by Choi, Bryan
He clasped her hand and pulled himself to his feet. “I do. I’ve never met a warrior as fierce and courageous as you. I wouldn’t want to face Mezeta without you.”
“And to think we were so close to her,” Lotte said. “I should kill that old fat bastard primate, but Sir Aslatiel won’t allow it. I’ve about had it up to here with the Imperials.”
“It’s not their fault that we missed Mezeta by hours.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting they’re in league with her?”
Lotte shook her head. “It’s no coincidence where she’s supposedly gone.”
“The Teufelsbrucke.” Taki looked at Lotte. “Where you…”
“Lost miserably and got my life ruined.” She laughed. “It’s also the gateway to southern Ursala. The Imperials want it badly. That Reinhard wants me to lead the battle to take it, promising that I’ll corner Mezeta for sure. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d told her to go there.”
“But he said Mezeta’s a threat,” Taki said. “Why would they let such a threat simply walk away?”
“Because they only think of their own campaign. They don’t care much for our pain. But fine. I’ll take the damned fortress if there’s even a chance of sticking it to the old witch.”
“And I’ll follow you there as well.”
Lotte pursed her lips. “You might eat those words later.”
“Captain, are you worried about the fight?”
“Aye. Von Halcon is under the impression that I should lead the battle because I’ve been there before. I’ve told him I never got past the bridge, but he’s stubborn.”
“I think he’s a good judge, though.”
She smiled. “You’ve taken quite a liking to him, and he to you.”
“I suppose,” Taki said. “But I said once I’d follow you to the end. I won’t renege on my promise.”
“Natalis, you make me regret many things.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
Taki tensed but relaxed quickly. His shaking hands went to just under her chin, and he brushed the tips of his fingers against the sides of her neck. He heard the footsteps from the hall too late.
“Taki, the fat man sent someone, and he’s asking for—” Enilna let out a squeak as she entered.
Lotte immediately broke off the embrace. Gooseflesh erupted on Taki’s neck, and his mouth went dry.
“Tirefire.” Enilna croaked. She averted her eyes from either of them. “He’s…he’s waiting in the stairwell.”
“Thank you, Shpejtspate,” Lotte said. “Send him up.”
Enilna turned stiffly and bounded away.
Taki started after her, but Lotte grasped his arm.
“The new caller first,” she said.
He had no choice but to agree. Enilna’s just a friend, anyway. We made sure at the festival.
Heavy footsteps sounded from the stairs. Taki checked again to make sure his Herstal was at his side. Why would a messenger from the primate wish to talk to Tirefire specifically, and not Aslatiel or the rest of Alfa? Before he could muse further on this question, the Archangel Jibriil stepped in.
Taki’s hand instantly shot to his side arm, and he freed it from its holster. He aligned sights on the man but stopped when Jibriil knelt in supplication.
“I’m unarmed! Stay your hand.” He raised his chin and locked eyes with Taki. “Please.”
Lotte gently pushed the Herstal’s muzzle down. “We won’t hurt you, Jibriil,” she said. “Unless you try to hurt any of us.”
“I swear on my honor, though I know it means little to either of you,” Jibriil said. “I come in peace, as a messenger of His Holiness the primate of Astarte—”
“Your master is the exarch,” Taki spat with vehemence that surprised even him.
Jibriil cast his gaze down. “Nay, Sir Taki. I am a dog of Astarte now. I no longer hold the title of archangel or the name Jibriil.”
Lotte sucked her teeth. “Tell me what happened, Sion.”
Sion? Taki reeled. That’s the name of the soldier she chose to live! The one she sacrificed her betrothed for!
Jibriil shook his head. “It’s far too shameful, Lady Lotte.”
Lotte squatted and stared at him. “Humor me.”
“After Mezeta deserted, the Usurper Amilia was furious. I’m told she raged for a day straight. Soon after, she forced Exarch Constantine to abdicate his post. I’m told he digs for potatoes in Thraike now.”
Lotte slowly shook her head. “At least he wasn’t killed outright. Did a similar fate visit you three?”
“No, milady. We were spared. We agreed to govern the Temple as a triumvirate, with plans to choose a new exarch once things quieted down. Then, Michail and Yuriel plotted in secret against me. I woke up one night in shackles with a blade sunk in my chest. My own men laughed while they stuffed me into a coffin and nailed it shut. I feared they’d bury me alive but instead, they chucked me into the sea. I must’ve floated some way, because when the lid came off it, I saw chevaliers. They brought me to the primate as a prize, and he’s sheltered me since. The man’s a sinner, but he’s honorable enough.”
“So Michail and Yuriel are in charge now?” Lotte chuckled. “What a ludicrous couple.”
Jibriil shook his head. “Michail’s exarch now. Yuriel’s body was found soon after my ‘funeral.’ I’m told the corpse was only recognizable by a jeweled piercing on the…pudendal area.”
“That’s her, all right,” Lotte said. “So, what did the new basileus think of this? Will Michail get chopped soon?”
“The Usurper seems not to care,” Jibriil said. “The Temple survives. Perhaps it’s better off now. I wouldn’t know.”
A grim smile crept across Taki’s face. Jibriil had finally gotten his just deserts, even if the new exarch had failed to actually kill the man. The fallen archangel kneeling before Taki had none of the self-assured swagger that he’d possessed before the conquest. The man’s hollow cheeks and dulled eyes were in stark contrast with the pride and power that he’d held. Once, Taki had prostrated naked and freezing and contrite before Jibriil. And now…he let out a soft chuckle.
“Natalis.” Lotte shot him a chastising glance.
“Milady, he has every right to gloat,” Jibriil said. “Sir Taki, your scorn is justified. I treated you and your fellows very badly. I was arrogant and spiteful, and for that, I apologize. I beg your forgiveness, and I’ll work hard to earn it if you’ll give me the chance.”
“Fool. I’m not the one you should be bowing and scraping to,” Taki said, and crossed his arms.
“Indeed. The one I’ve treated most terribly is beside you,” Jibriil said. He lowered his head to Lotte. “While I recovered from my wounds, I reflected heavily on the actions that brought me here. I acted in an uncouth and abusive fashion to you, milady. I failed to pay you the respect you deserved as a warrior and trod on your liberty. I…I forced myself on you many a time.”
“Sion,” Lotte said, “it wasn’t that way. I could’ve killed you at any time had I felt you were…”
“Milady, I call it what it was. It was coercion, even if only backed by words. It was rape. I don’t expect you to forgive me, and I won’t ask for it.”
With a sound mimicking an explosion, Draco and Hadassah burst into the room. Jibriil barely had time to turn his head before the pair set on him with their fists and feet. He curled and did not resist.
“Stop this at once!” Lotte bellowed. She took each of them by their collars and flung them into separate corners of the room. “That’s an order!”
“He admitted it!” Draco roared. “He finally fucking admitted it! Lemme at him!”
“Cut the shitlord’s balls off, and I’ll be happy!” Hadassah said.
“I won’t repeat myself,” Lotte said. “Move closer, and I’ll break your faces. This man is here as a messenger of the primate of Astarte. He may be essential to our mission here. No one is to mistreat him. Especially not you, Na
talis.”
Jibriil pulled himself to one knee and wiped the blood away from below his nose. “Thank you, milady, though I understand their sentiments. My presence disturbs many, so I’ll be brief. The primate is ready to consider an alliance.”
Taki glowered. “We killed his princess and lost one of our own, and he’s ready to consider an alliance?”
“His words, not mine, Sir Taki. He had two requests of the Imperium, and the Imperium has fulfilled one. The second is thus: your forces are to venture north, to the lands of the Ulrichtochten.”
It was Lotte’s turn to glower. “The Cantons? What could the primate possibly want with those barbarians?”
“His Holiness predicts the Imperium’s eventual victory. Thus, he would like to establish an agreement between the mountain women and Astarte in the interest of continued trade and peace.”
“So he wants them to not kill his traders when they venture too far off the path,” Lotte said. “But there’s a problem. None of us know the area well, and I doubt that any in Sir Aslatiel’s company do, either. We’d be killed quickly.”
Jibriil swallowed. “That, milady, is where I come in. I happen to know those mountains more than most, as my father was an Ursalan mountaineer. I’m to serve as a guide for a small group. No more than two others.”
“And who is to accompany you?”
“That is for you and Sir Aslatiel to decide. The primate expresses that the sooner the mission starts, the sooner he will allow the Liberation Army to cross unmolested. And the sooner you’ll be able to find…her.”
“I’m not going with this asshole. Neither will Karma,” Hadassah said.
“I’ll go with him,” Draco said, “but I’m coming back alone.”
Lotte pointed at the door. “Leave.”
The two tromped out, casting toxic glances at Jibriil. As they did so, Aslatiel stepped in. Following him was Enilna.
“Satou,” Aslatiel said, “this man has been vetted by General Chang. He tells the truth, or what passes for it these days. We must move the army soon, before the Teufelsbrucke becomes impassable for the winter.”
“Of course,” Lotte said. “The campaign must go on. Who really cares about the greatest threat your Imperium has ever faced? What if Mezeta decides to kill your padishah? Meanwhile, we’re being used as pages.”
“And what would you have us do instead?” Aslatiel said. “If you have a better idea of where to search for her, then I’m listening. But by squabbling here, we are wasting our time and effort.”
“I can’t believe you trust that fake priest.”
“I never said I did. But right now, he’s our only lead. I also wish to see Mezeta eliminated, but victory comes first!”
Taki’s hand shot up. “I’ll go. We’ll have our alliance and be one step closer to Mezeta.”
Lotte shook her head. “Natalis, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Taki crossed his arms. “How else will I make leutnant? And more important, no one in Sir Aslatiel’s company knows just how treacherous the arch—this man can be. He could easily endanger them if given the chance. So I’ll go. I’m stronger now. I can defend myself from the likes of him if needed.” He fixed a glare on Jibriil.
Lotte did not relent.
“Duly noted, Fahnrich Natalis,” Aslatiel said with an approving nod. “That leaves one spot to fill. Most of my squad is injured, and I must remain here for diplomatic reasons, so I suggest taking my sister. I will request her transfer immediately.”
“Sir!” Enilna piped up. “I volunteer. Lucatiel is all the way in Sevastopol. It would take her at least a fortnight to arrive, even if she took Ba’gshnar’s personal flying thingy.”
“You’re too inexperienced,” Aslatiel said. “Though you do have a point about the travel time. Rana it is, then.”
Enilna stamped her foot. “She just lost her lover! She’s in no shape to climb mountains and fight monsters! Don’t be a huge dick, sir!”
Taki tensed. Such words would have gotten her a drubbing from any officer.
Aslatiel drew in a breath and locked his gaze with Enilna’s. “Watch your words, kadet.” He sighed. “But yes, you’re also right for the second time. You’ll accompany Natalis and Sir Jibriil, then. I only permit this because we’re so undermanned right now. You must be careful. Understood?”
Enilna clasped her hands together. “Thank you!”
“Very well, then. It’ll be Shpejtspate joining you, Natalis. Remember that much hinges on your decisions.”
Taki nodded. “Aye, I know.”
Jibriil rose. “Thank you for your trust, milords. There is no need to worry about the actual dealings with the Ulrichtochten. The primate has drawn up an irresistible offer for them. The hard part will be getting there.”
“When do we leave?” Taki asked without making eye contact.
Jibriil bowed. “Preferably tonight, under the new moon. The streets are less restive, but there’s always risk of being mistaken for royalists. I’ll be waiting in the tavern. Take as long as you need.”
“First,” Taki said, “let’s get one thing straight. This is an Imperial mission. You may be our guide, but I am the one in charge. If I think for a moment that you mean us harm, Shpejtspate and I walk away. I’m sure your new master wouldn’t look kindly on that. Do you understand, Jibriil?”
No indignation or raged marred Jibriil’s features. The man only smiled, bowed again, and backed out of the door.
Taki let out a slow breath, now aware of the fact that he’d been holding it for a while. Lotte clamped a hand on his shoulder. Not caring that others were watching, Taki placed his hand over hers. She’d been right about the city: it was indeed a treacherous place, and the primate was more dangerous than any opponent they’d ever faced, though he wasn’t even an enemy. Still, there was a mission at hand. Taki steeled himself and resolved to complete it, even if it meant working with a man he’d hated so much. For his career, for his honor, and for his new nation, he’d endure anything.
13
Ringo hated ships and seafaring. Spending weeks in constantly heaving, claustrophobic monotony had been a special type of torment best inflicted on true monsters: regicides, cuckolding wives, and Hecaton Mezeta. He especially despised that, out on the ocean, whether he lived or died was entirely out of his hands. A storm or an encounter with a sea beast would snuff his existence as casually as stepping on a roach near the jakes, and with just as little consideration. On land, he stood a chance; on land, he could rise up again even if he fell. But at sea, there was nothing but an inky void to drown in. What also peeved him was that all sailors clearly enjoyed the superiority that their knowledge and skill gave them onboard, whereas he was a clueless landlubber. Even their language was incomprehensible: port and starboard, mizzenmasts and spinnakers, and tacking and jibbing. None of the bastards probably knew how to ride.
The monotony would have been less stifling if he had come with peers to drink, gamble, and sing with, but Janus had been busy with his ancient knickknacks, and Juan had spent the entirety of the voyage suckling Hecaton’s shriveled teats. The idiotic Valencian was firmly under the witch’s spell, and thus he would be the first to die after Hecaton. However, the individual who had rattled Ringo the most was actually Janus’s servant girl, the one he called Samara. She had not spoken once during the voyage, leading Ringo to believe that she was a mute and most likely touched in the head. Strangely enough, he had never seen Janus grope her for amusement as one might expect from a bored man on a long journey. Once, Ringo had attempted to pick through Janus’s luggage to see what manner of ancient tools the man had brought along, only to see Samara holding a belaying pin, ready to strike. He had sometimes sensed her presence in the shadows, especially when he was alone. Whenever he had tried to flush her out, however, he had found nothing.
Thus, Ringo was glad to be back on land, where a man of honor and means could truly be a master of his world. The port of New Korinthos smelled like stale urine and thrice-
digested fish, but he did not mind. In fact, the first thing he had done after tromping sullenly off the boat was to find a tavern to binge on real food—anything besides watered-down grog and hardtack. He had considered buying a girl, but harbor whores were universally infected with the pox. Wenching could wait until they were further inland. A fortnight at sea had killed his libido, anyway.
“Ale, your freshest meat, and fluffy bread. Keep it coming, too,” Ringo said, and slammed the round of Old Nayto on the bartop. The tavernkeep picked up the round, inspected the headstamps, and shook it gently near his ear to check for the subtle swish of smokeless powder grains. Satisfied, the keep brought out a tankard of hoppy ale, a plate of just-made blood sausage, and a warm wheat boule. Ringo attacked his meal, drained the ale, and felt human again.
“Did you come here on the Cuenta from Astarte?” the keep asked.
Ringo nodded.
“Oy, it was good joss to come here then.”
“How so?” he asked through a mouthful of bread.
“You’ve been at sea, so you couldn’t have heard. We just got word from the clipper captains a day earlier. Astarte’s gone over to the Imperium.”
Ringo’s eyes widened, and he straightened to let out a gasp, only to be interrupted by beer-soaked crumbs that tumbled down his trachea. He doubled over, coughing and gagging and pounding his chest. The tavernkeep reached out, but Ringo angrily waved him off.
“What do you mean, gone over?”
“I mean what I said, Sir Knight. The city’s run up the Osterbrand flag beside its own.”
“Who fucked up the siege?”
“There was no siege. I’m told assassins took Princess Sophie’s life, and in the chaos the Liberation Army entered.”
Ringo squeezed his temples in disbelief. “They killed Princess Sophie? The animals! The fucking spetsnaz were involved, I bet my life!”
“Sir Knight, I must decline the wager.”
“Oh, shut up,” Ringo snarled. Goose bumps erupted on his skin. If Astarte was lost, that meant his promised reward had evaporated, too. His dreams of a hundred thousand rounds of Old Nayto started to dissolve into excrement. There was no work for a chevalier in the Dominion—no, the Imperium—and he lacked the funds to return. He was marooned in enemy territory. I’m ruined! I’m fucking ruined! Mezeta, you bitch, did you plan this? Why not just kill me instead? Damn you to hell!