Didn't see the sarge again either until the next week when he saw me in line for the dinner slops. He told me he'd seen a young girl called Aiola a few days before; looked nothing like me, but he wanted to pass on the information. The sarge told me she was on the far side of the camp with the archers, and it all clicked into place for me. It had to be her.
Once night had fallen and my squad settled around the campfire, I got up determined to find her. Everyone was too sore from the day’s bruises to notice I was wearing my sword and had a shield on my back.
Picking my way through a never-ending series of campfires, asking directions a few times along the way, I eventually found the archers and my sister.
She was dozing by a fire, back to back with another woman. I touched Aiola on her shoulder to wake her, hoping to be quiet. But I startled her, and her friend leaped to her feet, pulling a long knife and waving it in my face.
“Aiola,” I said, “it's me, Florian.”
I can still see, clear as day, her eyes going wide as she looked at me, the flames of the fire casting a flickering light on her face. She grabbed me and pulled me into a hug.
“You're here,” she said.
Aiola told her friend to put away the knife and I pulled her behind a tent and into the shadows so we could talk.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
“I am now, Florian. I thought I would never see you again. You, or Mum, or Dad.”
“I'm sorry, Aiola. I should have been there. I promised.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to do anything. At least you're here now. That’s all I care about. There are some bad people in this army, Florian. If it weren't for Glenda looking out for me, I don't know what would have happened. I can’t sleep. I can’t even hit a target with this bloody bow because I keep shaking so much.”
Both men and women had been serving in the Edland army for generations, and if Aiola had been older or a little more world wise, I thought she'd have known how to look after herself more. Or maybe I was at fault for always protecting her.
Throughout my search for Aiola, I had been thinking about what to do when I found her. I had thought maybe she would be doing alright and I could keep an eye on her. Even if we were in different squads, like my mum had said. But I knew then that would not be an option. I couldn’t have lived with anything happening to her.
“Aiola,” I said. “We're leaving. Now, while it's dark.”
“Florian, we can't desert. I'll be ok.” But I could see the bags under her eyes from missing out on sleep.
“No arguments, Aiola. I promised Mum I'd bring you back,” I lied. “Get your bow, and let’s go.”
“You deserted?” asked Joe.
“Yep. We both did. Before the sun was up, we disappeared west over the hills and found a little bolt hole to rest in for a few hours.”
“So, what happened?”
“Might be good for me to take over for a bit, Twins,” said Sergeant Morris. Florian nodded for him to continue. “You see,” said Morris, “it was me who figured out this idiot had run...”
The next morning, I went over to Florian's camp myself. We'd been keeping an eye on him during his training to see if we should bring him into the Ravens. He was much more capable than all but a few recruits and we needed a few more heads.
When I got to his camp, his mates there told me they didn't know where he was. He hadn't been back that night. All of his stuff was still there, the pack he carried everywhere, so they assumed Florian had got lucky with someone and would head back before long.
That rang alarm bells straight away. Seemed unlikely Florian would hook up with someone on the night I tell him to go find his sister. Much more likely he would do something stupid.
I remember it being one of those crisp fall mornings that remind you winter is on the way rather than summer has just said goodbye. I crossed my way through the camp to where I had directed Florian the night before. As I asked around for Aiola, it became plain I was not the first to inquire. A few folks remarked that a big fella had asked the same thing the previous night. Not one for covering his tracks then, was Florian.
Anyway, I found her camp. Although one woman, must have been Glenda, tried to throw me off the scent, it was pretty obvious Aiola too was missing. Took the threat of a flogging to get Glenda to spill the beans, but she told me how Aiola's brother had come for her last night and they'd run off.
Shit, I thought to myself.
This was my fault in a way. I mean it was all Florian's fault, but in some small way I felt I had a hand to play in this mess. So, if someone would have to find the deserters, it should probably be me. I grabbed Moley, Flathead, a woman called Dug you never met, and a few horses, and we set out. Florian wasn't that clever so there was only one place he would go. Home. And he'd already told me he was from Shortdrop.
“Thanks for that, Sarge,” said Florian. “Appreciate you telling Joe how stupid I am.”
“Ah shut up, Twins. You’ve gotten smarter.”
“Still stupid enough to be part of the Ravens though...”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, Sarge. I was just going to carry on with the story.”
Me and Aiola did indeed set out for Shortdrop, but we knew enough to stay off the roads. We walked all the first night and found shelter during the day, hiding in the brush of the foothills.
My plan was to head west to the Green Forest, disappear for a few days and then move north once it was safe. We made it to the forest in a couple of days. Aiola and her bow snagged a few hares for our meals along the way, though I let us have a fire only long enough to cook the meat.
In the Green Forest we made a shelter and hunkered down, thinking we were in the clear as we had seen no sign of pursuit.
Unfortunately, sarge had Dug with him and she was a formidable tracker; former poacher if I remember right. They'd gone up the road for a day, assuming I was that dim, before doubling back. Dug could still follow the trail we left behind, even though it was cold for a couple of days. They’d nearly caught up with us before we made it to the forest. We spent only one night in our forest shelter. A night me and Aiola huddled together remembering how we would build forts together in the woods near our home, and we felt close again.
Before the four trackers messed everything up.
It was morning, and I was building a fire while Aiola was hunting for breakfast when I heard the crunch of boots on undergrowth. I saw the sarge and the other three enter our small clearing.
“Hello boy,” said the sarge, “where's the girl?”
I stood up slowly without answering and looked back to see my shield and sword propped up against a tree a couple of strides away. I tried to inch my way toward it while I considered my options.
“Stay there,” said the sarge. “Don't do anything stupid. If I take you both back now, then I might get you off with a flogging. Do something daft and you'll hang if these three don't carve you up first.”
“I'm sorry Sergeant Morris,” I said. “We're not going back. I have to take my sister home. I promise I will return afterwards.”
“Hah, you hear that?” said the sergeant. Dug, Moley and Flathead let out little chuckles, but I could see they already expected a fight. “I don't think I've ever known a deserter to walk back on his own.”
“Look, I wanted to be in the army. But I promised I'd keep my sister safe. And what's a man worth if he can't keep his word?”
“I don't care. And I'm not inclined to stand around here gabbing”
Before he could finish, my boot kicked the fire, scattering the burning tinder and sticks into their faces while I grabbed up my sword and shield and charged.
Dug was closest, and I didn't like the way she was playing with the many knives around her waist and across her chest. Getting skewered by throwing knives didn’t sound appealing. Unsure what to do, I charged. I felt a thud on my raised shield, my head ducked behind. She'd got one knife away before I hit her. And I hit her good, launching
myself off both feet, raising my shield just before impact to collide with her upper chest and head, bashing her to the floor.
I rolled away as best as I could with the shield looped across my forearm and got to my feet, happy to see Dug was now taking a nap.
Unfortunately, I didn't have much other good news, as Moley and Flathead came at me. Flathead from the left with his sword, and Moley from the right with his axe. Flathead and I had sparred a lot on the way down to the muster point but Moley had never been bothered with the extra training. I didn't know what he could do. The sarge stood behind them both, watching, likely sizing me up, sword in his hand at the ready.
I took a few slow steps backward, careful of my footing as tripping would have been the death of me. And as I backed up, Moley and Flathead were forced together as the forest thickened.
Once they were close enough to each other so I could keep my eye on them both, I charged again, changing direction without warning. And maybe you've noticed, maybe you haven't, but I never yell or cry out when running into a fight. My dad beat that one out of me. “Why let the person who wants to kill you, know what you will do, before you've done it?” he'd say.
So I was quiet, and I was fast.
I faked toward Flathead on the left, but shifted my attention to Moley, hoping my shield would cover the left flank. Like I said, I didn't know what Moley could do with his axe; but I'd seen what plenty of woodcutters and slaughter men could do back home with little more than a strong arm.
Moley swung the axe at my torso as I closed on him, and my momentum and the arc of the blow meant I couldn't dodge. I brought my sword up under his swing. Carrying the movement upwards to his sword arm with the flat of my blade. I just managed to deflect his axe up and over my head.
Moley let go of his axe and it sailed into the air, landing in the undergrowth. While he was clutching his wrist and swearing, I punched him in the face with the hilt of my sword, split his lip and knocked him out.
Flathead wasn't standing around doing nothing. I'd been able to block his first overhand blow with my shield before knocking out Moley, and I turned just in time to see his follow up angle toward my legs and parry it with my sword.
A quick look at the sarge and I saw he was walking over now, having decided to get involved. I had to deal with Flathead quick. Dropping the shield, I held my bastard sword with both hands, knowing I was stronger than him, and quicker too.
I pressed the attack. A couple of strikes he parried, but they forced him back. When he lost his footing a little, it gave me the opening to hit him in the chest with the flat of the sword. Broke a few ribs and knocked him to the floor. I kicked him in the chin and he went out too.
“Well done, boy,” said the sarge from behind me. I turned and saw he held a sword in each hand now, and was closing the distance between us. “Like I said, there didn’t need to be no fighting. They were going easy on you. We don’t make a habit of carving up our kids. But well done all the same. Though you should have kept hold of your shield.”
An arrow appeared, sticking out of the dirt just where the sarge was about to step, and we both looked at each other confused.
“Stay where you are,” said a figure, appearing from behind a tree. It was Aiola, saving my arse.
“Or what?”
“Or I'll shoot you. I shot this pig,” she said, indicating a small wild hog at her feet, “and I bet he can move faster than you.”
“You'll kill me? And what are you going to do about my men here when they wake up?”
“I think they might have a problem waking up if we slit their throats.” Aiola maintained eye contact with sarge the whole time. I looked back and forth between them like someone watches a game of catch.
Sarge turned and looked at me. “Are you sure this one ain’t cut out for the army? Seems like she'd do ok.” I shook my head, though at that time I was revising my opinion too. “Well we're in a little pickle then, aren't we? I don't think either of you wants to kill us. Life of an outlaw ain’t any better or longer than the life of a soldier. I have a proposition. Want to hear it?”
“Go ahead,” said Aiola, clearly still the one with the negotiating power.
“Well, a few folks know Florian is a twin, but no one ever met you. So if I take Florian back with me, he’ll do the work of two men on my squad. I mean, he took out three of my crew without killing them. He’s a big boy so he can manage. You can walk home and I'll forget ever meeting you.”
“That's ridiculous,” she said, “how can he be two people at once?”
“I pick the Ravens and I’ll say I found two new recruits. As long as I don’t notice I’m short a squad member, I’ll make sure no one else notices either. Especially if he can act the part a little.”
“It might work, Aiola,” I said, regaining my tongue. “What choice do we have? Do we have your word on this sergeant?”
“Aye. Just put the bloody bow down.”
The sarge gave us some time to say our goodbyes. My confidence in making this plan work disappeared after the standoff was over. It was Aiola who switched view and talked me round; she always could. Like I said, she got the brains.
“What's going to be my name?” I remember asking.
“It’s Florian, stupid,” she said.
“No, I mean what is the twin version of me called?”
“Ahh.” Aiola looked down at the wild hog she'd killed for our breakfast. “How about Hameth?”
I laughed, but it seemed fitting, and so that's the name I used every other day after I got back to camp. Aiola and I hugged. She rested her head on my shoulder and I could feel her crying.
“Don't worry, you'll make it back home ok,” I said.
“It's not that, you lummox; I’ll miss you.”
“I know. Me too.” My voice cracked and I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. Saying goodbye to my sister, realizing that I’d miss her teasing, our talks by the fire at night about what our lives might bring, it was worse than coming home to find her gone. “I'll be back. Once this war is over I'll come back to you and Mum and Dad.”
She kissed me on the cheek, gathered her stuff, and left. She knew I had lied again.
“And so there you go, Joe. That's why Ervin called me Ham and the rest of the Ravens call me Twins. And it's why, even three years later, I have to carry more gear than everyone else.”
“Is it all true?” asked Joe, looking to Sergeant Morris and Moley. Both nodded. “You're telling me no one noticed Florian and Hameth were never in the same place at the same time?”
“We keep to ourselves, Joe,” said Sargent Morris. “The Ravens get all the shit jobs. Gives us a certain independence. So it's never been an issue.”
“Wow...”
“Sarge, seeing as this was a pretty big scrap,” said Florian, gesturing down the hill at the battlefield, “what do you think about giving Hameth a decent burial now?”
Sergeant Morris got to his feet, stretched some kinks out of his back, and fixed Florian with one of his stares. “No bloody way. I've been pocketing Hameth’s wages for three years now. I've got a wife and kids to support.”
And Florian watched his sergeant descend the hill toward their camp as the smoke from the fires burning in Redpool slid toward them on the shifting evening breeze.
Jyuth on Magic - Sources of Magical Power
These writings are excerpts from Jyuth’s hand written journals, gifted to Neenahwi before the election of Lord Protector.
I, Jyuth, write these pages to capture my learnings, gleaned from years of study with my teacher and from further independent research. It would be a great shame for all peoples if my knowledge be lost should something happen to me.
Magic. Sorcery. Witchcraft. Call it what you will, for names do not change the truth of a thing. Magic is simply the manipulation of energy; the application of the wizard’s imagination to mold this energy or mana in various applications.
Your first question, much as it was mine, is likely: where does magic come from?
Sources of Magic
Generally speaking, mana is energy all around us that only the trained wizard can see. And only living things are that source. True, there are a few exceptions when it comes to inanimate objects but I will address those another time. So, it is mana that is the lifeblood of wizardry, and it is the ability to see that energy that surrounds us in so many things, that separates the true wizard from the charlatan. There are five primary sources of magic to consider:
Plants and vegetation.
Even the lowliest and meager of plants has mana available. The challenge is in the harvesting, and the time to build the web of connections. Trees are a more fruitful source, in particular old growth which will have surprising depths of power. Care must be taken not to scorch the land. Do not take all that can be taken - plants can regenerate given time, and ours is not the role to be a plague on nature.
Animals.
The nagual or souls of animals can be a potent source of mana but there is no way to harvest it and avoid the creature’s death. In fact, the ritual sacrifice of the creature is often required for lesser practitioners who do not fully appreciate that with which they dabble. These same lesser practitioners will attest to the efficacy of certain species—pigs, snakes, calves, doves and so on.
Sentient Races.
All of the sentient races, be they human, giant, elf, dwarf, goblin or other, are difficult sources of mana. Their spark of consciousness brings with it an innate knack for self-defense against the wizard’s ability to create a conduit to draw their life force. This takes focused concentration to overcome. There are records of individuals willingly granting part of their own life, but it requires immense trust; as once defenses are dropped then the donor is open to extreme peril.
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