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“Sloppy and below standard.” Gala’s voice is almost as hard as her fist. Her look of disgust is almost as painful as the bruises. The thin lipped, pale skinned woman seems too skinny to hit so hard but her wiry frame hides well toned lean muscle.

Not for the first time Leela thinks of what her life might be if she had stayed home. Almost sixteen now she thinks of the last two years under the tutelage of this woman she’s come to hate. To call her family is like calling the cobra that bites you a pet. Yet her methods have worked and try as she might Leela can’t deny she’d never have come this far without the constant fear of failure.

“I’ll do better.” She chokes the words out, hardly able to breathe from the blow to her sternum.

“You will.” Gala replies, matter of factly. “You are too good not to. I see you as a promising young mage and you are close to making journeyman but not close enough.” She pulls Leela in by the shoulders. “Many other mages would have sent you out on your own by now but I will not allow you to be anything less than perfect. When you leave me it will be as the best young mage of your craft and nothing less.”

A knock unlocks their eyes from each other and sends them to the door. Gala purses her lips as Leela smiles. She hadn’t expected him to come this soon. Three more knocks and she is almost gliding across the floor imagining stories from home.

“Your dolt of a brother, no doubt.” Gala says.

“Your dolt of a cousin,” Leela replies. “And only a dolt by your impossible standards.”

As she swings open the door, Leela is surprised to see that little Shia is now almost a full head taller than her. He stands in the rain grinning like the kid that he practically is. His dark red curly hair is matted and damp and his oversized coat is sopping wet but none of that seems to bother him. He rushes in and scoops Leela up in a soggy bear hug.

“Stop it, let go you idiot. You're soaking wet!” Leela shouts, protesting as he squeezes her in a soggy embrace. Shia laughs as he lets his sister go.

“You should see the look on your face.” He says.

“Shame on you,” Leela replies. “Weaponizing hugs against your big sister is not allowed.”

Shia grins. “That's what you get for not visiting in months even though we’re just a half day’s ride out. ”

“Don’t blame me,” Leela says indicating Gala’s scowling face. “This old bitty’s been working me like a dog, I don’t even get a day off.”

Gala’s eyes are fixed at Shia’s feet as Leela follows the path of her gaze; she spots the source of her cousin’s ire. Shia’s coat is dripping copious drops of water on the floor which are slowly pooling into a small puddle.

“Maybe you should get that coat off.” Leela moves to help her brother with his coat and stops as she spots an insignia sewn into the arm. “What is this?” She asks, pulling her brother closer to the firelight. It’s exactly what she thought she saw, two crossed swords over a rattlesnake.

“You joined the militia, are you kidding me?” Leela shouts as she yanks at her brother’s arm. “You aren’t even fifteen yet, they shouldn’t have let you join at all.”

Leela’s heat is countered by a humorless cool which dampens her brother’s features.

“While you’ve been locked away in study the threat to our kingdom has been growing.” He says, pulling his arm from his sister’s grip. “The usurper of Valis is building an army. War is coming and we’ve all got to be prepared.”

His words are drowned out by the sound of Gala’s laughter. The old mage fans herself as she looks at the boy with superior eyes.

“I can’t believe i’m related to one of you silly alarmists.” She says. “To even entertain the notion that poor, pathetic Valis could ever stand against the regal might of Taniran, a kingdom now in its golden age, is tantamount to madness.” Her smug unkind grin punctuates her point. Leela averts her eyes, hating that triumphant look on her master’s face but is surprised to see Shia’s eyes burning with defiant passion.

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“Valis is not the weak man of the world anymore, cousin.” He says. “It has become a mad dog frothing at the mouth, I've seen it with my own eyes.”

Silence stretches for an eternity that only lasts two heartbeats.

“You’ve been to Valis?” Leela asks, incredulous.

Her brother nods.

“I sent you that letter last month about father agreeing to let me go with Uncle Terron’s caravan.”

“That was supposed to be next month and you were going to the Independent Baronies.” Leela replies, still unsure of what to make of her brother’s revelation.

“Uncle Terron showed up early talking about a change in plans. Apparently word reached him that Valis was buying lots of silk and he decided to launch a trading expedition.”

Gala interrupts them by placing a pot of hot tea on the table and offering them each a cup.

“Warm up,” she says. “There’s no point in catching a cold while you tell us your story.”

Shia takes the steaming tea and raises the cup in thanks before greedily gulping it down. He shrugs out of his wet coat, leaving it to hang on the back of his chair and reveals a well toned body that he didn’t have the last time she saw him along with some fresh scars on his arms.

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“Trover wasn’t about to let me go off adventuring without him so he begged and pleaded with his father until he let him come along too.” Shia’s voice cracks and his eyes look as if they are holding back a million tears. Leela realizes something is terribly wrong.

“Damn it all, he wasn’t supposed to die!” Dishes jump and clatter as Shia’s fist hits the wooden table. Leela almost doesn’t believe her ears. Trover dead, the ever cheerful and energetic boy who’d climb a tree upside down just to get a look at a girl’s body. How can that voice that always carried a joke be silenced forever? How could that young troublemaker who could never sit still now be devoid of all life and energy?

“My fault,” Shia says quietly. “If only I had been smarter, been quicker.”

“How could this have happened?” Leela asks, almost not realizing that she spoke aloud.

“Begin at the beginning,” Gala says. “I want to know exactly what happened on that trip.”

Shia swallows his emotions and pours himself some more tea. Leela can tell he’s lost the taste for it but he drinks it down anyway.

“ It started simply enough, Uncle Terron took us out on the road and about two days from home we went off the main road and started hiking up goat trails in the Lencher mountains. Uncle had heard some stories about high tariffs and let us in on the secret that he’s one of maybe two or three traders who have the treacherous goat paths into Valis fully mapped. The strange thing was that after just a few hours on the road we saw signs of foot patrols and try as we might to dodge them it wasn’t a day before we bumped into one. “ Shia grimaces at the memory. “They searched our caravan top to bottom for contraband and demanded the toll which uncle had gone so far out of his way to avoid. When he pressed them about why they were patrolling this remote part of the border they fed him a line about bandits targeting caravans. Uncle Terron acted like he believed them, of course but I could tell he thought it was horse shit. Later that night, Trover and I were stealing some wine and we overheard him talking with his men.” Leela shoots her brother a withering look at the mention of wine. “You know how father feels about you drinking!” She says. “Do you want to end up as pickled as mother?”

Shia gives his sister one of those “are you kidding me” looks and clears his throat.

“Uncle Terron had some early suspicions about what was going on. “No other trader knows these trails like me. No caravans come this way which is why there are no damned bandits.” He said, and he was pretty worked up so we heard every word. “The border wasn’t even this tightly guarded during the war. It’s this new usurper king of theirs, he’s behind this open show of force. He wants us convinced that there’s no way around his damned tolls and expects us to spread the word for him, like hell!” His rant went on for a while but you have the gist of it. Anyway, we kept travelling along the hills and passed quite a few more patrols but not more than a couple of the hill people who uncle had befriended many years ago and even those vanished from sight without a word. It was weird and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. “What’s gotten into these people?” Uncle asked. “They always want the first pick of my wares, why do they hide from us?”

We got our answer soon enough. About a mile from Unterville, the first town on our planned circuit we started finding these posted to the trees.” Shia reaches back into his coat pocket and produces several slightly damp leaflets. The first depicts a soldier in outlandish silk garb and ancient Taniranese horned helmet ripping the clothes from a screaming old woman. If that isn’t enough to make Leela’s blood boil the captain certainly does. “Taniran Raped Your Grandmother, is Your Daughter Next?”

“We used to see this kind of propaganda during the war.”Gala picks up the leaflet and scoffs. “I didn’t know the Dudou print shop was still operating. Of course, back then they sold their trash to both sides.”

“What’s this one?” Leela asks, picking up the leaflet that was beneath the first one. It depicts a man in a conical hat shooting parks from the staff which he holds aloft. At his feet with a shattered staff is a man in elaborate robes wearing a horned helmet. The caption this time reads, “The College of Mages Knows No Equal. Donate and Keep Valis Strong Against The Dark Mages of Taniran.”

Gala laughs as she snatches the flyer. “No equal, that is funny,” She says.

“I’ve heard Valis collects a lot of powerful mages at that school.” Leela says. “Seems more scary than funny.”

“Powerful mages yes, all of whom care nothing for politics or patriotism and are each obsessed with some pet project when they’re not killing each other. It would take a madman or a genius to get them all on the same page. ” Gala smiles sardonically. “Back during the war we used to call them our greatest ally because their backfiring spells killed more of the enemy than we ever did.”

The mirthful look on Gala’s face sobers a bit as she spots the final leaflet.

“The World Needs Order. Join The Imperial Army of Valis.”

Three men in tabards and helmets ride atop some great armored monstrocity shooting bolts from some kind of cylindrical crossbows as their machine crushes soldiers wearing Taniranese garb.

“Since when did Valis become an empire?” She asks, an edge of alarm in her voice. “You’d better tell us the rest of what happened.”

Shia sighs, looking forlornly at his tea.

“I think i’m gonna need something stronger than tea to tell the rest of this story.” He says.

Gala produces a small flask from her bodice and uncorks it.

“Just a little and don’t either of you tell your father.” She pours a few drops of liquor into Shia’s tea despite Leela’s dirty looks. “That should be enough to get you through the bad memories.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Shia downs the drink in one gulp and sways in his seat for a moment, instantly hit by the strong drink.

“Things seemed off from the moment we entered town. People were actively ignoring us and those who weren't were staring with open hostility. All the old grudges had been brought to the surface and it was clear that despite the bountiful haul we brought with us, nobody wanted us in their town.

“This is starting to remind me of the war.” Uncle said as we entered the town. “Normally people practically parade in the street when we show up.”

No sooner had he said it than we heard trumpets and drums and the pounding of many feet on stone pavement. We rounded the corner to be met with a strange and frightening sight. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of crisply dressed soldiers paraded up the main street, marching to the stone keep at the center of town. The raving crowd cheered them as they marched by in crisply uniform columns or rode past us on strange horseless vehicles spewing clouds of disgusting smoke into the air. Amid the crowd we spotted one or two other Taniranese faces wearing looks of equal horror to our own.

“These people are preparing for a war.” Uncle said as an armored vehicle passed by. “What’s more frightening than the fact that they clearly mean to declare war on us is that they’re making no effort to hide it, indeed flaunting their hostility and daring us to act.”

“Isn’t it about time we ran home for our ever loving lives?” Trover asked, Uncle Terron scoffed.

“Not without getting paid first, if these bastards want another war they can choke on it but i’ll bloody well have sold these blasted silks before then.”

So, we set out looking for an inn and frankly that went about as well as you could expect. We had the devil’s own time finding anyone who would rent to a band of “ filthy Taniranese rapists” and once we did it was hardly comfortable. We were all crammed into a single drafty room and were robbed in our sleep. Luckily Uncle Terron kept all of our valuables in hidden compartments in the wagons and hired reputable men to guard them or we would have lost more than a few coins of spending money.

The days wore on as Uncle Terron skulked around town to sell his silks behind closed doors to men who didn’t want to be seen dealing with “Taniranese scum” in public. Trover and I both became bored and stir crazy, hungry for anything that would kill the monotony.

“Think of it as a kind of research,” Trover said as he passed me a flyer for the demonstration. “Don’t you wanna see what these new weapons of theirs can do?”

I had to admit that I was curious but the message at the bottom of the flyer gave me pause.

“Taniranese Scum are invited to attend this exhibition as Targets!”

Trover had his way with words and he’d made me forget my objections with a series of lewd jokes I won’t repeat in your company.”

“I’ve probably heard them all and have a few of my own that would turn you red as a ripe tomato.” Gala winks as she pours another cup of tea adding a liberal amount of liquor to it. “Don’t skimp on the details of this demonstration, you’ve sparked my curiosity.”

“ It was a hot and muggy day, the sun was blazing high over head and the soldier’s armor glinted and glared in it’s light. At my insistence we attempted to disguise ourselves, hiding our distinctly non-Valisian red hair beneath some old messenger caps we bought on the way. Maybe our eyes were too green or our freckles too prominent but people kept watching us as the soldiers assembled in the plaza for their demonstration. Their leader, a bearded man in a kettle helm and chainmail stepped forward to address the crowd.

“Friends and neighbors, today we demonstrate that the marksmen and weaponeers of Imperial Valis have no match in this world.” The mob’s ecstatic cheering punctuated his sentence and continued until he raised his hand to signal that he had more to say. “But be wary for jealous Taniranese scum stalk our streets and our doubtlessly in this very crowd salivating in envy of our superior minds.” I clenched my fists in anger as a wave of boos and hisses passed over the plaza.

“I’d like to teach this overstuffed bastard a lesson.” Trover said to me a bit too loud, I became keenly aware of how differently he pronounced his words than the man in the plaza. I felt hostile eyes on us the moment he opened his mouth.

“Fret not about the foreign rapists in our midst, their fat purses will not protect them for long.” The soldier laughed and the mob followed his example. “In fact they will prove most valuable friends of the empire as they help us demonstrate these new weapons.”

I felt before I saw the bodies shifting away from us. The soldier smiled as his eyes locked with ours for a brief moment which seemed to last for hours.

“We need to get out of here,” I said but far too late as soldiers were already coming for us from two directions and everywhere we turned to run was a solid wall of people determined to block us. Before I could think of anything gloved hands had seized me and the two of us were being pushed forcibly to the plaza.

Like us, four other Taniranese men had been pulled from the crowd and we were all lined up like ducks in a row.

“My foreign friends, I thank you for your spirit of cooperation.” The lead soldier said in a cloying voice. “Do as I command and you’ll walk out of this plaza alive, though perhaps not in one piece.” He winked at the audience and they laughed it up even as I trembled from head to toe. An older man stood not two paces from me and tried to look brave as they singled him out but he couldn’t hide that the blood had drained from his face. He stumbled as the soldiers prodded him maybe twenty paces before shoving a wine bottle into his hand and instructing him to hold it out.

“Now, stand perfectly still.. .” The lead soldier said as he waved for his man to take his position. The weapon he held was no crossbow, that’s for damned sure. It was like a long metal pipe with a trigger attached. The soldier aimed it and there was a flash and a terribly loud crack. The scent of brimstone hung in the air and our countryman thrashed on the ground in a puddle of spilled wine, wailing in pain. At first I assumed it was because of the many shards of green colored glass sticking out of his hand but I saw that the true source of his pain and panic was the fact that four of his five digits had been blasted clean off. The audience laughed at his pain, roaring almost like a waterfall and I felt sick.

“Fucking savages!” Trover said it louder than he probably realized. He’d drawn their attention to him and in the worst possible way. You could hitch a wagon with the sneer on the lead soldier’s lips as he got into Trovers’ face.

“I think we’ve found our next volunteer,” he said. I felt a terrible sliver of cold as I saw the fear in my friend’s eyes. They led him to stand in that same puddle of wine, the previous victim having been sent off to lick his wounds. Trover’s legs were trembling as he held out his hand,no doubt expecting a bottle of wine. The lead soldier shook his head pushed Trover back three more paces.

“Our next marksman needs a bit more of a challenge,” he said. He put the bottle on top of Trover’s head. I could see the tears glistening in my friend’s eyes. He was mumbling something I didn’t hear over the noise of the human jackals spewing their mocking hatred. The lead soldier laughed out loud.

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“See how soft and spoiled these Taniranese youth have become!” He shouted to the mob’s amusement. “We have to do our best as neighbors to help this blubbering boy face his fears.”

A new man came and took up the weapon, loading it from behind. As he raised it I could see the reason draining from Trover’s face. He was on the razor’s edge of panic.

“Aim high,”The lead soldier shouted to his man.

Trover lost his grip, he turned to run and as he turned the weapon fired. He pitched forward and the bottle fell from his head and shattered. He landed in an unmoving heap and lay there.

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My mind didn’t accept what my eyes had seen. Any fool could have said he was dead but I just kept asking myself… “What is he doing?” “Why won’t he get up?”

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Then they dragged him away and it hit me like a hammer and I couldn’t breathe.

“I guess we can’t teach bravery to an inborn race of cowards,” The soldier said to the crowd. They laughed even louder than before. Laughed at my friend being killed in the street like a dog.

Trover, who hadn’t ever hurt anyone, murdered and they thought it was funny. As they dragged him off to the side I knew with a sense of certainty that I would end up just like him. They called the next man and put the bottle on his head just like they had with Trover. This man held still as a statue but it didn’t help him when they blasted a hole in the top of his head.

“I told you to aim high!” The soldier chastened his man. “We don’t have an endless supply of this scum.”

I found myself taking the dead man’s place. When the guy put the bottle on my head I figured my number was up. I tried not to cry but couldn’t quite hack it. I wanted to think I was crying for my friend but I knew they were purely selfish tears.

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“Aim high this time,” The lead man shouted. He pointed that dreadful weapon at me and dazzled my eyes with the flash. I felt pain in my head and fell to the ground, certain of my own death. After a moment some hands tugged me to my feet.

“You’re OK,” I heard a voice say before shoving me off to the side. My eyesight came back and I realized that the pain I felt in my head was from broken glass. The bottle had been shot in half.

I watched the last three demonstrations, one other unlucky person died. I was numb to it all by then, hadn’t even realized i was standing not ten paces from Trover’s corpse until someone tried to put it in a wagon.

“What are you doing?”I shouted, confronting the workman.

“These folks are for the fires, can’t just leave them or they spread sickness,” He said as if I was a fool. As the crowds dispersed I spent a clean hour arguing my right to Trover’s body. Eventually the fellow relented and I found myself dragging my best friend’s dead weight through the streets.”

Shia’s eyes are haunted as he recalls the journey back to the inn. “Explaining what had happened to Uncle Terron was a whole other nightmare. He placed the blame squarely on me and I can’t say that he was wrong in it. But for him, Trover’s death was the final straw.

“We leave tonight, silks be damned.”

I never expected him to really  leave without selling the last of his silks but he followed through. The next night we set  up camp outside of town so that they could watch as he burned everything he didn’t sell.

“I’ll not sell at a loss to savages like these, I’d rather torch the whole lot,” He said, madder than I thought was possible. I don’t think anyone has ever seen him so furious as that day. In the end, the only articles of silk that didn’t go up in smoke were the ones we wrapped Trover’s body in and the bodies of the other victims whom Uncle Terron had gone out of his way to secure. I must admit that he still has a lot of tricks, even in hostile territory because when we had left he had the names and hometowns for all of them. Every single Taniranese who was murdered that day got buried at home.”

Gala nods her appreciation. “That is the sort of thing he’d do,” she says. “Him and Gorlogg both have more honor than they know what to do with.”

“That reminds me,”Shia says. He produces a letter from his vest pocket. “They put Uncle Gorlogg in charge of the militia, or I guess I should call him Colonel Gorlogg now. He knew I was coming to see you today and wanted me to give you this letter.”

Gala opened the letter, her eyes scanning it quickly and her face contorting into a look of open hostility.

“That cheeky bastard!” She crumples the letter and aims her anger at the young man in front of her. “Did you know about this?” She demands, her grim tone making it clear that she won't forgive deception. He slowly shakes his head.

“What is it?” Leela asks, not entirely sure she wants to hear the answer.

“Your uncle, damn him to hell has decided to reactivate my commission and to add insult to injury has dragged you into it as well.” Gala explains, huffing in her seat.

“What does that mean?” Leela asks, her mind not liking the conclusions bubbling up.

“It means we’ve been drafted!” Gala shouts, kicking the table in her anger.

***

Draken reaches out and touches that terrible power again. The death urge is overwhelming, like being swept up in a river of self destruction. Before he can even think his feet are edging him towards a small crevasse which drops into a dark abyss.

“No you don’t!” Draken growls, putting all he has into yanking at the river of magic with the full force of his mind. Holding it is like holding an angry raccoon. It struggles against him, lashing out violently with a determination to kill. He finds himself teetering at the edge of the jagged cleft in the ground, prepared to jump.

In a moment of panic Draken hurls the thrashing ribbon of magic away and it slams into another stream with such terrible force that he is thrown back. The boy barely has time to register his painful collision with the branches of the tangle before his world goes white with the blinding flash of lightning striking all around him.

He groans, everything spins and the ear splitting crack of lightning striking again and again is enough to make his head feel like it’s going to burst open. Long after the last echoes fade the smell of ozone and ash lingers in the air. Despite all of the pain and general discomfort of his position, Draken feels like laying there in a heap. Let the broken brambles stab and scrape, he’s done. A quick nap, that’s what he needs.

The ashy smell in the air won't go away, it makes his nose itch on the inside. His whole body shakes in a fit of coughing.

“Something isn’t right!” A corner of his mind screams. “Get up, get up you stupid fuck!”

Draken’s eyes shoot open and he claws his way out of the bramble.

“No, no, no, no, no!” He screams red hot terror gripping him as his eyes take in the view.

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The forest is a blazing torch and he is trapped at the center.

On the up side, the vortex is gone.