Amorlia

by Chris Wichtendahl

  Breaking the Impasse

  Qi Drego leaned against the rock she was using for cover and lay her head back, closing her eyes. All around her, gunfire echoed off the rocks. She feared it would deafen her, or worse, that the sound would live forever in her ears and she would hear naught but the crack of rifle and pistol the rest of her days. She must be tired, she thought, to engage in such musings. She’d lost track of how long the Gunfighters had been here, holding off the Nazean advance. If the enemy made it through the pass up to the Plateau, the entire Land would be lost. The nomadic tribes who lived on the Plateau were using their strange magic to keep the Nazean airships from simply flying over. Any that tried soon found themselves falling from the sky, the Engineers cut off from the energy that powered them. There were few airships available to the Nazeans for such maneuvers, at any rate. Most patrolled the skies of the Nazean lands, while the rest were being used in the conquest of Vega. Qi grimaced at the thought. Though it meant they had no airships to deal with, the fall of their western neighbor meant they could expect no aid from that quarter. Qi spared a quick prayer for the souls of Vega’s departed royals and her Champion. The Gunfighter remembered meeting the princess and her blue-skinned lover some years ago. Both had been pleasant and Qi had enjoyed their company. She shook her head as a young Gunfighter sat next to her. “Michra,” Qi turned to the girl, “how are you holding up?” Michra busied herself reloading her revolvers and did not look up. “All is well, ma’am,” she said, her voice steady, “Just need a break to reload.” Qi laughed. It was short and sharp, without humor, sounding more like the omnipresent gunfire than laughter. “You need more of a break than that, girl,” she said, “We all do.” “Aye,” Michra said, forcing a smile for her superior, “I suppose we do at that.” She looked off toward their camp. Men and women either took their positions or took their rest. Some folks ate, others tried to tend the wounded best they could. They’d lost their healers early on, with no way to get anyone out of the pass and back to the nearest town. Young boys and girls ran to and from the supply tents, keeping the Gunfighters in ammunition. If they lived through this, they would all be Gunfighters themselves one day. Qi was beginning to doubt any of them would live through this. She forced herself to look positive as Michra turned to her, tired eyes sunken from exhaustion and fear. “We’ll get through this, right ma’am?” Qi smiled, hoping she looked more confident than she felt, “We’re Gunfighters, Michra,” she gripped the younger woman’s shoulder, “Of course we’ll get through this.” Michra returned the smile, clearly emboldened by the comment, “Aye,” she said. Without another word, she ran at a low crouch to her position near the worst of the fighting, guns blazing before she’d even found cover. Qi hefted her own pistols, stood and prepared to do the same. Suddenly, she heard a whooshing sound behind her. She turned to see a young man standing next to a pile of Nazean rifles. He grinned crookedly at her. “Princess Qi Drego,” he said, offering a bow, “You command the Gunfighters, yes?” She regarded him warily. He wore Vega’s colors, but that did not make him a friend. “So far as the Gunfighters could be said to have any one commander,” she said, not lowering her guns, “I suppose that would be me. Though I prefer not to be called Princess, if you don’t mind.” “I’ll be sure to remember that,” he still grinned his crooked grin. “And just what do I call you, stranger?” she asked. Something was bothering Qi, but she couldn’t place it. Not about him, necessarily. Something just seemed... off. “Pym Kenar, ma’am, at your service,” he bowed again, “As Royal Emissary of the Land Vega, I bring greetings from Monarch Artemis, and promises of whatever aid is within our power to offer you.” “Artemis?” Qi hadn’t expected that. “I heard she was dead.” Whatever was wrong continued to bother her, and she still couldn’t place what it was. “She gets that a lot,” the young man laughed, “But tell me, were you ever going to ask about this big pile of guns at my feet?” Qi opened her mouth to do just that, when Michra ran up to her, smiling to the point of almost laughing. “Ma’am!” she cried, “Ma’am, it’s wonderful. The Nazeans have given up!” “What?” Qi rushed to the edge of the pass, Michra following after. Pym remained where he was, still grinning. Sure enough, the Nazeans seemed to be in retreat. Her people still fired the occasional shots after them, but the gunfire had essentially stopped. That’s when it hit her. She knew what had been bothering her since the stranger arrived. The gunfire had stopped. The noise that had been her constant companion since she arrived at the pass was finally silent. She walked briskly back to the young Emissary from Vega, standing very close and looking menacing. “You did that?” she pointed from the pile of guns to past the edge of the pass. “I did.” “How?” And then the boy was gone, only to return seconds later with a bottle of whiskey. He offered it to her, and she took it, dumbfounded. “Where did you...” “A nice little inn in a town called... Halfsburgh, I think.” Qi’s eyes widened, “But that’s...” “Miles from here,” Pym nodded, his grin becoming even more crooked. “You’re a speedster,” Qi whispered. “Guilty as charged,” Pym bowed low. When he stood, he gestured at the bottle, “That’s for you and the rest of your brave Gunfighters. You’ve earned a respite from the fighting.” Qi laughed. “Boy, I appreciate the breather, but those soldiers will just re-arm and come back. Even if they didn’t, the Nazeans still hold the downlands. They’ve got siege engines and war machines the likes of which I’ve never seen. So I don’t-” Pym held up his hand and she fell quiet. He pointed up, and her eyes followed. Above her in the sky flew a Vegan airship, led by Kael. When she looked back at Pym, he smiled at her, “Artemis was not the only death proved false,” he said, “The Champion will make short work of their machines, then our Army will make short work of the soldiers.” Qi was still coming to grips with the situation, “Vega... is free?” Pym nodded, “As Drego soon will be.” He bowed again, “I am needed elsewhere, but I extend an invitation to you and your brother Zen. The Monarch of Vega would meet with you both, to discuss the next move against the Nazeans.” Qi could only nod as Pym sped off. She turned to Michra, pulling the cork from the whiskey bottle with her teeth and spitting it out, “Summon all the lads and lasses,” she said, “today we have something to celebrate.” She took a long pull on the bottle and handed it to the young woman. “We do?” Michra drank and handed the bottle back. “Aye,” Qi Drego grinned, tipping her hat back on her head, “we’re going to live to see tomorrow.” With a laugh, Michra walked off to gather the others. Qi watched her go, then looked out over her Land at the Champion and his airship. She raised the bottle to them in an impromptu toast. “Tomorrow,” she said with a smile, “At long last, it looks brighter than today.”

  A Council Convenes

  Artemis sat upon her throne and prepared her mind for distance thinking. A stray thought interrupted her preparations. She considered how strange it was to think of this throne as hers. Stranger still to think of herself as Monarch. She missed being a princess. She’d really liked it. Idly, she reached up to shift her new crown on her head. It still didn’t fit right. With her old one, half the time she’d forgotten she had it on. This one, she was always aware of. She sighed. This melancholy train of thought wasn’t helping. She banished it and focused instead on Sa’raa, the young werecat from the Wild Lands. Sa’raa? She cast her thoughts out, far across the world, seeking one mind among many. Sa’raa? Artemis! The faint reply hummed with pleasant surprise. Where are you? I can barely feel you in my mind. I am not where we agreed I would be, Artemis explained. I regret not being able to visit with your mother, but events in Vega are such that my leaving now would be most... unwise. But you were successful? There was great hope in the question. Vega is yours once more? Artemis smiled. It is indeed, my friend. I will share all the news when next I see you. I hope that is soon, Sa’raa replied. Actually, Artemis thought, I hoped I might presume upon your mother, if she cannot come herself, to send an emissary to a council I am convening. Though driven from the Land Vega, the Nazeans are a threat that must be dealt with decis
ively. I am summoning the Monarch of Drego and his sister to Vega, and hoped that your clan would be represented as well. I will relay your request to my mother, Sa’raa thought back. Thank you for including us. We understand the threat posed by the Nazeans, perhaps better than many in the outside Lands. You may rely on our attendance. If my mother cannot attend, she will likely send my older sister. There was a pause, then a sly thought. I will see to it that I accompany whomever comes. I would like to see you again. Artemis smiled again. And I you, Sa’raa. I look forward to your visit. Sa’raa sent one last thought before their connection faded. We will see you soon... It was a few days before all had arrived. Zen Drego respectfully declined the meeting. He had much to do in reclaiming his Land. Kael remained there, as did a troop of Vega’s soldiers, to assist Drego’s Gunfighters and local militias in rooting out the remaining Nazeans. Admiral Delas had returned to Vega with the Luna’s Blade, and left the soldiers under Kael’s command. She seemed to do so reluctantly, Kael reported to his wife’s mind, as though I were not to be trusted. Artemis nodded, though he could not see her, No doubt she merely thinks you incompetent, my love. She grinned at the indignity coming through their link. Do not take it personally. She feels only she is fit to command our new Army. Her grin faded. Something will have to be done about Admiral Delas, she assured him, but not now. I must go. The emissaries are here. She smiled again, I love you, too. The mental contact broken, she turned to the group seated before her. Qi Drego represented her brother, and had brought with her a young woman named Michra, whom Qi introduced as her Deputy. Both wore the long leather coats and wide-brimmed hats the Gunfighters were known for, along with the polished metal badges that were the mark of their station. Rough cotton shirts were tucked into heavy trousers that covered leather boots, and each woman bore twin revolvers hanging from her hips. From the Wild Lands came the eldest daughter of the clan’s Monga, known to her people as the Ki-Mon, which translated roughly into “Next Ruler”. She was the Monga’s chosen heir, and often represented her clan among the other people of the Wild Lands. She was tall and beautiful, with an air of quiet strength. Her hair fell in thick black waves ending in tight braids. She wore similar clothing to her sister, Sa’raa, who sat next to her, grinning at Artemis. The Ki- Mon carried only a long staff and a hunting knife as weapons, though it was clear she was quite deadly with both. She had greeted Artemis warmly enough, though seemed reserved in her dealings with the others. “Welcome,” Artemis said, smiling to each in turn. She introduced herself, then each to the other and finally all of them to Pym, who stood behind her. “I am happy you could make it on such short notice,” she continued, “and I appreciate the sacrifice you are making by leaving your Lands in times such as these.” “Ah,” the Ki-Mon said, “but if times were not as they are, would we be meeting thus?” She indicated herself and her sister, “My people have not left the Wild Lands since the days of the Grey Strangers. It is unlikely you would even know of us if not for current events.” Qi nodded, “The savage speaks truly,” she said, “Even we of the civilized Lands do not meet often, preferring instead to keep to ourselves. We-” she stopped talking and glanced down at the knife at her throat. She looked over into the glaring eyes of the Ki-Mon, just as Michra drew her gun to defend her mentor. Sa’raa was standing now, a low growl indicating that she was preparing to tear the younger Gunfighter to pieces. Qi held the Ki-Mon’s gaze a moment longer, then dropped her eyes, “My apologies,” she said curtly. She made a motion with her hand for Michra to holster her weapon. The Ki-Mon lowered her blade, returning it to its sheath without taking her eyes off the Gunfighter. “Though we call ourselves the Wild Clan, outlander, I assure you it is merely to safeguard our family name. Our name, which we can trace back nearly to the first days, has become an integral part of the magic that keeps the chaotic energies and fell creatures of the Wild Lands from overwhelming you ‘civilized’ people.” Her lip curled in a snarl, “Were they not a grave threat to my people as well, I would gladly allow the Nazeans to march across your Land, laughing as I watched them crush you beneath their boots.” Artemis sighed, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose, “Well,” she said slowly, “I can see we have a bit of work to do.”

  A Council Continues

  “So,” the Ki-Mon said, looking Qi up and down, “what is your power?” Qi was taken aback. “My what?” “Your power,” the Ki-Mon repeated, “your special superhuman ability.” Qi regarded the other woman warily. The council had been going on for several hours. In that time, she had learned much about the strange woman of the Wild Clan and her mysterious people, and had come to regret even further her unfortunate choice of words earlier. But now, this question out of nowhere, when they had been discussing something as unrelated as the chances of successfully infiltrating the Nazean military heirarchy. It raised Qi’s hackles. She did not like personal questions, and she considered this a very personal question. “What makes you think I have one?” The Ki-Mon laughed, “Because that is my power, Gunfighter,” she said, “I can sense the touch of the Spark in others. So,” she returned to her initial question, “what is your power?” Qi looked back down at the intelligence they’d been studying, idly shifting papers across Artemis’ desk, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” “It is very relevant,” the Ki-Mon stated, “if, as seems likely to happen, I am to put the future of my Clan in your hands one day, I would know exactly what you can do.” “Ki-Moonnnnnn,” Sa’raa slouched even further in her chair and covered her face with one hand. She looked out the corner of one eye and saw that Michra was similarly bored by the proceedings, though was at least spared the embarrassment Sa’raa was currently suffering. “Settle yourself, Sa’raa,” the Ki-Mon tossed the words over her shoulder, then turned back to Qi, who looked at Artemis. Artemis shrugged, “She makes a valid point. She was a bit blunt in presenting it, but I can’t deny the validity of the question.” Qi sighed, “Fine,” she conceded, drawing one of her guns. She handed it to Artemis. “Here,” she said, “take this and point it at my head.” Now it was Michra’s turn to slide down in her seat, hiding her face. She turned to Sa’raa and mouthed the words “not again” before rolling her eyes. Artemis looked at the gun, then at Qi, then back at the gun and finally back at Qi again, “Um, no?” “Trust me,” Qi said. “Okay,” Artemis shrugged and raised the revolver, pointing it at Qi. Yes, Pym thought to her, this is going to do wonders for our relations with Drego. You are definitely building bridges to our neighbors, Artemis. I could always just shoot you, she replied. “Now pull the trigger,” Qi told her. “So,” Artemis asked, stalling, “you’re invulnerable, is that it?” “Just pull the trigger.” Artemis did so, which produced a resounding click. Qi smiled, “Now do it five more times.” Artemis did so, and the hammer fell each time on an empty chamber. Qi gestured for the gun, and Artemis gave it back. Qi held it ready and looked around the room. “Is there something you don’t particularly like in this room?” she asked. Artemis pointed across the room, “I find that vase rather ugly,” she said. Without another word, Qi shot the vase. It shattered. Artemis raised an eyebrow. Qi holstered her gun and sat back in her seat, “I trained as a Gunfighter from childhood,” she said, “When I reached the age at which most superhumans discover themselves, I was already part of a posse of Gunfighters hunting outlaws on the Plateau. As it turns out, I am an Engineer. Mine is the ability to power technology. However,” she explained, “when my power manifested, it was during a brutal gunfight with the Chaar-Thalon gang. I was cornered by this hideous mutated thing they dragged around with them, I’ve never seen one before or since, that had shrugged off all twelve bullets in my guns. It lunged for me,” she said, “and, on instinct, I pulled the trigger.” She made a motion with her hand as though firing a gun, “Blew its brains right out the back of its head. So,” she turned to the Ki-Mon, “I can make my own bullets out of pure Spark.” “So, you never run out of bullets?” Qi shook her head, “So long as there is breath in my body, there will be bullets in these guns.�
�� Michra mouthed the words to Sa’raa behind Qi’s back while Qi spoke. Pym saw this and bit his lip to stifle a laugh. Qi turned a stern glare on the young women, “Do you find these proceedings tedious, children?” The Ki-Mon turned to join the scolding when Artemis started laughing. “To be honest,” she said, “I find these proceedings tedious. Perhaps,” she suggested, “it might be wise to adjouorn for a few hours. We are not going to drive the Nazeans back across the sea in one sitting.” She smiled at all in turn, gesturing toward the door, “Please,” she said, “make yourselves at home. Quarters have been prepared for each of you, and our kitchens are at your disposal.” The Ki-Mon nodded, stood and stretched. “It has been many long hours,” she admitted, “a break would be nice.” “Aye,” Qi agreed. “Pym,” Artemis turned to her Emissary, “perhaps you might escort the young ladies to their quarters. There is a private matter I would like to discuss with their mentors.” “Of course,” Pym nodded. He said to Sa’raa, “If you would follow me, Warrior,” then to Michra, “Gunfighter.” He led them from the room, and Artemis gestured the others over to her desk. Out in the hall, Sa’raa asked Pym the details of Artemis’ wedding. “It was short,” he said, “the ceremony,” he specified, “There was food after, and wine and dancing,” he grinned, “and all the coupling, of course.” He shrugged, “Your standard spring fires wedding.” “And she really revived the Champion with a kiss?” Michra asked. “Aye, she did.” Michra sighed, “That is just too romantic. Traversing the Six Hells, battling Queen Umbra herself for the soul of her beloved...” she smiled prettily at Pym, “I hope to find someone I’d do that for some day.” He smiled back, “I’m certian you will. Here we are,” he stopped near two doors in an identical row, “Michra, your possessions are in there,” he pointed to the door on the right, “Sa’raa, you are to the left. If you need anything, ring the bell. Someone will be along.” His eyes lit up as he saw someone down the hall. “Deron!” he called out, “what are you doing here?” He moved so swiftly to the young monk’s side, it seemed as if he’d simply vanished and reappeared. Michra watched the ensuing physical display and pouted. “Oh, damn,” she complained, “he likes boys.” She smiled and waved to Pym and Deron, who had just waved at her. “Hm?” Sa’raa looked up as she opened her door, “Oh,” she nodded her head in Pym’s direction, “him.” Michra leaned against hers, tipping her wide-brimmed hat low over her eyes and smirking, “Have a gentleman back home, do we?” she remarked, idly. Sa’raa smiled, touching her forehead to the open door, “I do,” she said. “Is he wonderful?” “He is,” Sa’raa’s smile grew despite the fact that she knew she was being teased. “He is one of the hunters of the Clan, among the greatest. In fact,” she looked up, proud, “he has been invited to be a Huntsman of the Great Wood.” “Is he going to do it?” Michra had stopped teasing now. Sa’raa nodded, “I am certain of it. He hunts one of the Mad Wizard’s most horrifying creatures,” she explained, “he will do anything to improve his skills, so that he might one day hunt this beast to its end.” “And you would join him on this hunt?” Sa’raa laughed, “Of course,” she said, “he is one of the greatest hunters our Clan has known for a generation. He can track anything from anywhere to everywhere and trap it when it gets there. But when it comes to killing something big, ugly and mean,” she winked at the Gunfighter, “well, that’s one of my favorite things.” With that, she entered her room and shut the door. Michra chuckled, opened her door and went inside.