XVIII. WAR ALL THE TIME

  Aichlan wiped his forehead with a scrap of fabric. Despite the air hovering near the freezing point, he was sweating. He could not be sure if it was nerves or the fact that this was his first hard march in months. He loosened the straps of his overcoat, another formality Clarissa had her nuns sew up for him. As they crested a hill, the spires and towers of the city on a hill became visible. Aichlan let out a sigh in relief, the city was no more than five miles off at this point. A gust of wind swept past; the long, dead grass rippled like a golden sea beneath a sun that gave little heat. Eth rubbed his bare chest with flaming hands, and swore constantly under his breath.

  “I’ve told you Eth,” Aichlan said, baffled by the elf’s obstinacy, “you should have worn a shirt, this isn’t Rhode and it’s a long way from summer. Huntmoon fast approaches, and in this country, that means blizzards and frozen elves too damned foolish or prideful to wear proper clothing.”

  “This is proper, more’n proper even. This kit’s only worn tae foreign diplomatic type shit, or state events.”

  Ashe leaned down from her saddle. “This meets all of those criteria Eth.”

  Eth swatted at her in irritation. “Sod off!”

  Aichlan shielded his eyes to the winter's glare, as the multi-terraced city came into view. Its splendor was portrayed in its mansard roofs, buttresses and steeples, built upon seven hills overlooking the Silver Lake. The city's architecture was a testament to the nation’s wealth and haughty attitudes, with every door bearing a pediment and cartouche, all manner of statuary and reliefs on every possible surface, and balustrades holding more artistry and craftsmanship than most temples in other kingdoms. Everything built in the shadow of The Gojira Mountains, ancient peaks like spines on a dragon's back, standing majestically to the north; ancient sentinels to the great forest beyond.

  Aichlan’s quest had reached its end, though he did not feel the same exuberance as he had upon reaching Rhode, if anything he felt dread. Dread at having to lead another army into yet another war, at having to confront a fear that he suppressed since he first heard of the possibility. What if Renata were still alive? Or worse, what if she were dead? Considering how things have worked out over the past several months, could that truly be the worst that could happen?

  He aggressively shook the thought from his head; the issue was not as cut and dry as he would paint it to be. Renata was The Priestess of The Order, and he was her loyal knight. Their romance was a thing that should never have been in the first place. Yet that hardly changed the fact that it did in fact happen, and at the time it seemed the best thing to happen in his miserable life. Was he shallow? Or merely a free spirit, easily infatuated by the new and exotic, the unobtainable. The thought that Garrick was right to call him a fool also surfaced, if only briefly.

  “You’ve been quiet hun, what’s on yer mind?”

  Aichlan looked up at Ashe and smiled at her childlike appearance, wrapped in her mottled, animal skin cloak, only her face poking out of the enveloping hood. He felt as if this woman was the thread that held his very world together. Despite his professions of love for Renata, had he ever felt this way with her? Try as he might to recall sharing tender moments where his worries seemed to melt away, he simply could not. There had been some great sex, and some stolen moments cuddling in the dark before duty drove them away, but that could not have been the extent of their relationship. Surely, they must have had more…

  “Aichlan, what’s gotten into ye?”

  “Nothing Ashe.” Aichlan shook his head, more a gesture to rid himself of such sentimental thoughts. “Eth,”

  “Aye.”

  “Bring forward the Cardinal and the senior officers. Marquez prizes its mounted knights, so bring Maleah and seven of her best. Both in dress and appearance.”

  “How shallow Aichlan.” Ashe said with a playful laugh.

  Aichlan spun with horror at Ashe’s playful comment. She recoiled in surprise at his severe reaction.

  “Aichlan?” She leaned down from her saddle, genuine concern etched upon her face. “Are ye certain you’re alright?”

  Aichlan shook his head and turned back to the fast approaching city, it steadily rose higher into the sky and encompassed more of the horizon with every forward step. The massive spires and towers looked larger than life even at this distance. The city upon the hills certainly lived up to its hype, more fort than city in some regards. The massive walls with their ornate battlements rose from the ground like the finials adorning a crown as the army crested yet another rise.

  “We need to appear like we belong here. In Duvachellé aristocrats and knights run the army. Common men can never obtain the rank of officers. Aes Sidhe has only just recently repealed the same law within the past decade, and in Elysia only those in The Order may be soldiers. Our army is made up of a bunch of elves and whatever else we could find. Aesthetics are everything at this point that is just the type of world we live in.”

  Eth whistled to get the attention of one of Maleah’s riders, and relayed the information as Aichlan quickened his pace. He wanted to be in Marquez before twilight fell, no discussion on politics and alliances was done after dark, as it was in bad form. And form was all he would be seeing for the duration of their stay. He only wished he had a chance to give some of his more common soldiers a crash course in etiquette and protocols, something he desperately needed himself as well.

  They soon arrived onto a vast flatland, the majesty of Marquez rose into the heavens before them, and several farms dotted the landscape. Aichlan felt ill at ease, everything was far too quiet, and a knot had unexpectedly formed in his gut. Ashe’s horse, named after the elven word for turnip, was also oddly agitated, dancing in place and frothing at the mouth. Aichlan issued a halt and grabbed the frightened beast by the reigns.

  “Whit’s wrong wi ye Tumshie?” Ashe cooed as she attempted to calm the beast.

  Aichlan drew his sword. “Ashe, fall back to the center.”

  Ashe looked ready to object, but bit her tongue at Aichlan’s resolute stare. “Aye, daen’t do anything stupid in ma absence.”

  Ashe steered the grateful beast back towards the center of the column, just as the sound of thundering hooves reached Aichlan’s ears. Rounding a small rise, Aichlan spotted a group of bare chested riders at full gallop. Aichlan signaled for the Colby-Nau soldiers nearest him to form ranks, as the remnant soldiers of Sorn and Taryn’s militia arrived to fall in behind them. They were only a dozen or so in number, and it could have been someone sent out to meet them from the city, but Aichlan had his doubts. The men of Duvachellé rarely went about shirtless, especially not the soldiers. It was only as the riders drew nearer that Aichlan was able to see they were not riders, but rather the horse and mount were one. From where the head of a steed should have been, the upper torso of a man protruded instead. The creatures, centaurs, bore large but crude weapons of iron and no armor, a cursory glance revealed there were female’s amongst them. Several soldiers also took notice that the approaching force was hardly human, and distressed murmurs broke out in the ranks.

  “Ready arms!” Aichlan ordered and drew his sword.

  No more than two miles from their destination, and they were impeded by these monsters. Aichlan bit his tongue and walked the line, waiting for the beasts to reach the bottom of the gulch before issuing the order to charge. He raised his arm and the soldiers all readied their various weapons. Similarly to the dabaucle that occured at Rhode, not one of the frontliners had a polearm. Just as Aichlan was ready to drop his sword arm and issue the attack, the ground split before them, and creatures of white flesh in human form crawled from their warren. They held no facial features and possessed long, bony fingers with blackened nails. The creatures were emaciated and only barely recognized as bearing man’s likeness. One of the creatures lunged an unwary soldier, plucking the hapless man’s heart from his chest in one fell swoop. Rather than collapsing into a pool of blood and death however, the soldier’s eyes turned black as coal, and he raised his sword against his fellow men.

   Lizard men, like those encountered in the Death Marsh, soon joined the fray, riding in from the flanks atop large feral cats with six legs and nine bushy tails. They scampered out from the bushes and up from the ditches they had hidden in, followed by even more of the pale figures. Aichlan swore and braced his sword with two hands, barely able to block a strike from a faceless entity's claw as it shot up from the dirt before him.

  A horn trumpeted the enemy attack as the marching formations clumsily broke off into attack formations. At first glance, the force hardly looked like it warranted such a maneuver; they seemed organized but no more than a scouting party at best. The fact that they had even this much organization troubled Aichlan, a chill gripped his heart as the thought that Osric had arrived before them crossed his mind. Aichlan cleaved his opponent as he turned to see his immediate units. Maleah had rallied her cavalry, as Taryn moved up with her archers. Aichlan whistled shrilly to get their attention, and shouted over the growing clamor as he gestured aggressively to where he wanted them to go.

  “Taryn!” Aichlan called out. “Snipers up front now!”

  Taryn nodded her affirmation as she picked a handful of archers and ran over to meet him. The rest took up position and launched their first volley towards the rapidly approaching centaurs. Several of the beasts were hit, and tumbled over in a painful mess of human limbs and horse hooves.

  “Maleah,” Aichlan shouted as he fended off another faceless being, “chase down those things riding, those other…things!”

  Maleah reared her horse as she turned to give her soldiers their orders. Aichlan shoved one of the faceless creatures away, and a couple of arrows subsequently took it out. The centaurs were upon then, and made quick work of a dozen or so men with two blows from their massive battle axes. The weapons his soldiers employed were not meant for cavalry, especially when there was no rider that could be toppled. Fortunately, the massive swords of the Colby-Nau were able to cleave through the horse and man halves with ease, and Aichlan turned his attention back to the wraithlike beings that continued to erupt from under foot.

  “Eth! Get everyone back in formation, March onward to Marquez!”

  Aichlan cut down another one of the faceless, showering himself in a geyser of bright red. An arrow whizzed past his head and toppled the reptilian rider as another arrow crippled its mount. The creature stumbled and was struck by several more arrows before it skidded to a stop at his feet. Aichlan looked back and gave Aislyn and Odell a brief salute of thanks before he charged into the thick of battle. Hooves thundered around him as Maleah’s soldiers chased down the monstrosities, while the bulk of the army ran on towards Marquez. A bird’s shriek pierced the heavens as women with wings growing from their arms and legs swooped down and harassed the fleeing army with the giant eagle like talons that were their feet. The archers raised their bows and launched volley after volley, and managed to bring several shrieking to the ground where they were finished by fire and sword of the passing elves.

  Aichlan sprinted towards the front of the formation, hacking and slashing the many faceless that rose from the depths. The screams of his soldiers being brought to the ground and rent by their claws nagged at his attention, if he were to turn around, he would only be able to save but a handful but risk many more casualties. He pushed them from his mind and dug deeper for the speed to reach the formation's head. A faceless’ arm shot up from the soil and grabbed Aichlan’s leg as another pulled itself from the soil before him. A thin slit of a mouth formed on its featureless face as Aichlan struggled with his captors. The creature opened its mouth, an orifice as large as its head, its long whip like tongue was covered in saliva as it thrashed about a mouth lined in a carnivore’s teeth.

  “Fuck!”

  Aichlan drew his dagger and impaled it in the wrist of the creature that had hold of his leg, and backhanded the one before him in what he assumed was the temple before finishing it with a stab to the chest. He kicked the remaining faceless in the head and pulled his sword out as he jerked his leg free. A horse whinnied nearby and he raised his sword reflexively.

  “Hold sir knight, I am no fiend of dusk.”

  Aichlan looked up at the knight as several more rode over to join him. The gates of Marquez were within sight, and the rest of his army was quickly amassing nearby. The remnants of an early snow amassed in the shadows of the massive gate trestles. Several of the Duvachellé knights dispatched a few remaining creatures, as Maleah rode up behind Aichlan, her lance shining crimson in the winter sun. Taryn soon jogged over followed by The Cardinal, her retainers, and a dozen or so Sorn soldiers, all of whom collapsed in exhaustion upon reaching safety.

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  “Bastards took off General.” Maleah wrinkled her brow as she caught the knight ogling her heaving chest. “What the fuck are you lookin’ at?”

  The knight shifted uncomfortably and muttered something to a fellow knight in Elysian before he steered his steed away from Maleah and her horsemen. Aichlan lowered his sword as the lead mounted knight approached. Like most other nations, Duvachellé practiced the age-old practice of form over function, where officers' dress was meant to display wealth and status more than offer defense and protection. As such, they wore cumbersome livery collars, tri-colored doublets in violet, gold and black, in addition to embroidered hose that had no place on a battlefield. The commanding knight also wore a suede coat with numerous medals and ribbons upon his lapel, tassels over the shoulder, and a silver and gold breastplate covered in intricate designs underneath. By comparison, Aichlan and his soldiers looked like beggars.

  “Brother Knight,” The commanding night looked down his nose at Aichlan, brushing his beard with a small comb, “what brings you so far from Elysia in these dire times?”

  Aichlan frowned at the common, though distasteful way he was addressed, being a knight of The Order. “Elysia is no more, or in ruins, it has been many a lunar cycle that I have been away from her shores and borders. I served in Arlien when it fell, and by divine grace or sheer luck I made it to our sister nation in The Light seeking aid in reclaiming our religious seat.”

  Aichlan spoke in flawless Elysian, and hoped he had done his best to sound as proper and knightly as he could muster after so long speaking the common language of soldiers with the elves.

  “I see, and these,” The chevalier cast an uncertain eye at the elves and Taryn’s unit, “people you bring with you?”

  Aichlan became painfully aware of not only his own bloodstained and dirtied uniform, but those of the others as well. Despite his careful planning and attempts to make sure, they were presented as gallantly as possible; his efforts were deemed for naught once again.

  “Them?” Aichlan said as nonchalantly as possible. “This is my army. I am General Aichlan of Westfaire, and would appreciate haste in directing us to your Steward.”

  The knight looked over the group and paused briefly on Clarissa and her clergy; it seemed they had avoided dirtying themselves at least.

  The knight bowed stiffly at the waist. “Apologies your Excellency, I was remiss in recognizing you sooner. Is this your…escort?”

  Clarissa smiled and made the sign of the dawn. “Indeed gentle sir. In these dire times, they have carried me home so that I may deliver news to the good king Dorso.”

  Aichlan rolled his eyes, he felt suddenly ill.

  “Hmm. Very well, but it is King Laelianus now. Our former liege passed on just this past month.”

  The knight signaled for his lieutenant as Aichlan’s jaw hung open. If Laelianus was now king, the man’s ego could cause a great deal of trouble for Aichlan’s plans. They would most likely end up debating on strategy, Laelianus trying to gain glory and Aichlan going for efficiency and minimal casualties.

  “George, escort the General and his officers to his majesty's reception chamber.”

  “And the rest my’ lord?”

  The knight looked over Aichlan’s troops with distaste once again. “House them in The Missions until more, permanent barracks become available. Better yet, take the General to the bath house and get them cleaned up before they are presented to his majesty. It is flu season after all…”

  Aichlan grumbled at the offhanded slight. “That it is…”

  “Aichlan, I am not staying in The Missions.” Maleah forced her way forward.

  “Have you ever even been to Marquez?” He breathed irritably.

  “…No but it doesn’t sound pleasant.”

  “Just go and see.” Aichlan said with a forced smile.

  “But he said officers, I’m an officer!”

  “Yeah, a lowly Captain now quit yer bitchin’ so we can get outta this light forsaken cold!” Taryn snapped as she rubbed her bare arms in vain. “I wanna get this blood offa me.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid this is Colonel and above only. Eth, Clarissa, let’s go.”

  “We will take The Cardinal and her attendants to the temple, Pierre, bring forth a mount for Her Eminence.”

  Aichlan vainly brushed at the blood stains on his once white coat, the hem was stained mud from their hard march, he couldn’t help but question the logic of a white uniform for a soldier. The knight hurried back, leading a white and grey filly by its ornate reins. Clarissa mounted the beast as her retainers and assistants followed on foot. Donough nodded for Enyo as they made their way after the knight in charge.

  “Séverin, I want you to join us.”

  Séverin offered a slight bow. “I’d be honored General.”

  “What, so my brother gets to go to the palace but I’m stuck going to the Missions?”

  Séverin laughed in submission as he massaged his temple. “Must we regress to these childish behaviors sister?”

  “Regress? I never progressed.”

  “Maleah, I will send for you and Taryn once the meetings are through. Just please, follow your directives.”

  “And what would that say to my subordinates? Just bring me something good.”

  “Excuse me Lord Aichlan, where would you want me to go?” Aichlan looked to see the newest member of their army, Rowena, looking up at him with doe eyes as she shivered uncontrollably.

  “You can join Ashe and myself if you like.” Aichlan handed her his coat, which she took gratefully, despite the stains.

  “If you don’t mind,” Rowena looked down diffidently, a hint of a mischievous grin on her lips, “I’d much rather join Enyo, I wouldn’t want to disturb you and Ashe…”

  Aichlan watched her, perplexed by her disparate emotional display. The young elf had rubbed him the wrong way ever since they had met, but he could not exactly pin down any real faults, aside from harboring a grudge for being shot. He sighed in resignation and scanned the crowd for Alice, catching sight of her cloak as she hurried away, certain it was the loose lipped mage that had made his relationship with Ashe public knowledge, in addition to the fact that it was his child she now carried. Though Ashe never disclosed this information, the signs were quite obvious, despite her attempts to conceal it with cloaks and her smock. However, he was grateful that Rowena had the tact to politely decline, he had no real intentions of hosting anyone.

  “That will be fine Rowena. But please, don’t hesitate to see either Eth or I should you need anything. And be sure to take it easy for the time being, we will be in need of your strengths in the near future.”

  “You worry more than my sister, but thank you…”

  Enyo ran up behind Rowena and leapt on her back, she smiled and giggled as the two fell laughing into a snowbank. Aichlan still found it hard to believe this was the same Enyo he had first met in the council back in Rhode.

  “Are you well dear sister?” Enyo dumped a fistful of early winter’s snow down Rowena’s shirt.

  “That’s cold!” Rowena screamed and she threw a snowball into Enyo’s face. “Well enough to return the favor!” Rowena leapt to her feet and chased after Enyo with a handful of dirty snow.

  “Wish they’d stop actin’ like children…” Eth grumbled as he ashed his cigar.

  “They are children Eth.” Órfhlaith retorted as she wrapped herself in an elegant wool shawl.

  “And since when have you been such a curmudgeon?” Aichlan nudged Eth jovially in the ribs. “They aren’t harming anyone.”

  “Whaddya mean ‘since when’? Always been this wye.” Eth discarded his unfinished cigar and stormed off after the rest of the officers.

  “Why won’t he just admit he pines for his own children?” Órfhlaith sighed.

  She, unlike her contemporaries, had taken to dressing in a more opulent manner. She was adorned in gold and dressed in a cream colored gown, her long, ebon hair was ornately styled despite most of it trailing behind her. Even her shirtless soldiers were better protected; it was as if she were ready for a gala rather than a war.

  “It’s too soon,” Aichlan turned up his collar as a gust blew between them, “and I would be worried more if he did.”

  “I suppose, but I daen’t like seeing him like this. Donough was the same way when his daughter passed from illness, and he wound up adopting that Enyo girl.”

  “Donough had a child?” Aichlan asked in disbelief as he searched the crowd for the ornery elf.

  Órfhlaith laughed. “Aye, he had a bastard by some human wench. The mother went back to gods know where, taking the girl. Unfortunately, neither made it too long. That was, centuries ago though.”

  The streets had become crowded with gawkers and slack jawed farmers as the group wound their way through the outer city. Marquez was ringed on two concentric walls, the taller and thicker of them protecting the upper city built upon the hills, and a smaller, less formidable wall around the surrounding farming districts.

   “They were family but the principle is the same,” Órfhlaith sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, “Donough disnae show much emotion, but he loves that girl as if she sprung from his own loins.”

  “Who? Enyo?”

  Órfhlaith nodded. “Aye, and I see the loss and look o’ longing in Eth’s eyes when he’s around Rowena. Like he’s trying to imagine how it could have been…” Órfhlaith rubbed her arms as she shivered in a sudden gale, her gold bangles and armlets jingled melodically. “Bloody hell it’s cold.”

  “Did Eth and Io want a daughter?” Aichlan asked, trying to steer the conversation back to his enigmatic second in command.

  “No, no,” She chuckled and shook her head. “But we form a different bond with oor offspring. Each one is the embodiment of love and treated as such. It is said that the child carries the flames o’ both parents; each generation carries the flames of those that have come before. Those withoot children to carry their flames are said tae…”

  “Oh.” Aichlan nodded somberly in understanding. “I had no idea, I understand the importance of a child, but I did not know it went so deep for your people.”

  Órfhlaith offered an amiable smile as a warm wind flared up around her. “It is not an issue Aichlan, but we should get oot o’ this cold.”

* * *

  The city of Marquez was a winding labyrinth of narrow streets and circuitous thoroughfares that wound their way up and around the city's seven hills. The city was divided into districts, each district built around one of the hills with a great tower signifying each. Unlike the districts of Rhode, these served the purpose of separating the rich from the poor, the laborer from the Aristocrat and little else. The larger the tower and its spire, the more affluent the district upon whose hill it sat. The largest hill –or rather, small mountain- held the palace in the city's center; it had four great spires of varying height, like needles that scratched the belly of heaven. The city was a rich amalgam of glass and carved stone, gargoyles and statuary adorned nearly every multi-leveled building. Arcades of heavy stone lined the streets providing covered walkways for pedestrian traffic and market stalls in areas of commerce and trade.

  The Mission district of Marquez was an ethnic neighborhood encompassing Duvachellé’s Elysian speaking Sorn immigrants. A primarily working class area, with a thriving marketplace, even in these uncertain times the streets bustled with people. It was so named as it was the site of the first church of The Order in the region, and was once a purely religious community. Maleah led her horse by the reins as she gapped in wonder at the elegant, towering structures in the near distance that made up Marquez’s city center.

  “Why’re you staring all mouth ajar?” Taryn teased as she closed Maleah’s mouth with a gentle hand. “First time in a city like this?”

  Maleah slowly shook her head as she gazed in awe at the multi leveled buildings that lined the street.“I’ve been to Sarevon twice, its winter splendor far surpasses anything Runandia has to offer, but this is most impressive nonetheless. My only view of Nassica came as a soldier in the saddle,” Maleah tightened her scarf as she stared wistfully into the grey skies. “It is refreshing to take on the role as tourist.”

  “Why can’t you always be this mellow?” Taryn laughed.

  “What do you mean?” Maleah retorted, snapping from her reverie.

  “It’s fitting is all, you seem more relaxed.”

  Maleah shrugged and lowered her gaze to hide her red cheeks. “I’ve been distracted of late, and we’re out of vodka. Whiskey too.”

  Taryn rolled her eyes and nudged her friend in the ribs. “Ransom’s got some wine hidden somewhere.”

  “Ransom’s not here anymore, besides, it’s not the same…”

  The armies guide halted his horse and they came to a stop at a five story hotel that encompassed the entire block. The building was old, probably having been built at the city’s founding, though by no means shabby. Their Duvachelléan escort turned and cleared his throat to get their attention. He was a young knight, but already had an affect like his shit did not stink.

  “His majesty King Laelianus has purchased this hotel for the duration of your stay. Every amenity shall be made available to you. If you choose to leave the hotel however, you shall have to make use of your own funds. Expect an address from his majesty in the coming week. You are free to explore and indulge yourselves in the city, but it is asked that you retain a low profile and observe the local laws.”

  “And what if we need to get a hold of our superiors?” Aislyn blurted in a similar officious tone. “Those in the palace?”

  Taryn shot Aislyn a dirty glare as she stood shivering, oblivious to her comments poor reception.

  The knight pressed his thin lips together in some semblance of a smile. “Your brigade and battalion officers will return on the morrow; any pertinent information shall be dispensed at that time. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to return to my own unit.”

  “Then perhaps you can deliver a message to the palace for me?” Aislyn persisted.

  The knight tipped his helmet, ignoring Aislyn’s request, and spurred his horse on as he galloped off through the snow dusted streets. Aislyn huffed and muttered a curse under her breath.

  “What was his problem?” Maleah mumbled.

  “This is a Sorn neighborhood;” Taryn clarified, clamping her hand on Maleah’s shoulder, “the Sorn people are not seen in a favorable light due to our nation bein’ founded by lowborn. Our line of kings has no royal blood, not even Aes Sidhe recognizes us legitimately. Though this is a nice area, adjacent to the main thoroughfares, the Lower Missions can be best described as slums.”

  “What an elitist ass.”

  Taryn smiled tiredly as she patted Maleah on the shoulder. “That’s life love. Now let’s get outta this bloody cold. Come on Aislyn.”

  Upon receiving no response, Taryn turned to scan the crowd for her archer. “Aislyn? Were the bloody ‘ell’d that lass run offta?”