One by one, by mutual unspoken agreement, the four of them dismounted from their horses and led them over to the tree line. As a group, they walked over to where the bodies had been carefully collected. On Earth, they would have been covered under sheets, but there was no such luxury in this land.
A barrier between the dead and the living was a basic precaution against disease, but the risk was reduced due to the cremated remains. Perhaps if the village hadn’t been burned to ash, the villagers’ own bedding could have functioned as their funeral shrouds. However, nothing had been left untouched by the dragon’s flame.
Leo’s eyes unconsciously picked through the bodies, searching for the sight of the combat vest, of the hands melted into the butt of a rifle, which would mark the body of their fallen comrade. If Cyrus could be trusted, then they had already lost another three or perhaps even as many as five of their colleagues, in addition to Gunnery Sergeant Rogers.
Twelve of them had stepped onto that platform and been transported to this world. Three of them were still on mission, which meant three or hopefully five of them were elsewhere. Leo hoped they could find them; maybe they were even in Gatlan already. They had landed scattered far and wide, through whatever mistake of the transporter.
Just as they had headed for Termont, the capital of Kaslea, other marines could have headed for the heart of Gatlan. They may yet be reunited. However, right now, this wasn’t about hope, this was about respect. A moment to mourn the losses they had suffered, Gunnery Sergeant Rogers and the others.
Finally, Leo spotted Rogers’s twisted remains and he bowed his head. There were so many dead. Whether it bought them anything for their quest to free Earth or not, he was glad they had taken care of the dragon. People were people everywhere, and no one deserved to die like this.
“We should keep going,” Mathis suggested solemnly a few minutes later.
“Yeah,” Leo breathed, but he didn’t move.
Seeing these rows of the dead made him think of Earth. He had told himself that he needed to stop worrying about what was happening back home. There was nothing he could do to change it, at least not until this mission was over. Currently, they didn’t even have a way back to Earth. It was just a waste of energy and a distraction.
All the logic in the world didn’t help. It was still hard to breathe. All but one of the victims in front of him were from Kaslea, citizens of another world—a magical world. However, it didn’t take much imagination to picture the scene in New York. They had only fought on Earth for a couple of days, but that had been long enough to get a taste of what was in store for them.
Nothing they had on Earth could make a difference. The aliens’ motherships, using beam weapons from orbit, had destroyed Earth’s entire nuclear arsenal in minutes so they couldn’t even steal a strategy from a sci-fi movie and get a nuke onboard the ship and blow it up. They had nothing, hence why they had been sent on this Hail Mary mission to an alien world, searching for the miracle of a superweapon to save their world.
The aliens had already killed so many. Leo had been helpless to watch as bodies had crumpled to the ground under the onslaught of the alien soldiers and ships. For reasons unknown, the aliens didn’t fight after sunset, granting them a brief respite and a chance to collect their dead. Those bodies would have been stacked just like this.
Whatever world they were on, dead was dead.
They were mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. Everyone meant something to somebody. Leo knew that somewhere on Earth, in a stainless steel drawer, in a cold mortuary, lay the bodies of both of his parents.
Given the general chaos of the world, and the fact that he wasn’t there to claim them, they would no doubt still be there despite it having been two weeks. They were casualties of the alien invasion. Seeing the motherships hovering in the sky had panicked people, and a fight had broken out at a grocery store, killing them both. Nobody was ever old enough to become an orphan.
“Leo, time to go.” Don gently grasped Leo’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Leo repeated, this time turning away from the grisly sight.
It was a wrench to do so. Like a car wreck, it was hard to turn away. Leo saw Nick struggle as well; his gaze kept drifting back to the smaller bodies. Children weren’t exempt from the horrors of war. Leo remembered that Nick had a wife and newborn daughter at home. Don had a mother and little brother. Everyone meant something to somebody.
Don’s gaze was firmly fixed on the horses, and Leo copied his example. Don had always been good at keeping focus, looking forward and not back. He was solid and dependable; Leo knew he couldn’t ask for a better best friend or second in command.
Leo sighed and swiftly remounted his horse. They couldn’t linger here; they had paid their respects and now had to move on. They needed to make the border by nightfall. Tomorrow they would be entering Gatlan and leaving Mathis behind.
It was a brave new world.
Chapter Two
There was no time to waste. The sooner the rumors were planted about the Northern Kingdoms’ economic troubles, the better. Therefore, Yannick quickly got to work. The secret to a good disinformation campaign was the secret to most things—subtlety.
Information had to be planted in multiple places and people had to work it out for themselves. A whisper campaign would never work if the whispers only came from one place, or if they were too specific—that would only arouse suspicion.
Thankfully, for someone with his magical power, it was not difficult to do what was necessary. With magic, he could disguise himself and appear in dozens of towns and villages in one day, dropping hints and innuendos to cause a buzz.
It wouldn’t happen overnight, but gossiping about another kingdom was entertainment to peasants. They would talk amongst themselves and they would spread the whispers for him. It wouldn’t take long then for the whispers to make their way to the palace and the ear of Prince Edmund.
Yannick rubbed his hands together gleefully. This was going to be fun. He flicked his hand, implementing his first magical disguise of the day. This would be a chance to get creative; he didn’t get to play nearly enough. The first disguise was of an overweight middle-aged man, with beady eyes and rugged complexion.
A local tavern was always a good place to plant whispers. It was early in the day and few would believe a drunk, but they didn’t have to believe him, they just had to start hearing the rumors everywhere. The more people heard something, the more they believed it without question.
With a flash of purple flame, he transported himself to the outskirts of one of Kaslea’s trading hubs. These were scattered throughout the kingdom, each one supported by a dozen villages. They were nowhere near as large as the capital of Termont, but larger than an average village, and the marketplace was always bustling.
Staggering, Yannick weaved his way through the crowd. He reached the tavern and fell heavily into the wooden door, pushing it open and stumbling inside. Yannick hid his disgust; even this early in the day, the air inside was rancid, the enclosed space trapping in the revolting scent of cheap ale and sweat.
Yannick grunted towards the other men by the bar. There were a handful of them already. “Ale,” he ordered, sliding a single small silver coin over the wooden counter.
The tavern wench smiled at him and reached for a tankard. Yannick let his disguised beady eyes slip down to stare at the low bodice of the woman. He smiled softly when he saw her shudder slightly in disgust at his scrutiny; her reaction was delicious.
She placed the tankard in front of him on the bar. Yannick lifted it and took a few sips. It was vile, tasting like urine from a goat, but he was no stranger to making sacrifices in order to achieve his goals. After a few minutes had gone by, Yannick grunted again.
“Heard about that trouble up North?” Yannick said.
“What trouble’s that, then?” one of the other men asked after a long moment.
“Heard the fancy folks have no more shiny coins. Fellow down by th
e docks, now, he said that’s why the pretty princess is marrying our Prince Edmund,” Yannick explained, sloshing the ale around and trying to appear disinterested.
The man next to Yannick cackled. “Stale bread for the lot of them.”
That set off a round of insults against the nobility. Yannick waited a short time, long enough so it wasn’t suspicious that he hadn’t been there long. A surreptitious bit of magic vanished the rest of the ale. He staggered to his feet, leaning heavily against the man next to him. The man shoved him away and Yannick pretended to topple backwards, catching himself on the nearest table.
“Sleep it off,” came the call from elsewhere in the bar. There was a raucous cheer at that statement, and Yannick stumbled back out of the tavern.
A few moments later and he was out of sight. He grimaced in distaste. A quick spell cleaned his clothing from any contamination. Another spell changed his disguise, this time to an elderly man. Yannick grabbed a small branch and transformed it into a basic walking aid. With another flash of flame, he transported to the next village.
He would repeat this as many times as was necessary.
Hunched over, Yannick shuffled into the next marketplace. His lips quirked in satisfaction. There was a knight envoy at one of the stalls, it was early in the day, but things might progress faster if whispers started hitting higher-placed ears early on.
Prince Edmund would soon be told.
*****
The war with Gatlan had taken most of the Sintiya troops to the south side of the kingdom. However, it would be a foolish leader that stripped the kingdom and left it unprotected. Sintiya stretched from the east coast to the west, bordering Kaslea and Gatlan to the south, and the Northern Kingdoms to the north.
A mountain range separated the Northern Kingdoms from easy access by foot. There were a few narrow paths, for envoys and traders to brave on occasion. However, the bulk of the travel between the two kingdoms was done by sea. Queen Eleanor had knights stationed as border patrols by every path that led over the mountains, more for show than necessity.
It was to one of these border outposts that Eleanor transported herself. She focused and tried to subdue her characteristic flash of crimson flame that accompanied the use of her power. It had been something that she had grown lax about, but as recent events had shown, subtlety had its place, even if intimidation felt better.
There was a slight flash of light as she shimmered into existence, just inside the tree line, but she was improving. Eleanor smiled. Practice really did make perfect. There was a large expanse of green grass between the forest and the rocky start of the mountain range. The mountains towered above them, snowcapped peaks touching the wispy clouds in the blue sky.
There was another small mountain range to the south of Sintiya, on the eastern side, bordering Kaslea. That was where the recently slain dragon had had its lair. However, while that mountain was a relatively impressive sight to those peasants who had never seen better, it was a single ridge and nowhere near as tall as the northern mountains. This range in front of her stretched over the entire length of Sintiya’s northern border, from coast to coast, cutting the land in two, and they were expansive in width as well.
It took a brave group of knights to travel over them, rather than around by ship.
However, that was precisely what Eleanor was going to suggest had happened. It would be totally unexpected. The knights that were on border duty out here, they never saw anyone come down from the mountains, and they had grown lazy.
Eleanor could see them. They were lounging around by the campsite they had made themselves. It was a summer day, but they had made a fire pit and it looked like they kept it always burning. There was plenty of wood in the nearby forest. They were playing cards and drinking what looked like ale, despite the fact that the sun wasn’t far past its zenith. They weren’t even wearing their armor.
She shook her head. She should have done this a long time ago as an example, a cautionary tale to those that would shirk their duties. A smirk crossed Eleanor’s face. Now this action would serve yet another purpose, making the plan even more efficient. She rather liked that.
A wave of her hand and several swords flashed into existence next to her. It would have been poetic justice to kill her lazy knights with their own swords—they certainly weren’t using them. However, there couldn’t be any evidence that this was more than what it seemed. Hopefully this would teach the rest of her forces to remain vigilant.
Another wave of her hand and the swords glowed for a moment before the faint light sunk into the metal. They were now successfully enchanted. Eleanor smirked again and waved her hand once more. The swords jumped into the air, then launched towards the knights.
One knight saw them coming. His eyes widened as he opened his mouth to scream. It was too late; the sword slashed, eviscerating him. He fell to the ground, futilely trying to stuff his guts back into his stomach, his movements weak, until a moment later he stilled. His mouth hung open in shock at his sudden demise.
For a moment, his comrades were stunned into inaction by the brutal death they had just witnessed. Eleanor watched as another knight managed to successfully dive out of the way. In one smooth movement, he drew his sword. He slashed away at the attacking disembodied sword. With a click of her fingers, the sword he was fighting changed course.
Another knight had fallen to his knees. He looked young, and had likely only gained his armor recently. He cried out for mercy, and for his mother, tears streaming down his face. He offered no resistance to the sword that skewered him, impaling him in the back, with the blade poking clear through the chest. For a moment, the knight was suspended before he collapsed sideways to the ground.
There was only one other knight left. Two swords converged in a pincer movement, and in one move, like a pair of scissors, they swung and cut his head off. It rolled along the ground, bouncing until it reached the boot of the one remaining live knight.
Eleanor sighed. She had instinctively spared him because he had fought, and fought well. It would have been a waste of potential, and his actions showed that he was worthy of being in her service. She liked knights that knew how to perform their duties; it made her feel safe. However, there could be no survivors.
With the flick of her finger, the four swords, which had been hovering in mid-air, reanimated and hacked and slashed at the living knight. He had been staring in stunned shock at the carnage in front of him. As the blades converged, he raised his sword to parry, but his sword hand was separated from his arm before he could even try and defend himself. The hand, still tightly grasping the sword, thudded to the ground. A moment later, the dead body of the knight collapsed next to it.
No survivors.
With a wave of her hand, Eleanor vanished the enchanted swords. She then transported away from the grisly sight, off to the next border outpost. It was a good half day’s march from the first. However, she needed the bodies to be discovered while they were still reasonably fresh. The cause of death had to be obvious. There were many dangerous animals that called the mountain range home. It would be inconvenient if the knights’ demise was blamed on a savage beast.
She was also impatient. She wanted to move on to the next stage of the plan, and she couldn’t do that until she had been officially informed of the slaughter of her knights. Eleanor snorted and shook her head derisively. These knights were no better than the set she had just killed. A good hard march would only be the start of their punishment.
Eleanor closed her eyes and focused. She released a tendril of magic, a wisp of flame on the breeze, which floated over and into the lead knight’s mind. This kind of magic was unreliable; it could only suggest, it couldn’t control. She had tried to use it in interrogations, to no avail. It only worked on those weak of will, and only if the suggestion was something they didn’t object to following.
It was like a single thread that was would easily snap at the slightest pressure. She held her breath, hoping that for once this magic would
work. Thankfully, the lead knight didn’t seem to mind the idea of a good march. A moment later, he ordered the knights to stand up and make ready, that they would patrol the border as far as the nearest outpost.
There was a lot of grumbling, but the magical instruction held. The bodies of the slaughtered knights would be discovered soon enough. The moment she was officially informed, she would order the patrols on the border doubled. Some knights would have to be brought back from the Gatlan frontline; perhaps she would reassign the unit that used to be her guards.
Eleanor had sent that particular unit to the front, planning that they would get roasted by the dragon as punishment for their incompetence. They had allowed an assassin into her throne room, and because of the enchanted items Gatlan’s pet sorcerer had provided, the knights that were supposed to have been protecting her hadn’t heard her cries for help. She was capable of protecting herself, but she shouldn’t have to do so—that was why she had knights to surround her.
The dragon was dead, so a new punishment was in order. Perhaps being slaughtered on the border, as demonstration of the Northern Kingdoms’ aggression, would be a suitable demise. Though, really, death by enchanted sword was too good for those fools; it was much too quick and painless. However, it would further her plans, so they would at least be useful in death where they hadn’t been in life.
Another wave of her hand and a subtle flash and Eleanor was back in her chambers. Now all she had to do was wait. Her palace was nestled in the shadow of the mountain range. It was just a couple of hours’ ride; she might have the knights’ report by this evening. That wasn’t likely, but she could hope. Waiting was so terribly frustrating.
*****
The following day the three marines crossed the border into Gatlan. Mathis had pointed out the general direction to avoid, where the forces of Gatlan and Sintiya were still clashing. In the few days since they had last been at the border, the frontline had moved slightly. It was still crossing into Kaslea and threatening the border villages, but it was further south as Sintiya tried to press further into Gatlan.
Justified (#2 Divided Destiny) Page 2