Guns of the Temple (The Polaris Chronicles Book 1)

by Choi, Bryan

  “Don’t bully him.” Draco flicked her ear.

  “Ow! Shithead.”

  “An accident? Oh my, it simply wouldn’t do to have a cute girl like you dunked in the latrine!” Lotte said as she returned fully dressed. Hadassah vehemently shook her head in protest of her innocence. “Well, Natalis, what do our stores look like? I haven’t seen our books for months.”

  Taki sighed, glad the subject had shifted back to work. He decided not to ask her why she had abandoned all responsibility of the squad’s finances. Perhaps, he mused, that was the real reason the major had been so keen to recruit him. He had learned to read, write, and factor before entering the academy, making him a rarity among the mostly unlettered lower ranks. Hence, he was the unit’s purser from now until his death.

  “Since the squad hasn’t been active for the last year, we have a goodly amount. Sixty rounds of old Nayto, thirty-five Sovietskij Rimmed, eighty-five Luger, and fifty Murrikanian ACP, all virgin pre-war surplus. There’s an abundance of common dirty rounds for our use as well. We also have around a kilogram of loose powder and three kilograms of minie ball of various sizes,” he recited.

  “That’s a lot of ammo,” Draco said, greed glinting in his eyes.

  “Yeah, we could buy the exarch’s tower with that. Or eat bacon every day forever!” Hadassah said.

  “I thought you were a Jewess.”

  “I told you before, I don’t do the whole kashrut thing.”

  Draco shot her a dirty look.

  “I’m obligated by the Hoplite’s Code to remind everyone that the less we shoot, the more we end up getting back in our pay,” Lotte said. Inhabitants of the Temple had a few privileges that levy troops of Dominion nobility did not. “Of course, I expect you to shoot as much as necessary to accomplish your mission. Anyone holding their fire just because you want to hoard is going to catch a beating.”

  “Emreis, your pistol uses black powder, so I’m giving you a hundred grams and thirty-six balls for this,” Taki said, marking down ammunition assignments for the group. “Captain, you will get your standard combat load of twenty-eight Murrikanians. Mikkelsen, you get twenty rounds for your Nagant and sixteen Luger for your pistol. Finally, I will take thirty rounds of old Nayto.”

  “Make sure my rounds are flat-nosed for use on infidels,” Hadassah said.

  Lotte ignored her. “Make sure you control your trigger finger, Natalis. Old Nayto is expensive, and you’re only being allowed to fire it because your gun uses naught else.”

  “I will, Captain. I can throw wind and fire instead, and if nothing else I can handle a sword,” Taki said. Like any Cloud Temple initiate, he had been compelled to prove proficiency with sword, pike, and crossbow before being awarded expensive and dangerous training with firearms.

  “And remember, everyone, we’re not the sole company responsible for guarding the fort. It has its own men at arms, and the river overlook is constantly patrolled by carronade barges. We’re merely there to shore up defense in case the regulars are overwhelmed. Plus, we have the major.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a plus,” Draco said. He lamented that he could not spit in their quarters.

  “I’m surprised I didn’t have to account for any ammunition for her,” Taki said. “Actually, come to think of it, she doesn’t really use a firelock in general, does she? Does she have any weapons?”

  “Have you seen her fight? She doesn’t need to use any ammo,” Hadassah said, shaking her finger at him. “If you haven’t seen what the major can do with lightning, you’re missing out. No one else can do that, not even the exarch.”

  “Dassa’s not japing with you for once, Natalis,” Draco said. “If you see the major get annoyed, you’d best run in the opposite direction.”

  “I’d prefer not to see her do that ever again,” Lotte said, shaking her head.

  “Indeed,” Draco sighed. “I’d rather face a horde of rapey landsknecht.”

  “Like the ones that tried to jump the major as she was taking a shit,” Hadassah said.

  “Mikkelsen, you’re talking about our flag officer here,” Lotte warned.

  Hadassah blinked in feigned innocence. “But Captain, I’m pretty sure she has an asshole, and possibly lady-parts.”

  Lotte replied by sharply rapping the girl’s head with her knuckles.

  “Sorry, I don’t follow any of you,” Taki said. “What did the major do to those Ursalans?”

  “Okay, ever seen a guy just...go plorp?” Hadassah said excitedly, miming an explosion with her hands.

  “What?”

  “I had this Kingdom asshole lined up in my sights, and all of a sudden, zap! Pink mist, smell of burnt leather everywhere. It was awesome as hell! Anyway, the old hag’s a pain, but she’ll kill everything that moves. Including you, Newboy.”

  Taki raised an eyebrow and decided to abandon further inquiry.

  “Captain, we’re going to be facing something more than the usual Imperial harassment unit, though. Didn’t the major talk about them using spetsnaz?” asked Draco.

  “She did,” Lotte said. “And they are a formidable enemy, too. They’ve got stronger armor, harder steel, more guns, and better bullets than we ever will. But we have the backing of righteousness in our actions. The Imperium is overreaching, and they will realize that once we reach in and pull out their entrails. Still, though, all of you be cautious…and don’t hoard all of your good bullets,” she said, patting Hadassah’s knee.

  “Let’s get to the shrine and get our ammo, then. I haven’t had a chance to hold my iron lady in a while. This’ll be fun,” Draco said. Jauntily, he pushed the door of the ready room open and stepped into the cloudbank outside just as the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon.

  Taki’s pupils constricted too late as a stray sunbeam hit his face and turned his world searing white. The same thing had happened to him years ago, right after he had crossed the threshold of the Cloud Temple for the first time in his life.

  The men who had retrieved him from the orphanage had called themselves “polaris,” and had told young Taki that he would also become one if he survived the trials ahead. Though the Temple was far away it was always watching out for children like him, who had caused the ruinous events known as the Gotterdammerung, or more colloquially, the Fall. It was the Fall that was responsible for every malady of the present day, where scores fell to the sword or starved to death in the uncaring shadows of ancient, crumbling skyscrapers. The knowledge and progress of the old world had been mostly forgotten, except this time everyone knew who was to blame.

  Taki’s ancestors had racked up such a burden of sin that even eight centuries later, he was hellbound the moment he’d exited the womb. His only chance to escape eternal damnation was to serve the basileus of the Dominion as a soldier, and never leave the Temple without the permission of a lord of the realm. When Taki had asked the men how he had been noticed, they had been surprisingly honest. The presbyter had noticed the boy’s propensity to set fires without the aid of flint and steel. Taki was lucky, they had said. A more ignorant guardian might have had him drowned.

  After making their way on horseback for what seemed like countless leagues, the two escorts and their unwitting charge had joined a larger group of children and chaperones. Some had worn manacles, while others had seemed to journey of their own volition. A few of the youngsters had died on the ensuing march and the subsequent hike up a frozen mountain road, but Taki had survived to stand before the gates. He had stared mutely up at the high concrete walls emblazoned with dire warnings against unlawful transit, and had realized there was no going back to life as a human. Still, he had reflexively taken a look behind him, just to make sure.

  And the sun chastened me for doing so, Taki reflected as he rubbed his eyes to drive out the floating purple afterimages clouding his vision. But I’m about to go on a mission, so why am I being punished now? This had better not be an omen.

  Draco whistled as he jogged down ancient stone steps and through c
laustrophobic alleyways and thin overpasses with his companions in tow. The Cloud Temple had little space to spread laterally and so expanded vertically for the most part. No one was quite sure how old the fortress was. Everything seemed to have been built atop something else which was built atop ruins which were built on yet more ruins. Alleyways led to nowhere and staircases could simply stop in midair to drop an unfortunate into a hell of nonsensical geometry. Rails and pipes haphazardly jutted throughout, useless as handholds but always a threat to unwary heads. It was rumored that the chaos was deliberate. Another form of training. Eventually, the squad reached the pockmarked armory shrine in the center of the complex.

  Besides the exarch’s tower, it was one of the most secure places in Argead territory, and for good reason. Behind a gargoyled stone facade were the accumulated arms and ammunition of the Temple. Swords and spears were common and available, but the shrine’s true role was to safeguard and venerate the Dominion’s stockpile of ancient guns, and the valuable ammunition that fed them. Far from the heavy and untrustworthy arquebuses in common use by peasant levies and mercenaries, Temple Guns were elegant, irreplaceable relics from a glorious age subsumed by fire. Inimitably fine engravings of archaic characters and symbols on unblemished steel spoke to their puissance in the hands of those worthy to wield them. The loss of a Temple Gun was always a calamitous occasion, and merited funeral rites more lavish than any given to its bearer.

  The shrine was quiet that day, for most of the other fighting companies were out on assignment. War with the eastern horde was on everyone’s mind, but so far there had been no battles of note. Taki took a moment to marvel at how spacious the nave seemed on the inside. Besides his squad, there was only a bow-legged old man scooting around on his hands and knees scraping candle drippings off the floor.

  “In God’s name, who let you idiots out of the kitchen?” asked a craggy-featured neokoros behind a templon of wrought and gilded iron. Draco sneered at him.

  “We handle your food, you ass. Are you sure you should be giving us lip?”

  “If I ever get the shits, I’m hunting you down. Make your withdrawal and get out.”

  “Here.” Draco handed over a requisition Taki had drafted earlier. “And if you can’t understand the funny-looking symbols, young Natalis here will help you out, so don’t be afraid to ask questions, mmkay?”

  “Blaspheming scum. Wait here and keep your filthy hands off my counter.”

  “He’s on friggin’ fire today,” Hadassah whispered to Lotte, scrunching her brow in disdain.

  “You were really concerned about him, weren’t you?” Lotte winked back at her.

  “Don’t make me say it. That’ll just pad his ego.”

  A few minutes later, the neokoros emerged from the vaults, carrying drab gray sacks. They clinked dully when he tossed them into a shallow trough underneath the templon so the squad could take them. Draco opened the sacks and showed their contents to Taki, whose nimble fingers sorted over the ammunition to make sure the squad wasn’t being cheated.

  The unfired military-grade surplus made before the Fall, or milligrad, was what really attracted everyone’s attention. It was instantly recognizable by the gorgeous copper plating of the bullets, the seductively dusky brass of the casings, and the mysterious scripts and symbols stamped too finely for any workshop to duplicate. Fired from Temple Guns, they were unfailingly accurate and able to pierce most armor, even the plate worn by Imperial kataphracts. The very properties that made them so valuable in combat, however, fostered their use as currency. A nine millimeter round could buy a feast, and a rifle cartridge could pay for a month of lodging in the capital. Every round fired increased the value of the others. At the current rate of deflation, war seemed almost illogical.

  Therefore, most people who shot at each other for a living used “dirty” reloaded ammunition instead. Reloading was the process of remaking cartridges by pouring powder into shell casings and seating a metal bullet on top with a press or mallet. Lethality was questionable as was accuracy, and any given round could simply blow a gun to pieces instead of fire. Worst of all, reloads produced a thick, acrid smoke that was the natural consequence of using black powder as their propellant. The most dangerous specimens were made of tin casings with rounded pebbles substituted for bullets. The best quality were brass-cased half-grad with lead projectiles and cordite propellant. Most reloads tended to fall in between, and producing these cartridges was mostly a cottage industry controlled by local ordinance exchange guilds. Good reloads tended to have high intrinsic value and could be easily traded for milligrad. In reality, they were the most widely used currency in the land.

  “It looks like everything’s in order,” Taki said, satisfied that the actual counts matched with the list he had drawn up. “Since this is a dangerous patrol, everyone gets mostly 'grad.”

  “That’s our boy!” Draco said happily. “I know your career’s in the jacks right now, but we certainly appreciate the abacus in your head. These assholes will skim you blind if you’re not careful,” he said, gesturing to the sexton behind the bars, who glowered silently back. “You know, a Luger here, a double-deuce there…”

  “Corporal...” Lotte warned him.

  “But can’t you read too, Emreis?” Taki said, putting the cartridges back into the sacks.

  “I can read most things, but I never learned to write or factor,” Draco said.

  Taki rocked back and forth on his heels. “Do you...do you want me to teach you at some point?”

  “Dassa and I would be obliged, so long as you don’t try to do it like at the academy. I’m a bit tired of smacks on the head.”

  “I’m done with school,” Hadassah said.

  “Quiet, you,” Draco huffed. “Education is important. If you become smarter, maybe you’ll find the secret of smokeless powder, make a mountain of milligrad, and live in a castle.”

  “Don’t make me laugh,” Hadassah said. “Even little kids know that you’d need to find the azoth for that to happen.”

  “But the histories say that everyone and their mother had 'grad in abundance. Surely we’d have unearthed a friggin’ azoth by now if it one was truly necessary. It can’t be that hard to make powder smokeless!”

  “Says you. You’re not an alchemist.”

  Draco put his hands on his hips. “I’m a historian.”

  “You and your delusions,” Hadassah scoffed, crossing her arms. “You’d be luckier with women if you thought about something useful, like why it takes so many stupid bullets to buy feta.”

  “Maybe you’d be richer if you weren’t a cheese-eating heretic.”

  “Break it up,” Lotte said, separating the two. “We’re wasting our precious liberty here. Emreis, you come with me to go get our guns from the sanctuary. Natalis, Mikkelsen, go buy meat and bread. You can also buy some cheese and herbs if you like. And...and eggs. It should go without saying, but absolutely no potatoes.”

  “Yes, Captain!” they said, dispersing.

  “Come with me, I know where we can get a good deal,” Hadassah said, grabbing Taki by the hand. As she did so, he could not help but blush. Like most fighters who’d survived their share of battle, Hadassah possessed a multitude of scars. Lotte had more, including one that went from her hairline to her jaw. But for Taki, the fact that they were women was more than enough to drive him to shyness. And then there was Hecaton Mezeta. She was old enough to be his grandmother, possibly his great grandmother, and yet it was her that had convinced him to take the plunge based on merely her voice.

  He was convinced of it now: too much time spent studying had permanently scrambled his libido. If he survived the battle to come, he’d go to the nearest cathouse and relieve himself of a specific, shameful burden that he alone seemed to carry. For that, he would have to start saving his milligrad. Taki smiled to himself. If nothing else, he could solve his problems through budgeting.

  They left the next morning, bellies still full from a feast devoid of hated tubers. The path
leading down the mountain from the Temple wound long and treacherously, but all polaris who survived their training were virtually guaranteed to be sure of foot. Before long they had made it to the first neighboring hub of civilization in the foothills, a small blotch of a village that provided services the exarch would not allow within his walls.

  Draco and Taki began to stare longingly at the wooden brothel signs until Lotte dragged them both away by the ear and forced them into the busy caravan line leaving town. The northern border of the Dominion was days away, and the time was spent alternating between the crushing boredom of safe travel on well-frequented roads and the unwelcome tension of keeping vigil while traversing hinterlands infested with altered beasts and bandits. Though the others did not seem to mind or care, Taki noticed that at no time was the major with them during the journey. When he asked Lotte about it, the captain merely shrugged.

  “Keep your sword sharp for when we get there,” she admonished him, leaving him to wonder about the old woman.

  The Vergina town armory overlooked a bend in the river of the same name, and was an otherwise unassuming-looking structure: a large conical keep topped with a red dome and surrounded by a thick stone shell. At night, its otherwise monotonous face was punctuated by pinpricks of torchlight emitted from arrow slits. The fortified main gate faced landward and overlooked an ancient paved road through which it could receive shipments. A small town had sprung up around its barbican, a free-standing cannon tower which could send concentrated fire up to a kilometer away. Assaulting from land was futile. However, the keep’s riverward entrances were accessible by a short climb up some stairs from the docks. The weak defense was shored up by the Dominion navy in the form of heavy-hitting lorchas. One always trolled the river, ready to rain canister shot and scrap-metal bombs on any invasion force approaching from the Imperium-held shore.