“I lost three, ser,” said Yue, in a voice sharp as flint. “And four wounded.”
My gaze snapped to her. Her face was stony, and her eyes were not quite on Kun, but staring over his shoulder into the far distance.
Kun sighed. “The bodies?”
“The rest of Blue Squadron is seeing to them now,” said Yue. It sounded as though she was about to say more, but she did not.
“Very well,” said Kun. “As for my unit, six Mystics fell. Eight more were wounded, but only two very badly. That leaves just over a score at fighting strength. I will have to share the burden of the center line in future battles.”
“Understood, ser,” I said. Mag looked troubled, and she remained silent.
“At least their lives were not given in vain,” Kun went on. “A score and a half of our foes lie dead. My best guess is at least that many more are grievously wounded, which will slow down the rest of them. It is never easy to lose a comrade. But our fellows who ventured into the darkness today made the enemy pay dearly in blood. We who survive must honor them.”
“Yes, ser.” This time the whole council spoke in unison.
“Good,” said Kun. “Lieutenant Shi, see that sufficient sentries are posted to prevent any surprises. The rest of you see to the arrangements of your units. If any soldier has snuck wine or ale into their packs, let them enjoy it moderately—and have them share with their fellows as well. Everyone deserves a drink tonight, if they wish it. Dismissed.”
“Captain,” I said, throwing up a hand. “One more thing, if I may.”
Everyone had been turning to head away, but now they all stopped. Captain Kun looked at me, surprised.
“Sergeant?”
“Ser,” I said. “A woman led the enemy today. A tall brute of a fighter.”
Kun’s expression darkened. Most of the Mystics who had died had fallen at her hands. “I noticed her.”
“Then I am certain you noticed her healing from the wounds we dealt her. I have faced one like her before, ser. They are favored soldiers among the Shades, imbued with some dark magic given to them by their lord. As long as the enchantment holds, they can heal from any injury, even fatal ones.”
I watched as Kun’s jaw clenched twice. “Formidable indeed,” he said.
“But not invincible,” I said. “I spoke to you before of Jordel of the family Adair. It was he who discovered how to defeat them. The one we faced in the Greatrocks had a tattoo on the back of his neck. That was what contained the enchantment. Jordel destroyed the man’s tattoo, and that made it possible for him to die. If we should engage the brute again, we should seek to destroy the tattoo first. It will not be easy, but if we can manage it, we can bring her down.”
Kun’s gaze roved across the little council. “You all heard him. Relay the instructions to your troops, as I will relay them to my Mystics. Sleep well.”
With a chorus of “Ser,” we set about our tasks. As Mag, Yue, and I headed for our squadrons, I glanced back over my shoulder. Kun was bent over his map. Still he wore no smile, and his brow was furrowed as he studied the parchment.
I tried to put him from my mind as I turned to the others. “Yue. Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” she said.
“We know what it is to lose people in your command,” Mag said gently.
“Then you know nothing you can say will ease my mood,” said Yue. “Let us see to our duties. I want something to do.”
We reached the middle of the camp, which was still being built around us. Before parting from Yue, I stepped up to her and placed a hand on her arm to keep her from running off. It took a moment, but she met my gaze.
“I am here,” I said quietly. “Do not forget it.”
Yue scoffed. “As if you have ever let me, since the day we met,” she grumbled. But her words were not as fiery as she tried to make them sound.
I pulled her into an embrace, and then I went to see to my squadron. They had already put up their tents and were building fires, around which they had gathered with Mag’s unit. Hallan noticed me as I walked up, and his beard jumped as he nodded.
“Sergeant.” He and some of the others started to rise from where they were sitting.
“At ease,” I said, motioning them all to stay down. “Let us get those fires going and have a meal. The captain also gave explicit orders: if anyone has anything finer than water to drink, they are commanded to enjoy it and share it with their fellows. But do not get too drunk.”
That got a few laughs from them, as well as halfhearted cheers. Jian dug into her pack and pulled out a large, full skin. She waved it in the air with a grin.
“Wine, Sergeant?”
“Sky above, yes,” I said, taking the skin from her.
It was far from the best I had ever had. But as I am sure you have realized since we met, anything you drink after a fight tastes ten times better than it should. I took a deep pull and handed it back to her.
“Thank you, Jian. You handled yourself well today.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” she said, taking a swig. Then she turned and offered it to Chausiku, who sat close by. “Some for you?”
Chausiku looked somewhat surprised. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Captain’s orders,” said Jian with a shrug, pushing her hair back. “So, what do you think, now that you have seen a real fight?”
As he lowered the wineskin, Chausiku’s expression darkened. “We survived. I call that a good result.”
“As do I,” said Jian amiably. “I even killed one of the bastards. And with a gut shot as well. I aimed for the chest as you said, Sergeant, but I am glad I was off.”
Chausiku did not answer, but rose with a glower and walked away. I frowned at Jian. “What pleasure do you gain from goading him?’
She grinned. “I suppose I enjoy the reaction. It is so easy to get from him.”
I sighed. “Jian, you still seem to think this is some kind of game. You want to punish those you see as evil, but you see your fellows as competitors, not allies. When a battle does not go so well, you will wish you were with friends instead of people you have only mocked since the day you met.”
Her expression soured, and she took another pull from her wine. “It will be a dark day indeed before I need someone to coddle me.”
I shook my head and left her, walking to where Hallan was getting his campfire going. A cloud of thick, acrid smoke poured from the logs he had stacked together. Hallan cursed and coughed into his thick beard, pulling off his spectacles and swiping at his eyes. My nose began to sting as I approached him.
“Hallan?” I said. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, ser,” he wheezed. “Iss this damn wood. Burns like darkfire.”
“It is the pycnandra,” said Dibu. He was there with Li, who was staring at the burgeoning flame. She did not appear to notice anyone around her, but was lost in her own wandering mind. “Their sap is what turns the trees green when they freeze. But it burns like poison.”
Mag approached, coming from the line of her squadron’s tents. “I knew someone was trying to burn the greenwood. You can smell it from a span off. Find something else for fuel, or we will all be hacking and coughing through the night.”
“Oh, they tell me now,” grumbled Hallan. He yanked the logs out of the fire and doused them in a puddle of rainwater on the ground before rising to find other fuel. But before he could leave, I saw Tou approaching.
“Squadrons!” I called out. “Officer present.”
Mag’s and my units stood and snapped to attention. Tou came to a stop, folding his hands behind his back and giving us all a nod.
“Good eve, all of you,” he said, his voice carrying through the evening air. “I have come to relay the captain’s compliments. You all carried yourselves well today, and the plan was as successful as could be expected. You have his thanks, as well as mine.”
“Ser,” we replied in chorus.
“As you were,” he said. “Enjoy your rest tonight, for you all
deserve it.”
As most of them returned to their seats, he came to me and Mag. Mag raised a hand in greeting.
“Lieutenant,” she said.
“Sergeant,” said Tou. “In particular, I wanted to relay my appreciation to you. You were on the front lines, but you did not lose even one sword. That is worthy of high praise.”
Before Mag could answer, Dibu stood from his seat and stepped up to join the rest of us. “It is worth more than praise, Lieutenant,” he said, folding his bronzed arms behind his back. “Watching her was like witnessing an Elf-tale. She was everywhere in the fight. Her spear was like lightning from the sky.”
Mag’s jaw clenched. Tou seemed to notice it, for a small smile crossed his lips as he stroked his goatee and cleared his throat. “No doubt she was impressive, and yet she was not the only one who gave a good showing. You fought well today, soldier. Even better than you did against me in the trial.”
Dibu’s mouth worked. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Your training has been invaluable.”
“Good training still requires a good student,” said Tou. “It is a rare pleasure to find one who so easily takes lessons to heart. And that goes for all of you.”
He placed a hand briefly on Dibu’s muscular arm before stepping past him to Li. She still sat on the ground, and she was staring at the fire Hallan had been trying to build. Its embers were dead now, but she did not seem to have noticed.
“How are you, Li?” said Tou, more quietly now.
The sound of her name seemed to break her reverie. Li looked up at him, eyes lost for a moment. “I … am fine, ser.”
“You survived your first battle,” he said. “You should be proud.”
She gave a brief, humorless laugh. “How can I be proud of something I had little hand in? Were it not for Dibu, I would be a corpse burning with the others. He saved my life and killed two of the enemy to do it.”
“Yet you rose again,” said Dibu, stepping up beside Tou. “And you claimed one foe for yourself before the end of the fight. The lieutenant is right, Li. You should be proud.”
Li nodded, but from her expression, you would have thought she did not even hear them. Tou gave a little sigh and stood, turning to Dibu once more.
“Well, I do not wish to take up too much of your time. I only wanted to pass on the captain’s praise. Dorsea is indebted to you all for your service today. And so am I.”
Dibu swallowed hard and bowed his head. “Ser.”
Tou gave Mag and me a quick nod, and then he set off to do his rounds with the rest of the squadrons. When I turned to look at Mag, she was fighting hard to contain a smile.
“What are you grinning about?” I asked her.
“Hm? Oh, nothing,” said Mag. “Only it seems we are in the captain’s good graces at last.”
“And about time,” I said. “One step closer to Kaita.”
That caused her smile to evaporate at once. “Yet not quite close enough.”
“Not yet,” I told her. “But soon. Come now. Let us get our people situated, and then get ourselves to bed. I will sleep like a rock tonight.”
“As if you ever sleep any other way,” said Mag.
I snorted and shoved her shoulder, and she shoved me back (which sent me stumbling three paces). I went and checked on my squadron’s tent lines, made sure they knew their watch schedule, and then started making my way to my tent. I still had not seen Yue, but I knew it would be best to leave her alone until she was ready. But on my way to bed, I spotted Chausiku. He stood a little apart from the rest of the camp, away from the fires, staring out into the Greenfrost with his hood drawn up. I approached, and as he heard my footsteps coming, he looked over at me.
“Ser,” he said, nodding.
“Good eve,” I said. “You should be getting yourself to sleep.”
“I will, ser,” he said. “But my mind is racing now, and I am trying to let it wear itself out.”
“I confess I sometimes need the same.” I stood beside him, folding my arms over my chest for warmth. “Today was your first taste of battle, and you did well. But how are you, really? I know you did not enjoy it, as Jian did.”
Chausiku snorted. “That I did not. I cannot understand that woman, and I doubt I ever shall.”
“Give it time,” I said. “You are united in purpose, even if you view the purpose differently.”
“I know that to be true, yet I find it hard to believe,” said Chausiku with a sigh. “Her bloodlust is unnerving. I answered Captain Zhou’s call because I care about Dorsea, and I would not see my nation betray the High King. But I could have gone my whole life without killing another person, and I would have been happier for it.”
“Would not we all,” I said, “if only the world were gentle enough to allow it. Yet still, you and Jian may find common ground in the end. I hesitate to hope for it, for it may require the war to go on for a long while. But if it does, do not be surprised if you find yourselves becoming fast friends.”
“Like you and Mag?” said Chausiku with a smirk. “I confess I cannot see it.”
“Well, mayhap not like us,” I admitted. “Mag is easier than most to be friends with.”
“And yet she is so terrifying in a fight,” said Chausiku with a shudder. “I could hardly believe it. She deserves every legend I have ever heard of her. How did you become such good friends, anyway, when she is so much younger than you?”
That made me laugh. “It will surprise you to learn that she is, in fact, a little older than I am. We met when I had not quite seen my twentieth year, and she was already as good a fighter as she is today.”
Chausiku’s eyes were wide in his dark face. “Really? I would have thought she was a decade younger than you, at least. I would believe you if you said you were twice as old as her.” Then, suddenly, he looked uncomfortable. “Meaning no insult about your appearance, of course, Sergeant.”
My easy smile widened, and I shook my head. “I am sorry to disappoint you, soldier. Some people hardly seem to age, and some … well.” I waved my hand up and down the length of my body.
Chausiku snorted, trying not to laugh. “Well, in any case, you are lucky to have her for a friend. And now I think my mind has indeed tired itself out. I will see you in the morning, Sergeant.”
He turned and left me. It always amused me how shocked people were when they learned the truth about Mag’s age compared to her looks.
But Mag had aged, I knew. I remembered her when she was younger, and I knew her now. She was different, if not as different as I was.
Sometimes being close to a tale keeps us from seeing it clearly. A soldier on the battlefield might slay two foes and think the battle is close to won—but the general on the hilltop can see foes sweeping around the flanks and taste the coming defeat.
But sometimes, being close to the tale is what shows us the truth of it. We can see clearly the sunlight on a fish’s rainbow scales, while someone on the shore sees only an ugly trout through muddy, churning waters.
That is how it was with Mag and me. Certainly, she was someone you had to see up close to believe—if you believe in stories, that is.
Ah, well. I turned my steps towards my tent, and soon I was abed. I was alone for a long while, as Yue spent time with her squadron, mourning their losses with them. But even before she returned, I slept poorly. Roots kept digging into my head, and I could not seem to get rid of them, no matter how I tried to shift on the forest floor.
Now, I have commented on Mag’s appearance before this. But it is worth noting that she always looked younger than she was, even when she lived in that village called Shuiniu.
Ten years before Mag and I met, she had just begun her apprenticeship under Duana. Of course, she did not have a hand in the brewing straight away. As is the case with many apprentices, she spent her first several months taking care of odd jobs around the brewery. She would sweep up shavings, fix small things that had broken, and haul water and grain from one place to another as required. All the while
, Duana would explain the craft to her, indoctrinating her into the finer aspects of the art.
And Duana would tell stories. It seemed she was a talespinner, of sorts, though none so fine as Dryleaf. But mayhap that is one reason Mag and I became such good friends. She always loved stories, and she would listen with rapt attention as Duana told tales of long ago. She heard stories of the time before time and the founding of Underrealm, the dark days of the Wizard Kings, and many great heroes and terrible villains scattered throughout the countless years of history.
And then, one day, Duana said something that made Mag frown and stop in the middle of her work.
“What is that?” said Mag. Her eyes were wide, and her hand stilled where it had been wiping a brewing vat with a rag.
Duana looked at her in mild surprise. With a giant wooden spoon, she had been stirring a large cauldron as it came to a boil. Now she glanced at the spoon, the cauldron, and the beginnings of her next brew. “What is what?” she asked.
“The word you just said,” said Mag.
“Meldin? That is the name of the Dragon in the tale.”
“Not the name, that other word. The D … Dr—”
“Dragon?” said Duana. “What about it?”
A shadow seemed to come over Mag’s face, her expression a cloud of confusion. “What is that? Is it an animal?”
Duana studied Mag, who seemed held as if frozen in ice. And the old brewer felt a powerful, mournful sadness enclose her heart. She often forgot how many little things like this Mag did not know, things that most children learned from bedtime stories.
But then, most children heard those tales from their parents, and Mag had had no such opportunity.
“They were not animals,” said Duana quietly. “They were … something more. Do you know of satyrs or centaurs?”
Finally, Mag moved, but only to give a tiny nod. “You told me of centaurs.”
“Then you know they have bodies like animals, but they are clever of mind like we are,” said Duana. “Dragons are something like that, but far greater and more terrible. They are more akin to Elves.”
Mag nodded quickly, eager to please. “I know of Elves.”
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 74