The Infernal Battalion

by Django Wexler

  Something clouded his expression for a moment, and he took a step back, looking away. Raesinia frowned. “Marcus?”

  “I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you I understand.”

  “Understand what?” Raesinia’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh God. Dorsay told you.”

  Of course he did. He had no reason not to. When he’d left Viadre, Raesinia’s engagement to Prince Matthew had been settled fact, not publicly announced but certainly not much of a secret. And the duke didn’t know about her relationship with Marcus, of course. Why wouldn’t he tell him?

  Raesinia hadn’t been exactly planning to keep the whole episode from Marcus. She’d just hoped that she’d be able to explain it a little later. Maybe that was foolish. Damn, damn, damn.

  “I understand,” Marcus repeated, all wounded dignity. “You’re the Queen of Vordan. I told you back at Ohnlei that I knew it might come to this, that you’d have to put the interests of the state before your personal feelings—”

  “It’s the opposite, damn it,” Raesinia burst out. “It wasn’t until after I heard about Alves that I... No one knew what had happened to you, or whether you were even still alive. And—” She shook her head frantically. “It’s not important. Marcus, it doesn’t matter—”

  “You did what you had to—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Raesinia said, a bit louder than she’d intended. “Because it’s off. The engagement, the marriage—it’s all off.”

  Marcus stopped, looking like she’d shone a lantern full in his face. “Off?”

  “Canceled. Crossed out. Not happening.”

  “But...” Marcus swallowed. “Dorsay said...”

  “Dorsay doesn’t know. We left Borel almost as soon as I worked it out, and the courier ships are faster than anything else afloat. He hasn’t gotten the news yet, though I’d wager there’s something in the mailbag for him.”

  “Isn’t that going to be... bad?” Marcus said. “If the marriage was the price of this alliance, then can we still trust the Borels?”

  “We found another way to convince the king.” Raesinia couldn’t help grinning.

  “How?”

  “Financial fraud and complex derivatives, mostly. It’s a long story.” She took a deep breath. “The point is, Marcus, that I am not going to marry the Second Prince of Borel. Not now, and not ever.” She stepped forward. “I thought that I had to choose between loving you and saving your life. Between political expedience and personal feeling. You know what I decided?”

  “What?” Marcus said, looking a little overwhelmed.

  “The hell with that. I’m not giving up any of it. Not without a fight.”

  “Um. Good?”

  He’d been retreating in front of her, she realized, and now he was backed against the bulkhead, hands raised as though she had a sword at his throat. Raesinia grinned and pressed herself against him, kissing him furiously. His arms went around her waist, pulling her close, and this time he didn’t push back.

  “I hate to be the one to say this,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “But Duke Dorsay is waiting for us.”

  “I know.” Something in Raesinia’s body ached in unfamiliar ways, deep and sweet. It was more effort than she was prepared to admit to pull herself away. She was breathing hard. “Sorry.”

  “No, um, need to apologize,” Marcus said.

  “There was... something.” Raesinia tried to force her mind back outside this room and away from the body standing so temptingly close. “You wanted to talk to me. About why we need to go to Vordan City.”

  “Right.” Marcus took a deep breath. “I told Duke Dorsay it was because Vordan City and the palace are the symbols of the legitimate government and if Janus takes them he may win the support of the people. And that’s... true, probably. But there’s more than that.”

  Raesinia cocked her head, waiting.

  “It’s not just Janus we’re up against. There’s some kind of demon involved. The Beast. Winter Ihernglass is on his way back to Vordan City, and he has some kind of a plan for stopping it.” He shook his head. “It might be the only chance we get.”

  “The Beast? Like the Beast of Judgment, from the Wisdoms?”

  Marcus shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Who told you all this?”

  “Talk about a long story,” he muttered.

  “The short version,” Raesinia said.

  “Janus did.”

  “Janus,” Raesinia deadpanned. “Who has declared himself emperor and gone to war against us.”

  “We think the Beast is controlling him somehow. It explains a lot.”

  “And you trust him?”

  “I... don’t know.”

  “But you’re willing to bet your life on this anyway,” Raesinia said. “All our lives, maybe. The kingdom.”

  Marcus was silent.

  “Tell me one thing,” Raesinia said. “Janus is your friend. I know it’s hard for you to think he would turn on us. Tell me this isn’t just what you want to believe.”

  “It’s not that,” Marcus said firmly. “It’s not only that, at least. I believe there’s more going on than we understand.” He paused. “And when it comes down to it, I suppose I do trust Janus. Even when he’s on the other side.”

  “I’m going to need you to explain exactly where that conviction comes from at some point,” Raesinia said. “But if you’re certain, then I’ll back you. I can come up with plenty of other reasons we need to fight at Vordan City.”

  “Thank you,” Marcus said. He hesitated for a moment. “And... thank you for what you did in Borel. For coming to rescue me. And for not giving up.”

  Raesinia kissed him again. Duke Dorsay can wait.

  *

  By the time evening fell, the Prudence had been dispatched for Vordan City with messages for the Deputies and the garrison, and Duke Dorsay and his captains were making preparations for the fleet to leave in the morning. The duke hadn’t been happy about Raesinia’s choice to side with Marcus, but he’d seemed to expect it. Maybe he knows more than he’s letting on.

  Once the strategy session had broken up, Raesinia gathered what she thought of as the conspiracy, everyone who knew that magic was real. With Winter gone and Sothe missing, this amounted to herself, Marcus, Cora, and Cyte, whom Marcus introduced as his second in command. Raesinia watched the captain with interest. She remembered Cyte, vaguely, as one of the student radicals who’d been there the night they stormed the Vendre. But that memory was of an anxious, insecure girl, inclined toward melodrama and heavy eyeshadow, and nothing at all like the calm, professional soldier before her now.

  Marcus and Cyte went through what they’d discovered, their visit to Mieranhal and the nature of Janus’ obsession. When Marcus told the story of the battle of Satinvol, where he’d been forced to kill a girl who’d fought by his side, she could hear the emotion in his voice, and she reached out to take his hand. He started slightly at her touch and gave her a questioning look, but she only smiled. I’ve had enough of hiding.

  Raesinia read the note Janus had written, in his familiar, precise script. “My mind is not my own.” It did fit, in a way. Or is he only playing us all, again?

  “I thought Karis got rid of the Beast of Judgment,” Cora said. She was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees, and Raesinia felt another twinge of guilt for getting her involved. Genius or not, this was a lot to lay on someone her age. “Isn’t that in the Wisdoms?”

  “We don’t know what this thing is,” Cyte said. “Only that it can control people.”

  “But not completely,” Raesinia said. “Janus seems to be able to fight it.”

  “Only a little bit,” Marcus said. “And it’s not just controlling his body, either. It was definitely Janus leading the battle against Kurot. He took us to pieces.”

  “So it takes over someone almost completely,” Cyte said.

  “And it can spread from one person to another?” Cora said. “Like at Sa
tinvol.”

  “Feor might know more,” Raesinia said. “We can talk to her as soon as we get to Vordan City.”

  “What happens if Winter doesn’t come back?” Cora said. “Or if he’s too late?”

  “He’ll be there,” Cyte said. Her tone brooked no argument.

  “Even assuming he does,” Marcus said, “we need to think about what happens if he hasn’t got a magic bullet. Suppose Winter takes care of this Beast, and leaves the army for us to deal with?”

  “I left orders for soldiers to be gathered at Vordan City,” Raesinia said. “If the Deputies-​General haven’t screwed things up, there should be some reinforcements waiting. Beyond that...” She shrugged.

  “There’s no point in speculating,” Cyte said. “We don’t have enough information. Once we know what resources we have to work with and how much time we have, then we’ll see.”

  “It might not hurt to start looking for a place to mount a defense,” Marcus said. “We know the basics. It has to be a strong position somewhere north of the city.”

  Cyte sighed. “I’ll look over the maps. It’ll give me something to do until we get there, at least.” She got to her feet. “Your Highness, General. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some sleep.”

  “Me too.” Cora yawned.

  They left the cabin. Just for a moment, Raesinia thought she detected a conspiratorial glance between them.

  “She’s impressive,” Raesinia said.

  “Cyte?” Marcus said. “I agree. I don’t think we’d have gotten this far without her.”

  “She and Winter...”

  Marcus nodded. “From what I hear.”

  “Then for her sake I hope you’re right, and this isn’t all some trick of Janus’.”

  “Me too.” Marcus shook his head. “Cora really helped you beat the King of Borel?”

  Raesinia snorted. “More like I helped her. And mostly just because I’ve got a nastier mind than she does.” She grinned. “She helped us track down Maurisk’s people, remember?”

  “I knew she had a head for figures,” Marcus said. “But... you’d better make sure she never falls into the wrong hands.”

  “Don’t worry. Cora’s a good person. If not for my bad influence, I think she’d be entirely virtuous.”

  Marcus chuckled. “That’s reassuring.”

  They sat quietly for a moment. There was something in the air, a hum of tension Raesinia could practically feel in her bones.

  “Well,” Marcus said. “I should go get some sleep myself.”

  “You could,” Raesinia said, swallowing. “Or you could stay.”

  “Stay?” Marcus said. “In your cabin?”

  “Stay,” Raesinia repeated, watching him carefully. He can’t be that dense. “In, as you say, my cabin.”

  “Ah.” Marcus glanced at the door. “People will notice.”

  “I don’t care anymore.” Raesinia took a deep breath. “With everything you and I have been through trying to save this country, I think we’re entitled to... some latitude, don’t you?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Raesinia got out of her chair and went over to him. Sitting, he was only a little taller than she was, which made it easy to lean in and kiss him. This time, Marcus didn’t pull away.

  When they broke apart at last, Raesinia reached for the hem of her shirt. Thankfully, her shipboard wear was considerably less formal than the dresses she’d worn in the Keep, and she was able to pull it and her undershirt over her head in one smooth motion, without spending an hour undoing tiny buttons.

  Marcus stared, his expression suddenly unreadable. Raesinia felt her skin pebble into goose bumps, and she fought a sudden urge to cover herself. Spending her whole life being dressed by servants had left her without a lot of body modesty, but here, now, she suddenly wished she was a little more... mature. Why couldn’t I have died a year or two later?

  “Marcus?” Raesinia said.

  “Sorry.” He shook his head gently. “It’s just...”

  “Am I not...?” Raesinia swallowed hard. “Is it too strange? The way I look?”

  “What?” He bounded out of the chair and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close with a surprised squeak. “No. Raes, no. You’re beautiful.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  Flushing under his beard, he looked down at her. “I just thought... You really want this? With me?” He gestured at himself with one hand. “I’m not...”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Raesinia rolled her eyes, then went in for another kiss, standing on her toes. Marcus’ hands gripped her shoulders and slid down her arms, his thumbs brushing inward across the slim curve of her breasts. Raesinia shivered.

  “I should warn you,” she said, her mouth near his ear. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Really?” He stood up a little straighter. “I thought you spent a year slumming it at the University. You must have learned something.”

  “I mean, I understand the... mechanics. But I never thought it really applied to me.”

  “Well,” Marcus said, leaning toward her again, “I’m not an expert. But I can offer a little instruction.”

  “That’s good,” Raesinia murmured. “A queen should really be properly educated.”

  24

  Winter

  The Swallow was every bit as fast as Sothe had claimed. Captain Kerrak—​a tall, thin, nervous-​looking man who Winter was increasingly certain was a smuggler—​pointed out the landmarks of the Split Coast as they went past. The great expanse of western Murnsk, which had seemed so vast and intractable when the Grand Army had been marching through it, slipped by them like a dream. Salavask and Vorsk, both port cities like Dimiotsk, and then Yatterny on the Vordanai border. From there their course swung west, through the narrow Borel Sea that separated Borel from Vordan. The massive cliffs of the Jaw loomed on their left, glimpsed through a haze of rain on a choppy sea.

  The days were getting colder, and the wind stronger, though the captain assured them it would be weeks yet before winter storms might imperil the Swallow. They sighted few other ships, especially once they were close to the Vordanai coast. A couple of fishing vessels and some local traders. Once, a Borelgai frigate came into view on the horizon, but either its crew didn’t notice them or the rumors of blockade were false after all; Captain Kerrak didn’t even have to run up his false colors.

  Poor Abraham had it worst. Something in the motion of the ship, the endless rise and fall on the waves, played havoc with his stomach, and he spent most of the first few days with his head over the rail. After that, matters improved somewhat, although whether that was because he had gotten used to it or because he simply had nothing left in his guts wasn’t clear. He spent most of his time in silent contemplation, tucked away in a nook by the rail.

  Alex, on the other hand, was having a wonderful time. She climbed the rigging as easily as any seaman. The Swallow’s sailors, who Winter found to be a pretty taciturn lot, were taken with Alex almost to a man, especially since she was willing to hurl colorful insults as quickly as any of them. A few of the young men seemed to have more than simple camaraderie on their minds, which worried Winter only for a moment. Alex can take care of herself.

  As for their hosts, Ennika spent all her time closeted in the forward cabin, which she shared with Sothe. The assassin was more visible, talking with Captain Kerrak and spending time on deck, but after a few days Winter got the distinct sense that Sothe was avoiding her, inasmuch as it was possible to do so on a ship the size of the Swallow.

  Winter had expected to be bored, but she found the journey oddly restful. Her mind had been whirling, full of plans and contingencies, ever since the Steel Ghost had returned to the Mountain. Sitting on the deck, with gray-​green ocean extending to the horizon and her ears full of the creaks and groans of a ship under sail, she felt... peaceful.

  As long as we’re aboard, there’s nothing I should be doing. The enforced waiting meant a br
eak from the guilt, the knowledge that every minute she delayed might mean disaster. We’re going as fast as we can, for once.

  Eventually they turned south, rounding the tip of Vordan. Winter stood at the rail, watching the sun sink slowly into the western sea. Captain Kerrak’s sailors shouted things to one another, incomprehensible nautical jargon for the most part, but it all sounded cheerful. Abraham had a book in his lap, but as best Winter could tell he was asleep, head propped against a water barrel. Winter looked up to see Alex padding over, wearing a broad grin.

  “Enjoying the breeze?” she said.

  “Something like that,” Winter said. “Did you need something?”

  “Do you think you could let me have the cabin for the next hour?”

  “Let you have...” Winter frowned.

  “The door doesn’t lock,” Alex said. “I didn’t want you to, ah...”

  Her eyes went to the narrow stair that led belowdecks. A young sailor was waiting there, olive-​skinned and handsome, lounging against a post as he chatted to his colleagues. Winter raised her eyebrows.

  “Ah,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Alex said.

  “I’ll be here,” Winter said. “Enjoying the breeze.”

  “Great.” Alex’s smile widened. “It, um, may be more like an hour and a half.”

  Once again Winter wondered if she should comment. Once again she decided Alex could take care of herself. “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” Alex clapped Winter on the shoulder and hurried off. The young sailor said something to her, and then they were both laughing as they went down the stairs.

  Winter wondered what it would be like, to spend an enjoyable hour or so in the intimate company of a near stranger for no better reason than that you found them attractive and willing. It was hard for her to imagine, like trying to picture living on the ocean floor. But Alex was a very different person, and she’d led a very different life.

  A few moments after Alex vanished, Sothe appeared, wearing only tight leggings and a leather vest despite the chill wind. The assassin went through a complex exercise routine twice a day, a set of smooth, deceptively fast movements that were half dance, half combat. The sailors had cleared a space near the stern for her to use, but instead of heading that way, she came in Winter’s direction.