16th of Taka, 1000

Somewhere outside Fort Minapüru

Mické, crouching low, scurried through the defile. There hours, he guessed, certainly not four. Then the sun would creep above the desert and this nights adventures would be over. He loved it out here. When you told other you were being posted to the desert they pictured sand. Lots of sand, rolling dunes of the stuff and a measure of boredom that left you brain dead.

That wasn’t here. Here the desert was rocky. Small drops, steep ravines, weird looking rocky outcrops and a million useful places for a single person to hide. He loved it here. Loved his mission even more. The captain was a bit strange but nice enough.His posing could have been worse on that front.

He peaked around a taller rocky nob checking the coast before sprinting across a patch of open ground and dropping into another defile. He was making progress but he hadn’t been this way before and so he guessed he was being pushed too far westward by the terrain. He paused to get his bearings. He looked around hoping to see one of the mage towers.

The current defile was too deep. He would try again at the end.

Those mage towers were to him. Nobody knew whey the Fujikans had one day up an decided to build mage towers in all their forts, just that they. So without a sensible thought in their heads the leaders of HMCC or the army, he didn’t know which, had decided to copy.

Well not quite copy. Intelligence was limited as to what the towers did and how they were made so all Miylan did was build a big tall tower and tell their Mages they got to sleep there rather than the barracks. Dumb idea in Mické opinion. Still the lights that the Fujikan mages left on at nigh made it supper easy to find their fort. Even on nights where the moon was almost absent.

Reaching a higher spot in the ravine, he glanced around, finally locating Minapüru’s mage tower. He wasn’t as far off course as he had feared. Coming up from the south, like he had, made the trip between the two forts much longer than normal. But in his game you didn’t want to be obvious ini your approach to anything. Maybe an hour until I’m in place, he thought to himself.

Suddenly he dropped to the ground. Frantically thinking, ‘I’m a stone. I’m a stone.’ Something not quite physical seemed to sweep across the desert. He knew what it was. There was a mage somewhere using some sort of location cast. He didn’t know how far out it could reach, nor how long that cast lasted. Sometimes there was only one or two of those sweeping type things other times there were more.

He hesitated. He wasn’t a mage. Mages were rare and strange beasts. HMCC estimated only six in every thousand people in Miylan could be castors. And one in every ten castors was an actual mage. Everyone had magical aptitude. Everyone had affinity for some element or source. But to be a castor you need a grade even just a half grade in something.

He smirked to himself. Fun trick he played on others, pretending he had no grades. But with a half grade in earth and another half in wind he wasn’t a mage. He just couldn’t drop a cast. No stone spike for him. No wall of wind. Rather he could do a little of what the higher ups called low magic. Normal people, called it witchery or the touch or one of a dozen different names.

Small little efforts that made all the difference. You know, the sorts of things that just seem to tip the odds in your favour slightly. ‘Jack always knows where the children are hiding’. ‘John’s swords never turn in your hand.’ ‘Jane always grows the best fruit.’ ‘Juliet’s rings give you luck.’ The sorts of things that just made everything slightly, better. Yeah, better was the right word Mické thought to himself.

Mické had been taught by his dad. His earth and wind grades were the same. Neither of them could turn invisible they knew that. But just like the other hedge witches. The touch turned things. When they were sneaking about, a guard’s eye would seem to skip over them more easily. In a fight, a touch more stable than their size would indicate, or a mite quicker.

It wasn’t enough to change the world but sometimes all you needed was a little help. That’s what he hoped happed every time he felt that weird sensation of a sweep. He pulled himself together. Either he was found or not. He wouldn’t know one way or another for sure until he was ridden down by some mounted Fujika soldier. Best not to dwell on it he decided. Time to push on.

He popped out of the current depression he had taken cover in and pressed onwards. The new direction was a problem. There was a large patch of relatively open ground that he would need to cover. He could either try the large expanse of it close to his current position to what appeared to be a smaller patch much closer to Minapüru.

Mické paused to reflect on his knowledge of the forts. Both of them were built around water sources. As such they were poorly located form military purposes. Both had significant areas where the terrain made it almost impossible to spot people approaching. In both instances Fujiama and Miylan respectively had placed hides to monitor those who approached.

Conversely the Mage towers both forts now employed rose significantly above the terrain allowing for much better surveillance. Fortunately for Mické they filled them with mages. Individuals so self absorbed there was almost no chance that one of them would spot the approach of an entire army, much less a careful individual.

Still he decided he would rather take a known risk a little way out, rather than bet that there was none closer to the fort. Taking a breath he started across. Ruing for the first time that night the inevitable lack of clouds a desert brought. He tried his trick again as he crossed the open area.

His relief at reaching the safety of cover was short lived. Hiding in the ravine was a desert lizard. Mické wasn’t a farmer or a tamer, he didn’t know what specific kind. He just recognised them as being deadly beasts. Whilst not all were big enough to eat a human in a sitting they were bad tempered, territorial, venomous and utterly fearless. They would all attack.

Their reflexes were surprisingly quick for a reptile and he was only just able to escape unbitten because the night had cooled it’s blood. Older larger lizards were better at maintaining their body temperature and would have given him a bite. And a single bit was a serious problem.

The lizards had teeth long and sharp enough to puncture skin much tougher than human skin. But they didn’t rely on the physical impact of their bite to pull their opponents down. Rather they relied on a particularly nasty saliva that carried a paralytic. Mické had seen a lizard take down human before.

It wasn’t pretty, the fit man in question had survived for almost twenty minutes before collapsing. The trailing lizard hadn’t tried to kill him, it had just started started tearing flesh off. The man had tried to fight back but as the paralysis set in he could protect himself. By the time Mické had caught up the only thing he could was put the poor man out of his misery.

With the walls of Minapüru in sight he needed to focus. He hadn’t spent the last five hours sneaking thought the desert to fail this close to his objective. So, as he closed in on the southern wall, he slowed down being more careful, looking for the defender patrols.

Then he saw the sign he was looking for. He carefully pulled a lamp out of this back pack. Now the risk really increased. He lit it, being careful to make sure that it was fully shrouded. He was close enough to the wall that he could make out the shadows of the guards but far enough back that he could see a couple of the taller buildings.

Waiting until the guards were way form the section of the wall in from of one of those buildings. He held up the lamp and in a well practiced manner quickly opened and closed the lamp shutter flashing a signal across the gap.

No response.

He waited a little while an tried again. Still nothing. He wasn’t nervous there was often a challenge with these things. He waited and tried again.

Finally on the four attempt a light flickered in a window. Mické had never met the person on the other end of the signal lamps. He couldn’t tell you if it was a two year old or a geriatric. Signaller could have been the captain of the fort or a cleaner. Perhaps it was a team not an individual. It was safer he didn’t know.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He really hoped that the secrecy was just as tight going back the other way. He couldn’t afford. For his name to become known. He thoughts stopped abruptly as the he realised what was being transmitted. This wasn’t one of those things that you write down and then someone uses a complex key pad to fix the meaning.

That’s not how his service worked now. Magic was a marvellous thing. A single cast and he couldn’t, not wouldn’t, but couldn’t be coerced into giving the information away. It didn’t quite work that way with everything but a couple of sentences weren’t a problem. After that it was better to trust the mind of loyal person rather than the safety of obscure paper.

Having received the message. He went through the usual protocol and set the next rendezvous. Or tried to. There other end decided that contingencies were in order. It was getting more dangerous. The guidelines were clear. Three flash sequences each way and then you’re done. More and the risk of being seen got too high.

The other end insisted on three options for the next communication. Once assuming nothing happened in the next four days. The other two in case something did. Still it was a relief to finally finish.

Mické blew out the lamp. He watered to be away but he needed to stay still. Even looking away from the lamp as he had tried to his night vision was ruined. He would need fifteen minutes for his sight to return.

He also needed the oil in the lamp and the lamp itself to cool. If things go difficult traveling he couldn’t afford the jostling of his backpack to ignite the oil or worse burn him. They had tried candles but the light was less reliable and the candles themselves transported even worse than oil. The experiment hadn’t lasted long.

Nervously he waited, itching to be moving and off. But he hadn’t survived this long by allowing impatience to dictate his actions.

Finally the lamp cooled to the touch. He carefully decanted the oil and wrapped the lamp, packing both into his backpack. Be carefully and quietly retreated before turning to return a different way to the way he had come. A quicker and more direct route.

The first portion of the return journey was torture. He hated the slow movement facing away form the enemy, it always made his skin crawl. But if he moved faster and was seen it would be worse. Patience he told himself.

The second part was always easier. The easy loping run that he used was easy on the legs and stamina. The problem with the times picked by the other end of the lamp signals was that they were always very late in the night. Limiting his time to return. After all the trick was for everyone in Kitapüru to believe he a normal soldier unlucky enough to be punished by the captain with an infinite supply of night watch slots. Which only worked if you were back at the poset before the change of post came at dawn.

His thoughts were interrupted by a faint grunt. It sounded distinctly human. Nobody should be out on a night like tonight. Certainly the captain wouldn’t have allowed two out on the same night. He turned slightly, facing a true north towards the noise rather than his previous north westerly direction. He slowed and tracked of to see what had made the noise.

After searching diligently Mické concluded that whatever or who ever had made the noise was long gone.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. An arm snaked across his body attempting a choke. Reflexes took over and he dropped bonelessly slithering through the grasping arms of his assailant. Twisting he threw out a much that connected with fresh air.

A knife flashed towards him and he flopped back to avoid it. The lamp in his backpack crumpled under the wait. A sharp edge staging up into his back. He silently gasped at the pain. A face with an oriental appearance flashed into view. He assumed Fujikan but it could have been Singaporean or Cantonese for all he knew about their appearance.

He lashed out with his foot collecting nothing but fortunately shifting away from a second knife swing. Mické bounced to his feet. He toped his assailant easily but not couldn’t match the speed. The fight degenerated into lots of swinging and missing before the assailant eventually scored a cut on Mické’s forearm. It wan’t bad, but enough to indicate he was loosing.

He pulled out his own knife hoping to intimidate his opponent. It was soon abundantly clear that one of the combatants knew how to knife fight. It just wasn’t Mické. He decided his only hope were the guards around Kitapüru so in the fight he attempted to drift in that direction. The enemy was a better fighter and wise to the plan, cutting Mické off with ease.

Things were looking bleak until, he heard that malevolent hiss for the second time in the night. Diving to the side he avoided the massive lizard that erupted from a hole neither combatant had noticed as they ranged across the stoney desert.

Hank’s assailant wasn’t so lucky. He had been lunging towards Mické when the lizard attacked. So with the inevitability of a runaway cart crashing into everything, the two met violently. The lizard managed a nasty bite and the combatant stabbed it in reply. Neither were dead, but both were heading that way, aggressively.

Mické wasn’t much of a fighter and he was carrying useful information he had to deliver. He left them to it. Turning to them as he retreated to a safe distance, he noticed his assailant wearing clothes designed to blend in well with the desert. “A fellow practitioner” he remarked to himself has he resumed his run.

A little while later and he approached walls for he second time that night. This time was just as dangerous as the first. He stopped well back from the walls. There was a little hole in the ground artfully concealed. He pulled out his uniform and placing it carefully on the stones beside him.

First job sort out all the wounds. He needed to appear as if he had been bored and at his duty station all night. Bruising and cuts couldn’t show. He rummaged around in his backpack finally finding suitable bandages and dressing for his wounds. Once they were sorted he took of his current clothes quickly changing into his army attire.

Predawn light stole across the desert. Which was perfect allowing Mické to pull a small mirror out of the hole in the ground. Setting it up carefully he also withdrew some acting cosmetics. Studying his face, he carefully masked the growing bruise and adjusted the amount of bagginess around the eyes.

“Nothing to chance” he muttered to himself as he checked his reflection again.

He pulled out the broken lamp. It wasn’t just dented, it was smashed. The captain was going to be upset with the cost of replacement. Not that they would talk about it. He bought things using the expense account that the captain couldn’t argue about. The just could afford to be seen together enough for that level of oversight. It was a relief.

He pushed it back into the back pack. Just to be safe he critically reviewed his appearance in the mirror. He touched up what he liked to call his war paint a couple of times. Once satisfied he packed everything away in the backpack. That in turn went into the hole which had its opening re-disguised. Once he was satisfied with that he turned and jogging back to the fort.

After following a slightly circuitous route. He made it to one of the smaller lesser know gates. Utilising a fake whispering tone he hailed the guard. “Psst. Raoul open the gate.”

There was a faint clattering that indicated Raoul had been asleep and had fallen of his stool when awoken. Mické smiled to himself as Raoul finally responded. “Who’s that?”

“It’s me Mickie.” Mické responded.

“What are you doing outside the gate at this time?” The half asleep guard asked.

“Thought I saw something from my gate. Went to investigate. It was nothing but when I got back Vasili was asleep and you have no idea how hard it is to wake him. So I jogged round to your gate.” Mické hated using this method of entry but the other required lots of upper body strength and with his cut that wasn’t going to happen.

A little more persuasion, the repetition of the night password and eventually Mické was home and safe. He also desperately wanted to get to bed but there was a last job to do. He wandered through the kitchen talking to the staff before heading half the way round the fort and up the stairs to where he knew he would find the captain.

“Going to be a beautiful morning, captain.” Mické remarked. He was bone tired, sore and in need food.

“Yes it will be.” Devereux responded. “Hot though?”

“Perhaps, sir. The cook sent me to tell you breakfast is ready.” He paused. Time to deliver the message. ”Couldn’t see any clouds coming in could you. I didn’t. But a friend of mine, recons himself a weather witch. Says that they’re coming all the same. No lightning or thunder but they should drop the temperature nicely. Might get as low as eighteen.”

“Eighteen.” The captain glanced at Mické sharply. “That’s quite… cool. Any chance of rain?”

“Sir, surely you jest.” Mické replied. “It’s the desert we don’t see rain here. Course I’ve another friend. Shepard boy he is. Recons that there will be a lovely red sky to look at in two morning’s time. So more likely a dust storm.”

The captain looked at Mické closely. “Not today or tomorrow.”

“Course not sir.” He replied with a jocularity he didn’t feel. It was quite a thing knowing the lives of all the people he knew rested on his answer. “None of the clouds have come in yet. Takes a while for weather to brew. Well, that assumes you know what you’re looking for.”

The captain raised an eyebrow. “Point taken.” He turned back to the view towards Minapüru. “That will be all Mickie. Oh thank you for checking up on me as always.”

“No problem sir.” He turned to descend.

Devereux turned to the disappearing. “Oh Mickie, please tell the cook I’ll be there in a little while. I want to enjoy the crisp cool air first.”

He turned back to the view. Eighteen clouds, he thought to himself. Fujiama counted things in political controllers. Two or three a regiment. So worst case scenario nine reinforcing regiments. Much more than he could handle. Still no lightning so no new mages. No thunder so no other castors. Dust storm so a desert approach as the General had predicted.

He got up from the parapet. “Timing. Everything is timing.” He muttered to himself. Well assuming that the spies in Minapüru aren’t misleading us. Well that and he know all the right people to feed false information to. He thought he knew who was spying for Fujiama but with the reinforcements things will have changed.

He walked down the stairs rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed.

“Something I can do for you sir.” A soldier stood at the base of the stairs waiting to return to his post as soon as the captain was gone.

“No thanks Tom. Just deciding where to eat my breakfast.” He headed off to start the day.