Blood Mercenaries Origins

by Ben Wolf

  “We’re almost home,” Mum said. “Pa, Aeron will be staying home for the rest of today from work. There’s no need to subject him to any more stress right now.”

  Something within Aeron spoke for him. “No, Mum. It’s alright. I’m fine with working. It might take my mind off of things.”

  Mum hesitated at first, but then she nodded.

  “Well,” Pa said, “No good reason to stop by home. See you at the shop, Aeron.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  At home, Aeron changed into his grime-stained work clothes, pocketed some coins, and then headed back downstairs.

  Kallie tried to say something to him as he walked out, but he heard Mum say, “Leave him be. He needs time.”

  No, Mum. Time isn’t what I need.

  Aeron didn’t head toward the shop. Instead, he headed toward the apothecary.

  I need magic mushrooms.

  Three shrooms later, Aeron’s pain had subsided, and he’d made his way to Pa’s shop with the remainder of his shroom purchase in a new sack.

  He didn’t say a word to Pa; he just headed straight for his apron and his gloves, through the vivid displays of colors transforming around him, and got to work.

  The haze didn’t keep Aeron from working, but nor did it dull his sorrow. Thanks to the shrooms, he felt no anxiety, but he hadn’t found a shroom to combat sadness or to fill the emptiness in his chest where his bond with Wafer should have been.

  He hammered through his work. The shrooms’ swirling, colorful effects had just started to wear off when the familiar sound of hoofbeats clopped outside.

  At that point, he didn’t care. He’d already lost everything he’d wanted, so what did it matter if the soldiers recognized him and called him out in front of Pa?

  The telltale wingbeats of a wyvern approached next. The sound broke Aeron’s heart anew, but he shook it off and ignored his feelings as best as he could.

  Before long, Commander Brove’s Urthian-accented voice came from the far end of the shop. Where Aeron had wanted to hurt him before, now he just wanted to be left alone. He hoped Pa would get Brove out of there quickly.

  “Aeron?” Pa called.

  Aeron lowered his hammer and looked up.

  Commander Brove stood next to Pa, wearing his telltale gray armor with the silver wyvern wing stamped on his shoulder and a smirk. That smirk sparked rage anew in Aeron’s belly, but the remaining shroom effects subdued it.

  “The commander wants to speak with you,” Pa continued.

  Well, I don’t want to speak with him. Aeron said, “I’m busy.”

  “What’s wrong, Leatherwing Ironglade?” Brove taunted. “Oops. Forgive me. It’s just ‘Aeron’ now, isn’t it? You don’t have a rank since we stripped it from you.”

  The spark reignited in Aeron’s gut, and this time he had to fight to stanch it instead of the shrooms doing it for him. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “I suppose you didn’t explain the real reason why you were discharged, did you?” Brove brushed something off of his armored shoulder and smirked again.

  “He told me enough,” Pa said.

  “He told you that he took magic mushrooms, endangered his fellow knights on a critical mission, and summarily got discharged?” Brove tilted his head and eyed Pa.

  Aeron stayed silent.

  Pa glanced between them and nodded. “Not in so many words, but I’ve gathered as much over the last few weeks, yes.”

  “Hmm. Except that’s not what happened.” Brove chuckled. “Would you like to know the real reason?”

  “Commander, please…” Aeron said.

  Now Pa remained silent.

  “Did he tell you that he committed…” Brove lowered his voice. “…treason?”

  Aeron fought the lingering shroom effects and said, “That’s not strictly true.”

  Brove shrugged. “It is according to the oath you swore. The part about serving the Govalian Army for life wasn’t a suggestion.”

  “Daydreaming about leaving doesn’t constitute treason,” Aeron countered, more to Pa than to Brove. He’d already pled his case to Brove and failed, but Pa needed to hear the truth. “I would’ve stayed with the army forever, but with the accident, my back made it hard to do much of anything without… help.”

  “And that’s where the magic mushrooms came in. They hindered your judgment in this area, certainly.” Brove turned to Pa. “Do you know that he wrote you a letter outlining his plans to steal army property and abandon his post?”

  Aeron’s rage bubbled over. “That’s not true! You’re twisting my words!”

  “Whether I am or not doesn’t matter. We intercepted the letter, of course, and General Cadimus saw fit to expel you all the same.”

  “And he also refused to execute me, despite your multiple requests,” Aeron said.

  “The punishment for treason is death. Though General Cadimus showed you mercy, the law is the law. But since he passed judgment, I cannot contravene his ruling.” Brove bared his teeth in a wicked smile. “And that includes his decision to auction off your precious wyvern.”

  Aeron clenched his fists, but Brove’s admission came as little surprise to him. As a general, Cadimus oversaw much of the Govalian Army, including the ranks of wyvern knights. He typically allowed Brove to control the riders’ assets and operations, but wyverns without riders weren’t a simple matter.

  Apparently, Cadimus had decided that a wyvern bonded to a rider who was no longer employed in the army was more of a liability than an asset. It still needed to be fed and stabled, and it would require additional attention and training to get it ready for another rider—if it ever would be.

  “If I’d had things my way, I would’ve just killed your mount and fed its carcass to the other wyverns at the roost,” Brove continued. “It would’ve made for a better use of our time and resources. But General Cadimus forbade it. He insisted we sell the wyvern to recoup some of our losses.

  “So I auctioned him, as ordered,” Brove smiled again, “and bought him myself.”

  Chapter Eight

  Aeron’s jaw hung open, and he sobered up immediately. “Why?”

  “Because your discharge was a miscarriage of justice. You should have died for your treason,” Brove said. “But since I can’t bring justice to you, I’m going to bring it to your mount instead.

  “He will return to the roost,” Brove continued. “He will be killed, and he will be fed to the other wyverns. And you will live the rest of your meager existence knowing every detail of his fate.”

  “Get out of my shop,” Pa uttered slowly, menacingly.

  Brove turned toward him. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ll forge your weapons and shoe your horses, but I won’t tolerate harassment.” Pa pointed toward the front door. “So get out of here.”

  Brove stepped closer to him and leaned his face near Pa’s. “Keep talking to me like that, and you won’t make so much as a door knocker for us ever again. I’ll have you put out of business faster than you could whistle the Govalian Anthem.”

  Pa didn’t flinch. “I know the law. A proprietor may refuse service to anyone whom he chooses for any reason. I’m exercising that privilege right now, and I’m refusing to service you and your men by allowing you to enter my place of business.”

  “You really don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you?” Brove asked.

  “That makes two of us, then,” Pa said, stone cold.

  Brove stepped back. “You’d be on the floor, begging for your life right now if you didn’t do such impeccable work.”

  “If I didn’t do such impeccable work, you’d be training naked every day.”

  Silence.

  Aeron blinked.

  More silence.

  Brove nodded. “I suppose I can’t argue with you there.”

  “I’ll send word when your order is finished,” Pa said.

  “And I’ll send word when the wyvern is dead.” Brove sneered at Aeron. “He’s already been transport
ed back to the roost. Pretty soon, he’ll be dinner for all of his pals.”

  “You’re jealous because I’m better than you,” Aeron fired at him. “That’s all this ever was. I beat you, and your ego can’t take it.”

  “Maybe that was true, once, but certainly not anymore.”

  “You’re sick,” Aeron continued. “You spent 10,000 gold just to get back at me?”

  “It was nothing,” Brove said. “My family, back in Urthia, is quite wealthy. It’s how I earned my officer’s commission in the army, in fact. And if paying 10,000 gold means that some measure of true justice is served, and if it sets the right example for other treason-minded soldiers, then it is a worthy price to pay.”

  “I hate you,” Aeron said.

  “I know.” Brove grinned, turned, and headed out of the shop with his soldiers following.

  Pa watched the soldiers mount up through the window. “You must have really pissed that bastard off.”

  Aeron didn’t answer. He just stood there staring past the window, past the soldiers and Commander Brove and Strife, past the city itself. He saw nothing.

  The first mighty beat of Strife’s wings broke Aeron’s absent focus, and he blinked. “I have to do something.”

  “What is there to do?” Pa asked. “It’s done. He’s won. The best you can hope for is to live well in spite of him.”

  “That’s not enough. They’re going to kill Wafer.”

  “I know he’s important to you, but sometimes this is how life goes.”

  “No, Pa. You have no idea what you’re talking about. To you, he’s just a pet or a horse that flies. But to me, he is literally my best friend. We’re linked. Bonded. If they kill him, a huge part of me dies as well.”

  Pa shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. But we have work to do. Real work that will earn us real coin.”

  Aeron sighed. Pa would never understand.

  “But…” Pa started. “But first I need to run an errand.”

  “Whatever.”

  “And you can either mope around all day or you can accomplish something.” Pa headed over to his favorite workstation and pulled something small and metal off of a nearby rack. He held it up—a large skeleton key. “Before I go, I wanted to make sure you knew to take special care of this key.”

  Aeron blinked. “You want me to… take care of a key?”

  “This key is very important,” Pa said. “It’s a key commissioned in secret by our very own Commander Brove. It can open most of the fortress’s external doors, and only ranking officers are allowed to carry keys like this.”

  Aeron tilted his head. Interesting.

  “I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about keys like these. But I’m telling you so you can take care of it while I’m gone. On my errand. Which will take quite some time to accomplish.”

  What is he doing? It didn’t make sense. If Pa had wanted the key safe, he could’ve taken it with him, or he could’ve just left it hanging there as another anonymous, innocuous part of the shop.

  “Do you understand?” Pa asked. “I want you to take care of it while I’m running my errand.”

  Aeron’s eyes widened. He nodded. “Yes. I understand. Thank you, Pa.”

  Pa gave him a single nod in return. “You’ve ruined a lot of things in your life recently. Don’t mess this up, too.”

  And with that, Pa turned and left.

  Aeron rushed over and grabbed the key.

  In order for Aeron’s hasty plan to work, he’d need to stop by the apothecary again. He hurried inside and pointed to what he needed.

  “How long until these take effect?” Aeron asked.

  The old apothecary rubbed the two long, silver hairs sprouting from her chin. “Both should be instantaneous. I wouldn’t touch the blue one with any part of your skin until you’re ready to use it. It’s rather potent.”

  “Good to know.” Aeron nodded. “How long do their effects last?”

  “Oh, normally about a day, each. But they’re older mushrooms than what I normally sell, so I wouldn’t count on more than six hours,” she added. “I just don’t get a lot of folks asking for these.”

  Plenty of time. “Will these mix well with the purple-striped and the yellow-spotted ones?”

  “I seem to recall that mixing either of these with anything else is a recipe for disaster, but as I said, I don’t sell many of them these days.” She gave a soft chuckle. “My memory’s not what it used to be.”

  Aeron cursed under his breath. “I’ll make it work. How much?”

  She told him, and he paid the steep price. But what did a few dozen gold coins matter if they helped him ransom Wafer from his fate?

  The apothecary donned leather gloves, wrapped the blue magic mushroom in a cloth, and handed it to him along with another orange-and-black mushroom, not wrapped.

  “Don’t squeeze the blue one. It releases spores that are just as effective.”

  “I know. That’s why I wanted it.” Aeron thanked her, ran out, and headed back toward Pa’s shop.

  When he got there, he found Kallie waiting for him.

  “Aeron.” Sadness etched her words. “I’m so sorry about the auction. We tried.”

  “I know we did. But I’m fine now. Really, I am.” He passed her by and scurried around the shop, piecing together what he needed.

  “What are you in such a rush about?”

  “No time to explain.” Aeron pointed at a shield he’d finished the day before, hanging from a hook on a wooden post. “Hand me that, would you?”

  She paused, then she complied. “Alright.”

  He set it to the side where he could find it again and began to look around the shop for something he hadn’t made since he’d started working at the shop again. “Gauntlets, gauntlets… I need gauntlets.”

  Kallie pointed across the shop. “Pa usually keeps them over there.”

  Aeron found them and slipped them on over the sleeves of his work clothes.

  “You look like you’re going into battle. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Can’t talk about it.” Aeron fiddled with the straps and buckles on the gauntlets but couldn’t quite get them tight enough. “Help me tighten these?”

  Kallie planted her feet. “Not unless you tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s better if you don’t know anything. That way, if someone questions you—”

  “For the gods’ sakes, Aeron. You’re my brother. I want to help.” She lowered her arms to her sides. “You’re clearly up to no good, so let me help you with it. I’m good at being up to no good.”

  Aeron grunted, but he would move faster if she helped him. He held out his arms toward her. “Fine. I’m going to break into the fortress and set Wafer free.”

  “What? How?” Kallie tightened one greave, then the other.

  “Pa made a special key that ranking officers use to get inside. I’m… borrowing it.” Aeron grabbed a forest green breastplate next. “Help me with this?”

  “The back isn’t painted yet. It’s just raw iron.”

  Aeron swore. “Didn’t see another one near my size. It’ll have to do. Strap me in.”

  She did. “Now that you’ve told me, I’m not so sure I want you to do this. You’re going to get yourself caught or killed. Maybe both.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll be wearing a disguise.”

  “A pretty mediocre one.”

  “It’ll work. Once I reach Wafer, we’ll fly out. The roost is open air—no ceiling.”

  Kallie’s protests continued, but she kept helping him don the armor. When they finished, he looked mostly like a soldier again—at least from what Aeron could tell.

  “Something’s missing.” She held up her forefinger. “Wait.”

  Kallie grabbed a lance from a rack and handed it to him.

  Aeron looked it over. “This lance isn’t up to army code.”

  Kallie rolled her eyes. “Neither is the unfinished back of your breastplate. But as you said, it’ll have
to do. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  He nodded. “I have to do it. If I die, at least I’ll die with my best friend.”

  “Gods, Aeron. Don’t say things like that.” Kallie shook her head and looked away. “We just got you back.”

  “I’m sorry.” He approached her, leaned the spear to the side, and took her hands in his. “I don’t want to die. I’d much rather get away with it. But if I do…”

  She looked up at him.

  “Well, I was going to offer to let you have all of my belongings, but I’m poor as dirt. So you’ll just have to remember me on your own.”

  Kallie smacked his breastplate and smiled. Even so, tears ran down her cheeks. She grabbed him and curled her arms around him. “Love you, brother.”

  “I love you too, sis.” He patted her back and pulled away. “Gotta run.”

  “If you make it, when will you be back?”

  He picked up the shield again and yanked the lance free from the floor. Then he patted his pockets to make sure he had the key, and he tucked the shrooms into a small pouch and secured it to his waist.

  Aeron also grabbed a key for shackles, just in case he did get caught, and he tucked it inside the wrist of his left greave.

  “Tonight. But I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay.”

  She nodded. “Don’t tell me goodbye now. Tell me when you get back.”

  Aeron smiled. “Alright.”

  “Well, go already,” she said.

  Aeron bolted out of the shop and made for the path that led to the fortress.

  Each successive step racked Aeron’s back as he trudged up the path.

  His anxiety about what he meant to do assaulted his senses and shortened his breath, but he forced it down and moved ahead with the rationalization that not doing this would be far worse.

  He completed the two-mile hike to the fortress in about forty-five minutes and stopped before the very same bronze doors he’d faced several weeks earlier.

  Aeron sucked in a long breath to still his nerves. “Told you I’d come back.”

  A keyhole in the center of the right-side door gaped open at him. He tucked his lance under his armpit, dug out the unwrapped orange-and-black shroom, and ate it. It tasted a bit like honey—if it had been mixed into a bowl of dirt.