Bellator: An Anthology of Warriors of Space & Magic

by A. L Butcher

  “Hired?” the queen whispered. “Hired,” she repeated, slumping down in the throne with a miserable expression on her face. Suddenly, she laughed hysterically, almost uncontrollably.

  “I will ask you one more time, witch. How did you do it?” Arbelaez said.

  Her Majesty regained her composure. In a serious tone, she said, “I had this idea of summoning armies to the doorsteps of Stratos’ enemies. But I quickly learned that my partner in that endeavor could not be trusted.” The queen glanced at me, and then continued to say, “And so I thought, what if I just had Naira send his immortal comrades instead? I could end this war and make a fool of the man that killed my king. So I whispered this idea into his mind little by little, day by day, until he believed and acted upon it.”

  “I see,” Arbelaez said. “You have the ability to influence others with your mind. I cannot allow such an ominous power to exist.”

  Arbelaez was right. The queen’s ability was powerful. It was what drove me from the palace a week ago, and it was probably what brought me back. For a moment, I realized that I was doing exactly what the queen wanted.

  I circled several feet away from and around the knights to stand in front of the steps leading up to the throne where Her Majesty sat. With two hands holding the sword, I extended it out in front of me, and demanded that they leave.

  “Get out of the way, maid,” Arbelaez said. “Your interference will hinder nothing.” He walked toward me.

  As Arbelaez drew near, I tightened my grip around the sword’s hilt. Fear wrapped its long, cold fingers around my neck, chilling me to the bone while trying to suffocate me.

  Arbelaez stopped short of the first step and said, “But I could be wrong about your place in the realm. You hold the sword as if it were an extension of your arm. Tell me, are you a maid, or are you a knight?” He nodded at the sword.

  I didn’t answer. Even I was a little confused about my place in the realm. My thoughts were my own worst enemy, and I wouldn’t let them roam free.

  Behind me, the queen said, “Margaret, I didn’t think you’d fight for me.”

  I ignored her too. Then Arbelaez’s shadow cast over me. My knees locked in place, and my arms quivered. I wasn’t the knight Her Majesty imagined. The bloodlust I craved as the Solstice diminished long ago when my thirst for revenge was quenched by the king’s iron fist. However, I did have some basic skills I learned from my brothers. Calling on that training, I slid my left foot back, gathered my strength, and thrust the sword forward.

  Arbelaez parried the blade and grasped the hilt thereafter. Then he hit me in the throat and twisted my wrist to seize the sword from me. I tried to take a step back to catch my breath, but Arbelaez grabbed my tunic, yanked me forward, and hurled me to the ground behind him.

  “Margaret!”

  I heard the queen’s voice. I lifted my head when I saw her figure rising up from the throne. Then I froze completely when Arbelaez kicked her back into the chair and plunged the sword into her chest. I wanted to cry out, but I couldn’t speak. There was a sharp pain in my chest as if I was the one struck.

  “It is done,” Arbelaez said as he strolled off the steps.

  “Did you have to kill her?” Naira asked.

  “Yes. She was working her witchcraft long before we arrived. Our presence here did not deter her the slightest. Furthermore, an entity powerful enough to control immortals cannot be allowed to exist.”

  I glared at Arbelaez until I felt my eyes burning. I gripped the ground and felt my nails bending backwards, tearing against the floor. Rage consumed me. A mixture of pain and anger swelled inside of me, pumping through every vein in my body to enhance my senses and cloud my judgment.

  I scurried to my feet and sprinted toward Arbelaez like a rabid animal. I attacked him in quick succession, forcing him to defend with both arms. Then he caught both of my flailing hands. Our fingers interlocked, and for a moment, we were at a stalemate. So I thought. Two quick strikes to my gut with his knee dropped me to the ground. I coughed blood, and nearly vomited. Arbelaez was strong. When I raised my head, he struck me across the face. The world darkened long enough for me to hit the ground before I realized it.

  “You’re strong,” Arbelaez said, the strength of his voice fluctuating. “Very similar to Naira, except you’ve completely abandoned your humanity and lack control,” his voice surrounded me.

  “Leave her,” I heard Naira say. “We’ve done what we came to do.”

  “Mercy is a weakness you show often, Naira,” Arbelaez said.

  “Killing a defenseless maid will not be a part of my legacy.”

  “Very well,” Arbelaez said.

  They left. As swiftly as they came, they were gone.

  Several minutes passed before my anger subsided. My vision was blurred and further impaired by tears. I couldn’t move my fingers, breathing was difficult, and there was a steady drum beating in my head. I used my elbows to drag myself in Her Majesty’s direction. I crawled up the steps and then onto the throne itself.

  “Margaret,” the queen whispered. Her dress was soaked with blood. I wanted to pull the sword out of her chest, but my fingers could only tremble over the hilt. It pained me to realize that I couldn’t do anything.

  The queen’s gentle voice called to me again, and she spoke in fragments. “Margaret, everything you need to know about your brothers, the war, and possibly the future is in Sialla’s secret chamber.”

  She raised her voice, forcing herself to speak. After finding my face, she pushed a few strands of hair away from my eyes. Then she caressed my cheek. “I’m going to him now…”

  “No, Your Majesty. We need you here. Iola needs you,” I pleaded.

  “Take care of Iola for me. I want her to be as wise and strong as you. Please, love her as if she were your own…”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I will love her with all of my heart,” I said. When Her Majesty’s eyes closed, I pulled myself up above her bosom and cried. The realm had become lonelier.

  A few months later, I found myself standing over Her Majesty’s grave in the royal garden. The wooden casket was lowered into a hole adjacent to the king. And the dirt placed over it was adorned with flowers and gifts.

  I was sad because no one knew that she single-handedly ended the war. Her legacy would not be written into history. Her name would not be celebrated, and it pained me.

  I knelt down to one knee and added a violet rose to the assortment. I passed my fingers lightly across the queen’s name that was etched into the stone and said, “I will avenge you, Your Majesty. Not as Margaret, the maid, but as the Phantom Knight Solstice.”

  * * *

  About the Author: Kenny Emmanuel writes science fiction and fantasy in a style that immerses readers into unique worlds. Then he brings his fictional characters to life with the help of cosplayers. With a background in computer engineering, Kenny enjoys incorporating technology into his vision of post-apocalyptic, dystopian, and medieval fantasy worlds.

  “Captain Rowyn Krasnova reporting for duty.”

  Captain LeClair looked up and eyed her new intelligence officer.

  “Welcome aboard, Major.”

  Krasnova blinked and said, “Uh, I’m not a major, ma’am.”

  “There’s only one captain on a ship, and that’s me. Therefore captains from other services automatically become majors,” LeClair said. “However, this might make things a little easier to remember.”

  She picked up a letter and an envelope from her desk and handed the envelope to Krasnova.

  “It says here,” LeClair said, looking at the letter she was holding, “that you’ve been promoted. It seems your superiors were impressed with your work on your last assignment. I assume there’s something about this in that envelope. Go on, open it.”

  Rowyn tore open the envelope and unfolded her official assignment orders. It was the first time she’d seen them. She had traveled to the naval base on the planet Barundar under verbal orders. A separate sheet advised her of
her promotion.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” she said.

  “This is your first ship posting?” LeClair asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, other than being transported. I’ve primarily done undercover investigative work. But my last assignment became embarrassingly public, and my superiors thought it best that I disappear for a while.”

  LeClair chuckled. “Public, indeed. Breaking up a slavery ring operating out of the center for entertainment vids. It says you arrested a couple of dozen high-profile producers, directors and financiers.”

  “There are always beautiful young men and women hoping to make it big in the entertainment industry,” Rowyn said. “Many of them make brief appearances and are never heard of again. It was easy for the slavers to drug them and sell them off-planet.”

  “It was good work ending that, Major. Now, on this ship, you are in charge of Communications. In that realm, you’re second only to me and equal with my executive officer, Commander Chilton. You are also the ranking officer over our assault troops. We carry sixty Armored Infantry, plus Lieutenant Cosgrove and Company Sergeant Koskanin. Cosgrove is only a year out of the academy. You’ll be expected to eat in the captain’s mess. Ask Cosgrove about any other formalities. He’s good at procedure and formality.”

  Naval personnel, the ship’s crew, were trained in space combat, but the AI assault forces were elite combat troops, trained for action in any setting, in space or on planets. The AI would spearhead any boardings, with the naval troops held in reserve.

  “I see in your record that you have combat experience.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Two drops. I was a lieutenant junior grade, just out of the academy myself. I also have been involved in two boardings.”

  “Dropped into a rebellion on Dansar and caught in an ambush,” LeClair said, paging through a dossier on her desk. “It says here that your company captain was wounded and all the other officers in the chain of command were killed.”

  LeClair looked up. “How did you manage to get out of that trap, salvage half your force, and still capture your objective?”

  Rowyn drew herself up a little straighter and looked LeClair in the eyes. “I asked my company sergeant what to do. Then I did exactly what he told me to.”

  “You were decorated for extraordinary bravery.”

  “The general who presented me the medal said that I got it because they didn’t have a medal for extraordinary uncommon sense.”

  LeClair snorted a laugh, then dipped her head and managed to get herself under control.

  “I think we’re going to get along, Major,” she said, looking up again. “You have a company sergeant of that caliber on this ship. I hope you haven’t gotten any dumber over the past twelve years.”

  “I like to think I’ve gotten a little wiser,” Krasnova said. “But I wouldn’t change a thing I did that day on Dansar.”

  “You’re from Cisperine?” LeClair asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “There are probably only two or three of the naval women on board you should spar with, other than myself, and please take it easy on me. What you do with your own personnel is none of my business, unless they start landing in the infirmary. But watch out for Koskanin. I think you’ll find him challenging. Private Silva is waiting outside. He’ll show you to your quarters. And, Krasnova, pin on your new rank before you go out there. They don’t need to know how long you’ve held rank.”

  LeClair helped Rowyn remove her captain’s bars and pin the new pips on her shoulders. Then Major Krasnova saluted and exited the captain’s ready room. An achingly-young assault-force private in shipboard khakis awaited her. He took her duffle bag, and led her through the ship’s corridors.

  The United Federation cruiser Culloden was a five hundred meter ball. In the center were the engines and reactor. Surrounding that were the hydroponic gardens and yeast vats that supplied oxygen and food for the crew. In the next ring were the common areas, then the naval officers’ quarters, the naval enlisted quarters, the armory, training areas and quarters for the assault troops. The outer three rings carried the ship’s armaments and missiles.

  The ship also carried four in-system fighters and two drop ships for delivering the assault force. The naval crew numbered four hundred fifty plus the pilots and maintenance crews for the smaller ships.

  The ship’s mission was to patrol the trade lanes, check on remote colonies and outposts, and enforce Federation law. Pirates, smugglers and slavers were common on the fringes of the Federation. The Culloden wasn’t nearly as large as the two thousand meter battleships the Federation fielded, but it was armed to the teeth and far more maneuverable than the massive dreadnaughts. In a pinch, it could land on a planet.

  Silva stopped in front of a cabin door no different than the rest of the doors they had passed, opened it, and stepped aside so Krasnova could enter. She stepped into her cabin and was surprised at the space. She’d expected little more than a bunk and wash stand, but it had a full-size bed and a table with six chairs bolted to the deck around it. The washroom was separate through another door. A full communications console and links to the bridge covered one wall.

  “Thank you, Private. Will you please tell Lieutenant Cosgrove that I would be pleased if he would attend me in half an hour? And tell Sergeant Koskanin to please have the armorer meet me in the armory at 1300 hours.”

  “Sergeant Koskanin is the armorer, ma’am.”

  “Excellent. Ask him to have his second join us.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Is there anything else?”

  “No. You may go.”

  It took her less than five minutes to unpack the duffle and put her clothes away. Except for two items, it was all standard Army issue. Two black skin-tight jumpsuits that would cover her from head to foot were special issue from Intelligence. Wearing them, she would be almost invisible, especially at night, due to the light-bending characteristics of the fabric.

  The terminal was a direct command link to the bridge. She monitored the communications and scans for a few minutes. The setup gave her all the capabilities she would have from her post on the bridge. She took a quick sonic shower and changed into shipboard khakis. Calling up Lieutenant Cosgrove’s records on the terminal, she briefly scanned them until she heard a knock on her door.

  Her interview with Cosgrove confirmed the impression she had already formed. He was third-generation Army, and graduated at the top of his class at the academy. Rowyn thought his family connections had done him a disservice in having him assigned a shipboard command. In her opinion, he would have been better off getting some experience as a junior officer with regular ground troops.

  After she dismissed him, Rowyn climbed up the ladders to the level where her command was quartered. She walked into the common room, stopped by the door, and looked around. A large group was clustered around Private Silva.

  “She’s a looker, I tell ya,” he was saying. “Vid-star gorgeous with a bod that will make you cry.”

  “Every woman makes you cry, Silva,” a tall blonde woman said. The others laughed.

  One of the men looked up and saw Rowyn. He let out a long wolf whistle and everyone turned to look at her.

  Rowyn strode into the room and stopped in front of the whistler.

  “Atten-hut!”

  He jumped to his feet, as did the rest of the gathered soldiers.

  “What’s your name, Corporal?”

  “Kwasniewski, ma’am.”

  “Corporal Kwasniewski, don’t let me ever see, or hear, of you being disrespectful to a woman, much less an officer, like that again. If you do, you’ll have to learn to whistle without your front teeth. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  She turned her gaze on her troops. “I’m generally pretty easy going, but I can be your worst nightmare if I don’t like what’s going on. And one thing I will not tolerate is disrespect for anyone.”

  She fixed the three women in the group with her eyes, one by one. “And I do mean
anyone, male or female. If someone is wearing a uniform, you will treat them with the respect they deserve. If they are civilians, the people we are sworn to serve and protect, that goes double. I will not put up with hazing.”

  Rowyn relaxed and gave them a soft smile. “I’m not going to try and turn you into robots. Just act like you’re adults, and don’t get me called on the carpet by Captain LeClair for something stupid.”

  She walked over to Silva. “Can you please show me to the armory?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And on the way, you can finish telling me about your first impressions of the new major. I was fascinated by what you were saying.”

  Silva’s face turned bright red as the others laughed. He jumped up and led her through the room to the armory. Company Sergeant Koskanin awaited her. He was tall and broad, with dark hair and a scar down one cheek. His khakis were crisp and looked as though they didn’t dare wrinkle. He snapped to attention, as did the soldier with him. Rowyn returned his salute.

  “At ease, Sergeant. I want to get fitted for my suit.”

  He took a deep breath. “That won’t be easy, ma’am. I don’t have a command suit that will fit you. Captain Sanders was a lot bigger than you are, and I don’t think I can size it down that much.”

  He gestured to a suit of battle armor standing next to him. Rowyn stood almost six feet, but she could tell immediately that Koskanin was right. Sanders had been a very large man.

  “You don’t have any mediums?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, but not command suits.”

  Rowyn triggered her implanted communication link to Captain LeClair.

  “I need an emergency requisition of two size-medium command suits of battle armor,” she said.

  “No can do, Major,” LeClair replied. “We’re moving in five minutes. We’ve been ready to go for two days. We were waiting on you. Koskanin is a master armorer. Can’t he fit one we have to you?”