High Commander Sand stood in the middle of the entrance hall, scouting the painted stone walls, as he did every morning. He admired the vibrant tale of his home and desired nothing more than to tell it to the children he had never borne.
Joshua Sand had been born in the Resistance. Every morning, he remembered his deceased family, who had each fallen at the hands of the Dark Lord. He remembered their smiles, and he remembered his lost husband, Erik Thawn, the rebel medic who had sacrificed his life for the rebellion during the Uprising. His death had left Joshua with an even stronger will to fight. Every time Joshua swung that claymore, he did it in the memory of Erik.
As he meditated on an uncertain future, Jade Lark, the rebel leader of the Shrike Wing, came to join him. She folded her hands behind her and lowered her chin to her chest.
“Sharr is getting closer. I don’t know if we can keep Orgna safe for much longer.” High Commander Sand’s grey eyes darkened at her words. “I hear rumors of aggressive weapon shipments. He’s piling.” Jade cast a sudden veil of grief over her face. “People in the streets are being held and executed without trial. He’s growing more paranoid.”
As the two discussed the steps to take, the mention of their new recruit came to the surface.
“The dark elf’s a mage,” Jade said. “You know how that’s going to affect the soldiers! She says her magic is hidden by some kind of protection. Sharr hasn’t had a magefinder made since the war, so I think we’re safe on that side.” The councilor veered back to the main subject. “Our scouts are saying Sharr keeps his stocks at the camps. It’s heavily guarded. But perhaps there’s something else we can do…with her.”
Joshua Sand searched Jade’s silver eyes. “Do you think I was too quick to let her join?” he asked, curious about his peer’s opinion of his late decision.
“She’s dokkalfar—most of us will find you naive,” Jade replied with a slight shrug and chuckle.
“Since when does the Resistance halt at kinship?” As Joshua posed his question, Jade smiled at the truth of his message. He pursued. “She was an archmage. To me, that says everything.” He then returned to the subject at hand. “Have you discussed with the others?”
She confirmed with a nod. “We just need your go, Commander.”
Behind them, their new elven recruit wandered the dwarven halls, until she disappeared into the hallway and headed down the coiled staircase. A guard followed her, who had been tasked with keeping an eye on her for the day. Joshua did not find it necessary, but the rest of the Council had insisted, just to be sure. Some rebels glanced at her as she passed by them, surprised, or perhaps afraid. Ahna just kept her head down.
She reached one of the eastern training rooms, where the soldiers practiced the art of combat together. When she peaked in, she recognized the marksman, who fought alone with his shortsword, against a dummy he had painted with indigo. The blue of dokkalfar soldiers. Despite this, Ahna was not offended by his blatant hatred of her kin. She understood him. Sharr’s horde was of pure evil, a darkness even other Dwellunder provinces avoided. Ahna herself had fled the Dwellunder for the same reasons he clashed his blade on the dokka dummy.
Ahna stood by the entrance, hidden from any possible view angle the marksman could have. He intrigued her, his allure, and especially the powerful bow that had wounded her. She wanted to stand there in silence, but no one ever took Cedric by surprise.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” he gushed with fake enthusiasm. “You’re a Resistance fighter now.”
His sarcasm rang between her pointy ears. He turned to Ahna, sheathing his sword. His blue eyes had turned dark, and his thick, dark brown hair that matched Ahna’s boots was all over the place. He was much taller than her. He marched toward the door and, as he walked past her, stopped to cast the sternest of glares.
“Note that I don’t trust you. And I never will. So if you ever get in my way, I will finish what we started back in the woods.” He was about to leave.
Not so fast.
She caught a grip of his arm. “About that,” she said, almost whispering so no one would hear. “How did the Resistance get their hands on an Item of Power?”
Cedric froze and pulled his arm away. He fixated on her purple gaze, anticipating what she would say next. His bow, the pain, Ahna had damned well recognized it! One of the six Items of Power, created by the Ancients, scattered around Terra.
“You’re playing with a dangerous toy, Cedric.”
He scoffed and pushed her arm away. “Consider yourself warned,” he barked. Then he left the room for good, and strolled into the hallway and back upstairs, where the fighters were gathering in front of the high commander.
The rebels assembled in the foyer for a gathering with the Resistance Council. Fighters, from squadrons of swordsmen and women, medics, spies, to the eyes and ears scattered across the city. Those hidden behind politics, and those who simply worked the fields and kept an eye out for the cause. High Commander Sand stood tall facing this diverse group of devoted rebels, who all listened attentively to him with the utmost respect.
“As we’ve been expecting for a while, Sharr is growing more paranoid. The scouts have acquired intel during a recon mission that the Dark Lord is hoarding massive stocks of weapons. These shipments seem to come from a nearby nation. We think he’s preparing for an attack, we just don’t know on whom.”
A hand raised in the audience. Joshua gave a single nod in the direction of the cadet.
“Were there known tensions between Sharr and other lands?”
The commander shook his head. “Not more than usual. Sharr’s rule has upset others but not to the extent that war would be declared. They fear him. All fear him.”
More questions were asked.
“How many crates are we talking about?” a swordsman queried.
“Why is he killing people on the streets?” a medic shouted.
“Why would he be preparing for battle?” a woman wondered.
“Could it be another conquest?” an elf wanted to know.
“Has he found Orgna?” a worried soul asked.
Joshua held his palms open to the crowd, as an appeasing sign to calm them down. He then left the floor to Jade Lark, the councilor and leader of the Shrike Wing.
“Brave warriors of the Resistance”—she paused while the soldiers regained their calm—“Sharr may be plotting to strike us for once and for all.”
The crowd simmered again. People gasped and looked alarmingly left and right.
“As of now, there are no indications that our location has been made.” A long rest again as she gathered the words to say. “But we must be prepared for the worst. That is why we want to strike. A preemptive measure. We need to intercept these shipments. If we can disable them, we can at least buy ourselves some more time.”
Another fighter raised their hand. “Do we know where the weapons come from?”
Jade replied without hesitation. “East Haven. By ship. Most likely from Rallis.”
The fighter retorted with the question everyone had been waiting for: “So, what’s the plan?”
Jade cleared her throat, they were back in the council room, together with the shrike captain Cedric Rover.
“We send in shrikes to East Haven,” Jade began. “We’re talking about a small fleet here, probably one or two large ships that have been going back and forth with weapon supplies and perhaps other goods. We just need a small unit to destroy the fleet. A strike as such will destabilize Sharr and probably drive him to make a rash decision. He will have lost his weapon supply chain, and maybe we will have gained some swords and shields in the process!”
High Commander Sand turned to Jade. “If East Haven is so important to him, shouldn’t it be heavily guarded?”
“That’s the thing, Josh. Our spies report that it’s not. I think Sharr does not expect us to go for East Haven, as our main focus has always been on the capital. I actually think he expects us to go for the camps instead. He made it such a
great bait!”
Cedric laid a few documents on the table. There were intercepted communiqués between Sharr and his ensign at the East Haven outpost. One was a map showing the weapon shipments route. The last letter was about the training camps. What Jade was stating appeared to be correct. Sharr had deployed but a few patrols at the eastern outpost. Joshua scrutinized the documents.
He sifted through them one by one, then raised his head to Jade again. “Good work to the Shrike Wing. Are you absolutely sure of the authenticity of these documents?”
After careful consideration, she nodded.
“Then you have my go. Cedric, assemble two of your men. Get me some swords of David’s fifth squadron, they should do. Ah, and send in our new recruit—I have a feeling. She’ll be at your command.”
Cedric scoffed and crossed his arms. Jade looked confused at Joshua.
“I don’t want to find out what will happen if this mission fails,” she assured. “You really want to send in the dark elf?”
Joshua sat in his chair and leaned back. “I just have a feeling, Jade. That’s all.”
Once outside, the shrike captain confronted the leader of his wing. “Is he serious, Jade? Sending her in, because of a feeling?”
Jade attempted to calm him down. “You heard what Joshua said. She’ll be under your command. Make sure she’s ready. If you suspect something, you have my authorization to terminate her.”
Cedric eventually acknowledged her. “When do we leave?” he asked promptly.
For a short moment, Jade had this calculative look in her eyes. “I give you a few days before the next moon to get ready. Maps of East Haven and docking schedules are in the library. Come up with a strategy in two days and start preparing.” She looked at her subordinate. “We live brave.”
Cedric smiled proudly and joined in. “We die free.”
Kairen led her sister and friend to the dining hall next to the foyer. In the large room, four members of her husband’s fifth squadron were sitting, playing some kind of old dwarven card game before lunchtime. They each stood up at the sight of Kairen and greeted her with the military salute, the tip of their fingers brought to their right temple, almost touching it but not quite.
“Captain,” they said in unison.
“At ease, swordsmen.” They sat back on the benches, and Kairen introduced Ahna to them. “This is our new recruit, Ahna. She’ll be going with you to East Haven.”
The swordsmen nodded. The look in their eyes, although welcoming, had a suspicious glow that Ahna noticed. She did not know what to say, so she just mimicked their nods. They were all human and wore the infamous fir green cloaks over their chainmail. They had just returned from a small mission that was none of Ahna’s concern.
As Kairen made conversation with one of them, a swordswoman and a man, who appeared to be their captain, joined them at the table. They carried iron trays with bits of food they had just selected from the central buffet. Thin rice, accompanied by delicious-looking stuffed dumplings the Bravans called momrogi. And of course, a tiny loaf of fluffy cloud bread.
The captain introduced himself as Diego Levireo. Born in the capital, he had been under Sharr’s command a long time ago. He had joined the Resistance around the same time as David, Kairen’s husband, before the Uprising. He reminded Ahna of the men of the coast—brave sailors with strong fists and a tanned face. Diego and Kairen discussed some details about their squads, while the mysterious woman addressed Ahna directly.
“You can call me Lynn,” she said with a cunning smile.
Ahna took a look at her. She was tall and athletic. The tense muscles of her arms revealed she was a highly trained fighter. Her eyes matched her smile, and they lit with her native wits. She was human, but the earth-brown hue of her skin disclosed her southern origin. She spoke to Ahna with such enthusiasm that the elf felt as if she was warmly welcomed by the swordswoman.
“You’re from Tazman, am I correct?” Ahna asked, intrigued by the beauty of her coal eyes.
“You know your regions, Ahna,” Lynn replied warmly. “My family is Taz, but I was born in main Bravoure. Our commander is also Taz, by the way.” She paused to think for a moment. “They say you didn’t come with Sharr’s horde, but that you’ve been in Bravoure for much longer?”
Ahna nodded. She had actually been in Bravoure for about twice Lynn’s lifetime. Tazman was the province to the southeast of Bravoure, where the sun was warmer, and the forests were lighter green. Taz men and women were known to be fearless warriors and righteous leaders.
“Want to try?” the Taz woman asked, offering Ahna a piece of the cloud bread.
The elf politely refused, then Kairen slid between the two women. “Thanks, Lynn, we’ll get our own tray and join you!”
She grabbed Ahna’s wrist and led her toward the center buffet.
There were all kinds of momrogis, glazed, steamed, fried in nut oil, filled with vegetable stew or a mixture of caramelized chicken. Momrogis were served with more rice and stir-fried vegetables. A few hot pots full of spiced soup were placed in the middle of the buffet. Ahna, who had lived alone for years in the Miggdra village, had not been greeted with such an extensive menu in a long time. The advantage of momrogis is that they were efficient: cheap and very filling for the stomach. Resistance supplies of food were moderate, so momrogis and soups were the best the rebels could make.
“I’ve never asked, Ahna, but what is the food like in the Dwellunder?”
Ahna had to think there. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “That’s too long ago, Kairen. But I have to say,” she paused and looked at Kairen with a playful light in her eyes. “This is amazing, but Dwellunder meals are, despite everything else, most exquisite.”
Kairen had not expected that dreadful place to possibly have a higher cuisine than renowned Bravoure. But then again, the dokkalfar were also known for their gloomy style and high standards of pleasure and satisfaction.
As they sat back at Squadron Five’s table, they enjoyed the warm conversations they had with each other. The swordsmen were obviously jokesters and had genuine joie de vivre. The cunning Lynn definitely had her share of humor. Diego, a quieter soul, still encouraged his men to continue their lively exchange. Another squadron then went to sit at the table behind them. Each greeted each other, there was even a young dokkalfar male among them. The dark elf appeared to be calm. Ahna noticed he was much younger than her, yet they looked roughly the same age in the eyes of humans. He bowed to her, as a junior dokkalfar would do to greet a master. The others had a confused look on their faces but went on with their lunch, like business as usual. When the two women were finished, Kairen rid Ahna of her tray and signed the elf to follow her.
“Come, I’ll show you my quarters.”
They made their way to the upper bed chamber when Ahna belatedly realized something about the soldiers she had met in the dining hall. “The soldiers there were part of David’s garrison, correct?” she proceeded with another question, “So, who are the shrikes?”
As they reached Kairen’s quarters, separate from the collective dorms, the woman told the story of the Resistance’s infamous web of spies. Those who painted their face with war-kohl, like the mask of sentinel shrike birds, which gave them the name of Shrike Wing. This was also related to the way they killed during an assassination. A sword that rose out of the ribcage and was left inside the body to be found.
“Jade Lark is deep within Lord Sharr’s nest. She acts as an advisor to his generals on how to best rule over an overall human kingdom. But she is the greatest lie the Resistance has told. She founded the Shrike Wing a few years before the Uprising, a network of spies and assassins that are highly trained in the art of stealth and secrecy.”
Ahna listened carefully. “I had only heard rumors of the Shrike Wing, back in Miggdra. They sounded like an urban legend.”
Kairen resumed the tale. “Some of them have infiltrated Sharr’s military ranks, others are officials, advisors or viziers. And some are saboteurs or e
ven better, assassins for the rebellion. You will probably meet some of them before the mission.”
Ahna sat by Kairen, on the bed she shared with her husband, David. The stonewall room was modest. A few cupboards, a double bed with layers of wool and woven pillows, and a small silver mirror hanging by the door. Councilors and high-ranking members of the Resistance had the privilege of their own room. Soldiers, cadets and trainees shared their slumber in the dorms. Kairen fiddled with her bejeweled ring, the one that symbolized her alliance with David. She looked at it pensively.
“You know, I told him a lot about you,” she told Ahna. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”
She closed her eyes as a tear moved along her cheek. Ahna wrapped her arms around her to comfort her, and Kairen brought her hand on the elf’s. She rested her head on her friend’s embrace.
“I know it’s hard for you. But I couldn’t let you sit by any longer and do...” Kairen hesitated.
“And do nothing.” Ahna finished the sentence for her.
The red-haired woman sat back straight and wiped her eyes.
“You are Archmage of Bravoure. Your place has always been here. I don’t exactly know what happened with the magi during the war, most of us don’t.”
“I was Archmage of Bravoure. No one remembers us now. And those who do don’t really have a positive connotation associated with the word...”
“The Council did,” Kairen disagreed.
“It seems like they believe the others don’t, though. But it’s alright, I understand!” Ahna forced a smile to reassure Kairen that, despite the Council’s decision to keep her identity a secret, she knew it was justified.
“The Council preferred your history to remain on a need-to-know basis. They think it might stir more...criticism, with you already being a...”
Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent Page 3
