Jasmine stood in the street, shivering against the chill night air as she gazed towards the sounds of battle. She bit her lip when she thought about Calris being out there somewhere, and she winced every time she heard another magical trap detonate.
“Jasmine!” Ferez called from inside the building behind her, “by the Pantheon, come inside! You’ll catch your death out there.”
The old man had been trying, unsuccessfully, to convince her to shelter indoors since the first ambush and she continued to ignore him.
“For gods’ sake, girl, what’s the matter?” he asked, finally coming outside and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You have barely said two words to me since you woke up.”
“I wonder why that might be?” she said, all snark. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but she had been outraged when she woke to find he had turned Calris away. She needed a bit of rest, sure, but they were in the most important battle of their lives, and she hadn’t even had the chance to talk to him beforehand.
What if he dies?
“I think we should be out there, helping,” she said, still not looking at him.
“We have to wait. The captain will need us when Politis shows himself. Besides, Rory is out there.”
“Of course, but he isn’t with…” She winced when she realised she just gave the game away. Ferez’s hand dropped as he moved around to her front, bending forward to look into her in the eyes. She turned her head away with a huff.
“He will be fine, Jasmine.”
“And how do you know?” she snapped, whipping her head back around to glare at the old man. “All I can hear is explosions! How many people have we lost already? How do you know he is not among them?”
“Because he’s strong. And smart. He won’t be defeated by these thugs. So why don’t you tell me, why you are actually upset?”
He had a point. Calris had dealt with far worse than this, and he had demonstrated a remarkable resistance to magic. It was unlikely he would be killed by the traps wreaking havoc on the rest of their forces. So why was she so angry?
“Well… I was kind of… expecting that he would… before the battle…” she trailed off as Ferez’s face went from shock to mirth.
“He hasn’t told you yet, has he?”
“No! I do not understand why it is taking him so long!”
“Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine,” he sighed, shepherding her towards the building. “Calris is a fantastic young man. Loyal, compassionate, in his own way, and a fine physical specimen, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Jasmine’s face turned bright red and her heart fluttered as Ferez continued. “But he’s also an idiot. Frankly, if it weren’t for the pig incident, I’d have thought him still a virgin. He is hopeless in matters of the heart.”
“Wait, you know the pig story?”
“Yes, Ban told me a little while ago.”
“And why have you not told me?”
“There are certain things you don’t want to know about your beau, Jasmine. Trust me on this. Plus, Ban technically wasn’t allowed to tell me, so he swore me to secrecy. But I digress, if you are waiting for him to approach you, you may be waiting a long time.”
“How long do you think?”
“Longer than you would be willing to wait. I know it’s not proper, but perhaps, if you do care for him, you should take the first step?”
Jasmine was silent as they entered the building, ignoring Captain Erwell bent over a rough sketch of the city in the corner and Alincia bustling about the line of casualties, thinking over what Ferez had said.
“But-”
“Yes, yes. Let me guess, The Desert Rose is chased, she doesn’t do the chasing, right?” Jasmine’s face turned an even more vibrant hue. “Maybe you need to swallow your pride. Just this once?” he said, giving her a wink.
A breathless marine burst through the doorway behind them, cutting Jasmine’s reply short.
“Sir, we’ve reached the citadel!”
*
“Right, standard entry drill, boot the door and rush through,” Olic growled. “Calris, Ban, you have point. Sparrow, hang back and cover the breach, everyone else get in there and try not to get shot.”
There was a tension in the air, nerves and excitement, fear and bloodlust, all mingling and competing as the remaining marines prepared for the final push. The reaper’s tally had been high, but not as high as it could have been, and some of the more junior fighters were daring to hope they might actually come through this alive. The veterans, meanwhile, knew there was no sense in worrying about it, and instead spent their time rechecking their arms and armour, patching or replacing damaged kit from those who had fallen.
“Sixty seconds till entry,” Captain Erwell called from somewhere nearby, his timepiece synchronised with Lieutenant Badawy’s on the far side of the citadel. Drawing the enemy’s attention in two different directions increased the chances at least one breach would be successful, or so the logic went.
“You ready, Cal?” Ban asked as they took up their positions in front of the imposing doors.
They were twice as tall as a man and three times as wide, made from black iron. They’d take a solid push to get them moving, especially if the hinges were rusted. And that was assuming there was no one barring it from the far side.
Calris almost hoped there was. As the only squad left at their full complement of fighters, Erwell had chosen the Sixth to lead the way. But if history was anything to go by, they wouldn’t be at full strength for long. He’d bet all the silver he had lost to Ban that there was a firing squad set up just on the other side of the gateway, waiting to turn them into pin cushions.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered.
“Charge!”
Calris charged the great doorway into the citadel, leading with his boot and flinging one half of the gateway wide open as Ban did the same beside him. To their surprise, the hinges were in remarkably good condition, and the doors clanged back against the wall without resistance, exposing the interior to the assembled marines and raiders.
And to their further surprise, instead of finding the dark and twisty interior of an ancient citadel packed with bowmen, they found an open, roofless space. It resembled an arena, or perhaps a parade square, fifty meters wide with a packed earth floor. Bathed in the moon’s light, he saw the doorway opposite burst open in a similar fashion, the Ninth squad with Gaelon in front, spilling through alongside Badawy and his raiders.
“What the-” Calris said, turning his head and finding the remaining assassins clustered around a raised dais to his right. It was a few feet off the ground, made from cut granite blocks, supporting a circular arch made from brass. A colossal statue towered behind it, though it was obscured by the wall’s moonlight shadow.
In a notch at the arch’s apex sat The Key. He advanced, wary, to link up with the Gaelon and the others, exchanging a brief handshake and nod before turning as one to face off with the remaining foes. He ran a quick eye over the assassins, taking in the quavering hands, and furtive glances shot towards the figures on the dais itself.
The two mages were there, front and centre, the smug looks on their faces at odds with the fear emanating from their cronies. Beside them, a cloaked figure Calris assumed was the Guild Master lounged on the floor, Elizabeth standing behind him in her trademark leathers, festooned with even more pipes and bombs than the last time he’d seen her. Unlike the other three, though, she did not seem at ease. As Calris watched, her eye twitched, and she flinched away from something by her face despite there being nothing but empty air.
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“High Mage Politis,” Erwell called in a voice that rang across the sands and echoed off the walls, “for consorting with The Assassin’s Guild, orchestrating attacks on the Calandorian Royal Navy, orchestrating attacks on the Emrinthian Imperial Fleet, and actively working against the interest of the aforementioned nations through reckless pursuit of dangerous magical artefacts, you are to be detained pending trial. I understand you have also breached several cardinal laws of The Six Cities for which you will be held accountable. I ask that you surrender peacefully so that we may avoid further bloodshed.”
Ban nudged Calris in the ribs. “Wonder how many times he rehearsed that before we came in here?”
“Probably the whole time we were fighting. You’d feel like a right twat if you tripped over your words in front of this crowd.”
“Shut it,” Olic growled, silencing them both. Meanwhile, Politis laughed.
“You seem awfully confident in victory, Captain,” he replied, staring down his nose at Erwell with his smirk still firmly in place.
“I am. You and your apprentice may be powerful mages, but you’re outnumbered, and I know for a fact, my marines will tear apart your thugs in minutes. Surrender, or by the power vested in me by the authority of the Calandorian Royal Family and the fact I am sick to death of this bullshit, I will execute you right here and now.”
“Ooooh, so very scary. Aren’t you scared right now, Harold?” Politis asked, turning to his apprentice. Harold’s sneer deepened, and Calris hoped to the Pit that he would be the one to wipe it off his stupid, punchable face. “I’m afraid I know something you don’t, Captain, but first-”
“Oh, gods he’s not, is he?” Ban groaned, sensing what was about to occur.
“Let me tell you a story,” Politis continued.
“Ah fuck me, he’s monologueing.”
“Long, long ago, mages ruled the world. We were led by a school of magic long since lost to the sands of time, a school of great and terrible power, whom all were forced to bow before. Even the lowliest of these mages was nearly divine in might, an army unto themselves, unchallenged by any until one day, in their thirst for power, they opened a doorway,” he paused for dramatic effect, “a doorway to another world.”
“Yes, we’re broadly aware of this can you please skip to the part where I give a shit?” Calris called out, earning another glare from Olic and a snicker from Ban. Politis stumbled over his words slightly but picked his pace up again quickly.
“Quiet! You rude little insect. As I was saying, they opened a doorway to another world, a world populated by monsters. These monsters were fierce, led by beings of immense power to rival our own overlords. Drunk on the thrill of battle, the lost school threw themselves and their slaves into the war with reckless abandon, trading ground in a never-ending ballet of death that achieved nothing save to fertilise the soil with the blood of the fallen.”
“Did you seriously just say ‘ballet of death’?” Ban called. This time, not even Olic bothered to reprimand him.
“Oh, for fucksake,” Politis spat. “Fuck it. Let’s skip to the end, shall we? The lost school were the only ones who could face these armies with any hope of victory. And now they’re gone, but the monsters they fought aren’t. Allow me to show you a taste of the power I will soon wield!” he said, his voice rising to a crescendo as he swept his arm out to the side.
And the statue moved.
Calris’s eyes widened as a troll lumbered into the moonlight from behind the dais. It was huge, even bigger than the one he’d fought as a child, covered in shaggy white fur with claws as long as his arm. Spotting the humans, it growled, a thick glob of drool spilling out from between scaly black lips. It trundled forward, crushing an assassin who was too slow to move under a massive, clawed foot. It didn’t even notice.
Calris’ scar itched, and he took an involuntary step back. His vision went blurry and his legs threatened to buckle. He had thought he was ready for this, thought he was prepared to face the nightmare haunting him all these years. But he had been wrong. The brief surge of anger at the sight of the beast drowned beneath a wave of panic. He was a child again, standing in front of a creature he couldn’t comprehend, about to watch his mother die.
The monster charged, the assassins following in its wake, and the Calandorians leapt to meet them as arrows and bolts crisscrossed overhead. Screams erupted as the lines clashed; marines, raiders and assassins dying in droves in the first few seconds.
Calris fell to his knees, deaf to Ban’s pleas and Olic’s bellowed commands, as the troll wrought bloody havoc on his peers. Third Squad was torn apart almost instantly. The monster ripped through half the squad with a single swipe of its claws, then snatched the squad leader and raised the struggling man to its mouth. There was a sickening crunch as it bit his head off and used the body as a flail to crush the last of the marines.
Erwell shouted and charged the beast himself, desperate to keep the rampaging creature from his men. Olic swore and rallied the Mongrels and they tried to plough through the melee, but a contingent of assassins hurled themselves in their path, trying to keep them from the captain. The slaughter started immediately, but the brave wankers had done their job.
The captain was a blur, pirouetting around clumsy strikes and sliding underneath brutal swipes, his sword ripping great gashes into the troll’s limbs, but the beast was unfazed. It doggedly chased the nimble human, content to bide its time until Erwell slipped up. And slip up he did. An assassin blundered into his path, fleeing the depredations of Ninth Squad. The man’s eyes went wide as Erwell ran him through and bodily shoved him aside, but it slowed him long enough for the troll to strike.
The beast snatched him in a claw and hoisted him into the air. By some miracle, Erwell’s sword arm was still free, and he reversed his grip on the blade and drove it down into the troll’s wrist. The monster howled, but refused to let go, bringing the captain closer to its horrible maw as Erwell stabbed it, again and again, his teeth set in a grimace. He knew what was coming, knew he was powerless to stop it, but he would resist until the inevitable end.
The troll opened its mouth, exposing rows of cracked, yellowed fangs. Erwell gave a shout and lashed out, smashing his blade across the beast’s face, where it stuck fast. The captain tried to pull it free, but the troll grabbed his arm, immobilising him as his head slowly inched closer to, and then into the monster’s mouth.
And then Ferez was there, launching at the beast with fire trailing from the soles of his feet. He crashed into the monster’s head, driving a sword through the side of its jaw. The troll let out a keening wail, dropping the captain and retreating a few steps as it tugged at the blade lodged in its face. The captain tried to rise, but his left leg folded in half, bending in the direction a knee joint is absolutely not meant to bend. Ferez grabbed the captain and dragged him away from the beast as Asim stepped between them, his halberd held up defensively.
“Get off me, I’m not a child,” Erwell protested as he flailed his arms and remaining leg like a child. Ferez swore and shouted to Asim.
“Damnit, he’s struggling. Swap!”
The guardsman dutifully ran over, snatched Erwell off the ground and threw him over his shoulder, charging into the melee to get the wounded marine to safety. Ferez didn’t watch them go. He whirled and squared off with the troll, summoning flames to his hands as the monster painfully extracted the blade from its mouth. It dropped the sword to the ground with a relieved growl and looked at the mage just in time to catch twin streams of searing hot fire in the face.
Calris’ eyes went wide as the flames washed over its head. The thing that had haunted his nightmares for years, that had ruined his life when it took his mother, was swept aside like a gnat by the power of a mage. He slowly rose to his feet as the arch mage let the flames peter out. As the final trickle of flame danced around the troll’s head, Ferez turned to give Calris a smile and a wink.
The troll lashed out. Ferez wasn’t expecting the beast to be alive, let alone able to move, and he was caught unprepared as the gargantuan claw smashed into his side. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc from the gaping tears in his body as he flew through the air and crashed to the ground. He bounced twice, limbs flopping about, and slid to a stop.
The troll roared and lumbered towards the motionless mage, drooling even more than before, the light of a manic hunger burning in its beady eyes. Aside from the hole in its jaw, it was uninjured. The onslaught of one of the world’s most powerful mages hadn’t left so much as a singe mark. Somewhere across the battlespace, Jasmine screamed.
The sound finally snapped Calris from his reverie and he blinked, regaining his wits. The cacophony of brutal battle inundated his senses like a bucket of ice-cold water over his head. In terms of the human combatants, the alliance forces were winning decisively. The assassins were outnumbered by the Emrinthians, outclassed by the Calandorians and, aside from the Third Squad, the troll hadn’t had much impact. But all that was about to change. The captain and Ferez had traded themselves to buy time for the men under their command, but with them out of commission, there was nothing to contain the threat.
The troll lumbered towards the arch mage’s limp form. A marine staggered into its path, screaming and clutching at his ruined eye socket, a casualty of an assassin’s blade or bolt. The beast was on his blind side, and before the poor bloke realised the danger, the troll reached down with both hands and snatched him up. The marine screamed as the monster pulled its hands in opposite directions. Nothing happened for the first few seconds, but then, with an awful tearing sound, the man’s body split from hip to hip in a torrent of gore.
The troll laughed, a deep, guttural chuckle as it resumed its march, ripping the marine’s arm off in its jaws and chewing. It was a few paces away from Ferez when a series of explosions stitched through the melee towards it, assassins and parts thereof flying into the sky as Jasmine burst out of the crowd and stood defensively over her mentor. She clutched a javelin in her hands with a snarl on her lips.
“Not a step further, beast,” she shouted.
Calris’ body finally responded. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and barrelling through the melee, Ban swearing and charging after him. An assassin jumped out from the crowd, levelling his blade at the charging marine in a wordless challenge. Calris lopped off the man’s hand at the wrist, then opened his throat, as he shot past without slowing. He didn’t have time to mess around with the chaff.
The troll had stopped and cocked its head, looking at Jasmine quizzically. The corners of its mouth pulled up in a smile as it took another bite of marine, then dropped what was left on the ground, and took a step towards her.