by D. H. Aire
“All… oh.”
Lord Rian frowned.
“Family issues resolving themselves, I think.”
The Legionnaire captain was soon ordering his troops to tear down the command tent, then the Cathartans strode forth. George mounted and was about to reach down for Se’and, when Lawson strode forth. He gaped.
Se’and turned and stopped.
Lawson would never be called handsome, but now he was; bronzed troll musculature and his swept back braided hair gave him an exotic look of masculinity. “Uh, why don’t you look that good, Je’orj?”
“Thanks, Se’and, ever with a compliment.”
She reached up to him and he drew her the rest of the way. She mounted behind him as Sergeant Grigg brought him his cloak, which, even folded, looked lumpy. He ended up putting it in her saddle pack once his mount was brought. He drew Yel’ane up in front of him.
She winced.
“You need salve?”
She glanced over her shoulder, “You plan to apply it?”
He grimaced. “Why did you do that?”
“You’re not a troll.”
“Yes, I am… well, pretty much one for a throwback.”
“You’re human and I was there when… when you did your magery.”
“Humans can’t do magery, they say.”
“Lawson, you are special. What you know… what you can do. We need to protect you before you get yourself killed.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You’re a man… mine and the girls… you took us into your heart when… when things were at there worst. We only had each other and you found us.”
“Greth, Casber, and I found you,” he replied.
“Greth’s a troll… Casber’s… well, he’s a boy with a unicon.”
Shaking his head, “Yel’ane, you’re barely a woman.”
“At least, you admit I’m a woman,” she muttered, rubbing her bottom.
He sighed. The column began heading south. “Would it be easier if I, uh, held you?”
Eyes misting, “Maybe.”
“Fine,” he replied as she twisted around and put her arms around his neck.
She nuzzled his cheek as he settled her against his cheek. A moment later, she snored. He winced as Re’ut rode up on his right. “She didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Re’ut nodded, “It was your wedding night…”
He blinked, “Yeah.”
Re’ut frowned, “She’ll get more sleep once she’s pregnant.”
“Pregnant?”
“She’s the Lady of the House,” Re’ut said. “She has the right, you know.”
“Uh huh,” he muttered, wincing.
“Hopefully, it will not take too long… we all would like to… uh, have our wedding nights with you.”
Holding Yel’ane as they rode, he wondered if he had gone too easy on her.
Chapter 32 - Truth and Illusion
Beneath the Empire lines of power pulsed as reality strained.
We apparently have more than one prophecy in play.
Did you feel that?
Oh, you mean the scrying network failing?
Yes.
Kinsmen, did you feel that?
Wonderful, here they come.
What did you two do?
We did not do anything…
… apparently Je’orj has not gone to deal with Bastian.
You were supposed to make sure he did.
Well, events demonstrate he must and he appears to have gone north to the Citadel.
Appears being the proper term.
He has not, then?
Everyone’s seeing the Highmage proceeding north, but Je’orj has gone after Lady Fri’il.
Lady Farrel now.
Not if he stops her for fulfilling prophecy.
Which one?
What are you talking about?
Just be happy you do not understand. That one did not end the way we would like.
So, Lady Fri’il has gone to fulfill the Cathartan Prophecy.
Yes, and she’s tumbled on another, which Je’orj could mess up.
Another?
The quest.
There was a chorus of: Oh.
Exactly.
With the network down we are going to have to bring in… some help.
Silence.
#
They camped a day’s ride north of the Capital and waited for their guest. The Legionnaires set up tents, uncertain at the delay. But what the Highmage ordered was by the Empress’s command. Lord Sianhiel made that clear enough in his role as Commander of the Legions, a position the Empress bestowed to make certain none of the northern generals could gainsay him or the Highmage.
Cle’or leaned against her mount. All the steeds suddenly looked east. “Je’orj!”
The Highmage, glowing staff in hand, and Se’and came out of the tent. Raven, in beast form, bounded in front of them.
The steeds chorused a whinny as a black battle steed galloped out of the east toward them.
#
Cle’or mounted and rode out to meet him. When she did, she could not help but laugh. “Truthsayer?”
“You ride at break your neck speed and you’d do this, too!”
“Fine, but that’s a lot of rope.”
“Amira added a few for my peace of mind. Now help me off this thing, I’ve got to, well, change my pants. I’ve had to pee myself a, uh, time or two.”
His mount lowered his head, neighed.
“You are getting everything you deserve.”
The dripping black steed nodded.
She helped untie Truthsayer, who promptly slid off the steed’s back. “I’ll get you a new pair of pants from your pack.”
He wobbled away and turned his back. “So, anything else I should know?”
“Yes, you are only to talk to me.”
“Why?”
“Je’orj doesn’t want you to.”
“Truth,” he muttered. He glanced back at her. “Oh.”
“Now, has this steed of yours given you any problems?”
“No, he’s been quite… can you call a horse respectful?”
“His name is Grendel… He tried to rape the Empress.”
“Truth.”
“You normally don’t see that in a horse, or as Seeress called it a steed, I guess. She did tell him to behave himself or he’d be gelded.”
She looked the steed in the eye, “That’s absolutely true.”
The sweat sheened steed cringed back.
“He really has been quite amazing,” Truthsayer said.
She continued to glare at the creature, which bowed to her.
“No tricks, Grendel, or I’ll be the one gelding you.”
He gave a long whinny.
“Just so we understand each other.”
“I can use those pants now. I think this pair is best buried.”
#
“Highmage,” the Legionnaire called, riding back from the front of the column. “We’re approaching the Margins.”
“Oh, joy,” Aaprin muttered in his master’s guise.
“Highmage?” Casber said with a frown, riding slightly to his mount’s rear upon the unicorn.
“You likely haven’t heard about the Margins,” Aaprin inquired.
“No,” the boy admitted.
“It’s the armpit of the Empire…” the Legionnaire said.
“It’s been called the Legion’s Playground,” Aaprin said. “It’s an over thousand years old warren of slums, taverns, gambling dens, and worse.”
“The Legion used to get a lot of recruits from here,” the Legionnaire Master Sergeant admitted. “This place hasn’t changed a bit. Believe it or not, an elvin house rules here, though, the Dowager keeps out of sight. Some say she’s behind all the gambling and other criminal establishments here. I’ve advised General Sianhiel to pull the men in close and to caution everyone to stay together.”
Their escort of mixed old veterans and raw re
cruits closed in more tightly around them on their battle steeds. Passing the first houses on the edge of the Margins, those in ragged clothing eyed them, some whispered.
“See that?” Gallen whispered in his ear.
He nodded, glancing at Ander as she rode, looking like Lady Se’and, closer to their right, who rode at the head of the column with Truthsayer relegated to the supply coach behind her, where he could lay down.
Cle’or eyed the area, Grendelsteed trotting behind her, the saddle he’d picked up somewhere in the Crescent Lands, airing out on the back lip of the coach. She hand signaled, ‘Word's going out’ as Lord Sianhiel at the column’s head ordered a slower, more cautious pace.
“Yep, urchin gangs and worse,” Gallen whispered.
Juels was perched behind Andre, looking to the rest of the world as a rather pale haired beast with a lush black mane. She glanced at the Imperial citizens, knowing most were outright thieves; had to be to survive.
Juels quietly asked, seeing Gallen’s nod, indicating it was safe to talk within their illusion. “What the veterans I’ve been overhearing said is true?”
The unicorn glanced back. ‘Sections of the Margins are territories for particular Legion detachments. The children here often claim their fathers are or were Legionnaires. They used to join their, well, hereditary Legion… it was that or die at the hands of one of the local crime bosses or gangs.’
Juels frowned, pretending she had not heard the mindspeech as Ander said, “Legionnaires retire to places like the Capital’s Seventh Tier, which feels a bit like home and apparently offers… more opportunity than could be found outside one of the many gambling dens or, wantabe fine houses of, uh, ill-repute that might be a girl from here’s only hope of making enough gold to buy her way to a new life.”
Gallen shivered, adding, “That, or marry a Legionnaire, a very understanding one, who might leave her legitimate and his honorable death pension to her for his Imperial Service. That pension is like a winning of the lottery, which makes Legionnaires both desirable husbands and cursed, when it turns out the bastards married far more than one witless girl across the Margins, the Bastian, and some village out in the Northlands.”
“Then its good we have so many veterans with us,” Aaprin said, glancing at the supply coach. “It should help smooth any problems.”
#
The unicorn slowed. ‘Casber, we need to take our leave for a time.’
Casber sighed, “Uh, last time we ‘took our leave’ as you put it, we ended up in lots of trouble.”
Greth grumbled, “Why do I get the impression that I’m going to see more of the Margins than I’d like?”
‘We’ll need an escort.’
Wincing, Casber replied, “Which means I get to ask Lord Sianhiel, who is going to want to know where we are going… Where are we going?”
The Consecrated’s Tower.’
Greth frowned. “Dare I ask?”
‘You will just need to try to be polite, Greth.’
He grinned, “I’m always polite.”
Casber saw everyone around them shudder.
#
The young elvin woman gaped as the steed raced toward the river, waded out then began… swimming.
“Huh?”
Farrel chuckled, feeling her sword press up against her back and unconsciously fingered her pack with its wrapped sword at the center.
“How you doing with that canteen?”
“I’m fine,” she replied as water lapped across their legs.
Soon enough, first the stallion, then the mare reached the other side and on they raced south.
‘Uh, we’ve trouble,’ the mare shared.
“What?” Farrel muttered.
“Huh?” the elvin woman replied.
“Nothing, just wondering if we’d shaken your pursuers.”
“Oh.”
They’re tracking us somehow.’
Farrel frowned, the woman was naked. “Your shoes. They can track your shoes.”
“Oh, no.”
“Give them to me!”
The woman yanked first one, then the other from her feet. The stallion raced to Farrel’s side opened its mouth, then clamped down on them and raced back to the river. ‘They taste awful1’
Oh, dear, Farrel thought, struggling not to laugh as her charge gaped, wondering if she had lost her mind and was still laying out there somewhere.
#
Je’orj rode alongside Lawson.
Se’and said, “Looks like Tane and Kolter aren’t making nice.”
“How bad is it?” Lawson asked.
“Prelude to all out war, I’d think,” George said.
“Oh, good,” Lawson said with a certain grim satisfied. “Yel’ane shouldn’t be able to get me into any worse trouble.”
“It can’t be comfortable for her to sleep,” Se’and said, “particularly draped over your shoulder like that.”
“I’m fine,” Yel’ane hastily replied.
“It’s easier this way,” Lawson answered, “now that I’ve learned just how grateful I’m supposed to be.”
“You’re a Cathartan lordling now, old friend,” George said with a rueful smile.
“About that, George, uh, ‘how’s that worked out for you?’”
“Lawson, you learned that phrase from the entertainment database?”
“Yes, I managed to get it working; although, Mother claimed it wasn’t exactly a priority.”
Se’and sighed, “Perhaps, it’s time Yel’ane and I have a long talk.”
“Feel free,” he replied, “George and I could use some time to talk shop.”
Yel’ane craned her neck, “Uh, Se’and, this isn’t so bad… it’s not like… well.”
Se’and leaned close, “Um, you believed a few too many of the old ballads?”
“I, uh, always sort of liked them.”
“They are meant to be cautionary tales… This is not how establishing a Household is supposed to be.”
“He thinks I’m a kid.”
Se’and sighed, “Ever think he’s got a point and is being forced to treat you like one?”
George shook his head saying to Lawson, “Well, how are the repairs going?”
“The kids are able to handle the simple stuff. I’d dealt with the core issues that were correctable before Mother sent me on this little quest to find you.”
“Mother seemed to have a number of… long term issues,” George said.
“In a few generations with competent engineers, everything will be fine.”
“It’s going to take more than a few and some big changes to her technical specifications.”
“Well, George, I heartily agree. You’re the official Chief Engineer, after all. I’m just a lowly assistant engineer.”
“I’m an archeologist, who dabbles in knowledge of historical engineering techniques… starship design wasn’t exactly my forté,” he replied as Se’and and Yel’ane carried on their conversation in near whispers. “Always thought general historic techniques a necessity in my line of study... just never thought it would, well, prove so useful. Which leads me to wonder why, may I ask, Mother seems more than resigned to the fact you’ve bonded this little lady, there.”
“I don’t know that she is,” he replied with an eye twitch. He patted Yel’ane’s shoulder. “I can understand Mother approving of her interest in math, but more than that?”
She struggled to twist about, realizing they were talking about her.
“What do you think now?” George asked.
“Well, perhaps, Mother imagines lots of dwarf trolls running around the place.”
“That’s not going to go over well back home.”
“Well,” Lawson chuckled, “those girls never appreciated me. And seeing me like this, with my new hairless chest and braided hair? That’s only going to get worse.”
“Oh…” Yel’ane muttered, overhearing him say that.
George frowned as Se’and sat straight behind him.
&nb
sp; “Ahem,” Lawson said, brushing back a rather atypical tear, “I’m not happy about this… but it’s not going to grow back, either. So, I’m never going to be hailed a proper… troll.”
“Oh, Lawson,” George gasped.
“Yeah, Super Wax. She used nearly all I had left on me… Want to learn what agony really feels like? She applied it,” he smacked her behind and she gritted her teeth, “rather liberally, especially to places she shouldn’t have.”
“But you had me use some,” she rasped in a hushed voice.
He whispered back, “Not liberally… not that you left us a choice, either, wifey dear. I warned you there would be, well, a side effect.”
“There’s side effects and…” she smacked him on the back.
He winced, still feeling the strike sting a bit.
“George, they expect me to get this little beast of a child pregnant, then expect me to…”
He nodded, “I understand… Just try to keep up appearances for a few years.”
“That work for you?” Lawson muttered.
“Uh, not totally.” He tried not to look up at Raven soaring overhead.
:Such empathy, George.:
Se’and looked over his shoulder, “I think Yel’ane and I need a more private conversation. It’s not like there are a lot of men back where we come from. There are things I doubt any of your aunties thought to talk to you about just yet.”
Yel’ane’s eyes went round and she fainted.
Feeling her go totally limp, Lawson drew her back and cradled her. “Of all the… Se’and, can you teach me that?”
#
“Uh, General Winterhil?”
“What, lad?”
“Uh, the Scryers report… another army heading south.”
“Whose?”
“Fifth Legion.”
He blinked. “There is no… What size army?”
“Difficult to say, five hundred, perhaps a thousand men.”
“What’s Lord Erkiil up to? Any further word from Lady Esperanza?”
“Not since we lost contact two hours ago.”
“Well, let’s hope I made the right decision, then,” he muttered, glancing back at his column of Legionnaires.
“How long until they catch up to us?”
“General, they are not heading in our direction. They’re about thirty leagues to the east.”
“Where do they seem to be heading?”