by Tim Paulson
Mia nodded, yawning. “I'll bet you needed them too, after Claus left with his part of the army.”
Meredith glanced at her. “You know about that?”
Mia nodded. “It's a long story... but I was there.”
Meredith laughed. “Well don't tell the commander. He's pissed as hell they left. He says constantly that if they'd stayed we might have had a chance.”
“No,” Mia shook her head. “It wouldn't have made any difference.”
“You act like you know something,” Meredith said.
Mia nodded. “More than I want to.”
“Well, you're welcome to tell me! We don't hear anything over here. They say the front is collapsing but they don't say why. Goliaths have been lost left and right, people I know, gone. All the siege cannons are too. The only units that have been relatively untouched are the cavalry and the graussmeisters... Neither of us really matter though, not much we can do against goliaths.”
Mia nodded, thinking about the sorcerer. “Yes,” she said.
“So you're Scarosian?”
“Miran.”
“Why are you here?”
Mia's eyebrows rose. “Why do you ask?”
The lieutenant paused, looking at her for a long time. Nothing was said. Mia was starting to wonder why when Meredith started right up again as if nothing had happened.
“The girl will be in that tent resting. Riding as long as we did would be hard on anyone but I can tell she's not cut out for it. The cooking pot is over there, grab some stew if you want it.”
Mia nodded. “Thank you.”
“Right, now I've got to tell them to let the weaselman go. Please tell him to refrain from stealing while he's among us.”
“I'll try,” she replied.
“And... uh... I'll see you later,” Meredith said.
“I'd assume so,” Mia replied.
What was with this woman? She was acting odd. Mia turned away, toward the tent indicated for Giselle.
Inside the tent, a short balding man with spectacles was taking Giselle's temperature. On his shoulder was an epaulet with the caduceus on it. Giselle did not look well. Her eyes were closed and her face flushed.
“How is she?” she asked.
The man looked up at her, through cracked spectacles. “Are you the goliath knight I've heard so much about?”
Mia nodded. “Yes. Mia Halett,” she extended a hand.
The man laughed. “Halett? You... you're not joking! Ha! Excellent!” His eyes focused on her dress. “If you're a knight what are you doing wearing that dress?”
Mia did her best not to roll her eyes. “I'd rather not go into it.”
“Oh I see... keeping secrets are we? How like a Halett! God the emperor hates you people. I can't tell you how much I've read that-”
Mia raised her eyebrows. “The girl.”
“Right! Yes... Of course. She's... not well.”
Mia grimaced “I can see that!”
“Yes, of course, you can. Well... it's a fever. I dare say she's had some stress of late, as have we all.”
“She's pregnant as well,” Mia said.
“Ah... that doesn't help either. She'll need rest, lots of it. No more riding all night.”
“How is that to happen? I assume this camp can't stay here all day. The Faustlanders will be coming soon.”
“The Purple Republic, that's what they call themselves now. It's quite catchy I think. It's nice to have a country ruled by reason rather than superstition.”
So that's how the educated people were seeing it. As if reason alone meant everything would work out for the best. Anyone who'd met Buckley up close, as she had, would perhaps be a bit more skeptical.
“I misspoke then. The Republic. They'll be coming. Won't this camp have to move?”
The man pushed his spectacles up his nose. “I'm not at liberty to discuss our orders with non Ganex personnel.”
Mia sighed. “Fine, I'll take it up with Commander Bartold.”
She left and found Piotr standing in line at the stew pot, twitching his whiskers as he sniffed the stew.
“Needs popkash,” he said, looking at her. “Ganex food. Bland.”
“I'm going to see the commander soon. I'll see if we can move on quickly. I worry about Giselle.”
Piotr nodded. “Yes, she is fever. I can give herbs for healing. My sister teached me a few thing.”
“Will it help?” Mia asked flatly.
Piotr frowned. “Will help? Of course will help! Elzbieta is excellent at herbs.”
Mia sighed. “Do what you can. I might rely on you to take care of her.”
“Is fine, Giselle owes me. I will take care. Also, I need find Aaron.”
Mia was surprised. “Aaron? You know him?”
Piotr nodded. “Oh yes. He is good friend.”
Mia shrugged. Whatever. She ate her soup by herself, thinking about Adem. Then she found a quiet corner and dozed off, or tried to. The Ganex at the camp were stressed and frustrated. Minor arguments and angry words were commonplace. Mia had seen it before, many times. In the Halett stenridder corps after a training accident, in the Fenasian king's guard after putting down a particularly ugly insurrection, which she now remembered being a part of. Low morale was more dangerous than most leaders understood. It could be more dangerous than the enemy itself.
Finally, almost an hour later, she was summoned to Bartold's tent where he sat in a chopped log for lack of a proper chair.
“Can we finally talk about that thing? Veronica told me you would know where I can find Adem.”
“That's the problem,” he said. “We're already going toward him and that's why you're going to link up with us.”
Mia's eyebrows knit together. “What? Why?”
“The boy you're discussing, the one with the power of a saint. He's with my sister Winnifred, in Senfdorf it's just outside of Magenberg.”
“Oh...”
“That's where the bulk of our army is headed, and... I'm betting, the republican forces are too.”
“Oh...”
“They've been pushing us too hard to be planning to stop at the border. Worse, my horses have been ranging. We've seen them. They've stopped and are taking on supplies. Supplies that must have already been en-route by barge up the river Valen, for weeks. Mark my words. They will be invading the empire and I can tell you: there's no chance that what's left of our army can stop them.”
“How is that possible?” Mia asked. But she already knew the answer.
“I wish I could tell you. The reports I've heard from the front have been... terrifying. They've crushed us at every turn. It should not be possible. Even losing part of our army months ago, we still outnumbered the republic three to one.”
“Right... Then to Magenberg it is.”
Bartold sighed. “If we can make it. May God have mercy on our souls.”
* * *
“Adem!” Winifred called. The clouds were gathering at an alarming rate and she hadn't seen the boy in what felt like ages.
It wasn't unusual for children like him to be less affected by the weather. The scriptures were very clear about it. Something about the gift made their bodies resistant. Adem was different however, he wasn't resistant, he was entirely indifferent. Though snow covered the ground and the wind blew with a chill that froze the very soul he would go outside naked if she let him. Five times now she'd found him outside, having stripped his coat off. Not only did her mind revolt at the very sight of it, but it drew attention to him. He already received enough of that for being a foreigner.
“Adem! Come in now! It's time for dinner!” she called. It was not, not yet. But she could whip something up.
Her intuition was getting to her, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck.
Something was wrong.
The wind was picking up and... thickening somehow. It was as if, despite the cold, it had been filled with moisture.
Winifred stepped out of the front of the cottage, walking out
into the wide-open field beyond, and turned. She spun all the way around, looking for something, anything to justify her rising unease.
“Adem! Where are you?” she yelled as she turned, scanning the low brush, partially covered in snow, for discarded clothing.
When she'd gotten almost all the way around she stopped, her jaw dropping.
“My... God...” she said, her heart sinking inside her chest.
There were dark clouds in the wheat field behind the cottage. Thick and gray, swirling in a circle like the funnel of a miniature tornado. She could see snow swirling around it but the clouds were too thick to make out what was at the bottom.
Winifred had an idea though...
The boy.
If Adem's bracelet had broken, she thought, as she broke into a run, hiking up her skirts. But usually, that meant fire... or for this one exploding the lamps. In all her years she'd never seen one like this. Never had there been changes to the sky, not in any of the scriptures, and she'd read them all. This was something new.
As she passed the cottage, there was a noise. Beyond the whirling of the wind and snow, it was something else, like gears or rocks, grinding together. The closer she got to the other field, the louder it became. Deep inside her, it touched a nerve, causing fear to well up, making her pause.
Her mind filled with reasons to stop, to go back. The cabin would be warm, the boy would need food when he returned and there was none ready. If his bracelet had broken he would require another and that too would be in the drawer, in her room.
“No!” she shouted. “I don't know who you are or what you're doing to him but I will not give in. By God, I have been charged with this boy's protection and I will see it through!” she shouted.
Balling her fists, she started again, willing her legs to move, to lift, and step forward.
The snow was thicker here. It was starting to accumulate in a wide circle in the field, which she stepped into.
That was when she caught sight of them.
They were buried in the whirlwind and falling snow but their forms were unmistakable. Bulbous heads covered with eyes and bent over like deformed dogs.
Horrors.
With each forced step, she got closer and saw them more clearly. They were the source of the sound. Arrayed in a perfect circle around the center of the winds, they stood facing outward, gnashing their teeth and claws.
There was blood in the snow here, splashes of it trailed in lines. People had been attacked and fled. One had not. Mr. Braun, the farmer from down the lane. He must have seen it begin and come to help the boy. His face was frozen with a look of surprise, his throat torn out. He'd been a good man.
Winifred cursed herself. She'd wanted to be even farther from Magenberg but the order sent her here. She'd assented because it was only one boy. How hard could training one little boy be? She'd been foolish. The first time the lights had exploded she'd thought to leave, to go to the mountains but she hadn't.
Stupid.
Next to the farmer's body was a stick. Winifred picked it up, using it to help her claw her way forward. It wasn't the force of the wind that kept her back, though it swirled around her mightily, no... it was a feeling. Her own mind pushed back at her but she refused.
Three of the horrors had seen her now, their fat heads turning in her in direction, maws opening to display the many rows of needle-sharp teeth.
“By God, you will let me pass!” she yelled at them.
A voice, a child's voice. Had she heard it?
“Adem?!” she called through the winds and the growling of the monsters.
“Miss Winni?” The voice was hard to hear, but hear it she had.
Just as she feared, he was in the center of it all.
“Adem you must stop this!” she said, pulling herself forward. “People have been hurt.”
“I can't!” the boy yelled. “It's Titi!”
That name... what did it mean? He'd been saying it for months, crying it out in his dreams, his nightmares, mumbling it to himself at meals. Why? She'd searched the scriptures for it, even the old ones prior to the council of Lontano, but found nothing. Now there were horrors? How could that possibly be? Was it a demon?
Was there some connection between horrors and the enemies of the light? That too was absent from the scriptures. Horrors were never mentioned in fact. Only the demons with the green stones, who'd once walked the world and crushed it beneath their feet. Creatures of vice and ruin, who were unsatisfied with simplicity, purity, who sought only their own pleasure. It was said in the scriptures, in the book of Revelation, that they might one day return. That was why they trained the saints, to fight them, to defend humankind.
The horrors were stalking her now, closing in.
“Adem you must come away from there. Come inside!” she called to him.
“I can't!” he replied. “Titi... wants.”
“What?” she yelled.
One of the creatures approached her, snarling.
“Stay back! I don't know who you are but this boy matters to me!” She held up the stick like a club. “I won't let you harm him!”
There was another snarl from behind her. Another horror. She turned, swinging her club, but too late. Claws raked along her back, slashing her skin. Blood spattered the snow behind her as she fell to one knee.
“Go away!” Adem called to her. “She doesn't want you here.”
“I... won't!” Winifred said, standing again. She swung the club in an arc around her but kept moving. Her torn back hurt but she'd suffered worse. Ten years ago a child saint had burned her arms so badly she'd been confined to bed for two months while she recovered with bandages changed each day. That pain had been excruciating. They'd said she might not survive, but she had. The scars remained to remind her of that ordeal every day.
This little scratch was nothing.
The first horror approached, slashing at her thigh. More blood stained the snow.
Winifred grit her teeth. These horrors were different. They should have attacked the second they saw her but they hadn't. These served someone. They were testing her.
“Sorry, but I must protect the boy,” she said, using the stick as a crutch. “Kill me if you must, whoever you are... I will not stop.”
But the horrors did not advance. They turned as she passed beyond them, watching her with their many black eyes. The wind intensified as she approached the whirling storm until suddenly it seemed to cease completely. She'd passed into the center. Adem was there, sitting.
When he saw her he jumped up and held her, wrapping his arms around her center.
“I don't want to Miss Winni. I don't!” He said, burying his face in her skirts.
“You don't want to what?”
There was a light streaming from above here that shone upon them both. It felt warm somehow as if it were made of heat. Winnifred's mind rebelled at the very idea. Warmth in the center of cold, moisture in the winter. It was as if truth itself had been turned on its head.
“Titi's angry... People are hurting her. Poking her with sticks. She wants me to help her stop them. She wants to know who they are. I don't wanna!”
“Can't you say no?”
Adem shook his head. “She says she put me here for this. That's why I came back.”
“You came back?”
Adem nodded his head.
She wanted to ask where, but she was already starting to feel tired. Her dress was stained red from her leg wound, her back was much worse, she knew it. She was losing a lot of blood and quickly.
“We have to get you out of here,” she said, pulling on him.
“No!” Adem said. “She says it's time. She can't wait anymore.”
Winifred fell to her knees.
“What should I do Miss Winni?” he asked her.
It sounded like he had no choice. The warmth from above, however... it felt like home. She wondered... could Titi... could it be?
“Don't be afraid,” she said. “Maybe... maybe this is good
.”
Adem looked up. “Really?”
She nodded. “Just be careful... Be a good boy like we talked about... heal when you can. It's your greatest gift.”
Adem nodded. “Ok...” he said and let go of her. He turned around, looking up to the sky. “I will Titi... I will. But I want something from you too.”
“What? Adem... don't try to bargain with... God.” Winnifred said but she wasn't sure he even heard her... her voice had dropped to a whisper. She was about to lose consciousness.
“I want my father back,” Adem said.
Chapter 17
"The development of the Fulcrum will change war as we know it. The speed of a light goliath with the strength and power of a heavy. It is the best in every dimension. Even the Willen Valkyrie is no match!”
-A statement from Fulcrum master designer Evan Seacross, a week before he was killed in a training accident when the goliath's hip joint failed, 1619
The door to Buckley's office exploded open. His assistant burst through, panting heavily. Had she run all the way up the stairs?
Of course, Buckley wasn't at his desk at the moment. Aaron extended an arm, pointing toward the adjoined bedroom where the Veil Company's chief was currently enjoying his third session of the day. Aaron had no idea where all these women were coming from. He sure hoped they were being well paid.
The assistant eyed Aaron for a second, catching her breath before running over to the door to the other chamber where she knocked frantically.
“What the devil is going on?” came Buckley's voice from the other side. There was the sound of a girl shrieking followed by a thump as she was pushed out of the bed. No doubt she'd been in his way, Aaron thought.
The door opened with Buckley in his robe. “This had better be important!”
She nodded. “It is sir, he's returned.”
Buckley's eyes widened. “Where?”