A Bitter Brew

by Greg Curtis

But even as he wanted to celebrate that, he knew he wasn't finished. There were still a great many more creatures in the spectral world, and he had to start working out which of them he could use and how. This had only been a beginning.

  Chapter Five

  Marnie liked the brief lull in the fighting in the city. It was about the only good thing that had happened since arriving in this city, and the only good thing likely to. She hated this whole idea of negotiations with the King's soldiers. Granted it might be the best way to limit the casualties on both sides, and protect the civilians caught in the middle. But she doubted the soldiers would honour their side of any deal that was made. Thus far they'd proven themselves nothing but treacherous. They had no honour. She had said as much to the others, but she'd been outvoted.

  It was only a week since she had arrived so unexpectedly in Styrion Might. But a week was a very long time in this bitter conflict. So many had died – on both sides. Many more had been killed who weren't part of it. And somehow during that week she had become someone who others listened to. Not because she had any greater knowledge than anyone else, or because she had a genuine warspell. Instead people listened to her simply because she had survived a whole week here! The others thought that if she could survive that long, she must know something.

  Fools! The only thing she knew was to keep her head down, stay silent, and strike from concealment.

  Still here she was, a week later, respected for maybe the first time in her life, and just as frightened as everyone else. She would have fled the city if the soldiers weren't holding the gates. She would have run screaming all the way home. But then they all would have.

  Unfortunately that wasn't an option. They had very few options – and no safe ones. They couldn't run and they couldn't hide. They could fight, but that was also likely to get them killed. So one of the other veterans of the conflict – Tyrollan – had proposed they try for a truce. Marnie didn’t like the chances that the soldiers would abide by its terms but the others had been desperate.

  So here she was with nine others who had been chosen as delegates, marching towards a meeting at the barrier under a flag of truce, and all she could think was that they were walking into a trap.

  Tyrollan led them, looking remarkably at ease. But then the greying school master always looked like that. She suspected it was part of why he had become their leader. He never panicked. He always looked to be in command. Maybe it was a part of his affliction? He had the markings of sunshine silver on his arms, Luminite, the magic of the mind. And so far he'd never led them into any traps. But there was always a first time.

  “Easy child. This will all go to plan.” Derina gave Marnie's shoulder a comforting pat. “It has to – for everyone. And the soldiers know that.”

  “Absolutely nothing has gone to any plan so far! Why would it start now?”

  Marnie liked Derina. How could she not? The woman was a big blonde matronly figure with a bigger smile and an infectious laugh. She was also a source of cheer in an increasingly bleak world. Some days she was the only source of cheer as they lost friends and comrades every day. She had a spell of healing which she'd used on Marnie when they’d first met. Derina had saved her life and Marnie owed her for that. But that didn't mean she agreed with her about this. The army agreeing to meet under a flag of truce didn't make sense.

  But then that could be said of so much of this war. Why were the soldiers so irrational? So blood thirsty? And how did they always seem to know who was afflicted and who wasn't even before they could see their markings? They had known she was afflicted even though her markings didn't show anywhere. In fact some called her a witch because of it. But the soldiers knew. And they also seemed to know when and where a new person would arrive in the city. Whenever a new afflicted arrived – and they still didn't know how that was happening either – it was a race between the other afflicted and the soldiers to get to him or her. If the soldiers got to the newcomer first they generally died. If the other afflicted got to them first, then more often than not they lived and as a group they grew stronger. That was the nature of the battle.

  And then there was the big question. The one that was standing in front of them at the far end of the second terrace. How had the King's forces erected a magical barrier between the inner city and the rest of Styrion Might? They had no magic! But there it was, running the entire perimeter between the inner city and the second terrace, an immense shimmering spell of force that stopped anyone entering. The spell to create it must have been incredibly powerful. Had she not seen it Marnie would not have thought there was anyone capable of casting it.

  Despite that, the King had done it. He had created a wall of shimmering magic some thirty yards high and maybe a full league around. It seemed to be completely impenetrable. A great many of their number had died trying to breach it. So far, all had failed. The nobles and the Court had somehow managed to make sure no afflicted could get through, while those who were “clean” could live in their place of safety and issue commands. And the horrible thing was that Marnie knew that as long as they had that protection the nobles had absolutely no reason to want to end the bloodshed. They were safe. That was all that mattered. These talks were doomed. She knew it.

  Still, as they walked up the shallow incline leading to the second terrace and the waiting party, at least the soldiers hadn't started shooting. Maybe there was hope that they would honour this truce. They should. While her people were dying at a horrible rate, the rate of soldiers dying was that much higher again. The streets were filled with bodies, and most of them wore the red and gold. Even if the King and his Court wanted this war to continue and would cheerfully send in whole armies to their deaths, surely the soldiers would want the slaughter to end? Now more than ever since most of the actual soldiers were dead and those that were left were mostly conscripts who had been stuffed into uniforms.

  As they began the long march along the second terrace to the concourse in its centre, Marnie and the others kept a close eye on the soldiers. This was the heart of the enemy's territory and they were completely outnumbered and out in the open for a stretch of some five hundred yards.

  It felt like the longest walk Marnie had ever made. The longest and most nerve racking. It was a relief then when they finally made it to the meeting point where the leadership of the army awaited them. At least she assumed they were the leaders. She didn't know. To her one soldier looked much like another, even if some of them seemed to have a few more polished brass buttons on their uniforms.

  Even as she stared at the men in their uniforms standing under the white flag, she found herself gulping back fear. All of them were armed, even if their weapons weren't pointed at them. And as well as the ten men standing in a line before them there were hundreds more stating some fifty yards away. Cannons were also pointed in their direction. They had walked into the heart of the lion’s den. But she had to remind herself that they were armed too – just not with guns.

  “Chief Haysmith.” Tyrollan politely greeted the man with the most polished brass buttons on his jacket. A man of middling years with a huge moustache running down his face all the way to his chin, and a look of contempt in his eyes.

  “Churl!” The chief's response wasn't so polite. And his voice dripped with derision. As if he hadn't already lost probably thousands of soldiers under his command. As if he didn't need this truce at least as much as they did.

  “It's Tyrollan. And we came here in good faith. As agreed.”

  “As did we.” The chief looked upset about it though. Clearly he didn't want to be here meeting them. That much was obvious. He had only agreed to the truce because he had lost so many men that he had no choice anymore.

  “How do we know you aren't controlling our thoughts?”

  “I am the only one among us with the magic of Luminite.” Tyrollan held up his arms to show them the whirls and lines of sunshine silver. “And I have only two spells. I am a mystical student which means I can touch someone and gain their skill
s, and I can soothe, which means only to take away fear and pain. Again, I can only do this by touch. But if you don't believe me we can leave and the battle can continue.”

  He was telling the truth, Marnie knew. But she didn't know whether the chief would know that. Or believe it. But he had no choice.

  “You said you have a proposal churl?”

  “The same proposal we've had from the start.” Tyrollan ignored the slight. “You open the gates and let us go. We'll leave peacefully.”

  Actually that was all they'd ever wanted. It was just that the soldiers wouldn't let them leave. They had established defensive fortifications at the gates on the outer terrace, trapping everyone in the city. And that included the civilians. No one was allowed to leave. And equally they were letting no one through the magical barrier into the inner city. Everyone was trapped on the terraces and the battle continued.

  “You're running?” Suddenly the chief looked a little less angry. If anything he looked surprised, and almost hopeful. Obviously he thought his soldiers held the upper hand.

  “Just going home. It is only what all of us have wanted from the start. But you keep shooting at us.”

  And that was the most bitter truth of this whole war. There had never been a need for one. All the soldiers had had to do was to let them leave. But they hadn't. They'd attacked them instead. There had been no warning, no reasoning, no asking questions – they'd simply raised their weapons and tried to kill them. All of the afflicted had experienced the same thing.

  “After what you've done? All the people you've killed? I don't think so. You're nothing but cut throats and brigands. Knaves. And you have to answer for your crimes. However, I will accept your surrender.”

  “I'm sure you would. Just as your men accepted the surrender of every one of our people who gave it – and then murdered them!” Tyrollan became firm with him. He stood up a little straighter and became the school master he was. “So believe me when I say that that's not going to be accepted. If you force the issue we will fight to the end and your army will be wiped out to the last man. We just don't want all that blood on our hands.”

  “There may have been some accidents.” The chief shrugged as if it wasn't important. “But this is war. Mistakes happen.”

  “It's not a mistake to take someone who’s just arrived in the city and has no idea what's happening into custody, chain them, and then shoot them while they're helpless! That's murder! The mistake is thinking you could keep doing it. That you would not face our anger in turn. That you would not be stopped.”

  “Well now you have been stopped. You've lost between two and three thousand men as best we can tell. All you have left are conscripts, most of whom are terrified and have never held a weapon in their lives. And you don't have that many of them left either, while our numbers grow despite your murderous acts.”

  “Make no mistake, my people want you dead! All of you. After what you've done, the crimes you've committed, they ache to see you burn and bleed. What else would you expect? And if you do not accept this truce then be in no doubt; that will be your fate.” There was no uncertainty in Tyrollan’s voice.

  “Why you pox ridden, syphilitic whoreson!” the chief responded angrily. “You will not win! You will never win! You thought you could come to Styrion Might and start a war? Attack us without warning and kill the King? Think again! You don't even know where all of my men are! Many of them are hidden; concealed amongst the civilians. Even if you defeat the soldiers you see, you will not defeat those you don’t. They will attack you when you sleep. Shoot you when you're not looking. They will take down your names in secret and send hunters after your families. Parents, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters; children! All will die for this treason! The plague of the afflicted will be permanently removed from the realm!”

  Was he serious? Could he really mean what he said? Marnie didn't know, though she understood the hatred she saw in the man's eyes. Still, what he was talking about went beyond a simple crime. It was an obscenity. Suddenly she feared he meant every word.

  “There will always be people with the gifts of Ri Altenne. There is nothing you can do to change that.” Tyrollan showed no sign that he was troubled by what the chief had said. “The Goddess will simply give the magic that is lost when one of us falls to others. They could even be given to members of your own family. And you cannot make laws for the King to enact, who as far as I know is locked away behind that barrier.” He pointed at the shimmering barrier in the distance.

  “The only thing you can do is choose whether to live or die. Whether your men live or die. So choose.”

  “I have.” The chief suddenly raised his arm, and then dropped it in a rush. “Die!”

  In a heartbeat the world was filled with a hail of lead balls and a roar of explosions. Marnie screamed in terror as she realised that the teeth of the trap had closed around them. The whoreson had shown the treachery of dragons!

  But her scream soon died on her lips when she realised that her group still stood, protected behind a defensive barrier Dar had immediately erected. She watched the enemy's deadly projectiles falling to the ground all around them, and saw the chief's look of triumph die on his face. Then she saw some of her friends starting to hurl fireballs back at the soldiers and it was their turn to learn fear. She had forgotten that they had come prepared for betrayal. The ten who had come to this truce had been chosen for their gifts.

  And she was one of them!

  Marnie began draining the soldiers one by one as quickly as she could. In short order they collapsed in front of her every time the ray of green light touched them. The chief and all his aides who had stood beside him fell to the ground in front of her, shocked looks on their faces as they realised their treachery had failed.

  After taking out those in her immediate vicinity she looked to drain every other soldier she could spot. But it soon became difficult to make them out as the smoke and the fire from the muskets began filling the air.

  Luckily others didn't need to see so clearly. Frena began shaking the ground, opening up great chasms beneath the cannon, and letting them and their crews be swallowed up whole. Kylen let spinning silver blades fly through the air like scythes, severing body parts wherever it touched. Soldiers were being cut into pieces like fields of wheat. Marnie was glad she couldn't see that. But she was also glad to have the man on their side.

  Buildings began falling, many of them filled with panicking soldiers who leapt from upstairs windows to escape being caught in the collapse. Wild animals appeared from nowhere to run amok among the ranks of the soldiers, sewing confusion and fear and tearing great bloody swathes through their numbers.

  For a brief moment Marnie began to think that they had this. That they were going to win. But then Derina fell and she knew they were in trouble. Bad trouble when she saw the blood pouring down her friend's front from her neck. So much blood! The shield of force hadn't stopped every musket ball and they had just lost their healer and the woman who could send the wild animals into the heart of the enemy. More than that, she had lost a friend.

  Marnie ran to her friend and tried desperately to stop the bleeding, but even as she worked she knew it was too late. The musket ball had ripped her throat out, and she couldn't even breathe, no matter how many times she kept screaming at her friend to do just that. And while Marnie watched she saw the light in her friend's eyes go out just before her head fell back.

  “No!” Marnie screamed in horror. One of her only friends in this nightmare was dead and it was hard to accept. So many had fallen in this hellish world. But Derina had remained. She had lived and become one of the few constants in her life during this past week. Now she was gone. Dead in front of her.

  But there was no time to mourn as someone shouted a warning and Marnie looked up to see great barrels trailing fire, streaking through the air toward them.

  “Gunpowder!” Someone yelled, just before they hit. By then it was too late.

  The barrels smashed into
the shield of force Dar was holding, and then exploded, forming a huge fire dome around them. Although none of the flames penetrated the dome, the force of the blast knocked everyone off their feet. But the true danger wasn't the blast. It was the shock as people lost concentration. As Dar lost concentration. It was enough for the spell to waiver.

  Instantly more musket balls began whizzing through the air. Streaking just by her. Missing her by inches. Marnie flattened herself on the ground, screaming in terror. It was that that saved her. But not everyone was so lucky.

  Tyrollan was hit even as he tried to get to his feet, one of the balls smashing into his shoulder and another into his side, and he fell back to the ground with a grunt. Fortunately Dar quickly managed to recast his spell and the musket fire could no longer get through. But the damage had been done. Their leader was down!

  Marnie knew they were in trouble. The soldiers had always intended to betray them, and had brought in all the weapons they could find for the “truce”. And while her people had considered it a possibility, they simply hadn't expected anything like this. She wasn't sure they could save themselves. But she had to try.