by Jez Cajiao
I was seated atop Shustic’Amon, diving through the clouds, surrounded by Legionnaires with wings, and I saw Prometheans and Alkyon amongst them, as well as other races I didn’t know.
As the clouds cleared before me, we broke through to discover a huge island below us, large enough that I could just make out the outer edges on the horizon.
It had clearly been green and verdant once, but now, it was torn and burning. Great swaths of forest smoldered, and huge scars marred the land where the ground had been scoured free of life.
I saw them rising, like seagulls, in a wave: hundreds, then thousands, of tiny forms, led by bigger, fully grown Djinn. The clouds around us began to darken as the juvenile mages worked in concert to create a storm front of epic proportions.
“Fisit!” I heard Amon cry out, my mouth opening to shape his words. “Shield the advance!”
“Yes, my Emperor!” A voice rang in my ears, carried by magic.
A shield grew slowly, spreading out from me and flowing across the sky to rest between the strike force and the clouds. It would not last long, but neither would the Djinn… I swore under my breath.
Shustic drew in a deep breath as we dove lower, filling her mighty lungs, I felt her magic surge, even as thousands of arrows flew past us, aimed at the upcoming horde.
Most missed, but here and there, a Djinn didn’t manage to shift their form in time, and the break in their concentration helped to slow the storm.
Shustic gave a long shudder and breathed out with a roar that I felt echoing up my body and reverberating through my blood. The flame that followed was a great blue-white gout of heat that tore a path straight through the heaviest concentrations of the enemy.
It was like watching a blowtorch go through tissue paper, as hundreds of them died, screams of agony abruptly cut off as their bodies turned to sooty embers, then blew away on the breeze. She rolled, aiming to rise through their left flank and tear another hole there.
The day was just beginning, and I had no doubt it would be a long and bloody one, but no number of lesser creatures had ever faced a Greater Dragon and lived, especially not one supported by the Legion.
Hours later, I stood on the upper slopes of an active volcano while Shustic rested inside, groaning in pleasure at the mana-rich lava, as the three Clan Mothers of Terin’Olek were led up to me in chains.
I drew Soulstealer and waited, the old hunger taking over inside me, rising ahead of being slaked with their blood.
I blinked and shook myself, the memories vanishing like a popped soap bubble, and I saw Hellenica in a different light, suddenly understanding her questions far more than I had before.
If I were to provide them a safe place to breed, they would quickly grow, and grow, and grow. That was what had happened on Terin’Olek. A thousand years of peace on the island had been broken when the Djinn ran out of room and began to seek more land, aggressively.
“You were…” I muttered, remembering. “There was a Djinn empire, but you destroyed it with infighting… then I stepped in when you tried to expand…”
“How… how do you know that?” Hellenica said slowly, her eyes wide. “Humans don’t have racial memories…”
“Nope, they don’t,” I agreed, my mixed species heritage springing to mind and being banished just as quickly. “Hellenica, your children are unable to breed, right?” I asked, glancing up at the juvenile Djinn frolicking in the air above us.
“Yes, only a Clan Mother, or a ‘Mother-in-waiting’ can breed. There are born, once in a Mother’s thousands, full females of our own species, but as we can accept other species and integrate their strengths into our lines, we tend to happily…” she broke off, glancing sheepishly at Augustus.
“You happily boink other species; got that,” I said nodding. “Do you have any control over your children; for example, can you stop a girl from being born?”
“Kill it, you mean?” she asked flatly, and I shook my head emphatically.
“No, not at all. I mean, is it a choice?”
“No; it is very rare, though,” she said slowly.
“Okay then, for now, until we have time to think more about this, I’d ask you to try to hold off on breeding. Have all the fun you want, just try not to, ahem, finish the deed?” I said awkwardly, glancing at them both.
“If it happens, then it does, and I won’t ever kill your children, provided they don’t raise their hand against me, or my subjects, or the innocent. I just want you to wait until the Tower is secure and we can provide a safe place. Then, I don’t know, we’ll have to come up with some kind of birth control for you, I guess. No more Clan Mothers, and definitely no uncontrolled breeding, okay?” I said, feeling like a complete shit for setting such harsh restrictions.
“That’s fine, Jax!” Augustus said quickly. “I already have a dozen kids to look after in my bloody squad. I don’t intend to be a father for real yet!”
“But…” Hellenica sputtered, and he squeezed her hand, speaking over her.
“No, Hellenica. We can talk about this, and make plans, but we do it in private! You don’t just blurt it out to the future Emperor, especially without even discussing it with me first! We can go… talk. Alone,” the huge Legion Primus growled, trying to hide his embarrassment, as well as a little excitement.
“But you want to?” she asked quickly, staring at him in wonder, and he sighed, nodding slowly.
“So help me… Gods, yes. Yes, Hellenica, I want you. I’ve dreamt of you for thirty years, and more. Yes, I want to be with you, and yes, to be your mate, but we need to discuss this in private…” he insisted, then twisted around and glared at the side of the ship where a rope ladder was twitching slightly. He glanced at me, and I gestured for him to investigate. He let go of Hellenica’s hand and strode to the side, drawing his dagger and looking over the edge.
“Well, well, Grizz. Fancy seeing you here…” he said acidly.
“Uh, Legion Primus, I was… just… uh…”
“Goodbye, Grizz,” Augustus said, cutting the knot free and sending the ladder slithering over the side. A short cry of panic and shock, followed by a thump and a groan from below, let me know that the Legionnaire was still alive. “Go to Mistress Nerin and explain exactly how you came to be injured, Grizz, and if you breathe a word of what you heard to anyone else…” he snarled over the side, before nodding curtly and turning back to us. “Oh, just a little internal discipline issue there, Jax. Nothing for you to worry about…”
I grinned at him and gestured to the stairwell leading back into the ship.
“Perhaps you two would like to go talk?” I offered, and Hellenica smiled, but Augustus shook his head firmly.
“No, Jax, as much as I want to have this conversation, there’s something else that’s been neglected for too long.”
“What’s that?” I asked slowly, a terrible feeling of foreboding coming over me.
“Your training, remember?” he said with an evil grin. “You might have forgotten, but I haven’t, and Bane mentioned to me that you’d been avoiding his training sessions, too. Makes sense to me that we’ll just roll them both into one. Bane agreed when we last had a chat about it.”
“Oh, I bet he did…” I growled, turning around, and catching him watching me as he was measured up for new armor. I felt the air shaking with the subsonic thrummm of amusement that was his version of laughter.
“But unfortunately, I have to spend a lot of time with the Golems, especially directing them, and Bane needs to be able to watch outwards, as your bodyguard…” Augustus paused, and I let myself relax slightly, thinking it wasn’t going to be as bad as I’d feared. “So instead, I reached out to the one person I felt could provide the level of training and dedication that the future Emperor requires…” His words trailed off as someone strode up from the depths of the ship and out into the bright sunlight.
“Centurion Primus Restun, thank you for your willingness to take over Lord Jax’s training,” Augustus finished, and I felt my balls
shrivel at the look of evil satisfaction on the Legion Primus’ face, as well as the look of calm determination on that of Restun’s.
“Well, fuck,” I muttered disconsolately.
“I win,” whispered Bane from behind me, the sound carrying in the sudden silence that filled the ship’s deck, even the Legion armorers watched me with pity on their faces.
I might be the Imperial Heir, and the Scion of the Empire… but this was Centurion Primus Restun, and he had just become a far higher authority.
Chapter Six
I reached up one shaking hand, fumbling desperately for the rope, and I felt my grip weakening involuntarily. My fingers flailed about, frantically patting across the top of the railing blindly, while I swung in a gentle breeze and tried not to fall.
“W… where… are… you…” I growled to myself before finally finding the scalloped, carved grip and digging my fingers in. Shaking, I pulled myself up the last few feet and rolled over the railing, only to collapse heavily , sweating and gasping for breath on the deck, while sparkling flecks of light appeared and vanished alternately, indicating that I’d pushed myself so far, I was dangerously low on air.
I heard slow, steady footsteps from my right and saw Restun move into view, staring down at me in grim-faced disapproval.
“You agreed that when I train you, you have no rank, yes?” he asked firmly, and I wheezed out that I agreed. “Then you are lower than the lowest new recruit. They, at least, are aspirants.” he continued, and I winced at the acidic tone. “But you, Jax, you are an embarrassment! You break down and collapse after only three hours of climbing?! I haven’t even started to train you yet!” he roared at me, dragging me to my feet and shoving me forward.
I stumbled, my legs like lead weights as I tried to keep upright, staggering along the track he’d laid out. The Battleship still had huge sections of the deck missing, but if you were careful and paid attention, it was possible‒just‒to run across it.
The points I’d sunk into my Agility stat were truly earning their keep as I staggered, wove, and stumbled my way forward, trying to keep up with the Centurion Primus. He hadn’t even broken a sweat yet, as near as I could tell, and he’d been doing the same exercises as I was, even going so far as to wear the same weighted armor he’d had me kitted out in.
When Thorn had brought it out and strapped it on, she’d whispered an apology to me as she locked the sections together. An apology I’d taken with good grace, and a smile.
That seemed like at least fifteen years ago now, as the additional weights clattered and banged, bouncing and swaying and nearly throwing me off balance further as I followed the old bastard around the edge.
I could hear cheering and whooping from below as I came into sight again. The Legion and civilians, those who were eating their evening meal, had apparently taken the time to place more bets and cheer me on as I continued on my way.
I dug deeper, motivated by the shouts and the determination that I wouldn’t be seen as a failure by my own people. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself to try catch up to Restun, where he comfortably jogged a few meters ahead of me.
Once we passed from the end of the deck, we took the next stairwell down, then turned left, running along corridors that were strewn with junk, gear, and people’s belongings. Before long, our path took us out into the second level of the main hold.
Once within the space, we followed a balcony path around the second level, jumping over occasional obstacles and avoiding the few people remaining inside, before taking the far set of stairs down to the lower floor of the hold. Rather than slowing, we began climbing the crates and piles of gear, jumping down from the opposite side, and climbing the next one, then jumping down and repeating, until we reached the far side of the hold.
Here, we stopped for thirty seconds to rest, then started pushups, star jumps, and sit-ups.
After three hundred of each, done in sets of fifty with sixty seconds between them, we were off again, running along the corridors to the far end of the ship, then back along the outside until we reached the rope ladders and climbed the side, wrestling ourselves back up to begin all over again.
I was seeing stars and spots, my breathing running ragged and shallow, and I could taste blood with every breath, when Restun finally called it two more laps later, and I fell to the floor bonelessly.
“Well, you’ve earned a break, boy,” he said grudgingly. “I have to admit, you’ve got grit, but that won’t save you once we start sparring, so take your time and rest now. I’d assign those points as well, and good job on holding off this long.” He nodded briefly to me and walked away to take a drink from a canteen that hung from a nail. He’d told me in no uncertain terms that I’d be a fool to assign the points before we finished for the day, so I’d held off. Now I pulled up my screens and read through the waiting notifications.
Congratulations!
You have begun formal training under Master Trainer Restun Bashir. As a trainee, you gain 25% to your skill and physical attribute growth due to studying under a professed Trainer!
Congratulations! Through hard work and perseverance, you have increased your Agility by one point. Continue to train and learn to increase this further.
Congratulations! Through hard work and perseverance, you have increased your Endurance by one point. Continue to train and learn to increase this further.
Congratulations! Through hard work and perseverance, you have increased your Luck by one point. Continue to train and learn to increase this further.
Congratulations! Through hard work and perseverance, you have increased your Strength by two points. Continue to train and learn to increase this further.
I winced, feeling the painful burn from the damage I’d endured to increase all of those, but I had to admit that I was damn pleased as well.
“How… how far… can… you push... it in… training…?” I wheezed out, dismissing the screens, and pulling up my character sheet in order to decide where to add the points.
“Depends on the trainee and the trainer,” Restun said calmly. “It’s generally agreed that the hard limit for any stat is fifty points. Once you hit that, it becomes all about maintaining the level, rather than losing the points.”
“Losing…?” I gasped in horror.
“Of course. If you stop exercising, you’ll lose the points. What did you expect, that you’d do this once and just keep them all? No; with physical stats, if you stop exercising, you’ll grow flabby, weak! But don’t you worry, Jax,” he said, grinning evilly. “You won’t have to experience that! In fact, I’m intending on finding out if it’s truly a hard limit on the fifty, or if it’s possible to push past it.”
“Oh, god, no…” I whispered, and I finally did what I kept threatening to do, but rarely found a reason to justify: I sank all of my points, all seven of them, into Endurance, boosting it from twenty-seven up to thirty-four.
“God, that hurts…” I groaned as my body adjusted to the changes, altering at the cellular level to become more efficient and recover quicker.
“What did you do?” Restun asked curiously, and I told him, earning a nod of approval once I explained my choice.
“Good! That means I can push you harder!” he stated crisply, throwing me the canteen. “Take a drink, then get ready, because it’s time to teach you to fight.”
“I know how to fight,” I groaned, rolling to my feet.
“No, you think you do; there’s a difference. I am ranked as a Journeyman Trainer in Asha’tuun, the elite martial art of the Legion. It is based around a single guiding principle, and that is death. From the beginning of any fight, any disagreement or conflict, you will be trained to kill your opponent. You will be taught that this,” he lifted a dagger up, then tossed it aside to clatter on the deck, “this is a tool.” He left the small blade lying on the wooden surface and reached forward. “While this,” His finger jabbed out to strike me on the forehead, then again on the chest above my heart, “is a weapon. It must be honed, prep
ared, and forged; it must be acknowledged as the weapon, and all else must be seen as a tool. I will teach you this; I will teach you to view the world in a different way. It will not make you a happier man, but it will make you a stronger one. One that can survive to become the Emperor we need you to be.”
“You’re going to teach me to fight by changing the way I look at everything?” I asked, confused.
“When everything around you is a tool to kill with, it takes some of the beauty of the world away…” he admitted soberly. “But in return, it means you will have the strength to save those who can still see such beauty. As a Legionnaire, we willingly sacrifice those things to enable us to stand between the Empire’s citizens and the oncoming night. Will you do less?” he asked, and I growled in defiance as I straightened up.
“Hell no,” I snapped, and he nodded to me in respect.
“Then it’s time that I taught you to truly fight. These methods, these skills, are difficult to learn. They take time and dedication, but you can master them, and once you do, nothing will be able to stand against you, Lord Jax of the Empire.”
“Then let’s start…” I said, and he guided me to a clear space where we began to stretch, working out the kinks in our muscles from the previous exercise. Ten minutes later, we began to move, slowly at first, our motions feeling almost like a dance as we shifted from one stance to another.
Restun taught me five different positions, and how to move fluidly from one to another. Then we simply repeated them over and over, slowly, and the entire time, he commented, pointing out differences in bodies, in instinctive versus trained movements, discussing the kinds of joints that all sentient species had as bipeds and quadrupeds.
He explained the way we were built, and how to take us apart. The way he taught drew a mental picture for me, and as he went on, he filled in the thousands of details that made the image live and breathe. He spoke of veins, of arteries, how a slight cut here, or a blow there, would sever the flow, stun, or even kill.