The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  Wilbur stared back at me, wide eyed and – dare I say it – proud.

  “And that was with just thirty two members of General Kasera’s vanguard. By the time you guys get back to Erast you’re going to be legendary.”

  “We also took down two vampires.”

  Saskia murmured behind us, her voice shifting into a toxic snarl. Jarmella went back to calm her down, speaking more to the dying person than the rising demon in Saskia’s soul.

  Wilbur’s good mood didn’t last for long. “How long do we have until she turns into a full blown vampire?”

  “Hopefully not until we’re off the mountain.”

  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I agree with Jarmella. If there’s really no hope for her we should’ve been merciful on the beach.”

  “What did you take from the dead riders at Faersrock? And from your dead comrades? Anything?”

  Wilbur fell quiet.

  “Exactly. You took what was useful and left behind whatever was too much of a burden. Saskia is useful.”

  “If she attacks us … I mean, it took all of us just to bring down one and you nearly died fighting the other.”

  “Razoz was ancient. The first couple of days as a vampire are their weakest. They’ll still have the strength of a human until they’ve fed and had a chance for that blood to make its way through their body.”

  “Does that mean she won’t be able to heal us either?”

  “Yep.”

  “So … she needs to drink someone dry before she can fully heal us?”

  Still three hours until the sun rose. Three more hours of utter misery until the light cheered everyone up on its own.

  “Is it true you met Governor Gustali?”

  I guess my rousing speech wasn’t rousing enough.

  “What was he like?”

  “Gregarious.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. I heard it from Alysia. Why does it matter if I met him?”

  “Because he’s the governor.”

  “I’m not a citizen so he’s not really my governor, is he?”

  “Well, you’re from Syuss, so … what if you met the emperor?”

  “That would certainly be something.”

  “What if Governor Gustali became the emperor?”

  “Then I’d probably be able to make a few coins in taverns by telling people how I met him, dined with him and his family, and how I knew his son before he went off to the Ashlon Fields.”

  “Can’t believe he volunteered for that. The guts he must have …” He fell quiet for a moment. Opened his mouth.

  “Wilbur?”

  “Sir?”

  “Pipe down.”

  “Sorry sir. It’s just …”

  “Whatever questions you have can wait. Chatty soldiers don’t last long in enemy territory.”

  “I know, sir. It’s just that … I have orders.”

  “Uh huh? To do what, exactly?”

  “To find out what you’re up to.”

  I would’ve sent him a look but it was dark and I didn’t want to trip. “Jarmella’s orders?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “When did you receive them?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Maybe I have orders too.”

  He looked fairly hopeful when he asked: “What they are?”

  “Not happening. Who do you think has seniority here?”

  “Jarmella.”

  “So why do others think differently?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Mutiny usually is.”

  “It’s not mutiny, sir. Far from it. See, there are four paths of seniority that don’t involve rank. Much of it is implied so that’s where it gets a little complicated.”

  I started to wonder if we had four hours until sunrise instead of three.

  “Say you come from a family – like anyone with the last name Kasera, Lavarta, Gustali, or Renair – and obviously the higher up your family is the more seniority you have – well, if one of them was here as a private they would be in charge right now.”

  “Even if it was their first day on the job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if it was their first day on the job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait, so if Domillon Kasera – how old is he now? Fifteen?”

  “Sixteen, I think.”

  “If he joined the army while his father was general …”

  “He would be in charge of us right now if he was here because there are no lieutenants or sergeants to overrule him. But that might not be a great example because Domillon is a lieutenant.”

  “At sixteen?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And he was never a private?”

  “No sir.”

  “Did he do basic training with privates or officers?”

  “Officers.”

  I needed a moment to wrap my head around that. “All right, so there are two lieutenants, one with a family name and the other without a family name. The one with the family name is always in charge?”

  “Unless someone of higher authority has explicitly said otherwise – yes.”

  “And if they both have a family name?”

  “On the off-chance that one of the Gustalis and Kaseras were both on their first day and assigned to the same army group then the Gustali would have seniority because his father is the governor. Then the higher up the chain of command you go the more you can overrule because of who your parents are. I believe the lowest rank an emperor’s child has joined the army is as a commander. We have seven new commanders as of last year because of Markolo. One of them is twelve years old. You might’ve heard of her.”

  “No, that managed to slip my ears.”

  “I think she has her own fleet as well.”

  “Are the other three paths to seniority this complicated?”

  “Pretty much. It’s all basically: who your parents are, where you were born, where you trained, and how old you are. The order of priority among those four depends on who’s arguing. And that doesn’t take into account if you are a citizen or not.”

  “Why not just have one path instead of four?”

  “Because that would make sense. But this is the Isparian Army. We don’t want things to make sense because things that make sense get voted out by the senate and things that don’t make sense get passed all the time.”

  “Does the cavalry have seniority over the rest of the troops?”

  “Not automatically, no, but the officers running the show are usually cavalry and it’s drilled into our heads that everyone under their command is there to support them. It’s something of an unspoken rule that all members of the cavalry can relay orders to the rest of the ground units because they are acting on behalf of their commander.”

  “So how does Jarmella have seniority?”

  “She’s the oldest.”

  “She’s twenty.”

  “She’s the oldest among us. There are plenty of members of the vanguard back in Erast who are thirty and older.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed that a staggering number of you here are unmarried and don’t have children.”

  “It’s not gone unnoticed by us as well, sir. An off the books mission into enemy territory. But the general asked us to go so we went.”

  “When all of the dust was settling in Faersrock, were you checking each other’s birthdays to see who was in charge?”

  “No. Jarmella also studied in Tyrest – which is a big deal among mages. Adalyn studied there as well, but the main thing for Jarmella is that she shook the governor’s hand once.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  “Because just about everyone here would give their left arm to shake the governor’s hand. He singled her out because he saw something in her.”

  I ambled along, deciding to keep some of the disappointing truths about the governor and his family to myself.

  Wilbur checked over his shoulder. Dropped into a wh
isper. “Sir, everything I just said was absolutely true …”

  “If you’re not willing to say this to Jarmella’s face then you shouldn’t say it to mine.”

  “I … feel that I should.”

  “I don’t like talk of mutiny, private.”

  “Neither do I, sir. Absolutely not. This is not mutiny. I would just like to point out …”

  “No.”

  “That you hold rank within Miss Kasera Lavarta’s inner circle, similar to Zara.”

  “Zara is army. I’m not.”

  “True, but …”

  “If the only thing I have going for me is age and my former status as primo delta for a mercenary company then it should be painfully obvious to see why Jarmella is in charge of the vanguard.”

  “Oh, no question about that sir. Jarmella is in charge of the vanguard.”

  An annoying itch started to creep into my soul. “So what’s the problem?”

  “The lieutenant made it very clear to us that if this went well it was a diplomatic mission. If it went badly it was off the books completely. Needless to say, it’s gone badly. Officially we are not authorized to be here so the truth is we fall into one of two categories: either we are absent without leave from Erast – which means if caught we will be stripped of rank, imprisoned for the remainder of our service, and whipped to within an inch of our lives, depending on the mood of the judge court martialing us – or we are here as private contractors.”

  Honestly, I missed talking to our northern guide. We had exchanged names and nothing else.

  “Sir?”

  “Feel free to take this the wrong way but I’m going to ignore you for a while.”

  “Yes sir, it’s just that the only way this works out for us is if it was a mercenary-like contract all along, that all the people behind us are technically still training in Galinnia, that we were never kidnapped and never here, and that the ones who are here are in fact mercenaries. And as the highest ranking mercenary among us …”

  “No.”

  “Sir, you might find that when we return to Anglaterra this thing was a mercenary contract all along. It might be the only way the general can wash his hands of this mess.”

  I stopped. Stared into the surprised eyes of the nineteen year old Wilbur. “Embedding an outsider into a military team is one thing, but putting them in charge without knowing how to reel them in is like giving an arsonist a pet dragon. Is that really what you want?”

  He mustered up an awful lot of courage to speak back at me. “I don’t want to be left behind like Berik. None of us do. Jarmella is why we left him and yesterday she gave the order to leave Loken behind as well. If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t be going to help them.”

  “Do me a favor. Tell everyone in the vanguard that if any of you assholes raise your sword against Jarmella I’m going to hack off one of your legs and feed it to Saskia.” I gave one final glare to Wilbur. “Don’t test me like this again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Saskia shrieked, a jittering howl to the night as the darkness took her soul. She collapsed back, seizing and thrashing, her spine arching up while her wrists fought against the restraints. I had never seen a transformation before. I had always expected it to be a gentler affair, a simple stepping stone away from life, but this … this screamed at us all. A guttural snarl shifted from one note to another as Saskia’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, moving independently of each other through rapid blinking. The demon was settling in, making itself at home. The smell from her decaying mouth overwhelmed me, my eyes watering and the taste of bile creeping up my throat.

  Then, somewhere in the darkness, another creature answered her.

  We froze. The northerners as well. All reached for our weapons.

  Saskia tossed from side to side, delirious and unaware of anything around her. She cried out again, her screams twisting around each other, overlapping in a dissonant cacophony of raw hatred and rage.

  Miles in the distance, another vampire called back in a low, guttural caw. Controlled. Experienced. And encouraging Saskia to cry out again.

  Jarmella raised her short sword over Saskia’s neck.

  I hurried forward. “No no no no no. We need her alive.”

  Jarmella’s instant glare fell upon me once again. “Don’t you fucking dare. It was one thing being cruel by keeping her alive, it’s another if she’s attracting more of them to our position.”

  “She’s too important to kill.”

  The restraints buckled as Saskia tested her supernatural strength.

  Jarmella took aim. I clamped onto her wrist and shoved one leg behind her, ready to flip her over. Immediately realized I shouldn’t have done that. “We need her.”

  Jarmella’s eyes flared. “Arrest him!”

  “She can heal us.”

  “I said arrest him!”

  “And she’ll help us find Berik.”

  Heads turned. Eyes searched. Hearts held still.

  “We need her gagged, not dead.”

  “She’s a fucking vampire! They kill us for sport and we don’t have the strength to stop her if she breaks free!”

  Saskia fell quiet, reverting to her human self as her eyes cracked with tears. “I’m sorry …”

  “No. No! You do not get to fuck with us like that. Where’s Odalis?”

  He stepped forward. “Here.”

  “Bind Raike’s wrists together. If he so much as says anything other than ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ then you’re going to gag him as well. Understood?”

  The color in Odalis’ face faded away. “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “I’m your commanding officer, Odalis.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Saskia sobbed. “Jarmella … don’t let them kill me …”

  Jarmella seethed, her sword dangling precariously close to Saskia’s face. “Gag her too. Keep Raike at the back. If he escapes his restraints, he dies.”

  I relented, holding my wrists out to Odalis. Jarmella stood guard, watching the young cavalryman edge forward with a strip of rope usually reserved for hanging wet clothing while at camp. He wrapped it around my wrists, tugging tightly and doing a decent job of it. When he was done he deliberately stood between the sword at my waist and Jarmella’s line of sight.

  The other vampire’s calls continued, baying through the night as it tried to locate Saskia’s position. The three northerners helping us with the stretchers looked to each other, held a silent conversation, and left. No one stopped them.

  “Gag Saskia,” said Jarmella.

  Odalis rummaged through Saskia’s pack, finding an under shirt and held it over Saskia’s mouth. “Open up.”

  Saskia refused.

  “If you’re really her then you’ll understand. If you’re not then open your fucking mouth.”

  Saskia clamped her jaw shut. Odalis tried to force the cloth through her lips but snapped as his repeated attempts never made it past her teeth.

  “For crying out loud. Elgrid, help him.”

  The infantryman crept forward. Pinched Saskia’s nose to force her mouth open but soon remembered that vampires didn’t really need to breathe.

  Jarmella’s glare on me shifted into a squint. “Give me your sapphire wraps.”

  Which was cute considering two of them were now pinned to my wrists. I unknotted one. Held it out.

  Jarmella snatched it from my grip. Draped it over Saskia’s face. The former mage hissed instantly, her gums retracting and her whole body squirming. Odalis and Elgrid slammed the gag into place and tied it around the back of her head.

  Jarmella sheathed her sword, strolled back over to me, and knotted the sapphire wrap back around my throat. “Like I said, I have at least one fail-safe spell left in me. Don’t ever fuck with me again.”

  Torunn trundled back towards us. “What’s going on?”

  “Mutiny,” said Jarmella, with a careful look into my eyes.

  Torunn s
urveyed the situation quickly, turned, and made his way back to his people.

  “Wilbur? Keep watch on them.” Her attention fell back to me before glancing down to Razoz’s sword at my waist. She didn’t take it. “Welcome to the army. From now on you’re going to do exactly as you’re told, starting with helping Ewen, Odalis, and Elgrid with Saskia’s stretcher.” She spun. Stormed up the path with the distant baying still rippling across the mountain. “Break time’s over.”

  The calls from the far off creature descended into guttural grunts, devastatingly loud and causing everyone to shiver. For the first time in their lives the members of the vanguard were being actively hunted by a vampire.

  The northerners kept their pace up, probably because we were becoming less like allies and more of a cautionary tale now that I was a prisoner. They didn’t stop to rest despite being desperate to do so. Neither did we. Several times it required eight people to hoist just one stretcher up a sharp incline or through a narrow ravine whose walls were close enough for one side to kiss the other.

  Hour upon depressing hour passed us by without the sun rising, our spirits daring to hope after five minutes without the vampire baying, only to be made fools of when it started up again. Five minutes of silence here, ten minutes there. The only distraction we had from our inevitable demise came in the darkest breath of night, in a sight of heavenly wonder. I had always heard stories of the north which made it sound like a haven of ancient magic and doorway to the spirit world, but I dismissed it as just another exaggerated story. The reality is that it chilled me more than the snow falling around us. The whole black sky bloomed with pulsing green light in arcing strands hundreds of miles long. It rolled and cascaded over itself, drumming like the beating heart of some foreign god.