by Kris Schnee
"Bah, he can't even follow proper Servant protocol," said Dominic, loudly enough for others to hear.
* * *
Citizen Hanse was so eager to get moving that everything appeared to be going perfectly. Nearly all of his thousand or so men marched out with spears and shields high, in front of their Citizens who rode on horseback with crossbows. Servant Marc had suggested that he, Dominic, and Jakob should ride together with Hanse "for a good view". Dominic couldn't argue, though it meant the next few hours would be unpleasant no matter what. They crossed the open ground between Border Fort One and the city walls, and shouted.
"Gate's open, see?" said Hanse to Marc. "We don't need those ladders you had us bring." Men on the walls waved homemade Baccatan flags and smiled down at them.
Hanse said, "Double-time, now: everyone in!"
A cheer went up from the troops. And then a minute later, of course, the situation changed. The welcoming troops on the walls leaped to the massive bowstrings of the "disabled" ballistae, and spikes began to rain into the army. An iron-tipped log the size of Dominic's arm slammed down toward the center, tearing a furrow through a column of people and sending the entire bloody mass spraying at Dominic. His horse shied away and carried him left, crashing into Citizen Marc's.
"Treachery!" said Marc.
Hanse was wild-eyed. "No! The gate still stands open. They need us in there right now! Advance!"
Marc said, "Are you mad?! These traitors lied!"
Hanse shouted to his men, "Charge, damn you! For the Holy State!"
The Bound and their Citizens wavered, but knew that shelter of a sort was closer ahead now than behind. Hanse seemed to think that the faction conflict in the city was in progress this instant, and willing to gamble everything on that. On the trust he had for Dominic, the traitor and liar. Dominic stared at the heap of torn, screaming men lying at his horse's hooves and could only move again when he saw the scene repeat, with another giant bolt slamming just left of another infantry squad. The horsemen were hurrying through ahead of the Bound, now, seeking safety.
"Move!" said Hanse, shouting into the ears of Dominic and Jakob.
Marc said, "Ride with us or I'll kill you now, traitors."
Dominic nodded and spurred his horse forward into the nightmare -- for a moment. Then, he used one hand to fling a dart at the other Servant's throat, and sped it along by magic.
Marc caught it in a blur of motion, and made three more like it float up from his saddlebags. "Well, then. Die!"
Dominic angled his Weave pattern like a shield against the incoming missiles, deflecting them to the right. Meanwhile he galloped off to the left, toward the coast, keeping his gaze locked behind him and trusting his mount. "Jakob!"
His fellow traitor flung arrows of his own at Marc and rode in pursuit. The three of them galloped toward the sea in a shimmering green fog of sharp wood. Dominic felt the arrows whipping past him again and again as though pulled toward him. Points grazed his arms and gouged blood from one ear as their deadly orbit closed in. He used their momentum to swing them around and stab them back toward Marc. Then, two of Jakob's arrows struck poorly: one in the meat of Dominic's left leg, and one in Servant Marc's horse.
Dominic yelped in searing pain and flattened himself against his horse's neck. The horse reared up, dumping Dominic off. Marc crashed, tried to stand, and shrieked; he'd hurt his leg too. Dominic rolled around to his knees in time to hold out one hand and stop the arrows coming at his face. He weakly flung them back, points swinging every which way. Jakob lanced out with his own arrows again.
"Neither of you is half the mage I am!" said Marc. He deflected both attacks and sent them straight up, then arcing back down with extra force.
When he rolled again, Dominic struck the arrow in his leg. It blazed with pain, making him scream and collapse face-first. It was all he could do to set up his Weave defenses again. In the distance, the border fort now burned.
He heard a wet thud. Arrows rained down, but they were no longer Weave-driven and clattered down only by gravity, bouncing harmlessly aside for once. He gingerly turned around and saw Marc clutching the metal knife Jakob had stabbed into his heart.
Jakob hopped down from his horse. He twisted the blade, then yanked it free and let Marc collapse. "Then in terms of magic, you win."
"Help me," said Dominic. Jakob broke free from a trace-like stare at the fallen Marc, and went over to work the arrow free from Dominic's wound. The traditional Servant style had no barbs, so that the missiles could be pulled free at a distance and quickly re-used, but pulling this one out still made Dominic moan in pain and look away from the blood welling up. He tried to change the subject while Jakob tended to him. "How're we doing?"
The other ex-Servant glanced over his shoulder and said, "Hanse's men are running. We need to get moving to the shore, to take on the ship." He held Dominic's leg and tried to help Dominic cast a healing spell on himself. "Can you stand?"
Blood and flesh slowly, partially wove back together in a swirl of emerald light. Dominic let Jakob help raise him up and support some of his weight. "I'll be better once we're swimming."
Jakob shook his head and helped him walk back away from the city gate, to the nearest beach. "Seawater. Grit your teeth."
Dominic whistled at the sea. While he waited, he removed his boots and threw his Servant robe onto the sand, leaving him in just a light tunic and socks. Border Fort One burned merrily now in the growing morning light. Men from the fort were running toward shore. Not clearly armed, looking more panicked than vengeful. They must have seen the troops fleeing back from St. Wylan, splashing away from the walls like water repelled by Temple Island's coral pillars. Those men would be desperate now and without a base to return to. The Righteous Fury was moored a hundred yards offshore with furled sails and no obvious activity on deck.
Sleek grey heads poked out of the water by twos and threes. A score of helpful dolphins! Dominic had only met them briefly, long enough to hear Sir Marion explain the situation to them in small words. "Carry him and his pod." Dominic had been skeptical about this part of the plan, but the sight of those grinning beaks made him forget the battle around him for a moment. "The Light be upon you," he said with a note of amazement, echoing one of the priest's prayers.
"In we go," said Jakob. "Want to do this the better way after all? I think the crew's about all gone."
Dominic eased himself into the water, knee-deep, hissing in pain when the saltwater washed over his half-healed wound. The fishy creatures poked and squeaked at him. "To the ship. Do you understand? Ship." He pointed. One of them offered him an arm-fin to hold onto. He took it, finding the flesh slick and rubbery. Jakob held onto another of the creatures, and suddenly they shot away through the water. Salt splashed his face and stung his eyes. If he'd been relying on his very limited swimming training he'd never have moved so quickly, or likely have made it to the Fury at all in his condition. But in just a few ragged breaths the dolphins had hauled him right up to the creaking hull. It shaded him and Jakob and rolled gently in the harbor current. Nearby St. Wylan had a proper harbor where men and ships went on their own independent journeys, but the only purpose of the Baccatan side's rocky cove was war.
He leaned against the slippery animal beside him. The plan had been to scuttle the ship from below by tearing up the wood faster than any crew could fix it, even using that quick-scuttling system if it was installed on this warship. But with Hanse's forces so scattered and preoccupied there was a bolder option. Jakob had brought a rope for that possibility. He pulled the soggy thing out now and sent one end snaking up the hull.
Dominic went up after Jakob so as not to slow him down. The sea's noises hid the thunk of their bodies against the hull. Each bump of his leg made Dominic have to suppress a pained hiss, but he thought they'd managed stealth. They peeked over the deck railing and saw movement. Jakob slammed mystic force against the rail and sent chunks of wood flying as though a catapult stone had crashed into it. Then, bot
h of them were up and stumbling onto the deck to see what they faced.
"Surrender!" Dominic yelled at the only men in sight, a cabin boy who clutched his bleeding arm and a tanned sailor with a sword already pointed at them. Each bore a Citizen's brand of course, since no Bound would be aboard except as cargo. "Jakob, the hatch." Jakob darted around them to jam the hatch to the hold, for long enough to deal with these two. Dominic snatched up two chunks of ruined railing and set them hovering beside him, ready to strike.
The sailor glanced over the railing, toward the city. Baccatan soldiers were running for their lives from their doomed assault, only to find that the fort they'd come from was ablaze. Mithraic troops had spilled out to chase them. The armed man cursed and set down his cutlass, kicking it over toward Dominic.
Dominic grabbed it, and tried to size up the danger he was in. "How many below?"
"Skeleton crew. Idiot down there pulled the marines off. Wasn't expecting a traitor." He saw the Servant's hovering debris loom closer. "And a brave, handsome traitor at that."
"Fair enough. What's your name?"
"Citizen Pierre, sir. You want this ship moving? Let the crew out. Should be able to rig the mains'l anyhow. Don't care where we go. Your ship."
Dominic eyed the deck's main weapons: a pair of heavy ballistae facing mostly forward. This vessel would make a good prize. He said, "Jakob, open the hatch. Pierre: outward tide at this hour, right?"
"Yessir."
Perfect. "Congratulations; you're first mate."
Jakob shouted down into the hold, "All hands on deck!" The two ex-Servants waited to see if there'd be any resistance, but the five ragged-looking, foul-smelling Citizens hardly even seemed to care about the new management. Barely even showed surprise at finding Jakob and Dominic on deck and ready to kill any of them. Dominic felt faintly, madly disappointed at not having to fight.
And then the captain rushed up to fling a dart at Dominic's face and charge with a slashing sword.
Dominic leaped backward, staggered because of his hurt leg, and banged into the damaged railing. It splintered behind him. He twisted to one side, nearly falling overboard, and the sword grazed his tunic and chest. He dived sideways and ripped a long chunk of wood free as a shield. Meanwhile, Jakob feinted with his knife but got driven back.
Dominic tried to regain his feet but the captain wouldn't give him a moment's escape. "That's right; stay down!" When Dominic threw the broken rail at him, the captain just ducked. Dominic hastily used his magic to slice through part of the ship's rigging, arming him with a chunk of rope with a heavy pulley on one end. He stood up swinging.
The captain tried to close in for the kill. "Well, crew?"
Pierre tripped him. The captain only staggered for a moment, looking shocked, but it was enough. Dominic sprang forward and tackled the captain, then yanked one hand upward in a vicious swipe that made a chunk of the deck spear up through the man's back and out his front. Dominic rolled free, climbed upright, and looked around at the crew. The captain's screaming had frozen them in terror.
Except Pierre. He was hanging back, looking rattled but trying not to show it. "Never liked you anyway."
Jakob was catching his breath and leaning against a ballista; he'd gotten kicked in the chest. "Dom, what -- what do we do?"
Dominic said to the captain, "Give up?" He got a terrible gasp in reply. "Disarm him. We'll try to heal him."
The former Servants kept a wary eye on the crew, who didn't interfere, while they worked to stabilize the captain. Finally Dominic said, "Take him below. This is my ship now." There was muttering but obedience.
Dominic said to Pierre, "You didn't think it was worth defending the ship?"
Pierre spoke quietly, losing a little of his flippant tone. "Sir, all my life I've taken orders. Why should I care who wins, beyond asking myself which boss will keep me alive?" The other men on deck seemed to agree.
"Well. I hope to give you some more choices soon."
On shore, some of the Mithraic men who'd burned the fort were now coming to the beach to help take the ship. Dolphins waited to carry them out. Dominic said, "Let's drop a boat to help them."
Soon, the Mithraists reached the Fury and clung to a rowboat, steadying it to help each other up a rope ladder and onto the deck.
Pierre watched Dominic impassively. "Ready to sail, sir?"
"Wait." Dominic looked the sullen, apathetic crew over, and thought of the inexperienced Bound who were the main survivors of the failed city attack. He consulted with Jakob, then said, "I want to take a boat out to the survivors, and offer them a job aboard ship. Maybe you can teach them."
"But they're Bound!" said Pierre.
Dominic grinned. "We'll make them Citizens, then, without the branding."
The whole captured crew grumbled. Pierre said, "Sir, you two were Servants who flipped sides, right?"
"Yes."
"Then you know the way of things. What Bound wants to drop down to having to live on a ship and eat nasty biscuits and boiled peas? What Bound wants the responsibility of risking their lives to keep other Bound safe for years on end, before getting to settle down with a nice house and a village to run? They don't want to live this way."
Dominic wondered how many Bound would take up a sailor's life if given the chance. Sure, people fantasized about sailing off to adventure or about being the powerful Citizens who got to live in a mansion. But the years of hard military living and the responsibility of owning peasants made it seem much less appealing. Many a Citizen bore terrible scars.
A spitting, miserable-looking Rose slumped onto the deck with soggy fur. "Ugh!" The sailors gaped at her.
Perrin followed behind her, bloodied but triumphant. "We got 'em! Took down their little army and wrecked the fort and everything!"
Dominic looked back to the men on shore, then to Pierre. "We'll start a new way of things. Take two men in the rowboat and go ashore. Tell the survivors of Hanse's troops that if they ride the dolphins over here, they'll be able to live without whips and brands."
In the distance, the Mithraic ship Dauntless came into view, to witness and assist the two converts' total victory. Dominic waved.
13. Awakened To Valor
Duke Cecil gave a feast this time, the night after the battle. "I half expected you to run back to the Citizen's arms for a hug, like little girls!"
Dominic took out his annoyance on a roasted pig. "I committed to your cause, and I meant it."
Jakob said, "The dolphins were amazing! How bright are they?"
Sir Marion said, "Better than the other beasts we've trained up. They take to the spell better. Can't really talk, but they understand."
"Have you tried some other way to communicate?"
Marion fell into happy technical chatter with him while everyone else ate and listened. The Duke looked hesitant, but didn't object to Marion spilling the details this time.
After a minute Perrin bit into a corncob and said, "I killed a man."
The Duke gave a tight-lipped smile. "A hard skill for a young man to have to learn. Not the killing itself, but what it does to you after."
"He deserved it. He was with the people who enslaved me, and who'd do the same to you. Or your son." Perrin nodded toward a teenaged boy who'd been listening to all the talk of battle.
"Aye." The Duke hesitated, shook his head, then took a drink and spoke to Rose instead. "Miss Rose, the League Council will hear of how you risked yourself twice, now, to beat back our enemies. We can give you some sort of medal and other gifts, at the very least."
His son said, "Maybe an estate?"
A courtier told the boy, "Sir, with all due respect..."
The Duke said, "Actually, why not? We've been at peace with her people for decades."
Rose's tail bristled and her ears flicked high. "Thank you, your lordship. I... will have to think about that."
Dominic offered her his hand across the table. "We've still barely met. Thanks for your help this morning. So you're a
farmer, not a soldier?"
She shook it, trying not to scratch Dominic's hand with her little claws. "I was sent at the Forest Lord's request to see his old stomping grounds." She saw Dominic's puzzled look and gave him a buck-toothed grin. "Before He became a god, He wandered the world, including your country. Said He wanted someone to see how the place was doing after the last century-plus."
Dominic went wide-eyed, making the connection at last between "Velesians" and a story from Temple Island's records. There'd been a court mage named Veles who'd served the Boundless One -- the man, before the crystal. "But he ran off! How is he still alive? Or is it an inherited title?"
"He figured out how to get lots and lots of really powerful familiars who'd help sustain Him." She posed vainly, tail high and one hand on her chest. "So, Mister Mask, I still need an escort if I'm going to do that. Also, I want a rematch."
Dominic laughed at being challenged by a rodent. "What's our next move, then, Duke... I suppose I should say, my Duke? I should ask, am I formally yours now?"
The Duke had someone else quiz Dominic and translate again, to make sure he understood. "Interesting question. You have no oath of fealty to anyone but the King. If you did swear loyalty to me, you'd of course be subject to my commands."
"And if I didn't?"
"I won't force either of you, and you've already won me a victory. As far as I'm concerned you've proven trustworthy enough to be released freely among us. Not that we'd tell you all our secrets; no offense."
"I understand."
The Duke said, "You'd be welcome as a subject of our League, living in this city or elsewhere in peace. Or I'd give you a letter of introduction suggesting that any other Duke take you on as... your word would be 'Citizen', I think. We use the word 'knight' mainly for the griffins, but to some extent for mages and warriors like Sir Marion here. He owns a manor northwest of the city. You, then, could be mages with your own estates."