by Devin Hanson
“Oh! Good try.”
“This is ridiculous,” the alchemist complained. “It’s impossible!”
“What’s your name?”
“Leon. Leon Barkley.”
“Okay, Leon. I’ll admit, it’s difficult without a partner. I wouldn’t say impossible, but it’s true, Adnan doesn’t often miss.”
“I never miss, Speaker” Adnan corrected.
“My mistake. He never misses. Let’s up the stakes, shall we? Pick anyone you’d like to act as a partner. After all, this is a drill about teamwork.”
“Aidra,” Leon called. “Come on up.”
A lithe woman stepped out of the group and walked over to stand next to Leon. She had her dark hair braided tight against her head. Tattoos ran up her hands and disappeared beneath her sleeves.
“Okay, good! I can tell you’ve worked together before,” the Speaker said. “That’s good. I’m sure it’ll help. Adnan, you ready? Leon? Remember, knock down all five targets without getting hit. Good, on my mark. Go!”
Aidra threw up a shield, catching the first of Adnan’s balls. This time, though, the warden wasn’t just standing still. He sprinted around the two alchemists, forcing Aidra to hold her shield up. From within the safety of the shield, Leon called out the Saying.
Just as the Saying completed, Aidra dropped the shield and Adnan threw. Aidra gasped as the ball socked her in the stomach. A blast of air ripped out from Leon’s hand and knocked a target down, but the game was over.
“Well. That was a good try,” the Speaker said. “Good teamwork. It might have worked if you were a little faster, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
“How, then?” Leon demanded. “I’ve never run into a situation like this.”
“I suppose I could give a demonstration. Jules?”
Jules swung off her horse and walked over to the two alchemists. “Don’t feel bad,” she said, “think of it as a learning experience.”
The Speaker dismounted and joined Jules. “We’ve done this before, so let’s make it fair. Iria, would you care to join Adnan? And pick out two more wardens. That should make things interesting.”
Iria joined the loose circle of wardens around Jules and the Speaker after collecting her own satchel of balls.
“Okay,” the Speaker called. “When you’re ready. Ban!”
Meria watched, excitement making her heart race. She had heard the Speaker had a command over alchemy that bordered on miraculous, but had never seen it in action. During the fight in the Archives, she had seen the results, of course, but she hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to watch closely.
The wardens started moving, running, ducking and weaving. Jules started her Saying within the Speaker’s shield. Then the Speaker dropped the shield and the four wardens threw at once. The Speaker cried out a new Saying, the syllables of runes rolling off his tongue. A plane of force blinked into existence, blocking two of the balls then swung around, ripping a broad arc through the grass to intercept a third. The fourth ball passed by as the Speaker twisted aside.
Jules’s blast of air knocked one of the targets to the ground and she started the Saying again, her crisp diction high and clear. Shielding runes snapped out in the Speaker’s deeper voice as the wardens hurled their balls at the pair.
It was too much, Meria thought. There was no way one man could shield against so many projectiles at once. But a second target went sprawling, then a third, as Jules concentrated on her Sayings. Around her, the Speaker wove a constantly changing shield, intercepting every ball thrown at Jules and only occasionally having to physically dodge a ball himself.
The last target went down and Meria found herself cheering with the rest. That was amazing! The circular Ban shield had featured occasionally, but there had been a slew of other variations. The Speaker hadn’t used any Sayings she didn’t know herself, but he had used them without hesitation, without thinking, knowing exactly what to use and when.
The demonstration was revealing. That sort of confidence with alchemy only came from hours and hours of practice. The Speaker wasn’t asking them to do anything he hadn’t already done himself. This was exactly the kind of training with alchemy that Meria had longed for.
“The first thing the wardens teach a new recruit is awareness,” the Speaker said. He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it onto the saddle of his horse. He wasn’t breathing hard, but there was a sheen of sweat on his face. Jules, as always, seemed serenely unaffected by the strain of the demonstration. “That is the key to surviving in a battle. Awareness guides the trained reactions of combat. Most of you haven’t trained for combat, but all of you have at least experienced it first-hand.
“What we’re doing here is showing you how to use your existing skill with alchemy with a new level of awareness, and to practice shielding and working with a team. An alchemist on his own is a powerful force, but an alchemist with allies is practically unstoppable.
“Break into groups of three. There will be four wardens assigned to each group to explain the drills and provide an engagement force. I don’t expect you to be perfect at this right away, it’s not something I expect many of you to have practice with. I understand the Guild isn’t big on teamwork and sharing, but mastering this will be your surest guarantee of surviving to see the winter.”
The alchemists milled about, forming groups among themselves. Meria found herself grouped with a pair of alchemists that introduced themselves as Otto Morse and Jessa Abbot. Otto was a tall, lean man with a bristling handlebar mustache who had been in the business of being a courier of small but valuable items. Jessa was a strikingly handsome woman with a gorgeous head of auburn hair that had made a small fortune as a bounty hunter before retiring to make alchemical clocks.
“You’re a young one,” Jessa commented as they made their way to an unclaimed set of dummies. “Aren’t you still in the Academy?”
“I fought for Andronath and helped hold the Archives against over a hundred mercenaries,” Meria said stiffly.
“Don’t mind her,” Otto said. “If you’re here, then someone’s vouched for you. That’s enough for me.”
“I’m just not sure I want to trust my life to a child,” Jessa said sourly.
“You said the same thing about the Speaker,” Otto reminded her cheerfully. “And look how that turned out.”
Jessa shrugged.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Meria said, “The Speaker himself asked me to come.”
Jessa pursed her lips and eyed Meria before sighing. “Sorry. I should withhold my judgment until you’ve had a chance. I forget that I was your age once too.”
Meria frowned but let it go. It’s not like Jessa’s worries were unfounded. She was young. But she was also competent, and Jessa would see that before long.
The four promised wardens were waiting for them. Manet, the warden in charge of their group, started them on the first drill, where they leapfrogged forward, each alchemist in turn shielding the others against the barrage of balls. It was a simple drill, one that Meria and Jessa didn’t have to practice at to perfect. Otto fumbled the shield on his turn and Jessa caught a ball high on her arm.
They finished the drill without further incident and the wardens had them return to the other side of the field to repeat the drill until they managed it perfectly.
Jessa glared at Otto as they walked over, but didn’t say anything, much to Meria’s relief. The woman was prickly, but also knew when to keep her peace. The second time through the drill they managed it flawlessly. Meria couldn’t remember the last time she had been so content with her life except maybe when she had been flying Michael’s monoplane.
The wardens described the next drill, where two of them would act as shielders protecting the third with hemisphere shields. The emphasis on this drill was using the shields only as much as was necessary; to develop awareness of the wardens, and practice calling up the shields just to block the throws. It was simple in description but tricky in practice, with several balls
making it through the shields before they reached the other end of the field. They rotated positions so Meria was in the center and went through it again. And again. And again.
By the time the break for lunch was called, they were all sweaty and mentally exhausted. The balls stung on impact and the wardens were not gentle with their throws. Meria knew she was dotted with bruises from where the balls had made it through their shields, and Otto had the beginnings of a glorious shiner. But she also felt a glow of satisfaction that she knew the others in her group shared. The drills were gaining in complexity, but they were learning to work as a team.
After the initially rocky start, there were no more accusatory glances or hard words. Jessa and Otto accepted her as a competent alchemist and there were no further comments about her age. Their budding relationship was still patchy, but they had started to develop a rapport between them, one she knew would grow as their training progressed.
The break for lunch was short enough that their muscles didn’t have a chance to cool down, and they were back to the drills again. Their group of four wardens swapped out so they could rest their arms. The alchemists lost some ground as fresh strength in the wardens and different patterns in the thrown balls caused their shields to miss.
They started working attacking the targets into the drills and the new complexity caused them to miss many balls. The wardens were excellent teachers, patient yet not giving any slack that wasn’t due. The drills they were practicing were based on Ranger shield drills for open battle and the wardens knew all the tricks to doing it successfully. As the day wore on, the wardens shared their knowledge and the alchemists grew more and more confident in their skills and learned to rely on each other.
Meria found she was forming her shields almost without thought and using a minimum of vitae. The scale the Speaker had given her seemed endless, with no perceptible lessening of its gentle heat. Her previous experience with alchemy had been with dragongas as a source of vitae for the most part. The day’s efforts had used vitae equivalent to maybe twenty or thirty vials of dragongas, an unthinkable expenditure for the practice of only shielding. But it was a price she was glad to pay. There were no better teachers than the wardens, and no skill more instrumental to keeping her alive.
Andrew sat on his horse atop a low hill watching the alchemists drill, and brooding. For the most part, the alchemists were going about the drills with enthusiasm and at least a degree of professionalism. There were a few groups, though, that couldn’t get past their fault-finding and bickering. It was to be expected, he knew. Alchemists were highly competitive by nature and their training in the art had led them to be isolationist and secretive. It was a combination that mixed poorly with cooperative efforts.
For all that, most of the groups were doing quite well. Meria’s group, while not moving as fast as some of the others, was keeping a respectable pace. The few times Andrew had observed her from a distance, she had been completely absorbed in the training, making few mistakes and holding her position well. Her team seemed to work well together, something that couldn’t be said for all of them.
One of the worst was the team with Leon and Aidra. Their third was Jonathan Elwes, a mousey gentleman in his forties who wasn’t doing well with the overbearing personalities of his team. Most alchemists were used to being treated like nobility, and running about a field being pelted by stinging canvas balls had put Leon and Aidra into a foul mood. Rather than taking it in the spirit it was intended, they turned their anger upon the easiest target and every failure was heaped upon Jonathan’s head.
Andrew touches his heels to his horse’s flanks and cantered over to the warden training master who was overseeing the whole affair. “Sashan,” he called, swinging down off his horse, “I need a word.”
Sashan was a grizzled old warden, his face dark and seamed as old leather. A patch over one eye didn’t stop him from being as deadly with a blade as any warden, and a deal better than most of them; trading cunning and forethought for youthful speed and reflexes. He gave a short bow as Andrew approached.
“Yes, my lord?”
“One of these groups, the group with the two alchemists I challenged in the beginning, they’re not doing well.”
Sashan followed Andrew’s pointed finger and watched them for a few minutes before grunting. “Cocky little pups.”
“What do I do with them?”
Sashan spat to one side. “They would never have made it through the Rangers,” was his verdict. “Crow meat, the lot of them.”
“There’s nothing we can do?”
The old warden looked at him incredulously. “In three or four days? No. If I had two years I could mold them into something approaching warriors, perhaps. Most you can do now is pull them before their bickering lowers morale. Give them something to guard well behind the lines.”
“What do I tell them? And what of their third?”
“If he is letting those two push him around, he is no good on a battlefield anyway. Pull the lot of them for special duty. Have them dig latrines or something.”
“Great.” Andrew sighed and glowered at the training trio. “Thanks for the advice.”
Andrew walked over to the field where Leon and Aidra were shouting at Jonathan and whistled to get the wardens’ attention then signaled them to end the drill. He watched the alchemists approach with distaste. In a normal situation, Leon and Aidra were likely perfectly decent people and competent in their chosen fields. Right now, though, he wanted nothing more than to throw them out of the field on their ear. Didn’t they know there was a war coming?
Aidra spoke first. “Speaker, I want a new partner,” she called. “This sad sack is only a hindrance.”
Andrew waited for them to close within speaking range. He didn’t feel like engaging in a shouting match with these two. “What’s the problem?” he asked.
“He’s incompetent or senile,” Leon said disparagingly.
“Or both,” Aidra added.
“I see. Jonathan, how’s the drill going?”
Jonathan shook his head. He seemed on the edge of tears. “I’m sorry, Speaker. I’m trying my best, I really am.”
Aidra huffed a disbelieving laugh and looked pointedly away. Jonathan’s shoulders slumped a little more.
Andrew felt the stirrings of anger begin inside him. The two alchemists reminded him of nobles he had had the misfortune of working with years ago. Haughty braggarts that made less of others in order to prop up their already inflated egos. He took a deep breath and got a grip on his temper. Lashing out at these two would solve nothing.
“Well you’re in luck,” Andrew said. “There has been some personnel reorganization among the Academy guard. Turns out they’re lacking a competent combat crew. We think Trent might try and bypass the walls and strike directly at the Archives again. I need people who can hold their own to lead the others in any defense that is necessary.”
Andrew thought the lie sounded pretty good. Aidra and Leon puffed up at the perceived compliment, and Aidra turned a sour eye upon Jonathan. “The two of us are enough,” she said. “A third would just get in the way.”
“If you say so. Please return to the Academy and report to the Guild Master with my recommendation.”
Leon bowed. “Thank you, Speaker.”
“Send my regards,” Andrew nodded.
He watched the two alchemists leave then turned to Jonathan. “Well. Sorry about that,” he said.
Jonathan wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “I guess I’m just not cut out for this,” he said glumly.
“Nonsense. Chin up, my man. Those two were prats.”
The alchemist’s eyes widened and he glanced after his erstwhile partners, understanding coming slowly to his eyes. “I… see. There isn’t a personnel change?”
“I’m sure the Guild Master will find some use for them. He wasn’t overly pleased with me pulling all the alchemists experienced in fighting.” Andrew shrugged. “So, what do I do with you?”
Jona
than sighed. “To be honest with you, Speaker, I may have overestimated my abilities. War is a young man’s game, I’m afraid. Ten years ago I would have jumped at this training with a will. Now all I can think of is how sore I’ll be in the morning.”
Andrew nodded. “I understand. I don’t think any less of you for it, you know. It takes a wise man to know his limits. The tiny gods know I’ve overstepped my own once or twice.”
“Thank you, Speaker. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. I’d like nothing better than to aid in Andronath’s defense.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much, Jonathan. Alchemists are desperately needed within the city. Your abilities will not go to waste. Go to the southern gate. Find a warden named Fakir al Din, he’s the one organizing the city’s defenses. Tell him I placed you in his service.” Andrew smiled wryly. “Fair warning, he will work you hard. You may wish you had stayed here.”
“As long as I can help Andronath,” Jonathan said, his shoulders straightening unconsciously, “then I’ll work as hard as I can.”
“Good man. And good luck.”
Jonathan bowed and hurried off, purpose and surety filling his steps once more.
“You’ve got a deft touch, my lord.”
Andrew turned to find Sashan behind him. “Seemed a waste to send him to languish with the other two. They would have made his life miserable.”
“It might have been kinder. Fakir will work him into the ground.”
Andrew gave a small smile. “He seemed excited. Let’s hope he has some enthusiasm left after a few days under Fakir.”
Chapter 22
The Fall of Galdaris
Corvis Priah tapped his thumb on the desk and stared unseeing at the scattered papers on its surface. The street outside the window was quiet, lacking the normal morning bustle of goods and laborers going about the business that kept the city a living thing. It wasn’t just the street outside that was quiet; the whole of Galdaris was empty as a tomb. Every citizen that had the means had fled the city, and those that remained, stayed inside behind locked doors. There was no market, there were no boats out on the lake.
