Legion

This far from home, what Legion found he missed the most was the sound of the ocean. It was one of those things in the background of his life that wasn’t noticed until it was missing. All of his life has been accompanied by the low rumbling of the sea. Out here in the wild fields of Athshin, the silence was unnerving.

Maya dismounted her horse. “We’ve put enough distance between us and Ramuff. We’re in Spiral territory now.”

The change in territory was marked by the shift from stretches of dry dirt with sparse plant life to fields of wild grass with bulbs of sagebrush. Legion dismounted his own steed, a donkey named Blue Bray. Legion had only ridden a few times in his life, so when it came time to purchase a mount in Ramuff the stable master recommended Blue Bray as a discounted steed for beginners. Blue Bray was old and stocky, but he took Legion’s weight easily. Only in the opening moments of travel had they run at full gallop. Today they traveled at a leisurely trot.

They had to leave Ramuff quickly. The Eldest Cleric of the Vulture Mother was found dead in his bed, victim to what was only described as a “grisly execution.” The murderer was unknown, but it was heavily suspected that a diablan had done it. The night before a diablan was seen pestering wall sentries for entry, showed signs of madness at The Merchant’s Gallery, and had attacked three innocent men in the market with deadly arcana.

Legion was the prime suspect and Maya had recommended they leave the city before the investigation turned into an inquisition.

Spiral City was their next destination. It was the largest city in the Confederacy and the next best place for Legion to hunt. That was still a day away. For now, he and Maya set up a small camp on the lip of a river gorge and ate their first meal of the day.

“What’s that river named?” Legion asked with a mouth full of bread and agave honey. The gorge was deep, but even from this distance they could see the white rapids that striped the river’s winding length.

Contrast to himself, Maya finished chewing before she spoke. From this angle the birthmark on her face looked like a collection of strawberries. “That’s Hambrientorío.”

“‘The River that Eats?’” Legion asked incredulously. He spoke the direct translation of the Quetzal name.

Maya nodded quite casually. “It’s far deeper than it looks, and the undercurrent can pull the strongest swimmer beneath the surface. Bodies never resurface after.”

Maya lazily tilted her head to one side. “You know that Spiral City won’t be any safer than Ramuff. Killing an Eldest Cleric is the kind of thing that they stab you on sight for, and if they’ve already pinned it on a diablan…”

Legion was stiff as a statue. He understood exactly what she was saying. “I don’t care. They can hunt me for a crime I didn’t commit. I only care about one thing.”

Maya judged him with her eyes. She was older than him by a few decades or more. She reminded him most of the matrons in Refuge, only she carried a sword and sickle instead of a sandal.

Whatever thoughts Maya was harboring she kept to herself. She unscrewed the flask she kept at her hip. Legion had asked what alcohol she kept in it and she replied: “Mineral water. I’m on the job, remember?”

After a quick dreg she undid the band keeping in her ponytail. “What made this father of yours so special anyway?”

Legion’s donkey brayed, living up to his namesake and giving Legion time to think.

“He was kind. He always had a lesson for children and a coin for beggars. My family’s wealth dates back to the Fourth Era. By the time it had trickled down to my father there was enough to live comfortably until he could be as old and fat as the god Falstaff. He didn’t do that. He traveled Athshin to preserve Diablan history.”

Legion smiled. How many days had it been since he last smiled?

He did use that wealth to build us a big house in Refuge. Big enough to house us and his museum, as well as any travelers passing through who couldn’t afford the one inn in town. That’s how it happened.”

Legion paused. He liked to believe if he focused he could hear the rumbling of Hambrientorío. It sounded like the ocean.

“I was fishing far from the coast. A duststorm passed through town and kept me from landing, but I did see the stranger arrive. He needed shelter from the storm and my father was happy to give it. I won’t believe anything else. When the storm passed, and I finally made it to shore, that was when the stranger left. We only made eye contact for the briefest moment, but I’ll never forget his face. I went inside and...and…”

A tear rolled down his cheek. He felt childish crying in front of someone like Maya.

“...And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Mercenary Maya creased her lips. Whatever she meant to say earlier was fighting to come out. “You know...I was a bounty hunter before I was a mercenary...”

“What’s the difference?” Legion frowned. His sad memory interrupted by a question of semantics.

“A mercenary can do more than hunt and kill” Maya snapped. She seemed relieved that Legion had stopped crying. “My point is, you don’t need to risk yourself doing this. Your hands are clean. Let someone who’s already dirtied theirs do the deed.”

“No.” Legion didn’t need even a minute to think about it. “It has to be me.”

Maya stood. Legion thought she was going to leave him. She certainly looked spiteful enough. Legion’s confusion escalated when she drew her shortsword. “Fine. If that’s the case then you need to know how to actually kill someone. Stand up, and grab that old cutlass you’ve been lugging around.”

Legion didn’t question her, not with that fire in her eyes. Back in Ramuff, Maya demanded that Legion buy a proper sheath for his cutlass. Unfortunately a “proper sheath,'' as in one that fit like a good boot, was hard to find. The best he could get was still loose enough that the sword rattled when he walked. He drew the cutlass and faced Maya.

Maya immediately frowned. “First lesson is how to hold that thing proper. It’s not a club, so quite gripping it like a man gripping his…You need a loose grip, let it rest on your fingers.”

Legion obliged, Maya seemed pleased when he managed it on first attempt. She charged at him with her sword. Legion was unprepared, but still deflected the blade from his chest with a panicked swing.

“Very good! I was worried for a moment. Let that be a lesson on instincts: trust them. And I don’t mean the pissy ones that tell you to run.”

Maya attacked again. This time she moved slower so that Legion could better see the motion of her attacks. Legion deflected the first three, but the fourth didn’t come from her sword at all. Maya kicked him in the shins. He stumbled forward and was caught by his horns. Maya brought her sword up to his throat.

“Next lesson: a fight’s a fight. Fight dirty. If your dad was killed by some honor-bound caballero then this is the best lesson you can take. I’ve killed a few caballeros because they didn’t think an attack would come for their softest parts.”

She released his horns and let him drop. The lessons continued on like that. Maya wouldn’t tell him what he was doing wrong until after she had humiliated him. She never cut him with her sword, but she did kick him more and bash him with her pommel. Legion started to think that Maya didn’t actually have a lesson plan and was teaching through improvisation and aggression.

“Can I ask something?” Legion piped-up. He was only stalling for a reprieve. When Maya actually lowered her blade he panicked for an inquiry. “Why…why aren’t you using that sickle?”

Maya’s birthmark furrowed with her scowl. She sheathed her shortsword and drew the sickle attached to her back by straps. She was deft enough to quickly draw the curved weapon without cutting the straps that held it. It was not quite like the sickles Legion had seen used for farming. The curve was more obtuse and the black handle had finger holds whittled into it. Maya extended her arm fully so that the tip of the sickle’s curve was centimeters from Legion’s chest.

“This sickle was my brother’s and you know what a sore point for me that is. Its edge is not to be wasted on trivial matters like this.”

Legion confirmed that he understood. Maya put the sickle away and looked back to the Hambrientorío. For a moment Legion believed the lessons to be over. He was a fool. Maya spun around, quick-drawing her shortsword and beginning the training all over again. At one point in this sparring Legion back-stepped into the rock he had been sitting on. He tripped backwards, landing in the sea of grass surrounding them.

“Get up.” Maya insisted.

“No. I’m done with this.” Legion huffed. He was spread on his back and looking at the thin clouds overhead.

“You’re father’s killer isn’t going to let you take naps in the middle of battle.”

Legion snapped. “My father’s killer also won’t be you!”

Maya laughed in his face. Not the reaction Legion wanted. She did sheath her shortsword before approaching him.

She squatted beside him like he was a dead animal she intended to poke with a stick. “Kid, how old are you?”

“I’m nineteen.” Legion groaned. He was prepared for the lecture about how he’s too young to be doing this. Long into his first day walking the road beyond Refuge he made peace with the fact that people will judge him as much for his age as they did his horns and tail. Maya didn’t say that, what she said was somehow worse.

“Ha! That’s it. You need to get laid. Clear your head.”

Legion could feel his eyes strain in their sockets. Was Maya serious? Or was she just teasing him?

“Is that what you do when you’re frustrated?”

“No. I’m saving myself for marriage.” Maya replied.

By her tone, Legion had no idea if she was being serious. Her hand went to her hip to retrieve her flask. Rather than drink it herself, she tossed it to Legion. Legion tentatively sipped the flask’s contents. It was filled with mineral water.

“Get up,” Maya commanded again, “we’ll switch tactics. You’re an Incarnate, which means you have more than steel at your disposal. I don’t know much about using arcana, but my brother had arcane blood. Let’s try some simple tricks.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

That sounded like a fine change of pace to Legion. Both of them returned to their picnic area. Legion walked slowly. He was still not secure thinking this wasn’t going to turn into another surprise lesson. His nerves calmed when Maya took a bite of the salami they had packed.

“Now then,” she said after swallowing, “can you make, like, a ball of something? Just pure arcana.”

Legion held out his hand. He focused on his palm. He never had a proper tutor in this, being the only Incarnate in Refuge. His father bought him books on practical applications of magic, but Legion never practiced what they taught for fear of the consequences of doing it wrong. The most useful of those books told the reader to focus on a nexus point and to envision particles of arcana in the air being pulled to that point. Legion was successful. A small sphere of red energy formed in his hand. At the very least, he had done this before.

“Okay…” Maya was thinking up the next step. “Can you do anything with it?”

Legion blinked at the ball. “I think it gives off light. I’ve never tried anything past this.”

“Try throwing it at that tree.” Maya suggested.

She gestured to the tree behind her, it was only a few meters away and an easy target if Legion was throwing a pebble. Once Maya had moved out of the way, he reared his arm back. When he followed through for the throw the ball dissipated. Legion stumbled forward as he threw empty air.

Maya burst out laughing. Legion stewed until she finished. She asked him to make the ball again. She didn’t make Legion attempt a second throw, instead she asked if he could shape it into anything else. Legion didn’t know. The books had never covered something like that, so he hadn’t tried. He focused on his palm. This time he pictured the particles of arcana being repelled from the center of his palm and forming a ring.

Slowly, the ball in his hand concaved until a hole formed in the center. Legion had done it, but the ring felt unstable. His hand grew hot.

The ring burst outwards. Legion shielded his face and felt the intense heat wash over him. Their mounts nervously stomped and pulled on their leads, but the explosion turned out to be mostly harmless. The flash scared them more than anything. Several pieces of food had been singed, as well as Maya’s face. She had a black smear of soot striped across her nose. When she attempted to brush it off she only succeeded in smearing it. This time it was Legion’s turn to laugh.

Maya wished to make some remark, but she suddenly frowned. Serpent Road they had been following was now thick with travelers. Carriages, supplies carts, and soldiers competed for space on the stone path. Maya instructed that Legion should sit down and the two resume their lunch. They’d leave when the procession passed.

“Where are they all going? Is there a war on?” Legion asked.

He had never seen so many armed persons before. Each section of the caravan bore different banners. Some companies were more populated than others, with as many as a hundred armed soldiers marching in rank and file. Others had as few as ten individuals.

Maya had the ghost of a sneer as she watched the road. “All following the same road we are…There must be an Emperor’s Clash happening. When the ruler of Spiral City dies anyone with more than a few soldiers following them heads to The Red Colosseum to compete for the throne. Pointless.”

“Why pointless? Spiral City was the capital of the old empire. It has the biggest military, and the healthiest fields. The ruler even gets to attend the Council of Sovereigns. I’d think that everyone would want to rule it.”

For once, Maya seemed disappointed her flask didn’t actually carry alcohol. “It’s like I said back at Yvette’s: This continent is obsessed with the past, and it’s to a stupid fault. Spiral City wasn’t just the capital for the Coatlmade, it was also the capital of Slaughterstone. The Teotl were the first power in Athshin, until their human slaves prayed to big snakes and gained the powers to rebel. The Coatlmade claimed their masters’ thrones and went further, building the biggest damn empire Domhanda has ever seen. Bigger they are, the harder they fall, and the Coatlmade fell hard. Nettamodes start the Era of Terror, destroying everything anyone had built. Leaving Athshin, well, like Athshin.”

She gestured to all around them. Legion didn’t quite understand her reference but he kept listening.

“I’ve heard foreigners call the Fourth Era ‘The Reconstruction’. I guess it was. Elves rebuilt, Humans rebuilt, everyone rebuilt except for the Coatlmade. You can’t rebuild an empire that big. So now its fractured like a vase. Everything south of here, the Dune Seas and Scorching Canyons, those belong to no one, except maybe the bandits and atavists. North is the same, the Nahual keep everyone out of the jungles. Fair enough for them. The only thing close to the old empire is Finis, but that’s more Human than Coatlmade now. Then there’s the Confederacy, the meat of the old empire split amongst dozens of cities, each with their own leader who thinks they’re best suited for remaking what’s broken. They fight amongst themselves rather than anything productive.”

Legion knew most of this from history books, but he had never heard it described like this: with disregard for the past and contempt for the present. Most scholars were wistful and dismayed by the fall of the empire.

The more she thought about it, the angrier Maya became. “Do you know how many wars have been fought because someone didn’t like the outcome of an Emperor’s Clash? How many people have been killed for a busted throne that means nothing? They say you can strike a shovel anywhere in that city and you’ll find the weapon of a dead soldier. The fields are so fertile because of all the blood and bone they’ve been fed.”

“How do you know all this?” Legion asked. It made sense for him to know the history of Athshin, he was raised by a historian, but Maya was a common mercenary.

The anger left Maya. She tenderly touched the broadside of her sickle. “Like I said: everyone in this continent is obsessed with the past...”

Legion cast his eyes down. Maya was his only friend out here, and he hated causing her grief. Back on the road a line of coatlmade soldiers started a ballad to the old empire.

“Ignore them.”

Maya did not refer to the caravan, but to the four souls that had peeled off from it. Two humans and two coatlmade. Legion kept his head stiff and his eyes off those approaching, which was hard to do once he saw they were armed for battle.

“Hola.” One of the mercenaries dryly called. He was a wild coatlmade blessed with vibrant emerald scales and oak brown feathers on his shoulders. The horn on his snout stabbed forward like a bent nail.

“Hola,” Maya called back contemptuously. Her hand hand dropped to her sword’s hilt.

The coatlmade tugged on the strap of the leather bandoleer that ran diagonally across his exposed chest. “You’re Mercenary Maya. We did a job together a few months back.”

Maya was still suspicious, but she nodded slowly. “Hidalgo, right? We shared guard duty for Horca Ranch.”

“I’m glad you remember. You left once the contract was done, but I stayed on. Now I’m the captain of the guard, and even earned my last name: Horca’s-Killer.”

The coatlmade laughed. Legion kept his mouth tight. He desperately wanted this to just be a reunion between former allies. Hildago made an exagerated shrug.

“Unfortunately, Caballero Horca is investing his guards as an entry to the Emperor’s Clash. Looking at the competition on this road, I do not like our odds.”

“It is a battle to the death. Take my advice and abandon the idiot on the road.”

Hidalgo looked to the caravan. The section they had broken from was getting further away. “I agree with you Maya, but if we are to break from Horca we need coin.”

“Who’s that diablan with you?” Asked a human with an eye patch. She was trimming her nails with a knife.

Legion attempted to suppress his tense gasp, but that just caused the gasp to stutter into a cough that drew more attention to himself. Maya didn’t respond to the woman.

“Chella asked a simple question. Who is that diablan?” Hidalgo reiterated.

“Cut the bull formality. How much is the bounty?” Maya asked sharply.

Hidalgo made an aggravated grunt. He reached into the largest pouch on his bandoleer and retrieved a leaflet of parchment.

“‘Bounty to be paid for each diablan whose origins can be traced to Ramuff. Fifteen gold for living prisoners. Seven gold for proof of death by collecting the horns. Report to any local chapter of the Order of Suffering’”

Finished reading, Hidalgo stowed the parchment with a resigned look on his face. He and his three cohorts stepped forward.

“So that’s how you’re getting the coin to leave Horca...”

As Maya spoke, she tied her hair back into a ponytail. She gestured to Legion that he should back away from the group. Legion did have much distance to retreat. They were only a few meters from the gorge’s edge.

“We’ve collected two sets of horns so far,” Chella responded coldly. “From what we’ve heard, the Order isn’t even looking for any proof that the diablan came from Ramuff. Easiest coin some of us have ever made.”

“You could join us Maya. You’re getting on in years. You can’t fight all of us.” Hidalgo offered. He drew the iron trident strapped to his back.

Legion fearfully looked to his protector. Maya cocked her head over her shoulder to frown at Legion. Legion wondered how far he could jump into the gorge and still survive the landing.

Maya looked back to the quartet of mercenaries. “I could do that, but I’ve decided I’ll snap off that shitty horn of yours and sell it as an aphrodisiac.”

Hidalgo laughed, but it was with regret. “Fine. We won’t spare you, Mercenary Maya.”

The other coatlmade attacked first. He was cloud-scaled and swung a dull ax. Maya had her shortsword and sickle out. She sidestepped the coatlmade like a matador with a drake. The cloud coatlmade wore half-plate that left his right shoulder and arm exposed. When Maya had dodged, she also made a slash with her shortsword across the ridge of the coatlmade’s neck. The coatlmade stumbled as blood washed down his scales. His next attack was sloppy and Maya killed him with a second slash.

Hidalgo and the second human attacked at the same time. Maya clashed her weapons against theirs. Legion worried this commotion would attract attention from the other armies in the caravan, but that had mostly passed. His head snapped to his left, the human woman Chella was sprinting towards him after circling around the battle with Maya. She had a second longknife drawn. Legion was tired from Maya’s earlier training, but he didn’t forget her lesson on instincts. He stepped back and redirected her knives with his cutlass.

Maya placed her boot firmly on Hidalgo’s stomach and kicked him back. With more space to maneuver she caught the shoulder of the other human with her sickle. Using it like a cant hook, she forced the man to bend over, smashing his face against the rock Legion had been sitting on. The force of the slam left a red mark on the man’s face and made him dizzy with pain. Maya stabbed his gut next, killing him with only a soft groan escaping his lips.

Chella was fast and moved like fire. Most of her attacks were feints to confuse him. At one point she caught Legion’s cutlass between her knives. She pushed his arm back then quickly dug into his wrist. Legion shouted and dropped his weapon. He turned to run along the edge of the gorge, hoping that Maya could finish with Hidalgo and assist him. Maya knew Legion was in trouble, but Hidalgo wasn’t allowing her to get close. His trident gave him the reach to keep Maya away while he circled her. Maya kept her guard up while glaring at Legion and Chella.

“Make a ring!” She shouted.

Legion understood. He held his palm up to Chella. Faster than he had earlier, he manifested the ring of red energy, then let it become unstable and explode. Chella screamed as the attack struck her uncovered eye. She tried to rub the burning spots away while still pursuing Legion. In her blinded state she tripped on a rock concealed by the tall grass and fell into the gorge. Legion didn’t watch her fall, but he heard her body impact each ledge on the way down.

Hidlago saw what happened to Chella. He was alone against Maya and Legion. He retracted his trident with a smile. “What is the chance you’ll let me walk away?”

Maya didn’t relax. She pointed with her shortsword. “Set down your coin and the bounty paper. Go back to Horca and tell him you lost three of his guards.”

Hidalgo exhaled nervously. “Right. At least now he can’t enter the Emperor’s Clash.”

He obeyed her commands and set down his bandoleer. He backed three steps away from Maya. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to pursue him, he ran to catch up with the caravan.

Maya sat back at their picnic spot. She dropped her weapons rather than sheath them. Legion tentatively took a seat. The horse and donkey had been calm during the fight and resumed eating the small amount of oats Maya had bought for them. Maya passed Legion the bounty notice. He confirmed it said everything Hidalgo had read.

“You’ll face more of the same in Spiral City. Refuge isn’t too far that we can’t turn back.” Maya said as she packed their supplies.

Legion couldn’t stop staring at the paper, the paper that told him he and his kind were marked for death by anyone bloodthirsty enough to kill for a few disks of gold. He looked to the west, where the dust clouds kicked up by the caravan were rolling towards the sky. He could even see Hidalgo jogging to catch up with the rear of it. He looked to the two men Maya had killed. If they had been more coordinated or capable, they surely would’ve dealt with Maya then proceeded to scalping Legion. Lastly, he looked to Maya who still had the face of a matron concerned for her self-destroying ward. When Legion closed his eyes though, he saw only one thing.

“I wasn’t there when my father died. I didn’t see him breathe his last or hear his final words. I let his killer escape. If I can’t avenge him, then I’ll never know peace.”

Maya pursed her lips. She reached across the campsite to Legion. At first, Legion thought she was going to hug him, maybe slap him, but she took the paper and tore it to shreds.

“Then you’ve chosen your path.”