by Aaron Hodges
Lukys glanced in the direction of the river. The sky was clear but for the clouds that clung endlessly to the Mountains of the Gods, and the sun was just dipping towards the distant horizon. Today the fiery glow had an orange tinge. Lukys wondered whether that might be some omen, a warning for rain or snow or another fine day. Distantly he remembered a lesson from the academy. Perhaps if he hadn’t failed, he might have remembered…
He shook himself, casting off the memories. The waters of the Illmoor remained brown, polluted by its passage through hundreds of miles of Gemahan farmland. He could just glimpse the trees on the distant riverbanks through the fading light.
“And where are you three headed?” Romaine asked, filling the silence.
“Our mess hall,” Travis answered with an easy grin. “Thankfully, we’ve probably already missed the worst of the pig feed. We wanted to ask you about the woman today—” He broke off as Cara delivered a clean elbow to his ribs.
Romaine grunted. “That one’s trouble, if ever I saw it.”
“Really?” Lukys asked, his curiosity finally piqued.
The warrior waved a hand. “A worry for the morning,” he replied. A frown touched his forehead. “Did you say you’d missed dinner?” He shook his head. “Can’t have that. Come, you can dine with me in the soldiers’ mess hall.”
“Erm…” Lukys exchanged a glance with the others. “We’re not allowed—”
“Like The Fall,” Romaine interrupted. “You’re with me. Come.”
He started off down the steps back into town, leaving the three with no choice but to follow. They shared a glance before starting after him. Romaine seemed in a strange mood, and Lukys finally joined Travis in wondering why the strange woman had come. It was bound to be something bad. Surely the queen would not have sent her Archivist so close to the frontier unless it was urgent, not with the Tangata on their doorstep.
His spirits lifted though as they entered the city and Romaine started towards the mess hall. He hadn’t eaten a decent meal since they’d arrived—there was no telling what the cooks put in the grey slop served to the recruits; it was barely food.
The temperature plummeted as they made their way through the darkening streets, the thought of a hot meal drawing them on. It was a welcome sight when the lights of the mess hall finally came into view. The guards on the door gave Lukys pause, but Romaine only offered them a nod, and they said nothing as the two recruits and Cara followed the Calafe inside.
Warmth washed over Lukys as they entered the mess hall. The sight that greeted him did not disappoint. Large tables filled the main floor, most occupied by off-duty soldiers, while on the far wall a large window opened into the kitchen. Two men stood on duty behind the window, serving the soldiers lining for their food. A second counter seemed to be used to return the dirty plates. On another wall, flames burned in two great hearths, casting back the winter chill.
Removing his coat, Romaine gestured for them to hang theirs on a rack beside the door. Lukys sighed as he removed the heavy fur. Travis did the same but Cara left hers on—she didn’t seem to like even the hint of the cold. Together they followed Romaine across to the kitchen window. A massive Flumeeren man wearing a grease-speckled apron greeted the Calafe with a grin. Bulging eyes flickered as Lukys and the others approached, before returning to Romaine.
“Your pups?” he rumbled. Romaine grunted, and the cook burst into laughter. “Look like they could use a decent feed.” He gestured for them to approach the window. “Come, what can old Dante get you lot? Got some fresh mutton tonight, still hot. Mash too, and ‘cauli and ‘coli, if vegetables are your thing. Take a plate, help y‘selves.”
“Thank you!” Lukys gasped.
Travis nodded his own excitement. Plate in hand, Cara was already a step ahead of them. Grabbing utensils of his own, Lukys speared a chunk of meat from the platter, then took a generous helping of mashed potatoes as well. There was broccoli and cauliflower too. Once he might have avoided vegetables, but after the endless slop, he’d go for anything with a green shade to it.
Afterwards, they took a seat at an unoccupied table and Romaine disappeared again. Still taking in their surroundings, Lukys noticed that one of the boulders that lay in the plaza formed part of the mess hall as well—one of the walls had been shaped around the giant stone, rather than moving it.
Shortly, Romaine reappeared with four large mugs and a crevasse of some deep red liquid. Curious, Lukys wafted it under his nose and was surprised when he detected the scent of cloves and cinnamon. He raised an eyebrow at Romaine.
“Mulled wine,” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “Hardly touched my quota these past few weeks so there’s plenty to share.”
They passed the crevasse around, each filling their mugs to the brim, and then sat back to take it all in. Mulled wine was considered a delicacy in Perfugia, a drink they had only enjoyed on special occasions at the academy. Breathing it in, Lukys savoured the rich aroma.
“You’re meant to drink it, you know,” Trevor said, raising his mug to cheers.
“Right.” Lukys’s cheeks warmed and he chinked his drink with the others before taking a sip.
It was sweeter than what he’d tried during the winter celebrations in Perfugia. Stronger too, though the spice of the cloves covered much of the taste. There was still some warmth in it, and he welcomed the sensation of heat spreading from his stomach. Eating and sleeping in their frigid quarters, it seemed an age since he’d last been truly warm.
“It’s good!” Cara exclaimed. She sat across from Romaine and Lukys, with Travis. She lowered the mug only long enough to make her point before taking another swig.
Romaine chuckled. “Did your parents never let you try a southern vintage?” he asked. “The Gods help ‘em, there’s a reason they spice the stuff here. Undrinkable without it.”
“Better than your cooking, Romaine,” a man Lukys did not recognise said as he lowered himself down beside Travis.
“That so…Lorene?” Romaine said. There was an obvious pause, as though he had trouble remembering the name. “Don’t recall you volunteering to cook during our last trip south of the Illmoor!”
The man grinned but said nothing, only scooped a lump of mash from his plate and took a bite. Lukys and the others looked from Romaine to the newcomer. The Calafe warrior grunted when he finally noticed their confusion.
“This is Lorene,” he said. “Joined me on a few scouting trips down in Calafe.”
“One, to be exact,” Lorene replied, and for a moment his eyes took on a haunted look. “Barely made it back with our lives, too. Though I suppose we did rescue poor old Cara here,” he added, gesturing beside them.
“Will you go south with the others then?” Cara asked suddenly, lifting her head from the mulled wine.
Lukys and the others at the table started at the announcement, while Romaine fixed her with a glare. She frowned when he did not reply, before her eyes widened and she muttered a curse.
“Oh, right, that’s meant to be a secret.”
Beside Lukys, Romaine groaned and buried his head in his hands.
“What The Fall, Romaine?” Lorene hissed, leaning forward. His voice adopted a slight tremor as he went on: “They’re sending us into Calafe again?”
The Calafe shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “It’s that Archivist woman. She wants to go south, find some sacred site of the Gods.”
A gasp slipped from Lukys’s lips. “What?”
In Perfugia, disturbing any relic related to the Gods was a capital offence, one few dared to challenge. All knew what had become of the last souls who’d dared to meddle with the Gods and their magic. Now that Lukys had seen the Tangata himself, he wanted even less to do with such powers. What was the woman thinking, risking her life to seek out such a cursed place?
“She’s quite mad,” Romaine replied, not understanding the true source of Lukys’s indignation, “but she has somehow convinced the queen to support her. The general is to supply her w
ith a regiment. He’s not happy about it. I suspect he will ask for volunteers.”
Across the table, Lorene let out a long breath, the relief in his eyes obvious.
“She’s not mad, Romaine,” Cara snapped, leaning across the table to glare at the warrior.
“Anyone who wants to go back there is insane in my book,” Lorene said cheerfully, raising his glass in salute. Romaine’s words seemed to have reassured him.
“Perhaps there is more to her than meets the eye,” Cara said softly, before glancing at Lorene. “Besides, I want to go back.”
Silence fell over the table as they all turned to stare at her. Lukys opened his mouth and then closed it again, unable to fashion a response. Calafe was Cara’s home, and true, he couldn’t understand what it must be like to lose that, but…
“Don’t be a fool,” Romaine growled, coming slowly to his feet.
Fool, fool, fool.
Lukys shook his head as the words rang in his mind.
“I’m serious, Romaine,” Cara said, standing as well. “I have to go home.”
Home, home, home.
“Home?” Romaine gasped. “Home is gone, girl! They took it. All we have left are our lives. Don’t throw yours away because some madwoman thinks it’s safe to wander around a forest swarming with Tangata.”
“You don’t understand,” Cara whispered, eyes shining in the light of the hearth. Silence had fallen across the mess hall as the other soldiers turned to watch the commotion. “I can’t stay here, I have to go.”
Go, go, go.
“Don’t understand?” Romaine raged. “I understand better than anyone! I forbid it.”
“You forbid it?” the young woman hissed, eyes growing dark.
Her hands balled into fists and for a moment it seemed she stood taller. Romaine said nothing, only stared at her across the table. The moment stretched out, punctuated only by the clattering of plates from the kitchen. Finally, Cara gave a curt nod. Without saying a word, she spun and marched from the hall without looking back.
Romaine watched her go, a haunted look on his face, as though he had just lost something dear to him. Finally he closed his eyes, head bowing.
“Piece of advice, lads,” he murmured, “if you want to avoid my mistakes. There’s no room in this war to care. About anything. Do yourselves a favour and burn that crap from your hearts now, before it gets you killed.”
With that he turned and walked from the mess hall, leaving the two recruits and Lorene sitting looking after him.
18
The Warrior
Drums pounded against Romaine’s skull as he staggered from the barracks and into the street. Silently he cursed the fortified Flumeeren wine. He’d bribed the cooks for an entire bottle and taken it up to the walls. If the watch hadn’t found him passed out between the water barrels, he might have spent the whole night up there.
Now he’d almost slept past the roll call the general had announced for noon. He hurried through the streets, head still pounding to the distant rhythm. How long had it been since he’d had real wine, from the vineyards of Calafe? Years, surely. It was so hard to find nowadays, impossible in this border city. The Flumeeren stuff was little better than moonshine.
A cold breeze blew down the street as he hurried to reach the central plaza. He barely made it a block before his stomach roiled and he was forced to detour into an alleyway to empty its contents into the mud.
After that he felt slightly better, though there was no way he’d be attempting his daily jog around the palisade. It wasn’t just his head that ached; he felt it in his shoulders and back, in his very bones. Maybe it wasn’t the wine, maybe time was finally catching up with him. Those who had joined the army alongside him in those early days had retired long ago—those who’d survived, at least. But he would not surrender to the creeping erosion of time.
Fool.
The streets began to fill as he neared the square and Romaine found himself searching the crowds for the glint of copper hair. His stomach twisted at the memory of his conversation with Cara. Surely she had not been serious about returning to her homeland? With the light of day she would see sense.
No. He had seen the glint in her eyes the night before. She was determined. A tremor ran down his spine at the thought of saying farewell to the strange woman. He cursed beneath his breath. When had he begun to care for her?
Finally he emerged from the buildings into the central plaza. He was one of the last to arrive, and most of the army’s regiments were already in place. With them all standing in line, the differences in discipline was on full display today. Some groups such as the royal guard—the division assigned to the general’s protection—stood in perfect rows, eyes fixed to the front, weapons shining in the noonday sun.
Others from the civilian units were only marginally better than the Perfugian recruits, with many slouching against their spears and beards nearly as unkept as Romaine’s.
Not being an official part of the army, Romaine himself cared little for Flumeeren regulation. He wandered around the borders of the plaza, seeking out the Perfugian blue.
He found the recruits standing close to the centre of the plaza, their ranks broken by a large boulder in their midst. They too had no official officers in the Flumeeren command structure—other than the louts that supervised them at the quarry—and so their thirty-seven remaining members stood in a semi-organised mess. His heart lifted as he spotted Lukys and some of his other trainees attempting to impose some order.
Romaine couldn’t reach them without forcing his way through the Flumeeren soldiers and causing a stir, so instead he retreated to the edge of the square and leaned against the wall of a nearby building. His eyes slid closed, and he sighed to escape the day’s brightness.
Unfortunately, the peace did not last long.
The blaring of a horn announced the arrival of the general. Romaine forced his eyes open and watched as General Curtis marched through the ranks of the soldiers until he reached a cleared section of ground in the centre of the plaza. Only then did Romaine spot the Archivist waiting there. Arms clasped behind her back and lips pursed, the woman was impatience personified.
So eager to get us all killed.
Romaine shook his head. He wondered what the woman would do if none of the soldiers volunteered to join her quest. Indeed, he couldn’t imagine anyone being so mad, not after the attack two weeks before.
No one except Cara.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his mind back to the general as the horn sounded again. Armour rattled as the army snapped to attention. Romaine rolled his shoulders, settling his own chainmail into a more comfortable position, and watched as the general leaned in close to the Archivist. Whispers passed between them before he turned back and surveyed the gathered forces.
“Soldiers of Flumeer!” he called, his voice ringing from the walls of the nearby buildings. “Thank you for joining me this fine day. Important works are underway and I saw it fit to ensure you were informed of what is to come.”
He paused, looking out over the army, eyes cool. Despite the hangover, Romaine shivered. He had no great love for the general, but he couldn’t help but respect him. The man was a veteran after all, had been a general even before Romaine had first signed up as a soldier. Curtis had been one of the few to warn about the Tangatan threat. Maybe if more had listened, the war would have gone differently. Maybe the south would not have been so unprepared, maybe…
Romaine tore himself free of that train of thought. There was no point regretting what had already passed…
“In the coming weeks, the Tangata will attack,” General Curtis continued. “The Illmoor is our last defence. If we lose the battle here, Flumeer will fall. You have faced the beasts, you know the truth. No one can stand against them on open ground.” He walked down the front ranks of soldiers, meeting the eyes of every man in the square. “We do not yet know where they will strike, so we must defend the entire river, man every fort and city, use every resource at o
ur command to protect these shores.”
Romaine frowned at the man’s words, and noticed many soldiers doing the same. None of this was new. Every soul in the city knew the importance of the Illmoor.
“Of course, you all know this.” The hint of a smile crossed the general’s face and he turned towards the Archivist. “I say it not for you, but for the sake of this woman here. Like many in the capital, with its learned academics and bureaucrats, she thinks this war can be won with myths and fairytales.”
The Archivist’s face darkened at the general’s words, but to her credit, she stared him down. Chuckling, General Curtis offered her a nod before facing the army once more.
“Sadly, I have failed to convince her of the reality of this world. She insists on endangering our very existence with her daydreams. She would have us venture beyond the Illmoor in search of ancient magics!”
Murmurs spread around the square at the announcement, shock showing on soldier’s faces. The Archivist’s mask slipped as she stepped up to meet the general, giving way to rage.
“I come on the queen’s orders,” she hissed, loud enough for the entire plaza to hear. “It is not your position to question her, General.”
She pointed a gauntleted finger at the man. Recalling the light she’d summoned earlier, Romaine shivered. Somehow, that strange magic disturbed him almost as much as the Tangata themselves. Even so, Romaine was impressed at the woman’s defiance. He looked at Curtis to see how the general would react.
“Fairytales, as I said,” Curtis continued as though the woman had not spoken. “I will not allow Flumeer to fall for the sake of a woman’s fancy.”
“I will have my soldiers, General,” the Archivist snarled.
“Ay,” the general rumbled, “the Perfugians will accompany you south.”
For a moment, Romaine didn’t think he’d heard the general right. Silence fell across the square at his words, every soldier staring in disbelief. Curtis couldn’t be serious. A journey beyond the river would be difficult for the hardest company of soldiers. For untrained recruits, it was suicide!
