Calris glared over the fire at the Emrinthians sitting with them, drinking coffee to keep themselves warm. He didn’t begrudge them stealing his coffee. He knew himself that the unfortunate thing about marching through the snow in armour is that you still sweat, especially if you’re acclimatised to the desert south of the Rift. Then when you stop moving, that sweat turns to ice on your skin. The southern raiders were having a very uncomfortable time, and so Calris was glad to have provided hot beverages and a small measure of comfort.
But he was still furious at them, and kept glaring at the perfectly normal, unassuming bastards. One raider nervously cleared his throat and offered Calris his mug.
Calris growled.
“Don’t mind him, lads,” Ban said cheerfully, taking the mug instead and draining the rest of its contents before refilling it and handing it back. “He’s just upset we aren’t fighting.”
“But we are here to help,” the raider replied in a thick accent. “Why would we be fighting each other?”
“We’ve had a few dust ups with your kind in the last few weeks. Don’t take this the wrong way, but compared to some of our other scraps, they’re kind of happy memories for us at this point. Calris here was looking forward to a battle with normal soldiers.”
“I… will endeavour not to be insulted, then?”
“Very good!” Ban said, smiling and nodding, naively oblivious to the fact the raider was most definitely insulted and probably wondering who could draw their weapons quickest. “How about introductions? You know Calris’ name now, and I’m Ban. How about you guys?”
The squad of raiders went round and introduced themselves one by one. They were just one squad of many; close to one hundred and fifty raiders had arrived at camp, led by the officer Erwell had spared at the Keep. Apparently, Erwell had figured none of the Calandorian naval ships would be fast enough to reach the Wastes in time, but a raiding fleet warned early enough could practically meet them there. He had sent a simple message telling them that the Guild Master and mage who had orchestrated the destruction of two raiding fleets had fled to the Wastes, and that the company had given chase but lacked the manpower to finish the job themselves. He had gone on to offer a joint mission to deal with the threat once and for all.
Even though it smelt incredibly strongly of a trap, the prospect of nailing down the Guild Master himself out in the open had proven too tantalising, especially with Lieutenant Badawy’s testament that the Calandorians were trustworthy and had treated him with respect and honour.
Even so, to say the raiders were both relieved and surprised when Captain Erwell greeted them was an understatement. Most had been expecting to fight a pitched battle by night, in the freezing cold after marching since dawn of the day prior. Calris was surprised they hadn’t just necked the Lieutenant themselves and gone back home when they learned of their mission and told them as such. The raider arched an eyebrow.
“And you would have? We had our orders, our personal views did not matter.”
“Well, yeah, I get that and all, but you guys are basically sanctioned pirates and slavers. I wouldn’t have expected you to sail all the way out here on a fool’s errand like this.”
The raider shot to his feet with a shout, hand going to his sword.
Must have stomped on a nerve, Calris thought as he shot to his feet, too.
“What did you call us?” the raider shouted as Ban swore and scrambled to his feet, wedging himself between them.
“Easy now, lads, easy. Let’s not cause an incident.”
The raider’s nostrils flared as he glared at Calris over Ban’s head.
“I demand an apology.”
“For what? I’ve seen your ships through the Rift and up and down every coast. Full to bursting with slaves, more often than not.”
“Slavery is outlawed in Emrinth. Has been for centuries. The slave ships you saw were pirates, not true Emrinthians.”
Calris was momentarily taken aback. “But, Ferez said there were slavers in Emrinth.”
“There are. Brigands and criminals, one and all. Or do you not have criminals in Calandor?”
Oh…
Calris had to admit the raider had a point there. After all, ninety percent of the action the regular army saw these days was burning out bandit camps of Calandorian brigands. He nodded slowly as his hand dropped from his hilt.
“That makes sense. I’m… sorry to have assumed. I haven’t really spoken to an Emrinthian outside The Six. What was your name again?”
Ban snorted beside him and asked if the apology hurt. Calris shot him a glare and sat back down, the raider following suit a moment later. He shook his head, his mouth still twisted in a scowl, but the rage in his eyes had softened at least.
“My name is Gaddah. And your apology is accepted,” he said, offering Calris the mug again. This time, Calris accepted it. The raider gave him an uneasy smile as Calris took a draught and handed it back.
“Is it true?” Gaddah asked. “The Guild Master himself is up here?”
“So our captives tell us.”
Calris recounted the enemy situation, including numbers, mage threat and a troll. The raider laughed at the last bit, but it petered out when he realised the marines weren’t joining in.
“Surely you are joking.”
“No joke, the captives say they have a troll,” Calris replied. He omitted the fact Barbarus had confirmed the information, though. Claiming that the existence of a mythical creature was backed up by an inhumanly strong immortal who may or may not be a god might stretch credibility a bit too far.
“Trolls are a myth.”
“Not true, t’was a troll that gave me this,” Calris replied, tapping the scar over his eye. Gaddah looked sceptical. “Look mate, believe us or don’t, but don’t say we didn’t warn you when it’s chewing your face off.”
Gaddah scoffed and refilled his mug. “Alright, say they have a troll as well. What is your captain’s plan for attacking the enemy?”
“Pretty sure he’s going over that with Lieutenant Badawy right now, but if I were to hazard a guess? We storm the gates while you cover us with your bows, then we’ll secure the breach for you lot to pour on through. After that, pretty much just hook in, and if you see a mage, try live long enough to pass the info along. Our mages will deal with them.”
“Simple. Logical. I like it so far.”
“As for the troll, supposing it is real,” Calris said, stressing the last word. “They’re fast, strong, and they have razor-sharp claws. Surround them and deliver the coup de grâce from behind.”
“Of course, Corporal Telruson. We will definitely remember your advice for when we come face to face with the troll,” he said, half hiding his smirk behind the rim of his coffee mug.
“Suit yourself.”
*
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Calris had tried to find Jasmine, figuring this may be his last chance to talk to her, but when he approached the mages’ tents Ferez had waved him off. Apparently she was buggered from whatever she had gotten up to the night before and was trying to recuperate before the big battle, which was slated to happen at dawn the next morning.
Calris had been disappointed, but he also understood. He knew a little more about how mage Talent functioned, and there really was no way to regenerate reserves except by resting. Or siphoning out of a Resonance device, but their limited stores were reserved for the fight. He had no doubt they would need Jasmine at full strength for this battle.
Not willing to disturb her, he had gone back to his bedroll and checked over his gear, sharpening and polishing his sword and checking his javelins for splinters or warping. That was fine for about an hour. After that, he had taken to wandering, napping, and a lot of nervous pissing. It was almost a relief when they had finally gotten the call to move out.
The plan for the assault was more or less as Calris had called it, the marines making the initial assault and opening the way for the raiders to push through en mass. The mages were going to be waiting with the rear guard, ready to stage forward once they had established a foothold on the far side.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
As far as plans went, it wasn’t a bad one. But as the old adage went, no plan survived contact with the enemy.
From his position, crouched on the edge of the treeline facing the city, he could tell the wall had seen better days. It still had crenulations here and there, but entire segments had fallen down, providing a few different entry points for the marines to make their assault. Dark, blocky shapes beyond showed densely packed stone buildings, with a central structure rising high above the others, probably a citadel.
Still, even from outside, Calris could tell this wasn’t another college like the ruins in Marduk. It was uniform and solid. Even in the dark of night, it cast a long moonlight shadow over the area, dominating the surrounding frigid wastes, an impenetrable bulwark against the surrounding wilderness. This place had been built as a garrison, though who or what it was guarding all the way out here was anyone’s guess.
On either side of him, the rest of the marines crouched under the cover of darkness, awaiting the signal. The raiders waited behind them, arrows already knocked to their bows. His narrowed eyes scanned the walls, looking for signs of movement, as Ban nudged him in the ribs. Calris turned, meeting his friend’s eyes as Ban nodded.
The signal.
Calris passed it on to Badger beside him, then rose, creeping forward and thinking inconspicuous thoughts. He fought the urge to run, keeping his pace slow until the signal had reached the last squad and everyone was advancing in a line.
And then they started sprinting. The crunch of snow beneath their feet seemed deafening and he grit his teeth, the arctic air burning his lungs as he raced along, expecting a line of archers to rise on the walls and start slotting them one by one.
But as they closed the distance, nothing happened. He still didn’t dare to hope until the Sixth made it to the gatehouse, kicking in the guardroom door and clearing it. It was empty. Calris quickly ducked back outside, unwrapping a sliver of mirror and flashing it in the moonlight to the raiders in wait. A minute later, they passed through the gate, streaming deeper into the city. Calris watched them go past before turning to Ban, who was half crouched in the doorway.
“This is going well, I think,” Calris said.
Ban looked pained.
“Are you fucking serious, Cal? You yelled at me for saying that same thing back at the Keep!”
“This is different, though; we were fighting giant monsters back then. These are just regular people. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
Calris tried not to grimace when an explosion ripped through the lead Emrinthian squad and the screaming began, a blast of wind and heat sending his hair flapping even all the way down the street. Ban glared silently as the screams were joined by shouts and the ringing of steel on steel.
“Ban, I am so so-”
“Shut up, Calris.”
*
Calris swung his sword backhanded in a wide arc, blood spraying into his eyes as he opened the throat of the assassin in front of him. He cursed and laughed as he wiped his face with his forearm to see Gaddah and one of his men overwhelm and gut another while the rest of the raider squad traded arrows with Guildsmen across the street from the ground-floor windows.
“You scare me, Calandorian,” Gaddah muttered, wiping his tulwar on the dead man’s robes.
“Why’s that mate?”
“Because despite everything, you still laugh.”
Calris could see where the Emrinthian was coming from. The attack had gone tits up pretty quickly. The Guild had ambushed the Emrinthians in the streets, the ease with which the allied forces had taken the wall nothing but a ruse to lure them into the heart of the city. They had been fighting a running battle through the streets and decrepit buildings ever since, many of their number falling prey to hasty ambushes and jury-rigged traps as they pushed the smaller Guild force towards the central citadel.
Still, the assassins, while talented, were certainly not eight-foot-tall monstrosities, six-meter-long armoured lizards or oversized murder chickens, so Calris found himself thoroughly enjoying the scrap in a way he hadn’t for what felt like forever. Pit, they weren’t even the same calibre as the bloke he had fought weeks ago back in Salazaar.
“You mean to tell me you aren’t having fun right now?” Calris asked. Gaddah shook his head and turned away, though Calris saw a little smirk on his face before he did so. “Anyway, has anyone seen Ban?”
As if on cue, Ban shot through the doorway and skidded to a halt, a hail of bolts clattering to the floor behind him. He blew out a deep breath and walked over to the dead assassin, proceeding to mop the blood off him with the man’s cloak.
“Good news is I caught the bastards waiting to ambush us with their pants down. Bad news is there was a lot more of them than expected.”
Ban had scouted the next building over while Calris and the Emrinthians cleared out this one. Behind them, the rest of the Sixth were mopping up stragglers and would join them soon for the final push. Calris and Ban, with Gaddah and his boys, had been tasked by the captain to secure a foothold near the central structure where they could establish a command post and centralise their wounded for treatment.
“How many more?”
“I got a handful, but I’d say there was still close to a dozen when they chased me off.”
“Shit. We need to clear them out before the squad arrives with the captain.”
“Time to call up the mages?” Gaddah asked, unhooking a water canteen and taking a sip before handing it to Calris. To the marine’s disappointment, it was just water.
“Na,” Calris replied, “Alincia is running the casualty point and Rory is helping the Ninth punch around the far side of the city to catch them in a pincer. Ferez and Jasmine are in reserve for when we run into Politis and his fuck boy. We need to sort this out ourselves.”
“I don’t think we’ll be able to catch them by surprise again, Cal,” Ban said.
Calris paused and thought the problem through. Ban was probably right, to an extent. He had snuck in through the ground floor entrance, killed a bunch of them and run off. They would probably have the entrances covered by crossbows now. But there was one floor they definitely wouldn’t be expecting an attack from.
“Not from the ground floor, at least,” Calris replied.
“What do you mean by that?” Ban asked, uncertainty tingeing his voice.
Calris moved closer to the doorway where the Emrinthians were still trading shots. He glanced out quickly, confirming all the fire was coming from the windows on the second and third floors. The distance between the two buildings was only a few meters.
“We’re going to get up on the roof and jump across.”
Calris grabbed Ban and hauled him towards the stairs, ignoring his protests as they climbed and forcing him through the trapdoor to the roof. Ban swore at him as he reached down to help Calris up.
“This is insane, Cal. There’s no way I can make that jump.”
“Nonsense, it’s not that far.”
They wandered over to the lip of the roof and looked down.
“Alright, maybe it’s a little far,” Calris said, eyeballing the long drop to the cobbled streets.
“I’m going to fucking die, mate!” Ban yelled as Calris held a finger to his lips to shush him.
“Quiet! This won’t work if they hear you bitching before we even get across!” Calris said, chewing his lip as he considered their options. Ban was probably right, though. He was strong and fast, very dangerous over short distances, but he wouldn’t make the leap unaided. And then Calris had another idea.
“I’ll toss you.”
“What?”
“I’ll toss you! It’ll be great, you just get a run up, I’ll grab you just before the edge and launch you across, you’ll make it easy!”
“That plan is even worse than me jumping.”
“It is not.”
“It is.”
“Don’t be a coward,” Calris said, breaking out his secret weapon. It was common knowledge that the way to get any young Calandorian to do something stupid or dangerous was to call him a coward. It was an unbreakable argument, one that common courtesy held should only be used in an emergency.
“You didn’t,” Ban said, glowering.
“I did.”
Ban kept glaring, but he didn’t break eye contact or change his sour expression as he started backing up from the roof edge.
“If this kills me, Cal, I want you to remember that it was all your fault.”
“Stop being a little bitch and come at me.”
Ban took a few more paces, then rocked back on his heels and leant into a sprint. Calris split his stance, hands outstretched, ready to catch his friend. He imagined it in his head; grab, roll back, bring his feet up to Ban’s gut and use their combined momentum and leg strength to send Ban soaring into the void.
And somehow, they executed it perfectly. Ban went flying over the edge of the roof as Calris rolled to his feet, his mouth hanging open as he watched Ban soar through the night sky, arms outstretched like a majestic and slightly overweight bird of prey.
And then he started to drop.
Calris groaned as Ban missed the roof, arms flailing as he crashed through a third-story window in a spray of glass. Muted shouts came from within as an assassin flew back out the window and shrieked all the way down until he landed on his neck with a crack.
“Bugger,” Calris muttered, backing up a few steps and following Ban over the edge, aiming for the same window. The cold air whistled in his ears as he tucked into a ball, slotting perfectly through the small opening and landing in a roll. As he came up, he found Ban backed into a corner, three assassins hemming him in with two more motionless on the ground. It was hard to tell in the gloom, but Calris was pretty sure they were lying in pools of blood.
“You all good, mate?”
“I told you it wouldn’t work!”
“We’re in here, aren’t we?”
“By a bloody miracle! Help me with these wankers then let’s get downstairs.”
The assassins were excellent fighters, but not in the same league as the team in Salazaar. Calris parried one assassin’s sword out of his hand and ran him through as Ban kicked the other into the wall and beheaded him as he bounced off. The last assassin made a break for the door and made it as far as the doorway before Ban hurled his axe into the back of his head. The momentum carried him forward into the stairway, and Calris winced at the loud thumps that echoed back to them as the corpse tumbled. No way the guilders downstairs hadn’t heard it.
He grit his teeth and charged after the body, ripping the axe free and tossing it into the air behind him for Ban to catch as he burst onto the second floor in a diving roll. A stray bolt shot overhead, but it was a far cry from the hail he had expected. He had Gaddah to thank for that. The raider and his men were already here, crossing blades with the assassins.
“You got here fast,” Calris said as he charged the lone assassin who tried to shoot him.
“They panicked and ran upstairs when they heard the commotion. We crossed the road and caught them from behind,” Gaddah replied as he buried his tulwar in an assassin’s neck and ripped it free in a spray of blood.
“What I’m hearing is that my genius plan worked perfectly,” Calris said as he impaled the crossbowman and threw the body at another who was battling a raider. The target went down in a tangle of limbs, struggling for a few moments before a falling tulwar ended his life.
The rest of the assassins fell in short order, Calris splitting the head of the final guilder and sagging back against the wall. The rest of the alliance troops followed suit, collapsing against walls or plonking onto the ground. Ban sank onto his haunches, wheezing a little.
“Cheers, Gad,” Ban said, mopping at the deep gash above his brow. Probably from crashing head first through a window. “At least someone here is looking out for me.”
“Oh, bugger off,” Calris shot back. “I jumped in after you, didn’t I?”
“Only because you put me in there in the first place!”
Gaddah coughed politely to interrupt the bickering.
“Excuse me, but I believe we have work yet to be done?”
“Aye, aye,” Ban muttered, standing up with a groan, “what’s next, Cal?”
“Hold the area, wait for Rory and the Ninth to reach the far side and then breach the stronghold,” Calris said, pulling a face at Ban.
“Seems simple enough,” Gaddah said, relief showing through the fatigue on his face.
“Yeah… I’m not so sure,” Calris remarked as he descended the steps and walked out into the street, enjoying the chill air blowing over his flushed cheeks.
“Why not?” Gaddah asked as he followed, head swivelling up and down the street looking for a counterattack. “Surely they cannot have many fighters left.”
“Human fighters, sure,” Calris said, scratching at his scar, “but we still haven’t seen the troll yet.”