Jasmine sat bolt upright in her sleeping roll as a cry escaped her lips. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and hugged herself tightly against the night’s chill. She was, she realised, drenched in sweat once again.
It had been two days since the battle. Two days since she had slept for more than an hour at a time, the sounds of screaming men and the smell of charred human flesh breaking her out of whatever fitful slumber she achieved with the setting of the sun.
Every nightmare started the same, her flames glancing off the Umbrian’s shield and engulfing the men standing to his flanks. As she saw them burn, heard their screams and smelled the sickly stench of roasting meat, they changed. It wasn’t the Emrinthians anymore, or rather, not just the Emrinthians.
Calris was on his knees too, burning and screaming as his flesh peeled away from his face, hands stretched out toward her, begging for reprieve. Asim was in there too, as were Ferez and Ban and the Sixth. Horrified, she would try to quench her flames only to find she couldn’t, and the fire kept rolling over them in wave after wave as smoke filled her vision, until the glass battlefield would disappear, to be replaced with one of the smoking tents she had found herself in as a slave child.
The smoke stung, and she closed her eyes against the pain but nothing she did eased it, as rough hands shot out of the haze to grab her, the guttural laughs and jeers of the slavers all around her as finally, the screams of dying men were replaced with her own and she violently jerked awake.
Jasmine shook her head to clear away the memories. It had been a decade since Ferez had taken her from that place. A decade since she had been a powerless slave.
And five years since she had suffered these nightmares.
She cast her gaze around again, worried her cry might have woken someone, but they all slumbered peacefully, oblivious to the nightmare she saw when she closed her eyes. As she scanned the dark forms around her, she saw Ban sitting beside Calris, a small fire built next to him to ward off the cold as he tended to his friend.
Calris hadn’t woken after the battle, and a fever had taken hold. Jasmine had overheard two of the medics discussing his condition, and it hadn’t sounded good. Groaning and stiff, she stood and hobbled over to the fire, dropping to the ground beside Ban and inspecting Calris in the firelight. He shivered despite the heat, and the blanket pulled up to his chin. Beneath his eyelids, she saw frenetic activity and wondered what he was seeing in his fever dream, and whether it was worse than her own.
“How is he?” she asked softly.
“Not good,” Ban replied, his mouth set in a hard line. “But he’ll bounce back. He’s a tough bastard, been through worse than this before. It might just take him a day or two.”
“Ban… it’s been two days, and the fever hasn’t broken,” she replied, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. Jasmine worried about them both. Calris looked to have the worst fever she had ever seen, but she still wanted to believe he would be alright. Even though he was an uncouth savage; rude and arrogant, he had grown on her a little. The passing conversations they had on the ship while crossing the Rift had shown him to be surprisingly sharp minded and witty, and she had enjoyed the little barbs they traded. They had even slowly become less venomous and more… playful, over time. He was still annoying as Pit, but she found she needed to consciously maintain her casual contempt when talking to him.
Once, she had caught herself on the verge of actually smiling at him. While she doubted they would ever have become close friends, especially after how they first met, she still had hoped to become friendly, at least. Not that any of that was likely now, given he would probably be dead soon. As for Ban, she had rarely seen a bond like theirs, and she did not look forward to his reaction when Calris finally died.
“I’m telling you, it will be right,” he said as he turned to her, giving her a wan smile. “Nothing keeps him down for long, and he’s dealt with bigger and scarier stuff than some tiny bugsteria.”
“Bugsteria?” Jasmine asked, tilting her head to one side with a quizzical expression. “Do you… do you mean bacteria?”
“Yeah, bacteria, that’s it.”
“How, in the name of the Pantheon, do you know about bacteria?” Jasmine asked.
The existence of the tiny organisms responsible for infections was not widely known. It was the work of the renowned Aetheris mage and doctor, Antony Von Keeleuvoen, who had first proposed their existence two decades ago. Only an Aetheris mage could sense the life force of the minuscule organisms, and so Keeleuvoen had basically asked the colleges to take it on good faith that he was correct. As a result, it was yet to gain much traction outside The Six. Ban laughed at her tone but didn’t offer an explanation, so she decided to pry a little more.
“When you and Calris found me in The Workshop, you knew more about smelting and ore purification than some blacksmiths I know. And now you bring up something practically unknown outside of the mage colleges and some medical practitioners. You both seem awfully well read for marines.”
Ban grunted and adjusted the cloth on Calris’ forehead. “My parents are doctors,” he said matter-of-factly. “They made me and Cal read a lot when we were kids, which, and this may surprise you, we actually enjoyed. Whenever we read something we didn’t understand, we’d just go ask Mum or Dad and they’d sit us down and talk us through it. So now, we are two of the most well-educated marines in the entire Navy. Funny, isn’t it?”
“I said well read, not educated,“ Jasmine taunted gently. “You did just call them ‘bugsteria’.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the problem with being so well read, I guess. Approximate knowledge of many things, but a perfect understanding of next to nothing.”
“Except fighting,” she observed.
“Except fighting,” he agreed, before sighing and laying on his back, gazing up at the stars.
So far, Jasmine had been quietly impressed with him. He didn’t command as much attention as his friend, his short height and affable but simple demeanour saw him crowded out by his more boisterous companion, but he had a keen mind that Jasmine believed was wasted in an occupation such as soldiering. Something he said caught her attention, though.
“You said your parents made you and Calris read a lot when you were younger. You two grew up together?”
Ban nodded his head. “Been best friends as long as I can remember. We grew up in a little town called Ironwood in northern Calandor, in the Great Forest that runs along the Dragonspine Mountains.”
Next to him, Calris stirred, possibly at the mention of their home, though Jasmine had no way of knowing for sure. Ban turned his head to watch him for a few seconds before looking back to the sky. “That seems like forever ago now. Had some great times since we left, but I’ll be glad to go back and visit when this is done.”
Jasmine hesitated, unsure if she should ask her next question.
“And what about Calris’ parents?” she asked.
Ban sat up slowly and stared into the flames, lost in thought, memory, or both. He rubbed a long scar on his right palm in an unconscious gesture. She noticed he did that when he was deep in thought or nervous, and he had barely stopped since Calris was injured.
“Cal never knew his father. His mum ran off with some soldier that passed through town one day. Apparently, it was a big scandal, what with her being the lord’s daughter and all. Either way, she was back a year later, heavily pregnant, no husband in sight. The old lord turned her away, but my folks weren’t so heartless. They took her in and looked after her. Dad even delivered Calris into the world! Two days before me! I think they couldn’t stand seeing his mum pregnant and alone in the world. But we were one big happy family for a while.”
“Your parents sound like lovely people,” Jasmine said, smiling.
“Aye, they’re the best,” he said with a sad smile. Jasmine braced herself.
“And… Calris’ mother?”
“She’s no longer with us.”
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“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that, Ban.”
“Aye, and thanks. The worlds a less bright place for her passing,” he said as a tear rolled down his cheek.
“How did she die?” Jasmine asked, her eyes widening when she realised what she had said. She cursed. Asking such a question implied a level of familiarity she most definitely did not have, and she opened her mouth to apologise, but Ban cut her off with a wave of his hand.
“No need to apologise, Jaz. But I can’t tell you. That’s Cal’s story to tell when he sees fit.”
“I doubt he will ever feel comfortable telling me something like that,” she replied ruefully. Adding if he even survives the night in her head.
“You’d be surprised. He’s taken a shining to you,” Ban said with a small chuckle, which turned into a full belly laugh when he saw the sceptical look on her face. “I’m serious! You really made an impression when you sent him into that wall. He’s not used to losing. Sure, he was furious for a while, but he respects you now. First step on the road to becoming his friend.”
“That’s… an odd way to choose your friends.”
“Is it? A soldier doesn’t need weak friends, they just become a liability. We respect people who are formidable, and from that, friendships can grow.”
“So the weak aren’t worthy of friendship? That sounds a little harsh, Ban,” Jasmine said.
“Maybe it is. But I never said we were good people now, did I?” he replied with a cheeky grin. “And, whether or not you like to admit it, I think you’re probably the same.”
Jasmine opened her mouth to protest, but hesitated. He was probably right. Growing up, she never had many friends beyond Ferez and Asim. Her time as a slave meant she lacked the social skills of the other children her age, and that certainly had something to do with it, but the truth was that she was disdainful of most people.
“Aren’t soldiers supposed to be protectors?” she asked. “Those ‘weak people’ you talk about are your charges, aren’t they?”
“Sure, and we do care about them, and our duty. We’ll fight to protect those who can’t protect themselves and give our lives if need be. But they aren’t like us. If they were, we wouldn’t need to fight for them in the first place; we’d be fighting alongside them, and then they’d be our friends.”
It was a roundabout logic, but Jasmine could sort of understand what he was saying. To a degree. It still sounded patronising though, and she told him as such.
“Like I said, I never claimed to be a nice bloke,” he replied with a gentle smile that belied the callous words he had just spoken. The fire had died down a little while they spoke, and Ban stoked the coals with his sword as he kept talking. “So, what has you up at this time of night? Late night chamber pot calling?”
Jasmine laughed at the impropriety, and then squirmed a little when she realised she actually did need to use the toilet before she went back to her bedroll.
“No. I did not need to use the toilet.”
“Nightmares, then?”
Jasmine shot a sharp glance at him. The way he had spoken was completely nonchalant, but from the keen interest in his eyes, she could tell he was expecting a reaction.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“You’d never killed anyone before the fight, right?”
“No.”
“Yeah. The nightmares are pretty common after your first time.”
Jasmine bristled. Maybe it was the previous conversation regarding weakness, or maybe it was some unconscious bias within herself, but she felt judged and the heat was rising in her face.
“Do not think that was the worst thing I have experienced, or think me weak, Ban,” she said, her narrowed eyes boring into the marine. “I didn’t have the sheltered upbringing of most of my peers. Or you, for that matter.”
Ban hastily raised his hands in a supplicating gesture, an apologetic grin on his face.
“Sorry, Jaz, I’m not calling you weak. I’m just saying most of us have had those nightmares at some time or another. Part and parcel of fighting on a battlefield.”
Jasmine sat in silence, emotions swirling and competing for primacy as Ban’s apology sunk in. She understood what he was trying to say, but she still felt anger coiling within her, refusing to let go or disperse despite the marine’s mollifying words. She willed her rational mind to prevail, understanding that the anger and judgment were hers, not Ban’s.
He hadn’t called her weak; she was inflicting that label on herself. But, as was always the case, her temper resisted any and all attempts at control. Beside her, Ban waited patiently, observing the emotions rolling across her face with careful neutrality, until finally she settled, not fully at peace, but regaining enough control to force the anger into compliance.
“How long do they last?” she asked, trying to focus on a solution to the nightmares, not the way they made her feel.
Ban puffed out his cheeks and sighed. “They come and go, to be honest. Usually the first week is the worst, and then they get gradually less frequent until you only have them every once in a while.”
“Is there anything I can do about it?”
“Not really, I’m afraid. Sergeant Olic says it’s just your brain comprehending what you’ve been through. Like it’s healing itself the same way a cut or a break might. It takes time. It helps if you figure out what brought it on, though.”
“What brought it on? You mean the killing?” she asked.
Ban shook his head. “It’s not usually the killing that does it. Not on the whole, anyway. It’s some aspect of the killing, the smell or the sounds, or the means in which it is done. A lot of the time, it’s the death of a mate that sets you off,” he finished, looking at her, eyes both warm and sad at the same time. “Can you think of anything in particular? What stands out in your dreams?”
Jasmine paused and thought back to the horrific visions. The whole thing had seemed so awful, she couldn’t sort out one likely trigger from another. The smell, the screams, the pain. Calris begging, her loved ones burning in her own flames that she could no longer control, the disembodied hands she couldn’t fight back against. And then it hit her.
Control.
“I think… I think I feel helpless.”
Ban snorted. Then, realising how insensitive it was, he shook his head and gave himself a slap. “I’m sorry, Jaz, I shouldn’t have laughed. But how can you feel helpless? You were like a god until Eliza turned up. You single-handedly turned the tide, and you were the last one standing when the assassin had dropped the rest of us.”
“But I still lost. Calris is dying, and that damage had been done before Elizabeth intervened. If Ferez had not arrived when he did…” she trailed off. They both knew what would have happened. Ban nodded his head silently, but his brow was furrowed.
“Aye, that could be it, but… forgive me if I’m going too far here. There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Jasmine nodded. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain. It wasn’t just the battle. If that had been the case, the hands would never have reappeared. It was her childhood, her captivity, a powerless slave needing rescue by her own personal hero. The battle had opened the old wound, showed her that despite her years of hard work and training, she still needed someone else to swoop in and save her.
“I was a slave, Ban. I… won’t go into the details, but I was a captive for a long time. Beaten for the slightest infraction, humiliated for the amusement of the bastards who owned me. At first I was so scared all the time. It took me years to summon the courage to escape, but I was caught. The flogging I received when they caught me beat any thought of freedom out of my mind. After a while, I just became… numb. Resigned to my lot in life, dreading the day when one of them would look at me and decide I was finally a woman, but knowing there was nothing I could do about it.”
“By the Gods…” Ban breathed, shock and sorrow stitched across his face. “How did you?…”
“I didn’t. I was rescued. Ferez came for me, at the head of a mighty fleet. He broke the slavers’ stronghold, slaughtered every degenerate within, and toppled it into the sea. If it weren’t for him, I would probably still be there,” she said, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes and hating herself for it. Ban regarded her for a long while and then, to Jasmine’s shock, he leant over and embraced her.
“I think this is something you need to figure out for yourself, Jaz, but for what it’s worth, you’re the most bloody terrifying woman I’ve ever come across.”
Jasmine doubted many women would be heartened by the comment, but she had to admit it made her feel better. She smiled back at him as he released her and turned back to Calris and the fire. It had died again, and so he threw a few more logs onto it and blew on the coals to get it to take. Jasmine snapped her fingers, and the fire flared up, nearly scorching Ban’s face.
“Right,” he said as he rocked back on his haunches. “Fire mage. That makes more sense than blowing on the coals.”
Jasmine chuckled and manipulated the flames, coaxing them around the logs to catch the fuel on the edges that had gone unburnt. Ban, meanwhile, experimentally probed his eyebrows to check they were still there. When the fire was roaring and stable, Jasmine turned back to Ban, one last question on her mind.
“Why do you do it?”
“Do what, Jaz?” he replied, dropping his hand from his face, satisfied his brows were mostly intact.
“Fight. Kill. Be killed one day, maybe.”
“You are loving the heavy questions tonight, aren’t you?”
“If it’s too personal…”
“Na, it’s alright, just give me a minute,” he said as he chewed his bottom lip, forming a response. “I won’t lie. There’s some fun to it. Not the killing itself, mind you, I’m no psychopath. But the battle, the contest. You never feel as alive as when you’re laughing in Death’s face. It’s something only soldiers ever really understand,” he said, giving Jasmine a curious look halfway between embarrassed and proud. “Though if that explanation isn’t to your liking, you could also say I’m mostly here because of him,” he said, jerking a finger at Calris. “He wanted to join up. Get away from the village, see what’s out there. I came along to make sure he didn’t die and bring him back home when he’s had enough adventuring.”
Jasmine arched an eyebrow. She knew they were close; it was plain to anyone who saw them together, but joining the military to keep an eye on your friend was something else entirely. She found herself jealous of Calris and Ban’s relationship and felt immediate shame.
She had people of her own, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Sure, Asim would die for her, but that was duty. And Ferez would as well, there was no doubt in her mind, but it felt a bit different considering he was literally one of the most dangerous people on the planet. Jasmine wondered what it would take to get the wholehearted dedication of a regular person who would put their life on the line due to nothing more than the bond of friendship.
“Few people can say they have a friend like that,” Jasmine said. “I hope he appreciates you.”
“Aye, he does,” Ban replied, a genuine smile on his face. “He’s an arse, but I know he’d storm the Pit itself for me, and I for him. It’s why we’ve never been beaten when we fight together.” Ban took a pregnant pause. “Well, until recently.”
Jasmine smiled. Though she had doubts about the marine’s assertion that he was not, in fact, a psychopath, she couldn’t deny that he had a sweet soul.
“Thanks for the talk, Ban. I appreciate it,” she said as she stood to return to her sleeping roll.
“No problem, Jaz,” he said, turning back to Calris and readjusting the cloth once more. “And one more thing. Cal’s alive because of you. You ever need anyone to storm the Pit for you? Just let me know.”