The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  “… erik …”

  “Will someone shut her up?” said Benar.

  Schnick.

  “Ewen! For fuck’s sake! Knock it off!”

  I glanced to Adalyn. She had locked eyes with me and looked as defeated as they came. I nodded to Jarmella as she started squeezing the sides of her feet through her boots. I sent Adalyn a signal: you, Jarmella, over there.

  Adalyn trudged forward. Knelt in front of Jarmella. “Need some help?” She squeezed Jarmella’s other foot. Jarmella wheezed from the relief. Started listening to whatever Adalyn had to say.

  Ten minutes turned into fifteen.

  Odalis slapped himself in the face. Sprung to his feet. “Okay, that’s long enough. Everyone up! Dicks in. Pants on. Boots up. Anyone leaves anything behind and you’ll be fighting mountain wolves with your fists. Up! Up! Up! Or do you want to hear me whistle again? Ivar? Come on. Up.”

  It took an eternity but Ivar managed to climb to his feet.

  “Let’s go! If no one else stands in the next five seconds I’m going to whistle as loud as I can and bring everything on this mountain down on top of us. All I need is one person. Five … Otario, is it going to be you? Four … come on Otario. Three …”

  Otario rolled onto his knees. Climbed to his feet.

  “Next person up. Four … three … two …”

  Ewen stood.

  “Five more in three … two …”

  Aedalis, Leif, and Gilmero staggered to their feet.

  “That’s only three of you. Everyone else? You’ve been as lazy as hell. Two seconds … One …” He shoved his fingers into his mouth.

  “All right all right all right!” half of them cried. Slowly – and painfully slowly at that – the rest of the vanguard were up and ready to go. Even Jarmella. “Thank you.”

  “Just doing my job.” Odalis went to Saskia’s stretcher. Lifted it up with Leif, Gilmero, and Kilmur’s help.

  Jarmella watched him carefully. No doubt decided it was best to help with Benar’s stretcher. I took that as my cue to help Elgrid with Dalo.

  We bumped into the back of the northerners. Several of them continued sharpening their blades while we waited. A howl of wolves drifted our way. A few miles to the north. Just what we needed. The bearded archer lifted his wolf-skin cloak tighter around his neck. Double checked the quiver hanging by his waist. Squinted into the darkness.

  Torunn ignored me completely. Strode over to Jarmella. Spent some time talking to her quietly while the rest of his people slowly got a move on. When they were done he left Jarmella be and joined the rest of his kin.

  “What was that about?” asked Dalo from his stretcher.

  “Not sure. Maybe I hurt Torunn’s feelings.”

  We carried on walking.

  “Sir?” mumbled Dalo. “Raike, sir?”

  “Easy on the sirs, Dalo.”

  “Sorry. My father’s name was also sir so I know how embarrassing that can be.” He grinned. Faltered. Faded. “Someone in Anglaterra said there were werewolves up here.”

  Elgrid muttered in front of me. “Werewolves don’t like the snow, numbnuts.”

  “Well, they’re not always werewolves are they? Sometimes they’re human.”

  “Who told you they were up here?”

  “One of Lavarta’s guys.”

  “Did he mention dragons as well? Or trolls?”

  “Trolls are real,” said Dalo.

  “Never said they weren’t. It’s just no one’s ever seen one.”

  “General Renair has.”

  “Good for him.”

  “And you’re more likely to find a troll than a vampire.”

  “Well yeah … one is fifteen feet tall and the other isn’t.”

  “Would be pretty cool watching one crumble to dust in the sunlight when they’re dead,” said Dalo.

  “Maybe all these mountains are just dead trolls.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Also sounds like a good way of killing off some of your people if you don’t like them. ‘Oh, sorry sir, Gids went after a troll. It killed him and we killed it but there’s no proof that we got it so you’ll just have to take our word that Gids died fighting a troll.’”

  Another chorus of howls broke across the mountain, chilling everyone around us.

  “That was a werewolf,” said Dalo.

  “Werewolves don’t howl,” I said. “They growl, they snarl, they cough and whatever else, but they don’t howl like wolves. You should get some rest.”

  “I’ve been resting for the last two days, sir.”

  “That was a code, Dalo,” said Elgrid.

  Dalo leaned back in his stretcher, apologetic and now with nothing to look at. I gave in. “So apparently you’re one of the best hunters we have up here.”

  A hopeful curiosity came over him. “Who said that?”

  “Your commanding officer. I assume you have commendations or the like.”

  Now he was overwhelmed with a smile. “Yes sir. I was selected for the open archers competition last year in Torne. Two thousand army archers all together over four days. It was incredible. I heard you were in Torne a while ago.”

  “Four months ago.”

  “Ah, you just missed it.”

  “By another six months,” muttered Elgrid.

  “How’d you do?” I asked.

  “I got a hundred and ninety five points at two hundred yards.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “There are seven rounds. You get three arrows per round. The best half in each round move onto the next round. Your scores are all added up together. You get ten points for hitting the target dead on and five points for hitting the yellow outer part. I got a hundred and ninety five points out of a possible two hundred and ten. Lieutenant Gustali personally congratulated me on behalf of the governor.”

  “That must’ve been something.”

  “It was. One day when he becomes a general or a governor I will be able to milk that story for all it’s worth.”

  “You’ve been milking already,” said Elgrid.

  “I’m just doing it now to get the wording right, don’t you worry about me.”

  As annoying as it was, I found myself trying to keep his spirits up. I didn’t quite realize it would be with a horror story but he was scared so I delivered. “Trolls are real. They decay exceptionally quickly when they’re killed and do look like they crumble into chunks of rock. Sunlight and fire just speeds it up. Do you know why you rarely see werewolves in their human form?”

  “No.” Even Elgrid craned his head around to listen in.

  “It’s because they are so mangled and crippled from the attack that turned them into one that it’s obvious what they are. Even if you’ve never seen one before you’ll know that this person should not be alive with their wounds. Their face will be slashed open and it will never heal. Their arms and legs are torn apart, leaving them to hobble for the rest of their lives. Most become deranged by it, their minds turning to poison while their strength becomes overwhelmingly stronger. Really, the only time you see one in human form is when they have just been turned, trying to make it back to town. They’re ripped apart and begging for help but no one will come anywhere near them. The locals know what they are and will do whatever they can to chase them away. The new werewolf believes they can fight it or if they lock themselves in a cage they won’t injure anyone. And while it might work they are still horribly disfigured for the rest of their lives, having to wear masks over their faces and never leave any patch of skin exposed again. Only the rich can keep on going like that. The poor don’t stand a chance and will be shunned. Another problem is their personality starts to change. They’re pack animals that don’t do well with isolation. They want to mate. They want companionship. Turn even the most hardened philosopher into a werewolf and they will soon lust after someone else. But who? A complete stranger? No. Not for your first victim. You’ll choose someone who means a good deal to you. Your husband or wife, or the one you think ab
out when you’re with them. Whoever you choose it will be because you have an animalistic connection to them. You approach. Are rejected. Approach again. Rejected again, only now there’s a pattern forming and your target is scared. They bring support – someone who will defend them against you. But this is madness. All you want to do is prove that there is something primal between you two and you need to be together. Everyone is shouting, telling you that if you come any closer they’ll kill you. But you’re fast. And strong. And the only way this ends in your favor is if you turn them into a werewolf just like you.”

  Dalo gulped. His forehead glistening with a faint trace of sweat.

  “Unfortunately, the transformation never takes. It never does for the first few times. You end up killing everyone you desired and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  We reached a sharp incline, requiring us to lift Dalo up at a steep angle before carrying on.

  “Vampires are the same. You have new powers and emotions running through you that you can’t control. You want revenge? It’s against someone you know. You want to seduce someone? It’s someone you know. It’s what you now live for. Why bother watching an unknown scream in fear when you can target that asshole who made your life a misery? Why romance some unknown when you can go after the one you never stopped thinking about?”

  Dalo blew out a long, nervous breath. “Maybe we should be fighting trolls instead of vampires or werewolves.”

  “Give it time,” muttered Elgrid. “We were already on the edge of civilization in Anglaterra and now look where we are. You think this is going to be our only trip up here? Nope. Now we’re experienced … in the very loosest sense of the word.”

  “I think by now it’s off the books,” said Dalo.

  “Yeah, at this point no one really has a choice in that. If we die up here we die. No rites of funeral. We’ll be drifting through the world trying to find our way out, only to realize that we’re stuck together for the rest of time. If we’re caught, Ispar will ask the general what the hell he was thinking. If he was a senator he might be able to win them over but he’s not. He’ll have to either wash his hands of us completely and we end up court martialed for the rest of our lives, or he accepts full blame for this whole thing going wrong and everything under his command will be disbanded. Either way, there’s no citizenship waiting for us by the time we get chewed out. You might as well work on that story about shaking Gustali’s hand ‘cause unless we go on a full blown phoenix operation that story is going to be your only source of income if we ever make it back.”

  Silence fell.

  “What exactly is a phoenix operation?”

  Elgrid glanced back. “I’m sorry, sir. I got a little carried away.”

  More silence.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s … I mean no disrespect, sir, it’s just a pre-emptive way of army command washing their hands of a colossal fuck up.”

  “Dalo?”

  The archer tried to bury himself into his stretcher. “I shouldn’t say, sir … I mean Raike. Not Raike … just not ‘sir’. Sorry. Habit.”

  “Fine time for you fellas to suddenly become tongue tied. Is it as bad as I think it is?”

  “Worse,” said Elgrid.

  “How so?”

  “I shouldn’t say anything while Jarmella is nearby,” whispered Elgrid.

  I looked to Dalo.

  “I might get some rest.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “It’s … just you’ve made threats in the past about chopping off our arms and legs and feeding them to Saskia.”

  “And our balls,” said Elgrid.

  “Yes sir, and I like my balls. So with all of that in mind … it’s when a mission goes so badly that you have to burn it to the ground and come up with something new – while the mission is going on.”

  “What’s so bad about that?”

  “Because you have to guarantee that no one – not even your enemies – remember the first mission you were on, only the new one. Which means it has to be so big and attention seeking that if we get caught by the enemy there’s no ransom, only death. And if we get caught by Ispar there’s no discharge, there’s only death.”

  “Why so extreme?”

  Dalo chewed on his lips for a moment. “Okay. Say we’re in enemy territory without authorization and through no fault of our own, the king of that territory happened to die through non-natural causes. Like it or not, questions will be asked and heads will roll. Our heads, mostly. So we come up with something new as a way of controlling the damage. ‘We were never here’ doesn’t always work because sometimes you’re seen by the enemy and they know exactly who you are so instead you go with: ‘we were never here but renegades were and they were posing as us to stir up trouble. They’re the ones responsible.’ Of course, to pull that off convincingly you need to make a spectacle so great that even your enemy believes the imperial army was never here and those responsible were in fact … you know.” Dalo fell quiet. Elgrid glanced over, then decided the better of it.

  “Mercenaries?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I imagine there’s a reason this isn’t used all time?”

  “Yes sssssorry. Habit. You would have to act like a mercenary.”

  “That isn’t going to be hard.”

  “In a way that convinces even army command in Ispar that we were mercenaries and never soldiers.”

  Elgrid leaned over. “Emphasis on the never soldiers part.”

  “By doing something big, spectacular, and probably very stupid?” I asked.

  “Pretty much,” said Dalo.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, I’m kinda new to this.”

  Elgrid sighed from the front. “Basically, we’d probably have to send someone into Brilskeep to murder the new king, kidnap a few nobles, set fire to the whole city, and ransom them all to hell.”

  “I see.”

  “And then do the same to Miss Kasera Lavarta and lock her in with the northerners.”

  “Why?”

  “You got to make it look convincing that we’re not imperial soldiers.”

  Dalo nodded. “Now imagine having twenty privates agree to do just that. Not lieutenants, not even sergeants, but privates.”

  “Yeah,” muttered Elgrid. “Any way you look at it, we’re fucked.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jarmella stopped beside us. Glared at Elgrid and Dalo. “Ewen? Can you take Raike’s place?”

  “Sure thing.”

  We strode forward, leading the way until the crunching boots drowned out the whispering troops. “I hope they haven’t been giving you any ideas.”

  “They’re a cheerful bunch, I’ll give them that.”

  “Yeah. So, Adalyn thinks it’s a good idea for me to talk to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. About morale. You are the most experienced person here. You helped to train us. And you were good enough to be hired by General Kasera as a special advisor to the army. You spent four months working closely with Commander Lavarta’s lieutenants, sergeants, and privates to face this very threat. Unfortunately you’re also responsible for a lot of misery back in Erast, aren’t you?”

  “Probably.”

  “My home. My new home, technically. All of these people here are stationed in Erast. It’s where we go out and eat, drink, meet people, and just live our lives. In every city I’ve been through, crime is a problem and mercenaries are behind most of it. Your past doesn’t sit well with the majority of us here. Even so, I see quite a few people look up to you. Sometimes I understand it. We’ve all seen Miss Kasera Lavarta put her life in your hands. We’ve seen Zara by your side and she’s not an easy one to win over. There is a great dissonance between who we think you are and what we know you’ve done. I daresay Miss Kasera Lavarta and Zara held you in higher regards than Loken did because they have more experience with you, am I right?”

  I remained silent.

  “For the sa
ke of everyone here, we need a new approach. You came here as an advisor to Miss Kasera Lavarta and Lieutenant Loken. I am filling in for the lieutenant until we get him back so I would like you to advise me as though I were he.”

  “Deal.”

  She offered her hand. I shook it.

  “What do we do now that we don’t trust our guides?”

  “Keep moving.”

  “That’s it?”

  “They need us to survive the mountain as much as we need them to survive the mountain. As soon as we’re in sight of civilization again, that’s when things will get complicated.”

  “What will we do then?”

  “Well, we still need a lot of them to help sail a ship out of here. Hopefully by then we’ll know who to trust.”

  “How are you going to find out?”

  “Honestly? I need to wait for Saskia to be a little more coherent.”

  Our vampire groaned from ten yards behind us.

  Jarmella shook her head at me. “You’re going to let a witch twist your mind and risk turning on the wrong people?”

  “Or I could ask the people Desdola targets as untrustworthy if what she said about them was true.”

  “What if they lie?”

  “I ask for details.”

  “What if those details are a lie?”

  “Then they’ll be longwinded and every little detail will be explained. The truth is usually short, boring, and full of gaps. People aren’t renowned for paying attention to everything happening in front of them. Their lies will be full of knowledge that they would have no way of knowing.”

  “You’ll taking a big risk with that, and maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

  “No question. My old captain once said that I don’t out-think people, I out-dumb them. It took me a while to figure that one out.”

  Jarmella checked to see if everyone was still following us. Adalyn nodded, pushing Jarmella forward.

  “Subtle,” I said.

  “Yeah. Adalyn is many things. Subtle is not one of them. Sooooo in regards to bridging this gap between us … Did you always want to be a mercenary?”

  “No.”

  We trudged along another few paces. “Okay, I will tell Adalyn that this was a bust.”