The Fury Yet To Come

by Steven McKinnon

  Nidra’s eyes glinted. ‘When we found you in the jungle, what were you and your dogs after?’

  ‘We’re not dogs!’ Gallows’ voice grated. ‘We’re people—like the kuramanusa, before you ground ’em down.’

  Nidra rolled her eyes. ‘I owe you no justification, dog.’

  Gallows’ arms tightened with fury. ‘I’m not a dog.’

  Nidra arched an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips. ‘No? So you won’t do as your master commands? Let’s test that, shall we?’

  22nd Day of Musa

  Following the battle, it took eight hours to secure the beachhead and surrounding jungle. Temporary relief tents had been erected, and Gallows’ unit set up a perimeter of barbed wire and landmines.

  Including the destruction of two assault boats during the naval incursion, they’d lost thirty-five soldiers—a casualty rate of almost 49%. And Gods know how many the RSF lost.

  Reinforcements and supplies were coming in now, but if the Idari struck en masse, the Dalthean forces had no chance.

  Gallows sat with the rest of Fourth Platoon on an uncomfortable bench inside one of the relief tents. He rubbed the back of his head, more out of habit than for any soothing effect it had on the ringing in his ears. He picked at his rations, a hearty mix of dried beef and dark chocolate.

  ‘Go on then,’ said Rocco, ‘how d’ya know the major?’ He didn’t address anyone in particular. He fussed with a ration tin, unscrewing it and stuffing three dry crackers into his mouth.

  Gallows’ limbs sagged. He was exhausted, drained and in no mood to talk.

  ‘He handpicked me,’ Rocco continued. His finger tapped his ration tin like the drumming of a ship’s RADIOM needle. ‘I was with Third Battalion, on manoeuvres near Palthonheim.’

  ‘No-one cares,’ said Omari, setting himself down next to Cooper.

  Rocco gave Omari the finger and continued: ‘Some pissant colonel came down. She ordered us to escort a riverboat along the Althon. Said it was carrying some potent ignicite or some crap. Some shit storm went down and they had to bail out, lost a lot o’ guys, so they hooked up with us. Anyway, I get landed with night watch duty. So I’m on this riverboat with her men—hard bastards every one, not a smile among ’em. They didn’t take too kindly to an outsider. Anyways, as the minutes tick by, I get curious. No banter, no dice, no drink—what’s a bloke to do? So I goes to inspect the cargo—sons o’ bitches are smugglin’ scuzz into Dalthea! I get back to my post, keeping myself to myself, sayin’ nothin’ to these bastards. When day broke, we hitched up by some village or other. I march to my C.O., take him aside and spill the lot. “Sir! They’re transportin’ scuzz!” I tell him.

  ‘No sooner am I home and I get slapped with insubordination. Get put on shit detail for months. No-one wants a rat on their squad, see—even one who was doing right. Never did find out what happened to the smugglers. Arseholes. Anyway, Fallon gets wind and pulls me out.’ Rocco’s gaze lowered. ‘I owe that man, and if he dies...’

  Gallows felt something weigh in his stomach. He didn’t know Rocco well, but a bond formed in war was nurtured more quickly than anywhere else. You couldn’t afford not to trust your squad, and you didn’t always have the luxury of time.

  ‘Maybe Councillor Thackeray can put in a good word for you,’ said Cooper. ‘I mean, when we get back. I heard he gave up his seat to join the war and pilot the Valiant. He’d probably appreciate someone willing to put themselves at risk for the greater good.’

  Rocco snorted. ‘Thackeray’s a right arsehole. It’s all just a PR stunt, he’s desperate for the top spot. Them politicians are all the same, even Prime Councillor Trevelyan.’

  Omari cracked open his own ration tin. ‘We get chow then ready-up. If Fallon’s outta the game, we take orders from N’Keres.’

  ‘He’s an arsehole as well,’ muttered Rocco. ‘Just another pencil-pusher angling for a Council seat.’

  Helmsley cleared his throat. ‘This food is… delicious, isn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ said Gallows, ‘but points for trying.’

  Helmsley smiled. ‘I… I try to see the positive side of things. Even in this horrid place.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ Rocco started. ‘How’d a pacifist like you end up here anyway?’

  Helmsley shook his head. ‘Not much to tell, really. I’d never met the major before all this. I ended up here because… no-one else wanted me.’ Helmsley wore a smile, but Gallows wasn’t fooled. The man was hurting. ‘And there I thought volunteering for the war effort would make people look positively upon me. Not much respect for a pacifist.’

  Rocco stuck a cigarette in his mouth and said, ‘So brass saddled you with Fallon to keep you out the way? Wankers.’

  ‘Indeed. All just to impress Father.’

  ‘Huh?’ said Cooper. ‘Didn’t you say he tried to talk you out of it?’

  ‘Hm? Oh, yes, of course.’ Helmsley took his time spreading butter and blueberry preserve over a cracker, avoiding Cooper’s gaze.

  ‘So, Cooper,’ started Gallows, to redirect the conversation more than anything else. ‘How’d you end up with us sorry lot?’

  The kid looked at his ration tin like it was a turd. ‘I, uh, was a student. At the University of Rhis.’

  ‘Oh aye, brainy-type are ya?’ Rocco withdrew the cigarette from his mouth and, with his fingers, scooped blueberry jam into his mouth with a loud slurp.

  ‘Well, that was the plan,’ Cooper replied. ‘Until I was expelled. I studied chemistry.’

  ‘What happened?’ chuckled Gallows. ‘Did you blow up a classroom?’

  Cooper’s face turned red.

  ‘No way,’ said Rocco.

  ‘It, it was only the dorm master’s room!’ blurted Cooper. ‘A practical, um, joke. Gone wrong. Accident. But I am a good chemist.’

  Rocco leaned in closer to Cooper, his voice turning to a whisper. ‘Rhis, eh? Do Ryndaran men really get with their cousins up there?’

  The kid’s mouth curled. ‘If they do, I can see why. Prettiest girls in the world.’ Cooper pushed his ration tin away. ‘How about you, Gallows?’

  ‘Nah, my cousins are ugly.’

  Omari snorted with laughter.

  ‘He means Fallon,’ said Rocco. ‘How’d you end up here?’

  Gallows finished off his meal before he spoke. ‘I was a treasure hunter and a cargo hauler. I specialised in antiques and artifacts. Took a job with a guy who wasn’t completely honest about being a warlord and drug-runner. Tried to take as many aerons as I could and high-tail it, but I got caught in the crossfire between him and Fallon. I gave the major intel—he killed the warlord and saved my ass.’

  ‘You were a treasure hunter?’ said Helmsley. ‘Why, that sounds like something from a Captain Crimsonwing novel!’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Gallows started, ‘the reality ain’t as glamorous.’

  Gallows’ mother had cried the day he left, the first time she’d ever done so in front of him. Did she know, even then, that she was sick? Was that why she told him not to come back until he’d seen every inch of the world—to save him from watching her decline? Gallows would never know—and he’d never make the mistake again. Whatever you’re doing, Sera, I hope you know that I’ll be back for you.

  ‘That just leaves you, Sergeant Omari.’ Helmsley’s voice snapped Gallows back to the present. ‘You’ve known the major the longest, correct? Why are you with him?’

  Omari set his bowl down. He rolled his shoulders, eyes drawn in deliberation. Gallows got the feeling the big man was about to say something profound.

  ‘Owe him twelve aerons.’

  Stretchers carrying wailing men rolled in and out of the tent, and, somewhere nearby, the growl of a motorcarriage rolled past.

  ‘Eh?’ said Rocco. ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Well, what do you owe him—’

  An army doctor burst into the relief tent, her face grim in spite of her youth. She had a mop of hair the colour of a clementine, and a sma
ttering of freckles to match. The orange of her features shone brighter against the dark, brownish bloodstains on her uniform. ‘I’m Doctor Zarabati,’ she said, her voice weary but commanding. ‘Major Fallon is awake.’

  Gallows stood. ‘How is he?’

  ‘He’ll live, more out of stubbornness than anything else. He wants you all inside. I don’t recommend it, but…’

  ‘Stubbornness,’ said Gallows.

  * * *

  As soon as the squad entered, Fallon hurled the words ‘I’m fine’ at them. His eye sought out Omari, who stood behind Gallows’ shoulder.

  ‘Sergeant,’ Fallon started, ‘take Fourth Platoon and hook up with whoever’s left—press the offensive and take out the munitions installation with whatever airships we got left. Let’s castrate these bastards before they get a chance to regroup.’

  ‘Sir,’ said Omari. ‘Reinforcements are coming. We’ll—’

  With a wince, Fallon sat up straight. ‘Listen to me—by the time you figure out who’s running the show, the Idari will abandon this island and take refuge with the rest of their forces further inland. Anyway, General N’Keres is a hard bastard but he ain’t got the field experience—he’ll trail through the jungle with the whole damn army. The Idari will hit and run before you even see ’em comin’. No, I want you lot to take point with another squad, scout ahead. Gallows, you got good instincts for traps and thinking on the fly.’

  ‘Major,’ started Gallows, ‘reading ancient languages and stealing artifacts from old temples ain’t the same as going up against a whole army in their own territory. Maybe we ain’t the best unit to take the lead on this.’

  Fallon’s glare speared Gallows. ‘They’re here for a reason, Corporal—and until we know what that is, we’re fightin’ blind. Get out there and do your jobs. Anyway, it beats sitting around here with your dicks in your hands.’

  ‘That’s debatable,’ said Rocco.

  Helmsley looked to Cooper and raised his hand. ‘Sir, I… I consider working with these gentlemen an honour, but I think this mission requires men with more experience than Private Cooper and I.’

  ‘No!’ The word shot from Cooper’s mouth. ‘Don’t use me as an excuse if you want to bail, Helmsley. I… I want go. I want to help. I can prove myself. I’m not just the kid who gets sick. Please.’

  Helmsley’s hand dropped to his side and his shoulders slumped. ‘As you say.’

  Fallon’s eye narrowed. ‘Listen, you—all of you—were the sorriest bunch of outcasts and exiles I ever laid eyes on. No-one else wanted ya because none of you fell in line—same reason brass hates me. I spent my whole career investigating my own men, so I can guaran-damn-tee you my instincts are on point. I only select men and women who think for themselves, not trigger-happy medal-chasers who lick their C.O.’s ass. Believe you me, N’Keres is a medal-chaser—and I don’t want him knowing about your orders. Talk to Lieutenant Trueno of Second Platoon—she’ll fall in line. Grab some chow while you can, boys—you move out in thirty minutes. Dismissed.’

  ‘Those… were our orders. We didn’t find... your mystery weapon.’ Gallows’ resolve leeched from him every time Nidra exerted her power over him—he struggled to summon the energy to stay awake. It skewed his sense of time—had he been talking for minutes, or hours? Had he been here for days, or weeks?

  But the weight around Nidra’s eyes and the sweat glistening on her skin told Gallows she was struggling almost as much as he was.

  Her power hurts her.

  Her nails danced over his chest like spider legs. ‘You know I’ll get the answers eventually, dog, all I need—’

  ‘Why are you the way you are?’

  Nidra’s nails stopped.

  ‘C’mon, you’re gonna kill me anyway. Were you born a godsdamn witch? Could you always violate people’s minds?’

  Nidra said nothing.

  ‘Or were you made?’ Gallows asked. ‘Twisted, broken and rebuilt… Like the kuramanusa?’

  Nidra took a slow step back. ‘You do not speak to me this way.’

  Gallows laughed and made sure to wear the most infuriating smirk he could muster. ‘I can do whatever the hell I want, Nidra. Can you say the same? Sure, you can make me talk, take away my free will—but I’m still me. What were you, before this?’

  She turned her back on Gallows, her silhouette shrinking in the weak lamplight.

  ‘C’mon, Grand Perceptor!’ What did he have to lose? The fresh memory of eating and trading banter with his comrades stung him—he remembered the bonds forming between him and the rest of his unit, before they were severed forever. Why not pass some of that pain back?

  ‘Now ain’t the time to be coy,’ Gallows continued. ‘Did the emperors trample over your village, carve those patterns into your face—’

  Nidra spun around and marched to Gallows, spat in his face and backhanded him. ‘I am no kuramanusa—these patterns were earned. The Sun and the Moon and the Twin Emperors—’

  ‘Who gives a shit? Save it for your followers. You’re a grunt, just like me. You think you’re special, but you ain’t. You think you’ve got power, but you don’t—’

  Nidra backhanded him again. ‘I’ll unravel your mind,’ she spat. ‘Pick it apart and rebuild it to suit me. I’ve seen what it is for a man to succumb to madness—seen what happens when I lift a treasured memory from his head and make him know it’s gone forever.’

  ‘Bullshit. If you were so powerful, you’d know I’ve been telling the truth all this time. How long before your bosses realise how much time you’ve wasted?’

  Nidra leered at him. ‘Oh, I shall enjoy dismantling your mind, dog.’

  ‘Ten aerons says you can’t.’

  ‘Time is on my side.’ The words lilted from Nidra like the silvery tones of a song. ‘What’s your most treasured memory? Tell me. Whisper it to me—sing your most private desires.’

  Sera’s smile as I proposed, the ring sliding on her slender finger…

  ‘I’ll take it away and replace it with a void,’ Nidra continued.

  ‘You’re lying.’ Gallows’ skin prickled as the tendrils of Nidra’s power crept over him, but she was exhausted—weak. He could feel it.

  ‘What do you want, above all else? What keeps hope alive in this place?’

  …Sera’s face lighting up, pulling me tight as she said ‘yes’…

  Gallows saw the frustration on Nidra’s face. He was resisting her.

  ‘End this torment,’ she demanded with a wavering voice. ‘Just tell me where the weapon has moved to, and I’ll stop.’

  The change in questioning sent ice into Gallows’ veins. It threw his concentration off—it was easier to give in and talk about the landing than it was to summon the strength to resist Nidra digging into his memories with Sera. It was like he could only resist her magic if he knew how she was going to direct it beforehand.

  So Gallows let himself speak—he recited the events of the landing, the fighting, the ambush that killed his allies… He narrated the story all over again, like a tired parent reading an infant his favourite bedtime story for the hundredth time.

  But deep within himself, Gallows pictured Sera in his mind’s eye, felt her warmth against him, smelled her scent…

  ‘We hit the governor’s mansion from the ground,’ his dead voice stated. ‘The Leap of Faith bombarded the enemy…’

  Inside, Gallows clutched at his own thoughts like an anchor holding a storm-ravaged ship. Sera’s hands covering my eyes… Dancing in the Laguna Lounge, the diamond glinting as she spun…

  Gallows separated the small part of his mind that remained his own as his voice droned on, words unfurling like tumbling velvet. He could do this—he could withstand her—he could beat her…

  But Nidra switched tactics again.

  She caressed Gallows’ cheek, her soft fingertips teasing his stubble. ‘Now you will tell me your innermost desires, dog. Tell me your secrets. Tell me what keeps you going…’

  No…

  ‘Tell m
e your most treasured memory, so I can corrupt it…’

  Fight it.

  ‘Speak…’

  Fight!

  ‘…speak…’ Nidra’s black-amber eyes mesmerised Gallows, like swirling pools of—

  ‘Sera!’

  Nidra snapped back.

  Her will lifted from Gallows.

  He had broken free.

  For a long moment Nidra stood there, frozen. Then her face turned pallid and her narrowed eyes sought answers in the corners of the cell.

  It was the first time Gallows had seen her scared.

  ‘Well,’ he started. ‘This is interesting.’

  But she composed herself—Nidra cast away her doubt, her lips pressing together in a sharp sneer. She looked like a kid at Wintercast when she unwraps a new toy. ‘No-one has ever resisted me before.’ She leaned close to him, and her wildberry and honey-orange perfume snaked around him. ‘I will enjoy breaking you.’

  Gallows held her gaze. ‘You have so much hate in you, Nidra. I pity you. I really do. Is it self-loathing? Is that why you do what you do? Or is it something else?’

  Nidra didn’t respond. Uncertainty plagued her. Gallows saw it in her eyes.

  Gallows pressed the advantage. ‘Do you believe the bullshit your bosses peddle? Here’s the headline, High Perceptor: Your power is an illusion. You come in here in your fancy clothes, smelling the way you do, draped in gold and thinking you’re superior. Where’s that got you, huh?’ Gallows gazed around the cell. ‘You’re just a tool—you’re a grunt, like me—a bloodhound used to sift through shit so someone else can get the diamonds. You were stupid enough to kill all of my friends—I’m all you have—and I beat you.’

  Nidra recoiled. Her slender fingers tightened, their long nails gleaming like knives. Her soft breathing filled the cell. ‘Not all,’ she said. The way she looked at Gallows ripped the smirk from his face.

  Nidra conjured a bloodied chain and dropped it to the floor.

  Dog tags.

  Gideon Helmsley’s dog tags.

  III