by Y W Lumaris
Fen nodded, expression unreadable.
“Your report did suggest you excelled in the scholar guild. I’m sorry you couldn’t have stayed longer.”
“The war for our future is a greater duty to fulfill than maintaining books, sir.”
Fen hid a smile behind his hand and watched Ladon for an uncomfortably long pause.
“King Nedeil saw the value in my life. If I managed to make the gods mortal, I could manage a route to defeating them, or at least the monsters they’ve created. It has taken me thirty years, but – here we are.”
The brightness of those hazel eyes unsettled the general. All the same, the man mesmerized him; handsome, yet mysterious. Ladon kept wary, trying to maintain focus.
“The grand plan, then? As general, I should have known from the beginning that you are the mastermind behind this.”
The words tasted foul. Ladon wanted to maintain respect, but he couldn’t hide the anger festering. Fen waved his hand dismissively.
“It was decided that it would have impeded with your performance. Besides, it’s helped me study how you work with your army, how to devise the next test to keep them – and you – on your toes.” Ladon could have laughed at this, but held his tongue. “I need a strong army to fight the gods, and I’m very impressed.”
“So impressed that you’ve failed to see that my soldiers view you as the monster that destroyed our world.” Ladon’s statement turned into a scowl as the smug mage stared at him. “So many of us have no families, no estates, nothing to our name. Whatever your reason for damning us has rendered this role of yours moot. You want a good army? You need to earn their loyalty.”
“And yours, too?” Fen cocked his head.
“And mine. Sir.”
Fen sighed and rubbed his nose between his eyes. “All right, I understand. I would like to defend myself, to say I did not damn the world – but I know it’s pointless by your tone. Instead tell me how best I can earn your trust and loyalty? We have to work together. We have the same goal, General Ladon.” He dropped his hand and stared at him. “I may be a monster and selfish and entirely untrustworthy in your eyes – but I’m no villain. I want peace at the end of the day.”
Ladon didn’t respond right away – considering the words. “How do you intend to lead us, Court-Mage Fen? Tell me what makes this mission the mission? My soldiers recruited knowing this branch will be the one sent off to finish this madness. But we never knew how – no details were handed down to me from the king. Only that one day we would know. So tell me, Court-Mage Fen. To what do we march? What will end the Accursed?”
Fen leaned back, crossing a leg over his knee and smirked. “We kill the gods. Starting with Cernuin. We march north, to Haven.”
Chapter Two
He couldn’t have been paler if he wanted. General Ladon lay on his bed sometime in the early dawn, staring at the ceiling and mind reeling from the mage’s confession. The plan was asinine! Kill the gods! Might as well drink cyanide and be done with it.
His headache had returned, and he rubbed his temples, groaning quietly. A soft knock issued from the door. Sitting up on his elbows, he watched the door peek open and a soldier entered.
“Sir – a letter from Court-Mage Fen.”
He grimaced and sat all the way up, planting his feet on the floor. He sauntered to the door and accepted the scroll, dismissing the soldier. Once the door was shut, he turned and unrolled it. Scrolls these days only ever came from the Tower, and usually for lists of instructions. Yet this didn’t make any sense to the general— what need did Fen have to go through such effort? He turned on the lamp and leaned near to read.
* * *
I’ve returned to the city to acquire more resources. I will return in time for the send-off. Do not divulge details of our meeting without my consent. Should you disobey, there will be consequences.
* * *
Fen
* * *
PS – Sorry for making you uncomfortable.
* * *
He tried to understand the postscript, then shook his head and tossed it. “Great leader there. Run off in the middle of the night before anyone can see him. Coward.”
* * *
Over the weekend, the soldiers’ morale returned – and their excitement for the mission ahead. Ladon had a difficult time joining in the mirth, Fen’s words repeating over and over in his mind.
The harpy-man was incredibly confident in his decision to pursue the gods themselves, yet he left behind orders to only discuss heading to Haven, and omit the rest. Ladon downed water after finishing his meal and stood, having had enough of the laughter and jeers. Keeping details like this from his men unsettled him, but he wasn’t about to break orders. Fen had to have a plan behind this. There was no other way the king would relinquish thousands of lives, putting everyone’s fate in the hands of a mage, let alone a harpy.
At least his soldiers were happy, for now. At least they felt worthy, strong, capable – the light at the end of the tunnel within their sight. It wasn’t his place to break that spirit. He needed to drive them with it for as long as they’d allow, until utterly broken.
He rubbed his scraggly stubble and sauntered out, ignoring those trying to pull him back to join in the talks and drinks. This would be his last night of peace before the storm. What he wouldn’t give to find a partner and fuck. But he didn’t screw his soldiers – and prostitutes were leagues away, beyond Aklon’s main walls.
He found himself outside, standing on the wall of the fortress and leaning against the railing. The wasteland stretched in every direction, the horizon blurred by a smog that reflected the moonlight. The moon itself seemed tiny, its gray light somewhat brown through the filter. Even the air smelled bad.
Just south, he could see the hazy silhouette of Aklon. The city was well protected, fitted with the latest technology that they could muster with limited resources. Most used their feet. Some had horses. The lucky had bikes or trucks. Most of that was for the military, though. A military that made up a third of the citizens. Most everyone could be drafted, if the need arose. It made Aklon as ready for a fight as they could be, and their success in fighting off Accursed over the decades proved its resiliance, and the strength of the people within.
Yet still our numbers shrink, and the horde beyond grows larger.
It was dismal. How could humanity recover after such a steep cut into their numbers? He recalled the documents of just a few decades ago. Humans numbered over a billion. Some documents counted five. The number itself was outrageous, but too many documents counted the same to make it dismissible. The technology and medical advancements hadn’t been lost – but without resources, everything was trimmed, everything was second-rate or worse than days gone past.
A dark thought unsettled him.
How would they succeed in ending the gods? It seemed impossible. He’d read the counts of the first years after the collapse. The confusion. The fear. They’d tried everything. Massive sacrifices. Prayers. Suicidal sacrifices. Offerings. Rituals. Everything.
But still, the gods created the Accursed, and with them killed off most of humanity. One bite could infect and kill. Thirty years, and still not a cure. Ladon remembered a friend who died from such a wound – how the man’s lungs flooded with blood, the skin turning an ugly gray, and eventually, the painful death. His wretched face still burned in the general’s mind.
He looked back to the thick smog clinging to the horizon, sighing through his nose.
We’re fucked.
“You could be nicer? Just a little?” the soothing female voice calmly suggested. A bare-chested Fen stood in front of a tall, oval mirror, fingers deftly braiding his pastel hair.
“Ophelia, I have been very kind, and very patient,” the harpy scolded. A spider leg reached in front of him, a blue tie hanging from it. He sighed and took it. “Thank you.”
“Very kind and very patient would be not taking over your general’s speech. And perhaps, you would have stayed in the
fort this time, instead of returning here. It’s a lot of back-and-forth, dear, very unnecessary.”
Fen scowled as he pulled back his braids. “The fort is drafty.”
“It’s drafty here, too.”
He glanced about the plush room. Thick blankets, heavy curtains, a fireplace roaring. Piles of books and beakers and random things cluttered all the desks, tables, and shelves. All the furniture and pillows and blankets spoke of one common thing: comfort.
Fen huffed and looked squarely at the giant spider, whose eight eyes twinkled against the firelight. “Listen, Ophelia – I am to head out on the most dangerous mission in my life, to right all my wrongs and give this world what they need – all out of the kindness of my heart!”
She snorted.
He scoffed, offended. “The least I could ask is a little less of a rebuke for enjoying my comforts until I absolutely must give them up.”
He heard her chuckle, the large fangs quivering. “Yes, of course. Just remember the rags and dirt your soldiers are used to in comparison to your comforts,” she said. “And try not to complain, it’s unbecoming,” she added with emphasis. “I’m sure General Ladon will be the first to set you right.”
“General Ladon will find any reason to argue with or belittle me,” Fen mumbled as he resumed his work, finding a shirt. “All of them will. I am fully aware how much I’m hated. But Ladon is probably going to be the hardest heart to win. He’s educated – which is great, but it means he knows more than the average person. About who—rather, what— I am. What I did...”
He trailed off, eyes downcast, shame filling him. Sensing this, Ophelia patted his head, then helped him pick out a better shirt.
“The important thing is you’re fixing things now. It is all you can do.”
He smiled weakly, accepting the black shirt and pulling it on – careful of his freshly braided hair. Fastening the buttons up the collar, he looked at himself and heaved a sigh. Before he could utter a word, Ophelia had retrieved and handed him the blue-and-purple robes. After donning them, he crouched and tightened the wraps around his feet.
“How long do you think this will take?” she asked as he stood and collected his bag from the bed.
“Anywhere from a few months to a few years.”
“Are you confident you can do this?” The arachnid watched Fen sling the pack across his back. The harpy yelped, stumbling as he tried to avoid toppling over. She caught him with one of her legs and tutted. “Hopefully this journey north will give you some muscle!” Fen cleared his throat, attempting to ignore his stumble.
“Of course,” he said, chin up and smoothing stray hair from his face. “And yes, I’m confident in his mission.” A flicker of doubt flashed in his eyes, and he hoped she hadn’t noticed. But, as he started for the door, the spider shrunk herself to hop on his shoulder and pester him further.
“The army needs to like you to fight for you.”
“I can’t change their minds, Ophelia.” He wrenched open the door and almost fell back from his uneven balance. He flailed out his arms, catching the door handle, and heavily leaned into the door frame. “Just – let me get to the car, and then you can give me advice.”
She gave a huff, fangs flaring out in offense. She crawled across his shoulder and down into a pocket along his chest, which was along the seam across and easily unnoticed. “I’m trying to help you.”
“How is stating something I can’t change, helping?” Fen mumbled as he sauntered down the Tower halls. He could feel the magic pulsing through the lines in the walls. They led to chambers where mages worked to keep up the wards protecting the city. It tickled against his own magic, pulling at it as if to beckon him to join. He shook his head against the sensations; magic like this often added a level of drunk-like symptoms when meddling with it. The sooner he was away from the pulses, the sooner he could relax. Ophelia seemed, as always, unfazed.
“Because it is something you can change,” she emphasized.
Fen grimaced, but let her continue.
She looked up at him from inside the pocket. “It starts when you show them you are different from what they know.”
“How?”
“Think of every assumption and do the opposite. You’re a prude, for example,” she piped, earning a sour look. “So...hand out compliments when you can. Say thank you. You know. Be polite. You’ll get the hang of it, Fen.”
“Ophelia...” he muttered, doubtful.
“If a spider could teach a scared little boy how to read and write, I think that little boy can learn how to say please and thank you.”
Fen grumbled, descending a long winding staircase.
“I’m not little.”
“You get what I mean.”
“Hn,” he grunted.
Chapter Three
Ladon shifted his weight, gun strapped to his back, maroon armor glinting in the dusty sunlight. A crisp wind snapped around them.
“How long is he gonna take?” Captain Hawk stated flatly next to him. “It’s high noon and no sign of the pink-haired bitch.”
Ladon scanned the rear of the army for signs of the court-mage. “Mind your tongue, Captain. He’s our superior. And anything could have held him up.”
“He’s a mage.” The tall man spat on the ground, weapon and armor clanking. “Fucker’s probably broke a nail.” Ladon’s lips tightened as he tried not to chuckle when he heard Captains Rox, Harli, and Don snort and join in the jeers.
“Did ya see his feet?” Don piped. “Looked like some animal feet. Probably had to buff the claws first.”
“And powder his nose,” Rox added.
The group laughed, and Ladon rolled his eyes.
“He deserves more respect,” he intervened, but not with the conviction he probably should have. The captains laughed.
“The man who ended the world and wears a dress? Respect?” Hawk let out a bark of a laugh. “Respect would’a been tellin’ us sooner that he’s our leader. General Ladon, with all due respect, I fight for you. Not him.”
Ladon glanced at them and rubbed his chin, the stubble giving it a sandpaper feel. “I appreciate that, but you’re not fighting for me. We’re fighting for the future of Aklon and others.”
Before any of the captains could respond, a shout rang from within the ranks.
“Court-Mage Fen has arrived!”
Between the rows, a small automobile with large cart wheels chugged down. Like the rover, there were glass windows only in the front and it was small – but unlike it, it was designed like royal carriages, with plush interior, a folding hood, currently folded back, and space for two others in the back – if it wasn’t full of bags. A human drove the vehicle while the court-mage sat in the passenger seat, hand clutching the door.
The soldiers glared at him, and even Ladon fought to not roll his eyes at the obvious privilege. The car halted, and the door opened, the mage’s claw-toed feet meeting the dusty ground as he climbed out.
The hazy sunlight made his pastel-pink hair look almost white, his pale skin appearing ghostly as he attempted a strong face among the soldiers. His sharp brow dipped. Ladon had to hand it to him, the man seemed to understand he wasn’t wanted.
“Apologies,” the mage said, looking awkwardly between the captains. His eyes darted when he heard snickering. “I had some...things to get.” He mumbled on as the driver walked around the car to toss the bags out, dropping them in a pile on the ground, and turned the automobile around. It chugged and sputtered as it abandoned him. Fen looked around and cleared his throat before crouching to grab the bags.
Instead he dropped the second, staggering clumsily under the weight of the other. Bottles spilled out from the dropped bag. He cursed under his breath, flustered. Ladon watched him crouch to pick up the mess, having to drop the first bag just to do so. No one assisted him.
As the soldiers muttered and laughed, Captain Hawk making his own sneers, Ladon sighed.
“He’s our superior,” he reminded in undertones, elbowing
past them to help the harpy. It earned him a glare or two from his captains, but no one would stop him as he stomped over and crouched.
Fen stepped back as Ladon took the heaviest bag. The general paused when he heard the hollow strum of something not-mage related within the bag. An instrument? He dismissed the thought as he stood, their eyes connecting briefly. “Thank you, General Ladon. It seems ridiculous, but,” his voice dropped to an earnest whisper. “You wouldn’t believe the things I need just in case something happens. Magic is—”
“I’ll put them in the cargo truck with the rest of the men’s things.”
The harpy halted, cheeks turning pink, and nodded. “Of course.” His eyes darted to his pocket, then he hastily added, “Show...show me the way.”
Ladon glanced at Hawk, giving him a nod.
“General’s orders – move out!” The captain climbed on a bike and drove off, passing the message to other captains.
Ladon reached the truck, which fired up – its rusty engine sputtering steam until finally catching a rhythm. The large wheels moved slowly. It stood twice Ladon’s height and long enough to hold a rover and a couple of bikes, along with their supplies. A second truck started in the front of the line.
“Please be – careful with that!” Fen yelped as he watched Ladon toss the heavy bag inside. He winced. “I have valuables in there – potions and the like which should not mix or it could be dangerous—”
“Pack things better.” Ladon grunted. Fen glared and started forth, moving past Ladon to take the last bag and heave it over himself. The general restrained a chuckle at the sheer effort it took the harpy.
“Right – so now...where do we go?” Fen didn’t meet Ladon’s gaze. Shy or uncertain, Ladon didn’t know. He certainly seemed intimidated though. Good.
