by Choi, Bryan
Taki brought his hand to his mouth to stifle a horrified gasp. Ethnic cleansing. But this man was a hero, was he not? Heroes and kings were the guardians of their subjects, no matter what. When Gul had accepted the dukedom, had he not sworn to abide by that sacred responsibility?
Lotte lifted her chin, so that she now faced the Duke with unambiguous eyes.
“The Ursalans shout ‘inferior beings!’ when they rush into battle. But this is the Dominion. I will not have my unit take part in these activities again. While you are within your rights to do whatever you wish within your province, we of the Temple are bound by higher law and greater purpose. We are compelled to fight foreign enemies, not subjects of the basileus. If you have a problem with this, you may address it to Exarch Choniates.”
Gul looked taken aback, initially, but quickly assumed an indignant scowl.
“You think you are the only ones fighting a war? I fight daily for my daughters and my people. If you witches act against me, I will take you out!”
The corners of Lotte’s mouth curled upwards.
“Oh? And what if the Imperium forgives you and offers that Khazari world you dream about?”
“Never question my loyalty again, or I will run you through, fuck the wound, and make you beg for more. Niketas and I are bound by fate, and it is because of me that he is your basileus. Friend though he is, he is soft in the head and short on honor, and thus tolerates nonhuman filth like you among our numbers. I dislike having you witches here but at least your kind know your place. Most of the time.”
“I think I preferred it when you were drunk, Your Grace. Remember that we are feared for a very good reason.”
“I will have you whipped and shamed in front of your soldiers, I swear it. Now out of my sight, wench.”
Lotte rose, backed up three steps, and then turned. Taki felt shaky as he mimicked her, but managed not to fall. The ensign at New Petrovic had not lied, after all. The man was not a traitor to his lord. He was just following orders. Taki closed his eyes to try and calm his heart but found himself staring back into the trench where more than a hundred bodies lay sprawled in the mud. The irises of their eyes were black with hemorrhage, like those ancient black ivory balls marked only with the number eight. They looked back at him with those bloody orbs and remained silent. I’m sorry, Taki started to say, but his mouth was filled with sand. In turn, their pale lips began to move. Why? You serve a hero, they said. Taki buckled and fell to his knees.
“Natalis,” Lotte said. Taki opened his eyes and found himself half-slumped against the stone corridor leading away from the duke’s chambers. His captain’s hand rested on his face. It felt ice cold, but he realized that was only because his skin burned. He blinked, and righted himself.
“Sorry, Captain. I just…”
“Remember, Natalis,” she said. “Remember who you serve.”
Several days later, the squad received a letter by courier.
“Captain Satou:
Know that your correspondence has been received and your concerns noted. The Cloud Temple does not interfere with local affairs or challenge the rule of a member of the Council of Nobles unless explicitly authorized by His Grace the basileus. You and your squad are to carry out your tasks as ordered. I expect you to do your duty.
Long Live The Ethnomartyr.
C. Choniates, Exarch.”
Lotte looked up from the paper, folded it neatly, and stuffed it into a belt satchel. Draco and Hadassah looked at her expectantly. Karma idly dug under his fingernails with the tip of a push dagger, and Taki sat listlessly nearby.
Draco broke the oppressive silence. “So, what news? When do we act?”
“And exactly what do you think the exarch wrote?” Lotte asked.
Draco smacked a fist into his palm. “He wants us to immediately arrest the duke and his commanders, hold courts-martial, and take them all out back and shoot them in their fucking heads.”
“You know better than that.”
“Right.” Draco’s expression darkened. “Good ol’ Constantin, always a paragon of righteousness.”
“Lest you forget, he is our liege lord,” Lotte warned. “I will not tolerate the defamation of his name.”
Draco wiped at his eyes in frustration. “It’s just that I didn’t expect him to permit this sort of travesty,” he sighed.
“I think Lord Choniates,” Taki began, “is a righteous man who must sometimes say one thing but desire another.” He looked warily at the others, trying to gauge their response. Lotte raised an eyebrow but did not overtly shush him.
Draco smiled broadly. “Aye, he is! There have been many great leaders in the histories who’ve been muzzled in public, but had lesser men act behind the scenes for right. We are those men, Captain. That is, men and women.”
Taki continued, bolstered by Draco’s response. Though he was now resolved to temper his speech and his actions, as Lotte had told him to, his wrath still simmered. His captain hadn’t told him to quell his feelings, just to express them in a more acceptable fashion. Now, he would use the full range of his faculties and his knowledge, as opposed to brute force. “Aye, so a righteous man exacts his desire through deeds, not words. And perhaps the Duke should learn to fear that righteousness.”
“I could poison his wine.” Hadassah volunteered. “Or push him out a window.”
“But how can we deal with his footmen?” Draco started to pace frenetically.
“Maybe,” she said, “those two slave wenches will want some revenge. I could talk with them. They could come back to the Temple with us.”
“Stop,” Lotte commanded. “No more of this talk. And Natalis, I thought you knew better than to wag a serpent’s tongue. If you pour treason in the ears of my men I will bend you over my knee and give you a caning you won’t forget.”
Taki felt his cheeks redden and he bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a retort.
“Captain,” Draco pleaded. “Whip me if you must, but you must also realize that something rots in Kosovo.”
“You’re being overdramatic,” Karma said with a long sigh. “We’re supposed to do stuff that the levy peasants can’t and the respectable soldiers won’t. Massacres are part of the job, or were you asleep for that part of the academy?”
“Silence, Gillette,” Draco said. “I’ve shanked more men in the exarch’s name than you ever will, but they were trained killers, not old ladies and kids. We may be witches but we’re not murderers of the innocent.”
Karma’s lips thinned into a smirk. “Oh? And who’s to say that the villagers didn’t deserve it? The truth is that practically the entire countryside is itching to go over to the padishah. They’re all traitors, and if you’re talking about killing Gul Hekmatyar then you’re traitors too.”
“When did you go native, you godrotting deserter?” Draco asked, balling his hand into a fist for a strike.
“Yeah, scumbag, it’s obvious you knew this was happening,” Hadassah demanded. “How long have you sat idle while all those people died? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“Emreis, Mikkelsen, this is your final warning.” Lotte snapped. “As much as I hate to say it, Gillette is right. Have you two forgotten the first article of the Code?”
“No, ma’am,” Draco said, through grit teeth.
“I know what the godrotting code says!” Hadassah protested. “But they can’t just cut little kids’ throats in front of us and expect us to scratch our balls and enjoy the show like it’s the annual passion play! At least we know the guy who always plays Jesus actually gets off on being hit and the blood comes from chickens. But these are real people getting murdered. Why are we even needed in this shithole? Why, when the real war is a thousand leagues to the east and the Imps are busy kicking our asses? We’re polaris! We’re supposed to be—to be fighting evil!”
Lotte stood and approached Hadassah, who flinched reflexively. Taki held his breath and closed his eyes, knowing what would come next. As abrasive as the redhead could be,
he did not want to see her receive a beating. Damn you, captain. I thought you were a good person, not some godrotting…officer!
When the thudding of boot heels and fists against flesh failed to arrive as promised, Taki cracked his eyes open. Lotte was in a crouch, gently holding Hadassah in an embrace.
“I know. I share your rage,” Lotte said. “I also want to kill the duke and everyone who serves him. But the fate of those above our station is simply not for us to decide. Our purpose as soldiers is to defend the lives and property of the lords of the Argead Dominion. Nothing more, and nothing less. So I forgive you this transgression, but I don’t want to hear any more talk from any of you about killing our betters. This is a trial we must endure, and though it is an unfair and heavy one, we must do so with grace and dignity.”
“Y-y-es, s-sorry Captain,” Hadassah whimpered.
“All of you, back to your quarters and rest,” Lotte said. “Get your wits back, or else.”
“Captain,” Taki began, “I mean no insubordination, but…”
“Spit it out, Natalis.”
He cringed. There was little to be done to please her, he lamented. And does it even matter anymore? He had just taken part in murder—mass-murder—after all.
“Yes, Captain. What will happen should we go to another village? Last time, we were just the rearguard, but what if we’re ordered to take part in the killing? There is nothing forbidding it in the Code, as you pointed out.”
“If that happens…” Lotte closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. “I alone will take responsibility for whatever happens. Live or die, we follow the code and do our duty as the exarch expects. But I won’t have my soldiers dishonored. If necessary, I’ll have you all sent back to the Temple.”
“Captain, we can’t just let you just stay here alone,” Draco said.
“Are you going to follow my orders or not?” She fixed a glare at him, from which he promptly averted his gaze.
“Lucky for you, that’s a ways off,” Karma said with a shrug. “Next job is to run guard duty for the duke while he goes on one of his victory parades through the city. Pristina’s packed with his retainers, and security’s tight with his troops all bunkered here. There’s little chance we’ll actually see any action.”
“You mean he’s throwing parade over what just happened?” Taki asked, aghast.
“No, nothing so stupidly malicious. It’s a tribute to how he singlehandedly won the battle of New Istanbul. You know, he’s a hero of the lands.”
“But the basileus was there, too.”
“You think he doesn’t know that? Or that his men are going to really object? Anyway, it’s a tawdry affair. Mainly him riding around in a gaudy old relic blaring his personal anthem and his troops wasting 'grad firing into the air in celebration. There’s flower wreaths and singing children and a tiger cub, and that’s not even the start of the true idiocy. If it were me, I’d have a judging instead of a parade. A good hanging is what really riles up the public.”
“You’re twisted, you know that?” Draco said, jabbing a finger into Karma’s chest.
“Oh, spare me the self-righteousness, Emreis.”
“You know what you are, Gillette? A psychopath. I’ve met a few assholes like you in the past, and they all bled the same color.”
“I love it when you start monologuing like a protagonist. Especially when you see me talking with her.”
“Leave Dassa out of this. And don’t ever talk to her again if you know what’s good for you.”
“What’s wrong, neckbeard? I’m not allowed to flirt with your property?”
“Defend yourself, you little shit!” Draco roared as his fist smashed into Karma’s cheek and knocked him to the ground.
“Draco! No!” Taki latched onto his comrade from behind, struggling to restrain a hundred kilograms of muscle. Meanwhile, Hadassah held Karma back from landing a retaliatory strike.
“Oh, you’re so friggin’ cool,” Karma sneered, blood streaming from his nostrils. “A real white knight. Do it again, asshole! Right here!”
Lotte’s closed fist smacked into his other cheek and he crumpled to the floor with white floaters streaking across his vision like hail.
“Enough,” she hissed, her voice barely rising above a whisper. “Any further talk from either of you earns a hundred blows with a knout. Do I make myself clear?”
Draco seemed as if he wanted to thank her, but her eyes warned him not to. Karma rubbed his jaw, silently avoiding her gaze. Eventually, both men nodded resentfully to signal their understanding. Taki swallowed against a dry throat as Draco shuffled out of his grasp and stormed away. At least he could be grateful that his captain had not demanded they shake hands.
9
The day had gone from low to rock-bottom. Taki reasoned that with his particular luck, someone was bound to throw him a shovel. The victory celebration had placed him in a parade column consisting of yet more armored reliquaries, among them a real horseless carriage with tires that served as the duke’s personal conveyance. The interior was adorned with faux-fur upholstery and even a working icebox stocked with bottles of Ursalan wine. Periodically, Gul Hekmatyar would stand up inside the carriage through a porthole on its roof and toss fistfuls of milligrad to the crowds lining the streets. In his wake, the desperate crushed each other for the chance to grab a spare round. A white tiger cub was resentfully draped on his shoulder, kept from tearing out the duke’s throat by a leather muzzle and mitts over its paws. Music was provided by accordion-wielding soldiers and amateur singing.
“If I hear another verse of ‘Gul is next to God’ again, I might actually vomit,” Draco said, shaking his head. The squad had initially ridden around on top of the same metal beast that they had ridden into New Petrovic, but gradually had managed to slip inside. The most immediate threat to the duke’s health came from the angry carnivore held on his shoulder, not rebels.
“I feel bad for the tiger,” Taki said, mashing his hands over his ears.
“Buncha slack-jawed catamites,” Hadassah spat. “That’s why I use this!” She pointed to a small, ancient contraption tucked into the hem of her skirt, from which a pair of yellowed cords ran and seemed to dive into her ears.
“What are those?” Taki asked.
“Take a listen. It’ll turn you into a godrotting sexual tyrannosaurus,” she said, and pulled one of the cords away from her ear. At the end of it was a small, bud-like protrusion that she clumsily jammed in Taki’s ear. The deafening rush of noise and singing dropped his jaw and he instinctively ripped the device out of his canal.
“What is this witchcraft? Where the hell did you find this, anyway?”
She smiled at him, this time without being sardonic.
“It’s not unholy. When I was in Ursala, we stopped at this deserted old village with some ruins nearby. I was digging around and found this buried under a silly-looking plastic emblem. I tell you, they had no creativity in those days. Looked like a white fruit someone had bitten already.”
“What kind of fruit?”
“How the hell would I know? Maybe a napple or something?”
“Oy, aren’t you supposed to be vigilant on duty? Suffer with the rest of us!” Draco said, tugging at her still-budded ear.
“Ow! I am being vigilant! Good music cancels out crap music, right?’
“No, it does not. Anyway, you should—”
His words were torn from his mouth as a blast front hit the head of the motor column. The concussive pressure was enough to flip the thirty-three ton mass of the rolling temple over onto its roof, cave in its front end, and liquefy the insides of its driver inside his armor.
Lotte flew to the rear of the hull and hit it with enough force to dent in her cuirass. Had she been unprotected, the blow would have been fatal. Reflexively, she extended her palms to dull the oncoming crush of bodies. Hadassah was the first to hit, and smacked Lotte with enough force to bruise limbs. The napple-crested device flew away and shattered into thousands o
f glassy slivers. Draco was next. His muscle mass was slightly harder to handle, but he was a convenient cushion for Taki and most of all Karma, who tumbled ingloriously in midair like the world’s most terrible acrobat.
Draco was the first to recover. He inhaled ferociously and roughly pushed bodies away from him. Karma groaned as he rolled on the ceiling-turned-floor, gasping in pain and gripping his chest. Taki was on his knees, spitting bile. In the distance, two more large explosions sounded but did not seem to be as forceful as the first ones.
“D-Draco!” Hadassah shouted as she pulled herself up to her knees by the bulkhead. “Lotte! She’s…”
“Captain!” Draco bellowed as he stepped over Karma and knelt next to Lotte. He cradled her head in his arms and tears flashed in his eyes. “No! This can’t be happening! Goddammit!”
Her eyes opened and she fixed an incredulous glance at her corporal.
“Emreis, quit screaming. I’m fine,” she said, sitting up stiffly with a cough. “Start patching each other up. We don’t have much time.”
“Y-yes ma’am!” he cried in relief.
“Fucking plastic,” Hadassah snarled as she regarded her broken toy. “Okay, I can move around. Draco, go take care of Newboy next. I’ll get the Shmuck!” she said before crawling through the cabin. It was bathed in subdued red lighting and Karma was barely visible. Deftly, she slid her palm under the cuirass on his chest to infuse her energy against his bare skin. Prana transfer could not repair broken limbs or knit together severed vessels. Those fixes required surgeons. What her technique did was promote clotting and dull pain enough for severely wounded soldiers to take to the battlefield.
“I thought you didn’t want to take it too fast,” Karma whispered coyly.
She blushed and scowled at the same time. “Do you want to die?”
“Point taken.”
“Is everyone intact?” Lotte asked. More importantly, the squad’s weapons had also survived. “Regardless of our sentiments, we must protect the duke from harm. Find him and remove him from this place, no matter what. And do not separate from the group.”
