. Break some eggs. I’ll see when I come back. I expect some good stories, okay?”
Jack gave a rugged smile and glanced to Willem. “And you?” he spoke and signed, Stay or go?
Willem ran his hands across his freshly shaven head, still not quite used to the feeling and signed back, Rebellion. Sorry Rose, but you and I seem to have a bad track-record working together, with a wry grin.
Sidney elbowed Flinn sharply atop the driver’s perch. “Be safe. I can’t be lookin’ after you halfway across the continent so don’t be doing any dumb shit.”
Flinn leaned over and kissed her on the head. “Love you too, kid. Look after ‘em. Go kill Ardic for me,” he said softly, sharing a soft smile before he stood and hopped down from the carriage joining Rose, Syon, Lillian, Karmine, Marken and Kirkley.
Jack looked over them fondly. “Where do you plan on looking?”
Rose cast her gaze east and then tentatively back to her brother. “Well, we figured things that don’t exist won’t be found in the mapped parts of the world. And there’s only one place on Draendica unmapped if you don’t count the Veiled Seas.”
Oliver swept back his ruffled blond hair and his eyes went wide. “You’re going back to the Dark Lands? We were there for half a day and nearly died a dozen times… you must be mad.”
Lillian dabbed a new drop of blood rolling from her nose and said, “Sane people don’t change the world. If you want to throw the Emperor down from his seat, you’ll need to find your own madness too.”
Sarah pursed her lips without looking at Oliver and said, “He’s got enough to go around, don’t worry.” She wandered away from her band of would-be rebels and pulled Rose into a tight hug. “You sure about this?”
Rose nodded, giving a tearful sigh and dug into her rucksack to pull out a thick, wrapped tome. “After all, we’ve both got Michael to keep us company,” she nodded to Nichole holding her bow gently and Aroha with her new silver armband.
James strolled forward, using his half-spear like a walking-stick, and asked, “What do you think you’ll find?”
“Maybe nothing bad,” Rose admitted. “But definitely something. Either way I’ve got some foolish questions that need answering and someone needs to ask ‘em. So that someone is goin’ to be me.” She smiled proudly to herself then casually gestured behind her. “Oh, and them too, I guess.”
Carter grinned at the lot of them and straightened the cord of his gentleman’s cloak as he stepped forward. “Michael used to say Life is like getting trampled by a horse. That… if you survive the nastiest parts you’re usually left with a solid story. And if you don’t, well then it’s a tale for someone else to tell. The only real question is whether to leap out the way of Life, or jump on, and see which way it throws you.”
Sarah erupted into laughter as Willem signed, Grim. Thanks for that, Carter.
Carter stifled a laugh and kept speaking. “No, you guys are missing my point. Yes, the world sucks a great deal... basically all the time at least somewhere. It’s never perfect. It’s never completely wonderful. No one seems to win without someone else having to lose. But you know what, we just had the worst loss we’re gonna have for some time. And I think we’re owed a win. Yes, I’m saying it. Whether its fate, or the world, or maybe Khasm themselves- I don’t care! Someone owes us one! And I’m cashing in. I’m tired of being trampled by Life. We are the Legacies of Fort Guardian. We are the Mad, God-Forsaken, and Foolish, and I’m getting on this horse and taking it for a ride, if it’s the last thing I do.”
The gathering of war-torn soldiers smiled quietly and at last Oliver raised his hand and said, “There’s one last thing we need to do together. We need to get to Kirke, it’s the nearest city. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
And so with little preamble the caravan was mounted and stocked and the surviving Legacies of Fort Guardian began their trek to the city of Kirke, in Stormhaven, some several hours away.
Kirke was a low-lying city, stretching along several miles of beach, made up of short, rough-stone buildings and hard-wood houses, constantly smelling of seawater and pipe-smoke. It was un-walled and open to the surrounding world, constantly streaming with a steady crowd of travellers.
As the company made their way into Kirke they headed down the main street, encircled on all sides by buskers and tradesman while inns outlined their path.
Jack had stopped asking where they were headed about an hour before and finally Oliver spied his goal half-way up the street, yelling, “There’s one! Come on!” He ordered the carriage over to the side of the road as the sun began to set, and watched as the remaining members of the young company took off after him.
They stayed there for nearing on an hour when Jack groaned and looked to Karmine, who sat meditating on a carriage wheel. “You win.” Jack palmed him a Bronze Amel. He made his way down the road drawing many eyes in his ornate armour, to a small shop with a word scrawled over the door in Old Crekaen: Aalgaia.
Jack pushed through the door and his face fell as he saw Oliver standing up bare-chested from a stool while the others cheered and clapped him on the arm. “What in the f-”
“Mace! Come here, what do you think?” Oliver called, waving him over.
As the dark warrior approached, baffled and concerned, Oliver turned around to show a fresh, long golden arrow tattooed along his spine, lined with silver accents, as though glowing in starlight. It was thin and ornate and rather beautiful but it didn’t stop Jack from burying his head in his hands before he turned angrily to the artist sitting on a nearby stool, prepping another needle.
“These are kids! You have to be eighteen to get a tattoo-”
The scrawny, tattoo-covered artist looked him up and down as she cut in, “Not in Kirke. Fifteen, here.” They watched Jack’s face collapse into helpless dejection, and at last added, “You want one? Groups get ink cheaper.”
Jack furrowed his brow and shook his head. “No. I- I can’t believe you lot are going through with this-” the warrior’s eye caught on Oliver’s tattoo once more, noticing for the first time there was writing in elegant cursive around the arrow.
Oliver turned and caught him trying to read it. “I figured Michael deserves to get his story told. And this will be there first word in it.”
Jack’s stern face slowly collapsed into a smile as he rubbed his eyes in the remnant of his disbelief. He looked around the room of Legacies, each smiling warmly for the first time in days. And at last he looked back up and sighed, unhooking his Javen chestplate. “Go on, then,” he said, as the Legacies erupted with cheers.
Written in dainty, but sophisticated script was a single, distinct word: Foolish.