by Sam Sykes
The Great General’s legendary ability to give less of a shit about his people than the enemy gave about theirs.
My own legend was a little meager by comparison, but by the end of the day, I hoped it would say: “Stared down a sixteen-ton iron monstrosity and did not curl into a ball and wait to die.”
I turned and bolted back for the public house, slamming the door behind me. I didn’t bother barring it; I had no time. Instead, I ran up the stairs to the end of the hall on the second floor. I wasn’t thinking of anything except getting as far away as I could.
The Iron Boar groaned to a halt. Its wheels screeched, its metal sides shuddering as the engine’s doors slammed open. Gunpikes flashed, blue coats fluttered as a squadron of men and women leapt out of the engine’s belly and rushed toward the town gates.
They dashed for cover, making certain that the main street was clear before carefully filing in and assembling in a neat little square, six of them in all, gunpikes neatly shouldered, badges bright and shiny.
Say one thing for Revolutionaries: all that propaganda and brainwashing makes for one very nice formation.
“Main street clear, Sergeant!” one of them, a young lady in an old coat, cried out. “Awaiting orders!”
A familiar shape came trotting in through the gates a moment later: a tall fellow in a dirty blue coat, his gunpike weathered and worn, his hair and skin dark and grimy. In the shadowed light of Lowstaff, I had thought he looked handsome in a weird way. I had to admit, he looked a little better in the cold day of Stark’s Mutter: strong jaw, bright eyes, scars in the places honest men got them.
What was his name again?
“No hostiles detected, Sergeant Proud!” the woman barked.
“None?” Cavric asked as he made his way to the front of the square.
“None, sir,” the lady replied.
Cavric cast a frown down the empty street. “No hostiles, no civilians, no anything,” he muttered. “We made enough noise to wake the dead. Someone should have come out to investigate by now.” Cavric shook his head. “If Relentless and Vindictive are still here, they’re either hiding or…”
“Is that fear I detect in you, Low Sergeant?”
A rumbling voice emerged from the Boar, followed by a rumbling man to match. A great hulk of a man, his frame straining against his coat and his face looking like it had been carved out of rock by another rock, set foot upon the earth. Taller and vaster than any other soldier assembled, he had the physique of someone who could tear a man in half and the demeanor of someone who wouldn’t rule out eating the remains.
And somehow, that still wasn’t the scariest thing about him.
That honor was reserved for the weapon in his hands.
If you could even recognize it as a weapon, that is. He held it in both hands, long and heavy like a firearm, but there wasn’t a scrap of metal on it. Rather, it looked like it had been taken from the stone—not carved, but woven, as though someone had reached into the heart of a very old rock and simply shaped it until it looked like a weapon. At the end of what would have been its barrel, a polished crystal glistened in lieu of a gun’s maw.
I’ve had the misfortune of seeing a handful of them up close and I still don’t know how to describe the Revolutionary Relics. To this day, no one outside the Revolution knew where they came from or how they worked—only that they were enough to allow a ragtag bunch of former slaves to hold off the magical onslaught from the Imperium.
So yeah, I wasn’t feeling great to see one here.
“Fear is the staple crop in the counterrevolutionary’s plowshare,” the man muttered, eyes on Cavric. “Do you bring such thoughts to your table, Low Sergeant?”
The soldiers snapped to attention, more rigidly and with considerably more terror than they had for Cavric. The Low Sergeant merely inclined his head, refusing to break the man’s gaze.
“Relic Guard Onerous,” he said. “I was merely laying out all possibilities ahead of us.”
“Agents Relentless and Vindictive were sent to monitor this township by the Great General himself,” Onerous replied. “And I”—he patted the bizarre weapon—“along with the Harmonious Fist of Inevitable Truth, was sent to retrieve them. Do you doubt the Great General would have chosen either of us if the possibility of failure crossed his mind?”
Cavric looked pointedly away. “I do not believe so, Relic Guard.”
“See, then, that you lead by example.” Onerous swept a gaze over the streets. “The Vagrants were last seen here. We do not leave until they are dead or Relentless and Vindictive are found.” He glanced back to Cavric. “Do you find this amenable, Low Sergeant?”
Cavric said nothing. Relic Guards were handpicked by the Great General to use his weapons. They acted as his authority and there was only ever one correct answer to any question they asked.
Well, technically two, if you consider whatever screams you make as you’re torn apart by weapons that should not exist to be an answer.
“The Great General’s wishes are clear,” Onerous said, leading the way. “Anyone not sworn to the Revolution dies here.”
“Savage. Diligent,” Cavric spoke up. Two soldiers at the back of the square snapped to attention. “Take the gate here. Raise the alarm if you see anyone in or out.” He pointed to two more soldiers. “Brilliant. Contemplative. Sweep the alleys, check the flanks, search wherever he may have been stashed.” He nodded at the remaining two soldiers. “Able and Generous, you’re with me. We rally at the main square in fifteen minutes and plan from there. Stay sharp. Stay alert. Stay safe. Ten thousand years.”
“Ten thousand years!” the soldiers barked in perfect unison as they split off to carry out their orders.
I grimaced, hearing their gunpikes rattle as they locked them into firing position. It was a primate’s weapon—inaccurate, inelegant, and little more than a fancy spear that could fire a single bullet.
But when that bullet was a severium charge, you didn’t need to be accurate or elegant. You didn’t see severium outside the Revolution that often for a reason—it could tear through armor, shields, and if they weren’t careful, whoever was firing it.
So, yeah, things didn’t get less complicated with that shit around.
“And by the General’s graces, keep each other in view,” Cavric called after them. “Raise the alarm if you lose someone. Relentless would never forgive me if I let anyone get killed searching for him.”
I watched them file away and I had to admit, I was a little impressed. Most Revolutionaries I knew were either brainwashed fanatics or corrupt bureaucrats. I didn’t think I had ever seen one give even half a shit about his soldiers.
Handsome, honest, and kind. Low Sergeant Cavric Proud was proving to be quite the impressive man.
It’d be a real shame if I had to kill him here.
If he was as smart as I hoped he was or as dumb as he looked, though, it wouldn’t come to that. I could make it out of here alive, if I was careful.
All I had to do was find Liette…
And avoid the five Revolutionaries…
And their high-powered gunpikes…
And their death-spewing weapon…
And the insane cult of witch hunters prowling around…
And…
Well, at that point, I supposed I had better get on with it before I started realizing how bad this sounded.
I moved to pull Jeff out, but something burned against my leg. I could feel the Cacophony in his sheath, the metal almost groaning in its desire to be out. I didn’t plan on wasting any bullets here, let alone magical ones, but if the heat searing through my trousers was any indication, he was feeling insistent.
Sometimes, I just had to spoil him.
He all but leapt into my hand, no longer quite so heavy as his eagerness burned into my palm. I slipped another slug—Discordance—into the chamber, racked it. The plan was still to get out without anyone noticing me, but I’d never had that kind of luck before. And if I was going to make a mess
out of this…
Well, shit, I might as well make it glorious, right?
I waited until the Revolutionaries vanished from view down below. I made my way down the stairs, crept through the public house, and out the door—too risky to go back up on the roofs with this many eyes in the township. I glanced up and down the street—the sentries kept their backs to me, while the rest of them were long gone. Creeping quickly as I dared, I slipped out the door and into a nearby alley.
I tried to picture Stark’s Mutter in my head. It was a big enough town that there must be more than one entrance, probably a rear gate opposite the first one. Liette would figure it out, too, and make for that entrance. I could make it through the alleys, get to that gate before they could post more sentries there, then flee.
And I was keen on doing just that, weaving my way through the cramped spaces between the houses, when I heard a breathless voice whisper.
“Mother of fuck…”
I crept around to the corner of the alley and saw that it emptied out into the town square, with all its twisted corpses and hard black earth.
Cavric and his two soldiers stood there, the discipline and fervor having left them as they gazed upon the horror of Vraki’s handiwork. Their gunpikes hung at their sides, their eyes were wide in uncomprehending horror, and their mouths…
“Fuck… FUCK.”
… were at a decided loss for words.
“Sergeant,” one soldier whispered. “Could one of these be…”
“None of them look like Relentless.” Cavric shook his head. “But… damn. This is what he was sent to find. We’re too late…” His breath left him on a cold, hopeless sigh. “Too fucking late.”
“Imperial animals, sir,” the other soldier growled. “Vagrant or no, every mage is a damned psychopath. We should return with a full battalion, burn every house to the ground, and—”
“We have our orders,” Cavric interrupted. “We won’t find our agents with fire. And it…” He took one last look over the sacrificial site before turning away. “It won’t help these people. Keep your eyes open and your triggers clear. If there are any survivors left from… this… I want them found and I want them safe.”
“But, sir, the Relic Guard gave us no orders to save civilians.”
“He shouldn’t have to.”
Like I said, it’d be a real shame if I had to kill Cavric Proud here.
But I’m a practical girl. I don’t waste food, I don’t waste liquor, and I don’t waste shots.
Cavric was standing out in the open. His gaze was somewhere far away from where I was hiding. His head was in the Cacophony’s sights as I drew the gun’s hammer back and aimed.
It was a good call, I knew, a smart one. The chain of command that held the Revolution together was made of glass: stiff and inflexible, but fragile. Years of propaganda had done nothing to teach them how to think for themselves. If I killed Cavric now, the rest of them would go running, paralyzed without someone to give them orders. I could easily find Liette and escape in the chaos.
Hell, I told myself, I wouldn’t even need to hit his head. A Discordance slug aimed right at his body would knock his lungs clear out of his rib cage. Just one shot and I could just fucking stroll out…
My hand trembled. My eye twitched. My finger tightened around the Cacophony’s trigger.
Lady only knows why I didn’t pull it.
Maybe there were just too few honest people left in the Scar. Maybe I had killed far too many. Or maybe I really was just that fucking stupid.
Either way, I lowered the Cacophony. I bit back the pain as he burned in my hand, incensed at being denied a kill. But it was a slow, weak burn; clearly, he hadn’t thought Cavric to be all that worth killing to begin with.
Maybe we’re both just romantics at heart.
I kept him close, all the same, as I slipped back into the alley and made my way between the houses. The fifth alley emptied onto a road, and once I peered out, I found a grin growing on my face. There it was, just about a hundred feet away: the rear gate, a wooden affair with its doors wide open and waiting for me to just stroll through.
But my grin died as soon as I saw the fragile shadow of a girl standing between it and me, arms wrapped around her body and staring down at the ground.
“Liette!” I cried out, rushing toward her. She didn’t look up. Not until I laid a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away, her nails flailing out and striking me across the cheek. I seized her by the shoulders. “Easy,” I hissed. “Easy.”
It took another moment of labored breathing and three more of trembling before she steadied long enough to look at me and see me. And still, the fear didn’t ebb from her stare. Not as she pulled free of me. Not as she turned away.
“You’re not hurt,” I observed, searching her for blood and seeing none. “I’m not, either, in case you were wondering.” I fingered the spot where she’d hit me. “Not that I’m not flattered that you remembered what I taught you about going for the eyes, but aim a little higher next time.”
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t move. And I didn’t have time for her to sort this out.
“Listen,” I said, approaching her again, “I know what you saw was fucked-up, but we can’t stay and—”
“Did Vraki do that?”
Her voice sounded so soft, so uncertain, I almost didn’t believe it was her.
“Did his magic do that to those people?” She turned and faced me. Her silence was easier to deal with than the tears in her eyes. “Is he going to do that to you?”
I had a thousand retorts for that. A thousand threats, a thousand boasts, a thousand assurances that I wasn’t afraid of dying at his hands. But she wouldn’t have believed any of them.
She knew what I dreamed of.
“Is that what you’re leaving for?” she asked. “To go and chase down people who can do… that?”
“You saw what they did,” I replied. “I can’t let them do that to anyone else.”
“That’s not why you’re doing it. That’s not why you’re chasing them. That’s not…” She gritted her teeth, clutched her head, trying to claw an answer out of her skull. “How can you be so determined to go after that? How can you just… just…”
I’ve heard the pleas of men about to die by my hand. I’ve seen the hate on their lips as they curse my name. I’ve watched people draw blades and form armies to try to bring me down. Never did I know how much damage I could do until she looked at me, tears in her eyes, and spoke.
“What am I doing wrong that you’d choose this over me?”
Maybe there were words that could have explained it, why I had to find those names and stop them—words about what had happened here, words about finding the missing children, words that didn’t taste like birdshit on my tongue when I spoke them. But I didn’t have time to find them.
“Come on,” I muttered. “We can’t stay here. The town’s crawling with enemies we can’t afford to face.”
The Cacophony sizzled in my hand, sullen, but he didn’t do anything worse as I headed for the gate, Liette behind me. Don’t get me wrong; on my list of things I hate, disappointing my magical Hellfire-spewing gun was pretty high on the list. But just above that was dying horribly to witch hunters or gun-toting fanatics.
And at the very top?
“You there! HALT!”
Coincidence.
Motherfucker, but I hate coincidence.
I whirled, pushing Liette behind me, my eyes staring down the Cacophony’s sights at the young girl standing fifteen feet away from me. A shot from here wouldn’t leave anything but a stain.
Fuck me, I should have pulled the trigger.
The age of conscription in the Revolution is fifteen. Propaganda training begins as soon as they can talk. Kids get two brief years to be young before Weiless starts turning them into soldiers. The minute they turn three, they know that one day they’ll meet a grisly, violent end. Just like this girl knew that.
But I looked into thos
e too-wide eyes and that mouth hanging just a little open and I knew that if I pulled that trigger, all that would be said of my legend was that Sal the Cacophony killed a scared little girl who didn’t know any better.
I wasn’t ready to add that chapter to my life.
“In… in the name of the… in the name of the R-Revo—” the girl tried to stammer out. Her gunpike was shaking; this was the first time she had pointed it at anything other than a target.
“Kid,” I said. “You aim that at me for five more seconds, the Revolution isn’t going to remember your name.” I drew the hammer back with an emphatic click. “I’m going to blow it off the face of the Scar, along with the rest of you.”
I could feel Liette’s eyes boring into the back of my head, but I couldn’t stop. It was working. I could see the doubt blossom in her eyes, the fear take hold. The blood thundering in her heart was making her arms tired, her legs weak. Another second and she’d drop the weapon and I’d be off.
“Hold it right there!”
As it turned out, though, a second was all her friends needed to ruin that plan. I heard hammers clicking, felt that cold dread that comes from knowing a barrel’s pointed at you. I turned and saw them. Two more soldiers in the alley I had just come from. Footsteps at my back told me another pair were upon me, cutting off our escape.
The luckwrighting in my scarf could take the shot. If I kept myself between them and Liette, she’d be okay. With a little luck, we’d both survive. Still, I took some small comfort in knowing it could be worse.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire, damn you!”
But I guess even small comforts aren’t for women like me, eh?
Cavric came up from the alley. He took the situation in with a few seconds and a quick glance. And while the look on his face suggested he was certainly confused to see me here, he seemed to quickly deduce the general situation of me pointing a big-ass gun at one of his soldiers.
The smallest comfort I could manage was that Onerous and his big fucking Relic wasn’t with them.
“Everyone, let’s just stay calm,” he said in that soothing tone of voice that suggested he didn’t have a lot of experience getting people to put down their weapons. Sure enough, his soldiers didn’t seem to hear him; I could feel their fingers itching their triggers. “Sal,” he said, turning toward me, “what are you doing here?”