As the uneven booms briefly stopped again, he stepped out of cover, scanning the room. One man was almost reloaded, and Mathys shot him down and reloaded with the round he'd palmed in his left hand. He palmed another round and fired again, this time not a kill shot but more than enough to force the target to the ground.
Seven of theirs, he thought with some satisfaction, and three of ours. Counting the death toll was a morbid habit he'd picked up on the battlefield, but it helped to plan around the inevitable mess of combat. Including Massey, there were only four men left to fight, against nine of his. Three of them were behind the table, one of them Massey. The last was behind the bar.
"We've got you, Massey," he said, "let's just end this."
Clarence
It was down to him and three of his men. He was a gambling man, and he'd beaten worse odds before. Grabbing a handful of rounds from the bag, he reloaded and shook his head.
"Come and get me, Corby. You ain't my commander any more, I'm not gonna make it easy for you."
A burst of gunfire rattled the room, maybe four or five shots, and he flinched without meaning to. A few seconds later, a thump sounded from behind the bar, then a groan, and then it was down to him and two of his men.
"Fuck," he said, then turned to the men with him, "tell me you got somethin' fun to play with."
One of them, who he thought was named Neville, smiled and fished an explosive from his pocket. Stifling a chuckle, Clarence grabbed it, pulled the pin, and lobbed it over the table.
"You couldn't have told me you had that earlier?"
"Sorry boss. I was busy shootin'."
"Yeah, well next time just give me the damn thing before we -"
A thunk came from right next to him. He saw the explosive roll a little, and didn't have time to think before it exploded.
Mathys
He saw the explosive sail over the table, and wasn't surprised at all. Pure luck made the grenade fly within a metre of Mathys, and he grabbed it out of the air. They worked on simple fuses, and the designs Riffolk made were impossible to tamper with; he had ten seconds before it exploded.
Counting to six, he lobbed it gently back into the corner of the room. Just as he'd hoped, Massey's armoured table worked both ways; it ended up protecting Mathys and his men from the explosion. The owner of the Gilded Goblet, and his men, were utterly decimated; there was nothing left of them. Officer Bernard walked up to him, shaken and pale.
"Is it over sir?"
"Yes, son, it's over."
Bernard had never seen actual combat before. Being an Ermoori soldier assigned to city security was one thing; being assigned to Shanaken and the exploratory force was entirely different. There were thousands of soldiers who'd never seen a single battle, fully trained but green as grass.
All of the men looked sick. He saw their hands shaking from across the room.
"Squad, to me."
They gathered around him, staring at him like terrified puppies after a storm.
"Battle is never easy. You stare at death and you force yourself not to run. I want you boys to know that you've done me proud tonight. You stuck together and kept to your training, even when your brothers died next to you."
They lowered their heads almost in unison, some sneaking glances at their fallen brothers and some simply staring at nothing.
"It's over now, and you did your duty. You've protected Ermoor against corruption and violence, and you've kept God's will in order. Now we pray, and then we'll begin cleaning up."
They kneeled, and so did Mathys. He led them in prayer, and when he finally said "for the good of all", their voices responded without shaking.
Mara
Mara Watson sat gracefully on the soft silk covered chair in front of her parents. Her legs were crossed at the calf, knees together, one hand over the other in her lap. Her back was straight. She sat exactly the way a lady should; the way her parents had taught her. She looked up at them now, trying desperately to stop the giddy smile threatening to overtake her face and almost failing. Riffolk Hayne! She couldn't believe the news; she was to be wed to the Overseer of Scientific Advancement himself!
She had been present at the ceremony when Hayne was given the title nine years ago, although she'd only been six years old at the time. She didn't remember much of it, just that he was handsome and young, and that thousands of people had cheered for him. Riffolk Hayne was the single greatest man in Ermoor's history. From a young age, younger than Mara was now, he started inventing new technologies at an unbelievable pace. Ermoor's industrial age was started almost single-handedly by Hayne, and factories sprang up almost overnight to build his creations. In the almost two decades since Hayne's creative mind began working, Ermoor became the most powerful country in all of Pandeia.
Mara's family, though small, were old, respected and well-known among the Overseers and nobility. They were not particularly wealthy, but being joined to the Haynes would change that very quickly. In return, the Hayne family would be joined to a much older family, boosting their social status if not their power. Mara couldn't wait. Riffolk Hayne was by all accounts the most eligible bachelor in Ermoor. He was bafflingly intelligent, incredibly wealthy, and breathtakingly handsome. She couldn't believe her luck.
"The wedding is to be held next year, on the tenth anniversary of Hayne's being named Overseer," her father was saying. Mara had to struggle to focus on the words; her excitement was still too great to think clearly.
"hmm?" she said. Her father's eyes hardened and his mouth set into a grim line, the same expression he wore every time he spoke to her about anything serious. Or any time she disappointed him. She felt a flutter of exasperation at him then, and almost raised her voice.
"Father it's not my fault, I'm just so excited!" Her cheeks flush, she lowered her eyes and regained her composure. The outburst had been decidedly unladylike, and her father's eyes were wide and angry. Silence stretched out, gaining weight and pushing on Mara until she couldn't stand it any longer. Her father stared at her the entire time.
"I apologise, father," she said, her eyes never leaving the richly carpeted floor, "I'll not lose control again." He grunted in response. Mara had no idea if he was satisfied or still angry, and didn't have the courage to look him in the eye. He walked out, his heavy footfalls thumping on the thick carpet. Her mother remained in the room.
"Sweetheart, I understand how excited you are," she said gently, "but a lady must always be quiet and respectful in the presence of her betters. For the good of all."
"Yes, mother," Mara replied in barely more than a whisper, "for the good of all."
Uncle Lewis beamed down at Mara. Her mother's brother was quite close with her, and visited all the time. He always smiled at her, no matter what else was happening. And he was always talking; but Mara enjoyed his endless rants. Today, the topic of Uncle Lewis' conversation was the infamous Spectre of Ermoor.
"Of course," he was stating matter-of-factly, "no one has seen the Spectre for at least fifteen years. But back when he was active, the city guard worked half as hard! He caught criminals, and acted as judge and executioner right there on the street in the dead of night!"
Uncle Lewis' eyes were wide now, and he leaned forward as he kept speaking.
"Some say he worked for the Twelve Crowns. Some say he was their sworn enemy. And some say the Crowns tolerated him, because he was cleaning up the city and because they wouldn't be able to catch him if they wanted to! Ha ha!"
His laugh leapt out of his throat like the bark of a dog, sudden and sharp. It sounded almost like an accident, but Uncle Lewis' laughter was one of the best sounds Mara had ever heard.
"A fascinating subject, truly, if not a little macabre."
He chuckled, and his eyebrows and moustache both waggled like giant caterpillars, making Mara giggle uncontrollably. The Spectre had always scared her, but Uncle Lewis had a way of making even scary topics feel harmless. As always when Uncle Lewis visited, her parents left them to talk on thei
r own, and they sat in the parlour where the teleradio was, listening to music while he regaled her with interesting facts.
It was early afternoon, and soon enough, Mara's mother bustled in, shooing Uncle Lewis away and fussing over Mara to make sure she was ready for the evening church service. Uncle Lewis was the family lawyer, and he was visiting Mara's father to work something out, most likely for the marriage between her and Riffolk Hayne.
He left the room at her mother's insistence, retiring instead to her father's study. After some more fussing over Mara, pulling out her hair and tying it up again, they left the small Watson mansion to go to church. When they got back later that night, Uncle Lewis had already left, and Mara went straight to bed without hearing any more about the Spectre of Ermoor.
Pera
Pera ran through the pitch black tunnel, giggling despite her fear. Exploring was her favourite thing to do; it was exciting and scary at the same time, and she sometimes found amazing things. Her parents hated it, of course, but she never stopped. After all, she wasn't old enough to begin working yet; what else was she supposed to do?
Turning another corner, her hand skimming the rough stone wall, she saw a ball of candle light bobbing up and down in the distance. She stopped, then tiptoed into a corner and crouched down in the dark. Hiding was a fun game. She'd found a particular thrill came from staring right at someone's face as they walked by, oblivious to her presence. Candle light hindered more than it helped, in her opinion.
The small flickering light drew closer, moving up and down with the carrier's hand. Pera stayed as still and silent as the stone wall behind her, not even breathing. As the person walked by her, she caught a glimpse of his face, and recognised one of the workers who was friends with her parents. He didn't hesitate as he walked past her and on down the tunnel.
When he was far enough away, she let out a rush of breath and gulped in air to fill her lungs again. She was getting good at holding her breath, but that had been close. Standing, she continued her run down the tunnel, her excitement overcoming her fear.
She was a curious child. She knew that because her parents said it all the time. But she couldn't help it; she wasn't even doing it on purpose. There were just so many questions to be answered, and not enough people who could answer them. So she made her mind up to find answers herself. It seemed like the only choice, so she didn't understand why her parents were always so angry.
Her latest question was how fast can I run in the dark? and so far the answer was very, very fast. She'd fallen over a few times, of course, but scrapes on her knees and palms weren't exactly a new thing; exploring was never easy. The tricky thing was finding long tunnels to run down that didn't have too many twists and turns. And avoiding the adults, of course.
None of her friends were as brave as she was. They never joined in when she explored, and they even used to tell the adults on her when she did. One time she pushed Eudos over for telling, and he cried and ran to his mother; but he never told on her again, and neither did the others. Besides, she'd stopped telling them when she went exploring anyway, so they had nothing to tell.
The worst part of exploring was getting lost. It happened a lot for a while, and it still happened sometimes, if she went too far without remembering. But she was starting to learn how to picture things in her head, remembering turns and steps and the feeling of different walls.
She was somewhere new, she knew that; the tunnel she ran down was one she'd never been in. All of Tyra was mapped, and the map was carved on the walls in several places with bumps and patterns labelling the important spots. But Pera was working on her own map, of all the tunnels and rooms that didn't show up in the proper maps. She had her own carving, too, hidden in one of the unmapped rooms. She added to it whenever she could.
The new tunnel was long, just over two hundred steps and still going. Pera was good at counting. She always corrected the other children. It annoyed them, but she didn't care. She learned things faster than the other children.
She reached a place where the tunnel ended, but not in a normal wall; peering closely and exploring with her hands, she realised it was a cave-in. A few of the outer tunnels she explored were caved in, she was used to coming across it. Sometimes, though, there were gaps she could squeeze through... It took a while, but she found one, and scrabbled carefully through to the other side.
It felt different. Warmer, but in a strange and scary way. Her hand trailed the wall, and as she ran she felt it become smoother. She slowed to a tentative walk, fear temporarily overcoming excitement. It kept going, she could feel it in the air; a feeling of emptiness stretched before her. Bending her knees and shifting her weight, she moved silently further on.
Another hundred steps, and the empty feeling in front of her was still there. How far does it go? she thought, not quite scared enough to turn back. Eventually, she reached a point where the rough sandy ground beneath her feet turned almost as smooth as the walls. She kept walking, and a low humming grew, coming from everywhere, not just in her ears but vibrating through her body too.
A strange feeling came over her; a sense of something huge, something no one had ever seen before, something unbelievable. She felt as though she was about to discover something truly amazing. Slowly, carefully, she kept walking.
Some way further down, she realised she'd stopped counting her steps; but she still couldn't stop. Finally, she reached a point where the tunnel opened out into a larger room, one that was utterly black. It was so dark beyond where she stood that it made the tunnel look lit up by comparison. It looked like a sheer black wall.
For a few moments, all she did was stand there. She was the bravest person she knew, but she still couldn't bring herself to walk into that complete blackness. A sound crept through the shadow, and she tensed immediately. The tiniest sound, the slightest rasp of fabric touching stone; someone was in the room in front of her.
She was frozen, not wanting to run but terrified of remaining where she was. What have I done? she thought as she stood, unable to move, what am I doing? The tiny rasping sounds came again, sounding closer now. She could have sworn she saw a shape moving, but it might have been her mind playing tricks in the dark.
Pitch blackness, so complete it was almost physical, covered her eyesight. The movement had to be her imagination; she couldn't have seen anything. But the sound came again, too close now, and she was starting to panic. Somehow, she still couldn't move.
Silence pressed in after that last movement, and Pera tensed, waiting for the sound to appear even closer. Her ears straining for the slightest sound, she stood in a half crouch, ready to run. Just as she began persuading herself she'd imagined the whole thing, something else broke the silence.
"Leave this place, girl."
The voice growled like an animal, grating and stony, and whatever had been holding her in place vanished. She ran.
"He spoke to me, mommy, I swear! It was one of the monsters!"
No one believed her. She was getting in trouble not only for wandering through the tunnels, but for lying too. It wasn't fair.
"Pera, you need to stop making up stories," her mother said, "you didn't see a monster, and they don't talk. And more importantly, you need to stop being so curious. It'll get you killed eventually."
The words shocked her enough to bring tears to her eyes. She thinks I'm going to get killed, and she doesn't even sound upset!
"It will not!"
"Okay, calm down little one. It's almost sleep time."
But she didn't calm down. Her mother just didn't understand; she couldn't help being curious. She couldn't control it. Once an idea entered her head, once a question popped up about anything, she simply had to know the answer. She needed to learn.
She lay in bed for a while next to her mother, angry with her and grateful for the comfort of her warmth at the same time. After a while, she drifted to sleep, but she didn't know how long. When she woke up, she still hadn't calmed down.
Mara
&
nbsp; Ermoor was beautiful. Mara had always thought so. She loved wandering through the neatly paved streets whenever her father agreed to escort her from their family home. The city sparkled and gleamed constantly, thanks to the efficient cleaning machines invented by Riffolk Hayne. Beautiful, colourful lights lined every street and alley, making the city look like it was in the middle of a grand celebration every time the sun set.
"We live in a perfect society," her father often said, echoing the words of the priests at church service, "Ermoor is the height of civilisation. We would live in a perfect world, were it not for the faithless savages living in the rest of Pandeia." Mara couldn't help but agree. Ermoor was beautiful. Everything was clean and new, Anything she wanted was available, her every need catered to.
Hayne's inventions extended to every aspect of Mara's life. Compact, wearable clocks told the time, with a small alarm which could be set by the wearer. Heated blankets kept her warm on winter nights. Horseless carts took her anywhere she needed to go, with her father as escort of course. Cooling boxes kept food fresh for far longer than their old storage cupboards, and a new type of fireless oven cooked their food far more efficiently than the wood-fired ovens they used when she was little. The most amazing invention, to her at least, was the teleradio. People could speak to each other from opposite sides of the city, and it was as though they were sitting right next to each other. Plays full of magic, swords and fire were recorded and broadcast, as well as music, and announcements from the Overseers. It was an incredible piece of technology.
Mara sat in the back of a cart as it glided over the smooth pavement. Her father sat in the seat in front of her, his eyes scanning the printed newspaper in his hands. Ermoor's beauty was utterly lost on him. Not on Mara though; she stared at everything they passed, drinking in the city and its ceaseless wonders. A teleradio sat in the cart itself, blaring the day's announcements until her father switched it off with an annoyed grunt. Her mother sat silently beside him, the perfect lady.
Daughter of War Page 2