Warbringer

by Aaron Hodges

  “The Perfugians…what…you cannot…no!” the Archivist stuttered into the silence, all colour draining from her face.

  “Yes,” the general replied calmly. “I will not compromise our borders by sacrificing good soldiers to a lost cause. So you will be joined by a lost cause of their own. That is my final decision.”

  “I will petition the queen!”

  “Do what you wish, Archivist.” The general’s eyes shone. “Though regrettably, our last carrier pigeon departed this morning. If you wish to dispute my interpretation of the queen’s commands, you will have to send a runner for a clarification.”

  “But…that could take weeks!” the Archivist exclaimed. “The Tangata could have occupied the site by then.”

  “I suggest you be content with what you have been offered then, Archivist,” the general replied, a smug smile on his lips.

  “Bastard!” the Archivist screamed. She lifted her magic gauntlet as though to strike the general down, then seemed to think better of it.

  Romaine stood frozen on the edge of the plaza, staring as the two faced one another down, still reeling. Lukys, Travis and all the others who had turned to him to save them, they would soon be marching to their deaths, doomed to die alone in the frozen forests of his homeland. He had failed them.

  A shudder shook him and he cursed himself a fool. He had learned this lesson, hadn’t he? Long ago, again and again. Was he fated to always repeat the same tragedy, always too weak, too slow to save those he cared for?

  “Very well, General,” the Archivist said finally, the calm mask falling back into place. “Though know this: when I return and win my place at the queen’s side, you will know the full weight of my displeasure.”

  “That is a risk I am willing to take,” the general replied, staring her down, “for my kingdom.”

  “You damn us all with your cowardice,” the Archivist spat back, her composure cracking once more. “What lies beyond the Illmoor will change everything.”

  “Then you had best make yourself ready for the journey,” the general replied. “We received word from Charcity this morning. Your ship will arrive in the night. You sail at first light.”

  The woman matched his glare for a moment longer, then her shoulders slumped and Romaine knew she was defeated.

  “Will you at least provide us with scouts?” she murmured. “Someone who knows the land? Calafe was a wilderness even before its fall. I must have a guide to show us the way.”

  “No—”

  “I will go, General,” Romaine said, striding forward through the ranks of soldiers.

  His heart pounded in his chest as he walked past Lukys and the other recruits. Their faces were white with terror, though to their credit they had not tried to argue. Perhaps they were simply too shocked to put up a fight. He caught a glimpse of Lukys’s face amongst the others, saw the flash of hope that appeared in his eyes, and quickly looked away.

  The Archivist looked surprised as he walked up. She stepped towards him, words of gratitude spilling from her mouth, but Romaine waved her away. He wasn’t doing this for her. His eyes caught the general’s.

  “Are you sure you wish to do this, Romaine?” Curtis murmured, stepping in close. Romaine only nodded, and he sighed. “Very well. I will place you in command of the regiment. I know you have been training them. Perhaps your presence will give them a chance to survive the woman’s madness.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Romaine said shortly. He understood the man’s reasoning, cold as it was. Maybe under other circumstances he could have agreed with his decision…maybe.

  The general nodded, and turning to the rest of army, he barked the dismissal. Steel rattled as the soldiers filed from the plaza one line after the other. The general watched them for a while, then glanced at the Perfugians. For a second, Romaine thought he glimpsed regret in the general’s eye. Had this been a bluff, to force the Archivist to abandon her task? If so, it had failed.

  Finally only the Perfugians remained. Glancing one last time at Romaine, the general offered a nod. Then he turned and marched from the square. The Archivist went next.

  Then Romaine was alone with the Perfugian recruits. Turning, he found himself looking into the youthful eyes of Lukys.

  “I thought you said not to care?” the recruit whispered.

  19

  The Recruit

  “I though you said not to care?” Lukys croaked as Romaine turned towards him.

  Standing in the front ranks of his regiment, Lukys couldn’t keep the horror from his face as Romaine met his eyes. His heart was pounding in his chest, his ears still ringing. It couldn’t be true, couldn’t be happening…

  They were doomed.

  “Who here is afraid?” Lukys flinched as Romaine looked away from him, speaking instead to the entire regiment.

  Standing at the head of the column, the warrior’s red-streaked eyes swept the gathered recruits, seeming to take them all in at once. Lukys wondered what game the man was playing. Every single Perfugian, even Dale, was trembling in his boots. Surely he could see that.

  No one spoke, and after a moment, Romaine began to pace up and down the line. That continued for a while. Every man and woman in the regiment watched the warrior, until he came to a sudden stop, and looked at them again.

  “I’m afraid,” he said unexpectedly, voice soft. “Many of you already know me, but for those who don’t, I am a warrior of Calafe. Tomorrow we will be marching into my homeland.” He paused, lowering his head, though Lukas still saw the sadness in his eyes. “But it is no longer my home. It has become enemy territory, the home of our nightmares.”

  He started to pace again, though now his eyes were on them. He spoke as he walked: “As of tomorrow, we will be brothers and sisters in arms. If we are to stand any chance of surviving, we must trust each other. Even with our deepest, darkest fears.” He stopped mid-stride, looking at them in earnest now. “My name is Romaine, and I am afraid of what we will face on the morrow. But that fear will not stop me.”

  Lukys swallowed as he locked eyes with the warrior. A shudder passed through him and before Lukys knew what he was doing, he stepped forward. “I am afraid.”

  A snigger came from somewhere behind him, but already another voice was emerging from the ranks of recruits.

  “I’m afraid.” Lukys smiled as Travis stepped up beside him, head held high as he looked back at their fellow Perfugians. “But I will not run from it.”

  “I am afraid as well.”

  Others followed, then all the recruits who had trained under Romaine, and others too, those who had not joined them, but perhaps had wished to, if only they’d found the courage. The laughter that had come from Dale and his friends died away, drowned out by the whispered admissions. Lukys glimpsed anger in his rival’s eyes.

  “Very good,” Romaine spoke again from the front ranks. “Then we will face our fears together.” He drew in a breath. “Well, we only have the day. I will not press you—we will need every ounce of strength for what we find in my homeland. But I must know your capabilities.”

  Whispers went through the recruits as they exchanged glances. Even those who had not joined Lukys knew about the gruelling training regime Romaine had subjected them to.

  “Enough!” Romaine’s shout rang from the walls of the nearby buildings.

  Silence was instant.

  “Enough,” the warrior repeated, folding his arms across his chest. “We’ve wasted too much time already. You lot.” He indicated the recruits to his left. “Break off, you will be the defenders. And you.” He gestured to the right. “The attackers.”

  Lukys and those who had worked with Romaine leapt to obey, but the rest stood staring at him until he barked, “Now!”

  Terrified, the recruits stumbled over one other in their haste, and the square rang with the sounds of confusion. It was only when they’d gathered into the two groups that Lukys realised what Romaine was saying. Attackers and defenders? But they didn’t have their practice spear
s. The regiments had come in full parade dress—full chainmail armour and shields and spears. Sharp. Deadly.

  Before he could ask what Romaine planned, the warrior issued fresh orders:

  “Form up, two ranks deep, shields to the front,” he bellowed.

  This time the recruits were quicker to obey, though their movements were still clumsy. It was obvious the manoeuvre would have failed in a true battle. Lukys tried to suppress his frustration as the recruits to either side jostled him. He was in the defending group, while Travis had ended up in with the attackers. Both were trying to inject order to the chaos, but it was an exercise in futility.

  Finally the two groups stood facing one another, each two lines deep. Romaine strode down the length between them, surveying the Perfugians with a professional eye. Lukys smiled as he saw Dale in the other group. At least he would not have to fight alongside the man.

  “Put down your spears,” Romaine said softly as he stepped away from the two lines.

  The clatter of wooden shafts falling to the dirt followed as the recruits released their weapons. Lukys frowned—they’d only just begun in the last week to practice with shields.

  “In this exercise,” the warrior continued, “you’ll use only your shields. They will be your most important weapon against the Tangata. Stand together, and you can neutralise the enemy’s strengths.”

  A burst of laughter came from the group of attackers. “No wonder your people are dead,” Dale snarled, pushing past his fellows to stand at the front of the line. He still held his spear. “Why should we listen to you, Calafe? I heard only the cowards escaped the Tangata with their lives.”

  To Lukys’s surprise, there was no rage in Romaine’s eyes as he faced Dale, only pity. “Because I’m your only hope of surviving what is to come,” he said coolly.

  Dale snorted. “Think I’d rather take my chances with the madwomen, if you think we can defeat the Tangata with a shield.”

  Romaine stared at the man for a long moment, then turned and walked to where Lukys stood. “Your shield,” he ordered.

  Lukys handed it over without a word and the Calafe nodded his thanks. Returning to stand before Dale, he nodded at the recruit.

  “Go ahead, soldier,” the Calafe said quietly. “Take your best shot.”

  “I…”

  Dale’s eyes showed reluctance and despite his bravado, he hesitated. Romaine held only a shield, and Dale’s weapon was not some blunted practice stave. Then his eyes narrowed and he seemed to make up his mind. With a roar, he let his own shield fall to the ground, then he rushed Romaine, the razor-sharp blade aimed for the warrior’s throat.

  To Lukys’s surprise, Romaine did not attempt to evade the attack. Instead his stance deepened, bracing his body behind the shield. As Dale neared, he surged forward, taking the recruit by surprise. Off-guard, there was no power behind Dale’s blow and his spearhead deflected harmlessly from the wooden shield.

  Then Romaine drove the steel-capped rim of his shield into Dale’s midriff. Breath hissed between the recruit’s teeth and the weight behind the blow put him flat on his back. Lukys winced at the muffled thump of Dale hitting the ground.

  “The time for games is over,” Romaine announced, facing the other recruits.

  At his feet, Dale was still straining to catch his breath. Sharing a glance with the Calafe warrior, Lukys couldn’t help but offer a satisfied grin. It was about time someone taught the man a lesson.

  “Lukys, to the front!”

  Lukys jumped as Romaine called his name. After a second’s hesitation, he hurried forward, and Romaine returned his shield. Then he gestured Travis forward. He took the shield and spear from him, before sending the man back to the watching ranks.

  “Your second strongest weapon is each other,” he went on. “A shield is not enough against a creature with the strength to tear you limb from limb. Unless we all stand together, we will die alone.” He gestured to Lukys and Dale, who had recovered his spear and managed to stand. “If you want to survive, you must fight together.”

  “What?” Lukys asked, glancing at Dale.

  The man looked just as disgusted at the thought of working alongside Lukys. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Deadly,” Romaine replied, then stabbed out suddenly with his spear.

  Lukys cried out as the point hammered against his shield, leaping back. Instinctively, he tried to parry with a spear he did not hold. A curse slipped from his lips as alone, Dale charged Romaine. The Calafe caught the charge on his shield and turned the blow aside, then kicked out with a heavy boot, tripping the Perfugian recruit and sending him crashing back to the ground.

  “I said together!” Romaine bellowed as Dale struggled to his feet.

  Panting, Lukys shared a glance with his rival. Without speaking, they took a step closer to one another, Dale on the right with spear held in a two-handed grip, Lukys standing so that the shield could cover them both. A grin split Romaine’s face as he advanced on them again.

  This time when the Calafe attacked, Lukys stood his ground, using the shield to deflect the spear tip away from Dale. Immediately, the other man thrust out with his weapon. The two-handed grip delivered a powerful blow and Romaine was forced to retreat to avoid being caught by the razor tip. Even in full chainmail, these were live weapons and the risk was real.

  Lukys and Dale advanced, doing their best to match one another’s strides. Romaine laughed and attacked again. This time Lukys thrust out with his shield the way Romaine had done, turning aside the blow and catching Romaine’s shield with his own. A cry came from Dale and he leapt forward, driving his spear for a gap that had opened in Romaine’s guard. Lukys’s heart lurched in his chest as he realised the blow would surely land.

  Quick as a cat, Romaine released his shield, causing Lukys to stagger as the pressure went off his own shield. Still moving, Romaine twisted and narrowly avoided being impaled. The spear spun in Romaine’s hands, seemingly an extension of the warrior’s own arm, and too late Lukys saw that Dale had stepped beyond the protection of his shield. There was a sharp crack as Romaine slammed the butt of his weapon into Dale’s chest.

  Paling, Dale staggered back, exposing Lukys to Romaine’s next attack. He opened his mouth to cry out, but instead found himself staring down the shaft of a spear pointed at his face.

  “Together, you had me on the defensive,” Romaine said calmly as he lowered the spear. Handing the equipment back to Kloe, he offered Dale a hand. To Lukys’s surprise, the recruit accepted. “When you separated, you were defeated.”

  Turning, he faced the rest of the recruits. “Let that be a lesson to all of you. It doesn’t matter how skilled any one of you are, nor how strong or fast your opponent. Stand together, and you can defeat anyone.”

  Perhaps it was only Lukys’s imagination, but it seemed that Romaine’s words lit a spark in the eyes of his fellow Perfugians. Smiling, he looked at the Calafe warrior. But instead of confidence, Lukys thought he glimpsed despair on the face of the warrior. A second later it was gone, but still it gave Lukys pause. His heart throbbed in his chest as he lowered the shield and stepped towards the warrior.

  Romaine turned away. “We’re all afraid of something,” he said softly to the men and women gathered before him. “I can’t promise that all of you will survive what is to come. But if you stand with me, together as one, I promise you will have a chance.” He drew in a deep breath. “Now, form up!”

  20

  The Archivist

  Erika tapped her foot gently on the muddy street. She stood before the river gate, rage boiling through every part of her, waiting for her “regiment” to arrive. Bad enough that the general had betrayed her, worse that the Perfugians were late. Again, she wondered whether she was making the right choice, gambling her entire expedition, her life, on thirty-seven untrained soldiers and a warrior of Calafe. Perhaps she should have sent the message to the capital and risked the delay.

  No, she couldn’t wait. This was her last chance to
discover the true magic of the Gods. She could almost feel the power throbbing in the palm of her hand as she clenched and unclenched her fist, but the gauntlet was but a taste. True magic awaited her in the south, she was sure of it. If only she could reach the ancient site before the Tangata swept through the land.

  A shiver ran down her spine, though she couldn’t have said whether it was from nerves or the cold. It was still dark inside the walls of the town and fresh snow had fallen during the night, leaving a thin layer of white on the slate rooftops. Erika wrinkled her nose as she looked down the torch-lined street. One thing was for sure: she wouldn’t miss this damned city. Better the wilderness, the open trees and forests…

  The rattle of footsteps finally carried to her from around the corner and she released her breath. They should have already been boarding the ship, but of course the Perfugian regiment would be delayed. Doubt assailed her yet again, and she found herself thinking about that third option, about the strange woman who had accosted her in the countryside…

  No, they tried to kill you!

  A flash of blue appeared at the end of the street as her regiment marched into view. She straightened her shoulders, determined to make the most of what she had. Almost forty heavily armed soldiers. A Calafe warrior who knew the land. A magic gauntlet that could kill a man with a thought.

  No, there was no reason to panic. The general might be determined to see her fail, but Erika would not allow his failures to be her own. She would succeed, would return with the power mankind had sought for centuries. Then the general would know her wrath.

  Erika shook herself, forcing her thoughts back to the present. This was no time to get ahead of herself. She must focus on the mission at hand. Watching the approaching recruits, she was relieved to see the Calafe at their head. And the Perfugians seemed to be moving in step now, rather than tripping over one another as she’d glimpsed her first day in the city.