Black Warrior

by Jolie Jaquinta

  Chapter 33 – Into Legend

  The sun rose over the edge of the desert with unnatural speed. As soon as it did, the temperature began to climb steadily upwards. Winter sat on a rock looking out into the waste. Next to him was a tent just inside the perimeter of the 33rd army's camp where all the Tritons were sleeping. He was tired too, but also unsettled.

  He kept replaying the battles of the night in his mind. Mostly they were filled with his friends dying and him doing too little too late about it. Sure, Romitu magic kept them on their feet, and in the light of day there were no fewer in the company. They had lost no one. Just gained grisly memories.

  “Ah, Winter. You are still awake”, said a voice. Winter turned and Bala stood there. His uniform was clean and he showed no signs of tiredness.

  “As are you”, said Winter.

  Bala laughed. “We have a thing called compressed sleep. It helps to keep up.”

  Winter nodded, unenthusiastically. “What news?”

  Bala looked more serious. “After you and your troops rest up, I'll be escorting you to your next duty.”

  “And what is that?” asked Winter.

  “I don't know. I just have orders to teleport you to the 22nd army and to work from their duty roster.”

  Winter's shoulders sagged. “Did my Mother order that?” he asked.

  Bala shook his head. “It's not her place to order the disposition of troops. This came to me directly from the General of the 33rd.”

  Winter threw a rock at the ground. “I thought the whole point of escorting those goods by ground instead of teleporting was to save mana. And now we're teleporting us?”

  Bala sighed. He paused a moment before saying quietly, “We used more mana keeping your troops alive than it would have taken to teleport the goods to begin with.”

  Winter rubbed his forehead. “We did pretty badly, didn't we? So now we're being given token service. Right?”

  Bala shrugged and sat on the rock next to him. “You have an amazingly powerful weapon. But you don't know how to use it.” Winter bristled. “No, no”, said Bala. “I do not mean to insult. We all feel like that.”

  Winter looked at him confused. “What do you mean?”

  Bala nodded his head from side to side. “I have the new magic. The soldiers have these fantastic swords and armor. The generals have their gates.” He covered the whole camp with a sweep of his arms. “We have all of this. But these barbarians who aren't even alive are running rings around us. They only have stone weapons, but they have skill and experience.”

  Winter nodded.

  “You should see how much mana the 33rd is blowing through keeping its troops alive”, said Bala, with a short laugh. “It's a problem.”

  “What about the other armies?” asked Winter.

  “It's like this all over”, said Bala. “It's causing a problem and up and down the chain of command. Except for the 22nd.”

  “The 22nd?” said Winter. “The Orcish army.”

  “Yes, General Porterhouse”, said Bala. “They've reached some sort of strange détente with The Forsaken.”

  “I thought they didn't negotiate at all”, said Winter.

  “The Orcs or the Forsaken?” asked Bala, smiling. “Who would have thought? Seems they found common ground in heroic challenges. As I've heard it each side takes turns challenging the other to a battle of heroes.”

  “Single combat?” said Winter, in surprise. “Between armies?”

  “So they say”, said Bala.

  They sat for a while in silence. Winter took a deep breath, held it, and then released it. “Then I guess I know what have to do.” Bala cocked his eyebrow at him. Winter stood up and formally bowed. “Thank you for being honest with me. Please thank your General for giving the Northern Seas an opportunity to repay the service Romitu has given us. Once my troops have rested I think we will wrap up our service to Romitu.”

  Bala got up as well. “There are still many ways you and your troops can be helpful.”

  Winter shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I don't want to be a burden on the system.”

  “If you are sure then?” said Bala.

  Winter nodded decisively.

  “Very well then”, said Bala. He saluted, and strode back into camp.

  After Bala left, Winter took a walk around the perimeter of the camp. He got a number of odd looks. Only fair since he was wearing a loincloth, cape and bird rather than standard military kit. But he certainly wasn't a Forsaken and no one challenged him.

  “So I pretty much suck as the son of a battle god”, said Winter.

  “I can't argue that”, said Conscience. “That was some pretty amateur fighting back there.”

  “Gee, thanks”, said Winter.

  “I'm your conscience, not your pep team”, said the bird.

  “I know exactly what you are”, said Winter, scornfully. “You're his conscience, not my conscience. It's my conscience that's telling me not to ask you things.”

  “Oh?” said the magpie. “I have a rival?”

  “You're a cheat”, said Winter. “He used you to cheat his way out of the great oath. Now he's trying to use you to cheat death. You just want to bring him back.”

  “I told you before, that I wasn't built to want anything”, said Conscience.

  “Yeah, right”, said Winter. He marched on for a while more in silence. “But I can't see a way forward that doesn't involve bringing him back.”

  “Oh, well, then”, said Conscience, with mock cheer, “Let’s get about it then.”

  “No”, said Winter.

  The black and white bird hopped from one foot to another. “Make your mind up!”

  “I just want you to tell me more information, like you did with the spear”, said Winter.

  It ruffled its feathers. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “Hmm”, said Winter. “Tell me everything he knew about fighting, about leading, and about training.”

  Winter's pace slowed as he felt icy tendrils start to seep into his mind.

  “Are you sure?” asked the bird coyly. “That's rather a lot. You know that he was a battle god. That’s kind of his specialty.”

  Winter grit his teeth. “I know. And I know it's just going to make me more like him and less like me.”

  “No comment”, said the bird.

  “Just do it.”

  Makaira blinked away as the light from the setting sun angled into the tent. The heat was outrageously uncomfortable, as just about everything else on the surface. He heard a few of his companions stirring around them. They must have slept through the whole day. Not surprising, given the beating they'd taken.

  He knew he should get up, and be firm and resolute. Several of the others were wavering. He could tell they were coming around to the thought that this whole misadventure was a bad idea. They were right. But not taking the opportunity was a worse idea. Even if they all died, it was a statement that could not be ignored and would do their people well. Makaira smiled at himself. He'd actually lost count of how many times he had died last night.

  With that he sat up. How many times would he die tonight? It didn't matter. He would follow Winter to the end. It is what he had to do for his people.

  And, right before him, sat Winter. Back resting against the central pole holding up this thing they called a tent.

  Winter's eyes flickered open and he smiled. “Are you rested now?”

  “As well as can be”, said Makaira. “Did you sleep?”

  “Some”, said Winter. “Enough.” He rose stiffly to his feet. With the conversation, everyone else had come awake, or at least acknowledged they were already awake.

  Winter moved between them. Speaking words of greeting, encouragement and thanks. Makaira watched him closely. Something had changed. He was confident, assured, and self-possessed. Last night when they threw themselves down, he was withdrawn and sullen. Everyone knew it had been a disaster. Romitu was not going to be impressed and they were unlikely to get a se
cond chance. But now, he was getting everyone up and motivated.

  Perhaps the change had started. Maybe some of the Forsaken had recognized him for who he was. Could the word be spreading amongst them now? Was their belief driving this change? Was his father emerging from him? That damnable bird on his shoulder stared straight at Makaira. Doubtless it knew. But doubtless it wasn’t going to tell Makaira.

  “Is everyone ready for some food?” asked Winter, cheerily. “It's kind of gross on the surface. They mostly eat burnt stuff. I'd stay away from that. Anything that's a plant, or looks raw should be fine. Eat as much as you can stomach. I'll see if they can pack up extra to take with us.”

  They started to file out of the tent good naturedly. Makaira came last, alongside of Winter. “Take with us where?” he asked.

  Winter smiled sideways at him. “You caught that, did you?”

  “I certainly did”, said Makaira. “Did we get new orders?”

  “Yes we did”, said Winter. They had started walking toward the main compound. “But I didn't like them. So I came up with my own ones.”

  “Isn't that... frowned upon?” asked Makaira hesitantly.

  “Well, it would be, if we were under their command”, said Winter, unconcerned. “But as of sunset tonight, we end our formal service to Romitu.”

  “I see”, said Makaira. “And where do we go after that?”

  “We walk out of this camp, and into legend”, proclaimed Winter.

  Makaira walked in silence for a moment. “I will be the first to follow you”, he said.

  Winter looked over at him. And all pretention from his expression was gone. It was the youth Makaira remembered from court. “Thank you Makaira”, he said. “It does mean a lot to me.”