Nanowrimo Experiment

[edonil]

So, I don't have a name for this just yet...I'm going to be working on doing Nanowrimo this year, and started working on an idea. Just posting up the very beginning, curious what people think. Be as critical as you'd like, I could definitely use the feedback. Names are in flux, at the moment. Setting is modified steampunk, working on the world building right now.

The war should have been over three months ago.

Arias ducked his head as a bullet roared by, ricocheting off the metal wall behind him. “Flyers!” he yelled. “Spotters, where are they?”


“Starboard, Captain!” one of the young boys called out.


“Well, someone put them down,” he ordered, pulling his hat, complete with rank badge, off his head. They were well and truly in enemy territory, he reflected as he shifted position. The anti-air gun opened up behind him, the roar of it rendering him deaf. The captain winced, then grimly ignored the pain. If flyers had shown up, they might be near the target.


Looking through his spyglass, the captain scanned the skies. Flyers needed a home to roost, and the sooner his squadron found it, and killed it, the better. Airships like the Merlin were heavily armed for their weight, that didn’t seem to matter as much when they were going against something much larger than them. Air carriers, homes to flyers and bombers, definitely fit into that category of ‘much larger’. He closed the spyglass with a snarled curse as he saw nothing, and moved back to the bridge of his ship.


“Sir,” one of his crew said as he entered the bridge, handing him a long, thin piece of paper. Arias accepted it with a mumbled thanks, looking over the dashes and dots of the coded transmission. He would have given his right arm for the ‘radios’ the enemy had to coordinate their formations, but being able to keep in contact by transceiver was worthwhile no matter what. He nodded in satisfaction as he read that Raven had spotted the carrier off in the distance, and was requesting orders to pursue.


“Helm, bring us three degrees to starboard,” he ordered. “Ensign Jacobs, go let the gunnery officers know that the target has been spotted a few miles off, we’ll need their cannons and rockets armed and ready to fire. Communications, give the squadron our heading and target, then tell Raven to pursue, but not to engage.”


A flurry of acknowledgements followed, and the bridge exploded into action. The young Ensign ran out the door to carry out his orders, and Arias turned his attention to the skies. He tried to catch a sight of the flyer that had taken a shot at him, curious what design it was. The nation of Drasvar was one with an astounding level of technology, and so, while they had machines filling the same role as aeroplanes, they had constructed them with an eye for beauty. The machines were made with a variety of forms, from birds to dragons. Arias muttered a prayer under his breath for raptors. Without aeroplane support of their own, the squadron would be no match for anything more dangerous.

[TheOneWhoFell]

ooo edonil!!! I love it... I'm excited to read more!!! Can't wait til December :D

[Absolution Black]

That is a very good start! Already I am liking the captain and you are only a few paragraphs in....

The fact you are straight into the action is also good, makes the reader sit up and take notice.

You have introduced several things I instantly want to know more about..the flying machines, the captain, the nation of Drasvar....

All in all a very positive and interesting start.....looking forward to reading the completed article in December!!

[SteamHammer]

Good, but the last paragraph doesn't work for me. Something's not right. I feel it is too rushed from "The nation of Drasvar" part onwards. We didn't know Drasvar was the enemy and maybe expand on their mechanical designs more.

Sorry I can't put my finger on it.

[xxXhayzelXxx]

Very nice Edonil

[Ebonstar]

Woot! I want more please!

[Cambrius]

Great start! I love the air carrier idea. :)

[edonil]

Well, I'm glad to see that people liked it! That's very encouraging. :) Thanks for the kind comments. And Steam, I'd like to thank you specifically for telling me the issues that you had with it, gives me something to work on.

[Jaslyne]

Oh wow there are other people who pick up Nanowrimo. I'll be following this and maybe it'll give me the motivation to post some of my work (since November seems to be the shortest of months for the last four years). Great start so far I can't wait to see more.

[TheOneWhoFell]

Oh wow there are other people who pick up Nanowrimo. I'll be following this and maybe it'll give me the motivation to post some of my work (since November seems to be the shortest of months for the last four years). Great start so far I can't wait to see more.


I was really surprised that I didn't have to explain NaNoWriMo when I dropped the term in the Off Topic Playground the other day... And I'm excited about having a place to get some writing support... tbh it's like having a strange addiction that no one but other addicts understands :) This will be my 4th NaNo... but I've only won once...

[edonil]

Author's Note: So, since the muse is interested in writing now, I'm not about to argue with her. Going to try to do Nanowrimo in October, and I'll post updates here. Here's the first update!

Sergeant Soli Navin rested her hand on the saddle of her flyer. The large mechanical bird flapped its wings with barely a sound, holding its position well out of range of the airship. She reached down, picking up the talk piece to her radio from it’s slot on the saddle.

“Destiny, this is Navin, over.”

After a short delay, “Navin, this is Destiny, Wing Captain Edori speaking. Seen something? Over.”

“Looks like a few of those new airships we heard about, sir. They seem to be hunting, I’m betting they’re looking for the Destiny, over.”

“Acknowledged, Navin. Just a moment.” Soli rapped her fingers on her rifle as she waited, trying to distract her mind from the chill in the air. It was too bad, she mused, that she’d missed the shot at that airship captain.

“Navin, how long have you been out? Over.”

Soli dug a watch out of the pocket of her leather coat. “Just over two hours, sir. I was about to head back when I caught sight of them. Over.”

“Stay in the area, Navin. You’re going to be reinforced, we want to try to thin out their numbers before they find Destiny. Over and out.”

Soli sighed, then replaced the talk piece. She reached out with a gloved hand and patted her flyer on the neck, the warm gloves insulating her from the chill metal. “Looks like we’re going to get some action in today, Rasha. You ready, girl?”

No answer, of course, but Soli could feel the childlike mind of the raptor in the back of her head, awaiting her instructions. With a gentle nudge, Soli sent the flyer higher in the air, keeping the airship in sight. The design of the Assarian airship struck her as incredibly odd. It had the sleek, curved lines of a naval destroyer, covered in metal plating and light grey paint that helped it blend into the clouds. She couldn’t see the airbag that kept it aloft, which puzzled her.

Her homeland had the best technology available, with the best minds both magical and scientific, but even they hadn’t figured out how to make levitation work. Wings that beat like a bird and lighter than air gases were both common, but nothing that would just stay in the air on its own. Curiosity gnawed at her mind, and she fought the urge to get closer for a better look. Instead, she checked the magazine of her rifle, mentally guiding the flyer to a position south of the airship as she went through the drilled motions. Satisfied that she had enough ammunition in the weapon, she put it back in the holster on the saddle, and pulled her boarding weapon from her belt. With the press of a switch, the young woman extended the telescopic hilt of the glaive, and examined the curved blade at the end of it.

Done with those tasks, Soli settled in to wait for the order to attack, studying the sky to watch for her reinforcements.

----
Arias stepped out of the bridge, heading out to inspect the readiness of his ship. At his side was his second, Lieutenant Brayden Williams, a young man of noble heritage from Assar. The lieutenant was a solid young man, eager for glory and extremely good at his job, making sure that the ship ran smoothly. They quietly discussed strategy for the upcoming fight, taking in the weather and the time of day.

“It’s getting right around noon,” the lieutenant said.
“Unfortunately, that means we won’t be able to sneak in using the sun, it’ll be right over their heads.”

“True, but the clouds are a godsend, exactly what we need. Our airships will blend into the cover, and that will buy us some time. We’ll hold off on our rockets and start the fight with the cannons.”

“That’ll bring us in very close, sir,” Williams said. “Our cannons don’t have nearly the range of our rockets, and the new caliber guns can make up for the rockets that miss.” The comment was phrased politely and respectfully, just as was proper, and Arias spent a few moments considering it. Traditional tactics held that rockets, inaccurate, but extremely destructive, shouldn’t be wasted early on in a fight. Reloading the tubes was difficult and took a great deal of time, so they were held onto for maximum effect.

Arias shrugged. The Huntsmen class airships were an entirely untested design, they might as well dispense with tradition from the start. “We’ll try that, Lieutenant. So long as the new auto-loaders for the cannons don’t fail, it seems like a solid plan.” The captain looked up and smiled as he saw the other members of his squadron in the distance. “Seems like everyone found the rendezvous just fine,” he said with satisfaction.

He turned back to the bridge to give orders to the rest of the squadron and staggered as the Merlin lurched in the air. The screech of metal on metal filled the air, and Arias felt the blood drain from his face. Several members of the crew cried out in alarm, grabbing hold of railings and walls, a few dropping to the deck. “What the hell was that?” Williams demanded.

“I don’t know,” Arias said harshly. “But I’m willing to bet it was nothing good. Get the crew ready to repel boarders, and the guns primed. I bet that scout let the Drasvarians know we were coming.” He ran back to the bridge as quickly as possible as the lieutenant began shouting orders. Arias stumbled in through the open hatch onto the bridge as the ship lurched once again.

“Helm, all speed ahead. Communications, tell the squadron to watch for flyers, and advance to the target. All ships, engage at will!”

A harsh shriek filled the air, and the captain turned to see a Drasvarian flyer streak across the deck, the birdlike claws extended. It latched onto the front of Merlin and kept beating its wings, dragging the heavier airship for a few perilous heartbeats. The ship groaned in protest, metal warping and rivets popping up at the prow. Arias opened his mouth to yell orders, but no one could hear him over the roar of the cannon that rested on top of the closed bridge. The heavy shell struck the flyer right in the chest, and the raptor cried in fury as it was knocked off the ship, shrapnel flying from the hole in it. Arias watched as the raptor’s pilot jumped smoothly off his doomed flyer, tucking into a roll onto the airship deck.

As the Drasvarian settled on one knee, he raised a pistol in a two-handed grip and opened fire on Arias’ crew. Time seemed to slow, blood bursting into the air as men and women collapsed onto the wooden deck plates, too shocked to react. Furious, Arias drew his own pistol and began firing back. The pilot ducked behind the blocky turret of the forward cannon, avoiding the attack. Arias’ shots snapped the crew out of their trance, and they drew their own weapons, sending a hail of fire at their enemy.

“Everybody down!” Arias roared as he heard the shriek of a flyer once again. His crew took cover behind whatever objects they could as machine gun fire strafed across the deck, blood from the wounded and dead spraying into the air. The Drasvarian pilot ran to the port side of the Merlin, jumping over the edge. Moments later, a flyer crafted in the shape of an eagle lifted up from that side, carrying two passengers. Arias rushed forward to one of the bodies on the deck, and his breath caught as he saw it was Williams. He reached down, checking for a pulse at the young man’s neck, then pulled his hand away. Carefully, the captain closed the young lieutenant’s staring, sightless eyes.

----
Soli guided Rasha around the Assarian airship, inspecting the enemy vessel before committing to an attack. The name Harrier was proudly displayed on the side of the ship, red against the pale grey of the armor. The heavy cannon turrets on the prow and rear were priority targets, knocking them out could keep the ships from damaging Destiny. Right below those on the list were the four anti-air batteries spread evenly over the ship.

Soli turned in her saddle, looking for one of her wingmates. Another raptor was angling for a strike on the Harrier, and Soli waved her hand to get the other’s attention. A wave of acknowledgement came back, and Soli quickly signaled her plan with her arms. The two pilots turned directly toward the enemy ship, coming at it from directly above.

The Drasvarian pilot stood up in her saddle and leaned forward, pulling her glaive out. Rasha plummeted down, just barely missing the Harrier. As Soli jumped off, she pushed instructions into her raptor’s mind, then tucked into a ball as she landed near the stern of the ship. She sprang up with a gymnast’s grace, her glaive’s handle extending as her feet landed solidly on the deck. She had landed next to the rear cannon, and already the crew were reacting to her presence. An older man in an officer’s uniform charged her, slashing heavily with his cutlass. Soli blocked the attack with her staff, taking a half step back to brace herself for the block. The two enemies exchanged blows briefly, neither gaining the advantage, Soli giving ground more and more.

A blast of fire from off to the side covered the Assarian officer, who screamed in agony until Soli ran him through. The sergeant turned her head briefly to see her fellow raptor pilot step forward, the other woman lowering her smoking gauntlet. “About time you showed up, Jensen” Soli shouted over the wind.

“Sorry, sergeant,” Jensen replied, parrying a blow with her rapier. “I landed more towards the middle, took me a little bit to get up here!”

“Don’t worry about it. Got your explosives?”

“Never leave home without them,” came the reply. Jensen stepped back, allowing Soli to take over defending the two of them from the increasing numbers of enemies attacking them. She pulled out a couple grenades, primed them, and tossed them under the turret. “Fire in the hole! Hope the raptors are paying close attention, or it’s a long way down!”

The two women ran toward the stern railing and jumped over it. The wind screamed in Soli’s ears, stealing the sound of the explosion. Soli looked around frantically for Rasha, hand lifting to grab the cord to her parachute. She let go as the raptor, silver skin gleaming in the sunlight, appeared under her. She grunted in pain as the landing knocked the wind out of her, and fought to grab her saddle. After a few moments, oxygen filled her lungs, and she was able to sit correctly.

The sergeant turned her head around and grinned as she saw the damage the Harrier had taken. The top of the turret was gone, and the ship was on fire, with the crew frantically fighting the blaze. Soli looked around and let out a sigh of relief as she saw Jensen waving to her. The sergeant waved back, then paused as she saw Jensen pointing to her ear. Soli reached up, grabbing the cord to her earset and plugged it into the radio built into Rasha.

“…repeat, Destiny is under attack. A second group of airships coming from the north, flyers redeploy to counter attack. All flyers, all flyers, this is Wing Captain Edori, Destiny is under attack. A second group of airships coming from the north, flyers redeploy to counter attack…”

“Dammit,” Soli spat. She gestured for Jensen to take the lead as they disengaged from the battle. Destiny had its own escorting airships, but things had to be very bad for the carrier to pull its flyers out of a fight already going on. The sergeant scanned the skies behind her, looking for the enemy airships, wondering how many of them were too damaged to continue the fight. Most likely, not enough, she thought darkly.

----
Arias wiped blood from his nose, a savage smile lighting his face. The Merlin had held off another five attacks from the Drasvarian flyers, including a three man group that had tried to board them. The crew had been ready for the attacks, and the fighting was quick, brutal and one sided. He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to stiffen his resolve, then turned to the midshipwoman standing behind him.

“Yes, Ms. Fel?”

The young woman saluted, and handed him a piece of message paper. “Communications sent me to find you with a message from Raven.”

He took it, noticing the charring covering Fel’s gauntlet. “Thank you. By the way, Ms. Fel, any headaches from using your abilities?”

“No, sir,” she replied, shaking her head.

“Alright. First sign of one, I want you to head to the ship’s doctor. I’m more familiar with mageborn than most, young lady, and I don’t want you setting the Merlin on fire because you’ve got a headache. My first time on an airship, we had a fifteen year veteran who specialized in lightning. Extremely likable guy, very good at his work. Let a cold go by without mentioning it to anyone, starting hitting the ship with bolts everytime he sneezed.”

The midshipwoman laughed. “Alright sir, I’ll see the doctor if things change.” She saluted again and headed off to help with the ship repairs.

Arias smiled, proud of how the young woman had done in her first fight. She had been instrumental in dealing with the attackers, using her talents to pull any fires and redirect the flames off the ship.

He looked down at the message, and his smile widened. Raven’s formation of airships had managed to ambush the enemy air carrier after all. No reports on damage yet, but Raven’s captain reported that the enemy had no active flyers in the area. The plan had worked perfectly.

[SteamHammer]

Loving it. Keep it coming.

[TheOneWhoFell]

*grins* Awesome :D

[Absolution Black]

Brilliant....waiting to read more...

*waits*

[edonil]

Thanks everyone! Here's the next section, it's a bit different with the pacing, moving away from the combat stuff to some world/plot building.

“A moment of your time, Admiral Niles?” the quiet voice said.

The Drasvarian admiral looked up from the reports on his desk, an expression of mild annoyance on his weathered face. As he saw his visitor framed in the doorway, he leapt to his feet, bowing in haste. “Of course, Lord Enchanter Marx. What can I do for you?”

The mage stepped into the office, boots clicking on the wooden floor. Niles noted that Marx looked haggard, and wondered how much worse he looked. Neither the ruling council nor the heads of the Drasvarian military had gotten much sleep since the war had started. The fighting had been violent, bloody, almost inhuman at times, but it was necessary. Drasvar’s enemies had made it clear that annihilation was the only acceptable conclusion when they had razed the city of Newedge to the ground. The survivors from that horrendous act were few, but if the enemy had intended to break Drasvar’s will, they had failed miserably.

“I was wondering if you could tell me how the war is progressing.”

The admiral hesitated. “I’m due to give a report to the council shortly, Lord Enchanter.”

Marx waved his hand to the side. “I know. I want to hear your honest assessment. No political doubletalk, no worrying about offending my sensibilities. There’s no one here who will leak anything to the population at large and stir a panic. What’s really going on?”

Niles chewed on his moustache nervously, then nodded. “Alright. To be perfectly honest, the war isn’t going well. We held off the initial attacks at the beginning of this mess, and our counter-attack caught our opponents off guard. I don’t think they were expecting we’d launch a multi-front campaign into their territory so shortly after being attacked ourselves, but that element of surprise is gone.”

He started to pace the office, brow furrowed in thought. “We’re making good progress over most of the globe, but that’s slowly changing. The Assarian front has stalled completely. The loss of Destiny and her battlegroup was a massive blow, and right now, I’m just trying to find ways to keep it from becoming a rout. Our advantage has always been in the air, and these new airships that were deployed against us threaten that heavily. Based on all the reports I’ve read, the technology is still years behind ours, but the application of it is ingenious, and will become a problem if they get the chance to apply it to larger airships. Additionally, the majority of our strategic assets on that front that are left are naval, and we’re much weaker than Assar in that regard. If something doesn’t change, we’ll be losing ground rapidly in that area.

“Our best strikes have been at the eastern continent, against Victrix and Telios. The air carriers Ascension and Triumph have taken over the skies, and their unopposed support of our naval forces in the area let us start landing troops earlier this week. They’ll be driving for the respected capitals once the armies have landed.”

Niles shrugged. “The other fronts are somewhere in between. Losses haven’t been as bad as they could be, but then, our victories haven’t been as strong as they could be.”

“What can we do to fix that?” Marx asked.

“I’m not sure that there is anything that can be done about it,” the admiral said bluntly. “The world has never seen a war like this, Lord Enchanter. I’m not sure it’s even possible to predict what might tip things in our favor.”

“What if we were to accelerate the military training of our students at the Academy?”

The admiral stopped his pacing and turned to the mage. “Is that possible?”

“It’s a risk, but it’s one that the council could be convinced to take, if you think it will work.”

“It might work.” The admiral tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. “Yes, that might work very well. With so few mages elsewhere in the world, if we could organize a unit of them, maybe even a company, we’d be able to deploy them at specific fights around the world, rather than integrating them into the whole.”
A knock at the door interrupted the admiral’s thought process and spun him around to glare at the trembling ensign who stood there. “What?” he snapped.

The unfortunate young man saluted, his face admirably blank. “Message for you sir.”

The admiral snatched the piece of paper, and started reading it. Anger was replaced by disbelief, then by excitement. If this was true…of course it was! An unconfirmed report of this nature wouldn’t have been passed to him. “Well, Lord Enchanter,” he grinned. “It seems I do have some good news for you today. The flyers of Destiny have returned home! They landed in the northern airfield just a half hour ago.”

“Really?” Marx asked, a smile lighting his face. “Astounding! Come, Admiral Niles, let’s go greet our heroes.”

----
Niles walked out onto the airfield, heading straight for the huddled group of flyers and pilots. He smiled broadly as he saw them, although inwardly he cringed. Too few of them, far too few. Still, that any had made it home was a miracle, and he wasn’t about to complain too much.

One of the airfield crew noticed him, and scrambled to his feet to salute. The others in the group did the same, although the pilots, covered in dirt and burns, their uniforms torn and sun-bleached, did so with much less energy. He returned the salute as he stopped right out of the circle of soldiers.

“At ease. Welcome home, Destiny flyers. You have no idea how glad we are to see you,” he said. He could see in their eyes both pride and horror as he greeted them, and he understood. Pride in surviving to return home, and horror for being the only members of their unit to make it through the hell of war.

A young woman in the leather and plate armor of a pilot stepped forward, her gait the strange pattern of a person stuck in the saddle for a long time. Dried blood from a cut across her forehead covered her face in a grotesque mask, but her green eyes were clear, if exhausted. “Thank you, Admiral,” she croaked. She coughed into her hand, then continued in a more normal voice. “It’s good to be home. I’m Sergeant Soli Navin, senior member of the survivors.”

“You’re the most senior, sergeant?” he repeated, unable to believe his ears. “None of your officers survived?”

“Wing Captain Edori is alive, sir, but he’s unconscious. We managed to get a few of the crew off the carrier before it crashed, but not many. Mostly we’ve got pilots.” She swayed slightly on her feet, and one of the other pilots grabbed her arm to steady her. Soli smiled at the other pilot, then squared her shoulders as Niles looked on with concern. “Sir, my pilots and I are exhausted from all the flying, and a lot of us could use a doctor. If you wouldn’t mind, could we continue my debriefing later?”

“Of course, sergeant,” Niles said, chastising himself for not bringing a doctor along. He turned to one of the flight crew. “Mechanic, go fetch some doctors, then arrange for a place for these soldiers to sleep.”

“That’s not necessary, Admiral,” Lord Enchanter Marx said. “I’ve contacted one of my colleagues back at the surgery, there are doctors on the way.”

“Thank you, milord,” Sergeant Soli said, bowing stiffly with assistance. “We appreciate it.”

“It’s the least we can do, sergeant,” the mage replied. “You’ve been through hell and come back for us, we owe you a debt.” The mage bowed, courtly and proper. “You have my gratitude, and the thanks of your nation. The council will be eager to hear your story once you’re feeling better.”

“Of course, Lord Enchanter.”

[TheOneWhoFell]

I like it... the politics are intreaging... I'm glad Soli (and I'm assuming Jennsen (sp)) survived... They were well written from the start, and I like them as characters.

So... Here are some question for you (that I don't want the answers to, because I want to find out while I'm reading... but they'll be good for you to think about): Who are the Bad guys? Who do you want your readers to like? Who do you wany your readers to hate? Is it your intent to allow the reader to know everything you know (be omniscinet) or are you going to hide details from them (not like the battle for the Destiny, but good guy/bad guy details)?

I'm really enjoying it, and can't wait to see what you do with it :)

[Absolution Black]

I can only echo Fells sentiments as i agree with everything she said!

It will be interesting to see who develops as the bad guys....

or maybe there isn't that clear a definition?

[edonil]

Thanks Abs and Fell! I'm going to hold off on clearly defining the bad guys for a little while...if I ever clearly define them! In the meantime, here's another section:

Arias looked up from his conversation as the door to the briefing room opened. The gold star of a commodore gleamed from the collar of the officer that entered, and Arias snapped to attention with the rest of the captains in the room. The commodore’s brown eyes flicked around the room for a moment, examining the occupants. “At ease and have a seat,” she said.

Arias dropped into his chair sideways, arm hanging over the back, and grinned at his friend, Mage-Captain Matthias Wintertide, who sighed and rolled his eyes. The mage leaned over, and whispered, “Would it kill you to take a briefing seriously for once?”

“Oh please,” the captain retorted. “I don’t get to act like this in front of my soldiers, indulge me once in a while.”

Wintertide snorted, and leaned onto the table as the commodore, one Alexia Kerwin began the briefing.

“With the destruction of the enemy air carrier, thanks to Captain Falmarin and the Huntsmen squadron,” she paused at the quiet applause from the corners of the room, frowning. Her frown disappeared as Arias stood and bowed theatrically, prompting laughter as he returned to his seat. “As I was saying, we have finally achieved air superiority thanks to the destruction of the Drasvarian air carrier. Our navy has pushed their forces back hard, driving them further and further from our coastlines. The King wants us to try to turn this into an offensive, rather than a holding action. As such, His Majesty’s air corps has been given an unusual mission. We’re going to try to capture an air carrier intact enough to study, and, hopefully, use ourselves, as a preface to a full on fleet invasion.”

Arias sat straight up, excitement thrumming in his veins. “Now, isn’t that interesting,” he murmured.

“Commodore, hasn’t that been tried before? It’s never worked in the past,” a voice said from the back, to a slight chorus of assent. Arias rolled his eyes at the lack of imagination. Some people were so used to being at a disadvantage, they didn’t seem to want to change it.

“No one’s been able to take down an air carrier without throwing an entire fleet at the thing, either,” the commodore replied. “And yet, we pulled that off just a few weeks ago. This isn’t a question of if it’s possible, ladies and gentlemen. This briefing is to let you know it’s going to happen. The Huntsmen squadrons will form the core of the attack, although we’ll be reinforcing you with a few older airships.We’ve also got a few of the new aeroplanes available, so you’ll have air cover from the fleet. Can anyone else think of anything they’d like to see in support?”

Arias raised his hand. “Commodore, any chance that we can get some more marines on the Huntsmen? We had more than a few problems with boarders in our first run with them, most of our losses were to the flyers.”

“Marines are, unfortunately, needed more in the navy right now, Captain.”

Arias frowned. “If this mission has this much importance, couldn’t we get some extra help?”

The commodore sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Captain, I’d love to get this operation together with an ideal amount of troops, but that’s not going to happen. I may be able to get some regular army for you, but the fleet has been given priority as far as our marines are concerned.”

Arias leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Very well, ma’am.”

“Ma’am, do we know when this is going to happen? Or where we’ll be making the attack?” Wintertide asked.

“No details are being given out right now, Mage-Captain. Your crews and ships will be staying here at Eastern Command running drills and war games in the meantime. Any other questions?”

-----
“This is the problem with doing the impossible, Wintertide,” Arias said, staring into a mug of hot chocolate. The two friends were in Wintertide’s quarters in the barracks, sitting in his study.

“What’s that?” Wintertide asked, holding his chilled bottle of ale against his forehead. Arias shook his head at the mage. It was midsummer in Assar, but Wintertide never drank anything warm unless he wanted to. Damn mages, Arias thought with the slightest hint of jealousy.

“You do the impossible once, they expect that you can do it again.” The captain sipped from his mug, letting out a contented sigh. His expression grew grave once again. “We finally take out an air carrier. First time we’ve ever done it. Oh, the Victrixes have pulled it off a few times, although those were brutal affairs. And there’s been those rumors that that mercenary company, the Dragoons, managed to drive one off. Of course, they hardly exist as a unit anymore. But Assar? We’ve always had to run from the damn things. And now that we finally kill one, they pull this on us!”

“Don’t you think we can do it?” Wintertide asked, grey eyes narrowed in thought.

“If they gave us those marines? Maybe. But as it stands?” Arias shook his head. “We’re going to lose a ton of men trying it. You were there, I read your report. The only one of the Huntsmen to get close to the ship was Osprey, and she got butchered. Barely had enough people left alive to make it home. And that was with raptors! What are we going to do against dragons, hm?”

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” Wintertide said.
“Oh? Had any epiphanies on the matter?”

“A few possibilities,” Wintertide said, drinking some of his ale. “The dragons are scary because they can light our ships on fire. That high up, we’re just so much kindling if things go wrong.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Arias said glumly.

“But,” Wintertide said with a glare. “What if we were to cover the decks in water beforehand? There’s a lot of moisture up there, and we’ve got at least a mage on every ship, it shouldn’t be too hard to get a coating over them. It won’t help a ton, but it’ll lower the chances of ships just erupting into flame.”

Arias stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “That might work. Although, aren’t most of our mages fire and lightning specialists? Can you retrain them in time?”

“It won’t be too hard. The basics of magic are all the same, it’ll just take some practice.”

“Alright then.” The captain shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. I just wish we could think of some way to take them down quickly.” He pushed his chair back on two legs, taking another sip of the warm liquid as he propped his boots onto the coffee table.

“Hey! Feet off the table, if you don’t mind,” Wintertide protested.

“This is far more comfortable,” Arias disagreed. He leaned back, eyes closed, and listened to the quiet sound of the rain hitting the windows. The soothing sound helped ease his mood, reminding him of his childhood home. He took another sip of his drink, and immediately spat it out, surprise prompting him to shove backwards, and fall over. Cold liquid, freezing cold, dumped all over his uniform.

Wintertide howled with laughter, doubling over and nearly spilling his own drink. Arias disentangled himself from the chair on the floor, chocolate dripping from his uniform, and he glared at his friend. “What was that for?” he demanded.

“I warned you to take your feet off the table,” Wintertide said as he got his mirth under control.

“Oh, like hell you did! What kind of a warning was that?!”

The mage just started laughing again, and Arias shook his head, setting the empty mug on the table. “What a waste,” he lamented, staring down at his stained clothes sadly. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get hot chocolate out here? I hate it when you do that!”

“Oh get over it,” Wintertide said with a grin. “The number of pranks you played on me when we were midshipmen, I owe you plenty.”

“See, now that’s a warning,” Arias congratulated. “I still would love to know how you can pull that kind of stuff off, it’d be handy to have as a skill.”

“Sorry, trade secrets,” the mage said, unsuccessfully hiding his smile behind his drink.

“That’s it!” Arias said, pointing fiercely at his friend. “I’m going to have Ms. Fel light your jacket on fire! Just you wait.”

“Good luck,” Matthias snorted. “The young woman’s sweet, and a good mage, but she’s got nowhere near my level of experience. Besides, if she pulls it off, I’ll drag a cloud onto your head and leave it there.” The mage’s eyes widened, and Arias bit off his retort as he saw a familiar gleam enter those eyes.

“Actually…that might work very well,” the mage said slowly.

“What might work well? What the devil are you talking about, Wintertide?”

“Think about it! Before the Huntsmen, what was the one place we could always equalize their superiority in the air?”
Arias stared at his friend blankly, then shook his head. Damn mages and their games. “Look, I’m sure you’ve just had a brilliant idea strike you like a lightning bolt, but I don’t have a clue…” His words trailed off, and brown eyes widened in shock. “By God, do you think it could work?” Arias demanded.

“I don’t see why not. Magic is just science without the use of a machine…and with all the fire, lightning and water specialists in the air corps working together, it should be possible. Their flyers aren’t any better than what we can throw at them in a storm, and we’ve always been more aggressive in bad weather, we’ve had to be!”

“Now all we need to do is see if we can pull it off, and how well the new designs can work in a storm,” Arias murmured. Abruptly, he picked up the chair from the floor, nearly slamming it upright in his rush. “Come on, let’s get going!” he said, adrenaline filling his veins as he grabbed his coat and pulled it on.

“Where exactly are we going?” Wintertide asked cautiously.

“To see Commodore Kerwin, we might as well get started on this now.” The captain tugged open the door and dramatically waved his hand to the outer world. “After all, we have a real storm, don’t we? Let’s take advantage of it!”

[TheOneWhoFell]

Very nice, Edonil! I like the banter... and the conversation was well writen. Can't wait to read more :D

[edonil]

And the muse kept on wanting to write...she was apparently in a good mood today. Here's yet another section. Currently at 7,300 words.

Soli stepped into the private box of the arena and looked around curiously. The room was expensively furnished, with electric lanterns softly lighting the interior. The soft carpet underfoot felt wonderful between her toes, and she felt a brief sense of satisfaction at deciding to wear sandals after all. After the months in uniform while at sea with the Destiny, it felt strange wearing a dress again, but the soft silk garment caressing her skin convinced her she could get used to it for a little while at least. She caught sight of herself in the reflection from a silver shield on the wall, and stopped for a moment. Green eyes stared back at her from a tanned face framed by red hair, and she smiled, pleased with what she saw. -The last two sentences here are bugging the crap out of me...I want to describe her a little, but this just feels awkward. Any advice on a better way to do it would be appreciated.

“Sergeant Navin, I’m glad you could make it,” the occupant of the box said, standing.

She curtsied, and held out her hand, the old forms from childhood returning as if she’d never left the inner circles of the country. Lord Enchanter Marx took her hand gently and kissed the back of it. “Thank you for inviting me, my lord. It’s most kind of you.”

“Nonsense. A lovely young woman such as yourself accepting my invitation is far more kind. Since my wife passed away and my children have grown, I usually tend to watch the championship matches alone. It’s much more pleasurable with guests.”

“I haven’t gotten to see any matches since joining the military,” she admitted. “Not a lot of time off, unfortunately.”

“Well, you’ve done great work at the front lines, and it’s greatly appreciated. Enjoy your time here while you can.” A bell sounded from in the field. “Ah! The first match is starting.” The mage led her over to a set of chairs and gestured for her to sit down, which she did gladly. The roar of the crowd was almost deafening as the first duel started, and she leaned forward eagerly.

The two fighters in the arena burst into action. They were both armed with knives, carefully blunted to prevent injury, and she sat enthralled by the flash of steel. It had been many years indeed since she last saw the Dance, and she hadn’t quite realized how much she missed it. The combatants were masters of their craft, dueling until one of them yielded and the fight was beautiful.

The Dance was the national sport of Drasvar, portraying both their fascination with beauty and showing the military roots of their nation. The best fighters of various styles competed yearly, showing their skills and sharing their art. Soli wondered briefly how many of the fighters down there would be able to survive the chaos of war compared to the structure of the competition. Not many of them, she guessed. There was a big difference between the life and death struggle of war and fighting for honor.

Still, she respected the talent shown here, and as the fights went on, she found herself enjoying it even more. Marx was a gracious host, eager to discuss with her the matches or whatever else came to mind, and she was surprised at the topics he drew from her. After the third match, he got up and poured wine into a pair of gorgeous crystal glasses.

“Tell me, Sergeant,” Marx said. “How much do you keep in contact with your family? I’m sure they must be proud of you, and your willingness to serve Drasvar.”

She hesitated before answering, running her finger around the rim of her wineglass. “I’m sure they are,” she finally said diplomatically. “However, my family and I don’t keep in touch.”

“What? Why not, if you don’t mind me asking?”

A faint smile touched her lips, although she was anything but amused. The pain was something she kept buried deep inside, but oh how it still hurt. “I’m sure you know the Navin family, Lord Enchanter. A long tradition of service to the council. Sadly, the tradition is a service as a mage, not a soldier.”

The confusion in Marx’s eyes disappeared at the last sentence, and her bitter smile did as well. “I am the first of my family in three generations to show no magical interest. Talent, I had plenty of that. No one in my family has ever not had the talent, we’re almost bred for it. But my decision to turn to the martial arts rather than the magical has created a deep gap in any relationship with my family. They’re very rightly proud of the tradition, and none of them could understand why I didn’t want what they wanted for me.” The wineglass trembled slightly in her hand, and she stared sightlessly at it, unable to not hear her mother’s voice in her ears, or see the disappointment in the face of her father.

The touch on her left hand startled her, and she jerked away from it instinctively. Looking up, she saw the mage looking at her sadly. “I’m sorry, Soli. It is a sad fact of the mage families of our country, we expect so much of them that anything other than that tradition is so anathema. It doesn’t make it any easier for those of our children who want nothing to do with it. My own son is much like you, and joined the army at a young age. I didn’t understand at the time, and though we’ve since restored our relationship, it was painful for both of us for a number of years.

“Why didn’t you want to learn magic?” he asked gently.

She shrugged. “It wasn’t at all interesting to me. But the Dance…that filled my mind. The graceful display of art and balance, in an arena that only the best could enter- it was quite a dream to a young child who wanted nothing more than to be graceful and beautiful.” She laughed gently. “Of course, now that I’ve served on the front lines, I’ve regretted that choice more than a few times.”

“If you were given the chance to learn now, would you take it?”

She looked at him quizzically. “Some of it, perhaps. But I certainly don’t have the time. We need every good pilot we can get on the front lines.”

He smiled broadly, and her confusion deepened. “Perfect. Well, my dear, if you want to learn, you’ll have a lot of time in the future with your new assignment.”

She shifted toward him in her seat. “My new assignment? And why would I have a lot of time to do anything?” Her voice grew hard. “I hope you don’t intend to pull me from my unit, milord! They need me, and I’ll be more useful out there than I’d be stuck here in the country.”

He laughed. “No, you’ll be remaining out on the front, don’t worry about that. We’re organizing a brand new unit, and we’ve been looking for a commander for it. If you want the job, it’s yours.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “Before you start asking any questions, let me explain some of it. The world is changing, although few on the council are willing to admit it. More importantly, the war is changing, and it’s not in our favor. Something is needed to change the direction the balance is shifting, especially on the Assarian front you just left.

“As a member of the Council, I have little that I can do to directly impact the war. However, as Lord Enchanter and head of the Academy, I have much more that I can do. Our most advanced students are going to be graduating early, and, being blunt, we’re turning them into weapons. Once they receive the most basic military training to prepare them for their role, we’ll be assigning them to the newest of our air carriers, the Aegis. They’re going to need an experienced team of flyers to finish their training, and protect them so they can accomplish their objectives. I want you to head that team of flyers.”

Soli’s mouth dropped open, and her brain scrambled like an animal on ice for a few moments. “You want me?” she squeaked. “But, that doesn’t make any sense. I’m no Wing Captain, I’m just a sergeant!”

“True. But you have something no other officer has right now- experience against the new Assarian airships. And trust me, Assar is the first place you’d be going. That gives you a unique perspective on all of this, and we want to take advantage of that. And we can get you trained for the job. If you want, we can even train you in the magical arts. The question for you, is do you want it?”

Thoughts warred through her head. It was everything she had ever wanted. The chance to serve her home the way she wanted to, an advancement in rank…and, a quiet voice spoke up, a chance to maybe, finally, connect with her family. She looked down, eyes troubled, and then met his eyes. “Yes, milord. I do want it."

[SteamHammer]

Another good chapter. As for the sentences that you're unhappy with, can you break them up? Mention her hair while talking about the dress (maybe wearing it loose rather than tied up while on service) and then her eyes later on in the chapter. Perhaps Marx comments on her tanned skin.

[edonil]

Thanks for the advice Steam, that might work pretty well, I'll give that a go when I get around to revising the scene. Here's another section:

Colonel Lukas Faulkner of the Victrix Army studied the map in front of him intently. Why, he wondered, would Drasvar be coming here? The mountainside formation of rocks, known as the Dragon’s Teeth to the locals, were certainly a cultural symbol for his countrymen. In some ways, it even had some minor strategic value. But while the majority of the Drasvarian army that had landed two weeks earlier had pushed toward the capital, a significant portion of the enemy forces had come here. And, if reports were to be believed, most of the Drasvar witches were coming here from the coastline. It made no sense.

He sat down in frustration, rubbing his temples. Exhaustion was overwhelming him, the preparations for the fight taking their toll on his mind. There just had to be something here they wanted. If only he could figure out what it was, he might be able to destroy it before they overran his forces. He had no doubt that his was a lost battle. The only thing his men had to keep them going was the knowledge that their deaths would mean something, and that was what he told them. Too bad he didn’t believe it himself.

Faulkner stood abruptly, picking up a sealed envelope from his desk. He gazed at it sadly, then wrote the name of his wife, Emily, on it. With luck, the messenger would be able to make it past the approaching army, along with the last letters home from the rest of his soldiers. He grabbed his hat and coat, pulling them on as he stepped into the rain. It was a short walk to the battlements, and he spent a few moments talking quietly to the sentries as he headed to his destination. The sentries were young, barely older than his eldest son, but they showed little of their fear, joking with him and each other. They were little more than boys, but the war had left no room for children. One became a veteran or became a corpse, and they had survived so far.

He left them with a few words of encouragement, but merely a few moments later, his tired mind couldn’t remember what he’d said. All he could remember was that they had smiled and laughed…and that the mirth didn’t reach their eyes. Lightning flashed off in the distance, and he grinned bitterly. At least the Drasvarians wouldn’t be comfortable tonight, not in this storm. He continued his pace, finding his way to the main gatehouse.

It was a short stop in the small room. The colonel gave his letter to the messenger, a boy still in his teens, and told him who it was. The boy nodded his head, and carefully placed the letter in a water proofed bag, marking something down in code into a small notebook he carried. Faulkner thanked him, and moved aside to let the next soldier in line step forward with an envelope in hand.

The colonel stepped back out into the rain, and started walking the walls with a new purpose. In only a few days at most, there would be an army sitting beyond them. It was difficult to see anything beyond a few feet, but every once in a while, lightning would brighten the sky, revealing the harsh terrain. His eyes stung each time, but he grimly forced himself to continue his work. Everything he could learn would mean a few more Drasvarian dead, and he was tired of studying maps. Lightning flashed again, and he jumped as the burst of light revealed a slim man dressed in grey next to him.

“Blood and hellfire, Waechter! I hate when you do that,” he complained. “Do you really need to keep showing off that little trick?”

The middle aged man merely smiled, eyes sparkling beneath the hood of his cloak. “Tis good to keep in practice, sir,” he replied lightly. “Not much use for stealth skills here on the wall, so my men and I take what we can get. The fact that you lot are the only ones we can practice with…well, tis hardly my fault that the Drasvarians ain’t seen fit to grace us with their lovely presence. Especially those witches of theirs, Bertha and I got a few bullets itching for an introduction.”

Captain Adler Waechter, commander of the fort’s Witch Hunters, was an intimidating man, for all that he barely came to the colonel’s shoulder. There was something unnerving about all the Hunters. It was probably their constant flirting with magic in their line of work, Faulkner reflected. But even though the Hunters were strange as a whole, the local commander stood out even amongst his own. Most snipers, Hunters or not, tended to be reserved, quiet men. Waechter was energetic, with a lively, if bizarre, sense of humor. He also loved his work, eagerly tracking down any who sought to manipulate the laws of nature with arcane power.

The colonel arched his eyebrow, fighting a smile. “Waechter, there’s something wrong with you.”

“Oh? You been talkin’ to my mom? She was always saying something like that. Come to think, so does everyone else.” The sprightly man tapped a finger to his chin. “Mayhaps they have a point. That many people can’t all be completely wrong, so they say.” He shrugged. “Not that it matters much to me. So, what brings you to the wall? I’d say it wasn’t to enjoy the fine weather.”

“I was dropping off a letter. Now, I’m trying to get a better feel for the terrain.”

“Ain’t you done that enough already, sir? Only gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep this up.” Waechter grinned and winked. “Asides, there’s only enough room in the fort for one mad hatter, if you take my drift. Go get some sleep, I’ll be sure you know if our party guests show up early.”

Faulkner laughed in spite of himself. “Alright, Waechter. I’ll try to see if I can.” He started to step away, then stopped, holding his hand out to the other man. “I want to make sure you know, it’s been an honor and a pleasure, Captain.”

The Witch Hunter stared at the hand for a moment, eyes strange. “Don’t count yourself dead just yet,” he said seriously. “I don’t know about you, but I intend to not die to those damn witches. No honor in it, that’s for sure.” He hesitated a moment longer, then reached out and grasped the colonel’s hand. “But aye, it has been a good time, hasn’t it?” He let go, then nodded. “Good night, Colonel.”

Faulkner nodded, then began the walk back to his quarters, disquieted. Something seemed off about Waechter, but he couldn’t place it. He shrugged. Perhaps it was just that the captain had been serious for the first time since he’d known him. He hoped that the captain would be able to survive the coming battle, along with all his soldiers. The world would be a poorer place without the bravery of the men guarding this fort.

[SteamHammer]

Another chapter and another interesting front in the conflict. Keep it coming.

There were a few typos at the start though if you want to edit them away.

[Absolution Black]

Loved the last two parts Edonil, especially the latest one...

You are building a very strong set of characters already, and thankfully, not too many as yet so its easy to keep track!

And considering the lack of action so far, the story has got me hooked into reading more, the build up is very engrossing!

[edonil]

And another section...short this time. At 9,463 words.

“Stop!” Wintertide commanded, voice echoing across the practice yard. “Take a break, ladies and gentlemen. Ensign Fel, come over here, if you don’t mind.”


The mages ceased their work, some of them sitting on the ground in exhaustion, others pulling out skins of water. They had been working for hours on their project, and made some progress, at least as far as Arias could see. They were able to create clouds and make them stable, at least. But getting the conditions just right for a storm seemed to be proving more difficult to his untrained eye.


Wintertide stood watching the group, hands behind his back. His teaching partner, Alexis Stormhand, walked amongst their students, stopping to talk to each of them briefly. Probably offering advice, Arias thought. He had been fascinated by the displays of magic, but Wintertide never seemed satisfied. He knew his friend was a stern taskmaster, but hearing it from the soldiers and seeing it were two different things.


Ensign Fel, recently promoted after her actions in the battle for the Destiny, walked over, red hair ruffled and matted with sweat. She was obviously tiring, and Arias could understand why. The ensign’s role, as far as he understood the lecture, was to heat the clouds that were made. After that point, the instructions from Stormhand and Wintertide stopped making sense, going into details of the weather that the captain of the Merlin certainly wasn’t familiar with.


“Yes, sir?” she said.


“You’re still putting too much heat into it, girl,” Wintertide said, his voice stern. The girl seemed to shrink for a moment at his tone. He continued in the same voice, “You’re trying to heat the vapor in the clouds evenly, not flash boil it so that it stops being a cloud.”


“Sorry, sir. I’m just not used to needing this much control,” the ensign said quietly.


“I know you aren’t,” the older mage said, his voice softening some. “But you’re going to need it for this. The squadron needs you to learn this kind of control. Now, you’ve been using your gauntlet, correct? Snapping your fingers, metal on metal to throw a spark off so you can grow a flame?”

“Yes, captain. It’s the way I was taught.”


“Hm. Your gauntlet is good for creating a quick flare to throw out a blast of flame, but it’s not well suited for this. If you try that, you’ll get exactly what you’re doing. Here, let me see it.” She gave him an uncertain look, hesitating. He laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, girl, I’ll give it back to you.”


Mutely, she unbuckled the piece of armor and handed it to him. He smiled and held out his hand level to the ground. “Alright, now, I want you to create heat. No sparks, no tricks, just make the air above your hand warmer. Put your hand under mine, and concentrate.”


She complied, brow furrowing. Arias watched, unsure exactly what was going on. Mages and their tricks, he thought as he shook his head. A dozen heartbeats…a minute…two minutes, and all he saw was sweat beading her brow. Suddenly, Wintertide grinned.


“There you go!” he said encouragingly. “Now, hold it there, that’s a good general heat for this.” He withdrew his hand, holding his palm perpendicular to hers. A few moments later, Arias could see the beginnings of a cloud forming over Fel’s hand. It wasn’t long afterwards before the cloud turn the ugly dark grey of a storm cloud.


“And that’s how it’s supposed to work,” Wintertide said. He waved his hand through the cloud, dissipating it, then handed her back the gauntlet. “Alright, go get some water, ensign. We’ll be getting back into this in another ten minutes.”


Fel saluted, then rejoined the group. Arias watched her walk off, and shook his head, turning to his friend. “I hate you mages,” he said solemnly.


Wintertide looked startled. “What? Why?”


“You just made a mini thunderstorm in less than five minutes, and I don’t have a clue how you pulled it off,” Arias said. “I’m starting to get why Victrix is freaked out by you guys.”

“Am I going to need to worry about you trying to knife me in my sleep?”

“Oh, not at all. You’re all too useful for that. I’m just saying, I can understand why someone would be terrified of you.” He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to the group of mages. “So, how long do you think until they’re ready?”


“Probably another month. Once they get it figured out in pairs, we’ll work on combining it as a group. The most difficult thing will be getting it to work over a wide distance, but, in theory, it should be possible.”


“Good. The war is getting uglier, my friend. The sooner we can get back into it, the better I’ll be able to sleep. I feel useless just sitting here waiting for your trainees to get ready.”


Wintertide nodded. “I know. I’ll do my best to speed this up, but I’m not sure I can. Not without unnecessary risks. This has the potential to be dangerous enough if we do it right, I don’t want to think about what could happen if it goes wrong.”


“Alright.” Arias turned to leave, lifting his arm in a wave. “Don’t mind me, I’ve seen enough of you lot messing around with the forces of nature for a while. I’m going to see if I can find some unlucky soldier to beat on for a little while at the practice courts.”

[elril]

I loved the beginning of it, with the action. I am enjoying the character building, but I am feeling a bit lost about the world. So far I see three nations, heard of four and wondering how they all fit together. Another problem with having the host of characters is I only really know what one of them looks like, even after learning about their character.

[edonil]

Thanks for the comments, Elril! I have to admit, world building is by far my weakest point as a writer. I'll try to work some more on it, unfortunately I'm not really sure where to start... And I'm sorry about the lack of description of characters, I'm working on limiting my perspective to one character at a time, and have been struggling to fit in ways to describe the characters in that setting. Still, I do appreciate the criticism, it gives me a place to start working on improving! I'll try to sneak in some descriptions of people later on, although I'm betting I'll move them around in revision.

[TheOneWhoFell]

Just caught up!

The story still seems a little... fragmented... but it the pieces are strating to fall into place. I'm really enjoying it :)

I know I've PMed you on this point, but I wanted to just mention (in case anyone else is looking for similar advice) that one of the hardest things for a writer to do is have a character describe themselves. It's difficult because we want to talk about all the details. Unfortunately, when you try to do that, it makes the character come of vain and self absorbed. Most people, when they look into a mirror see the whole picture (I look good, this top is great, my hair is fantastic), and they use short words that aren't too egotistical. Then they start to pick themselves apart (is that a zit? these pants are too big...; look at the bags under my eyes, my chapped lips, my dry skin, my belly, my thighs, etc). They are more likely to focus on things they don't like.

It's why a lot of writers describe their characters from the POV of another character, or throught their actions (The girl tossed her long red hair over her shoulder, the light causing it to shine like burnished gold).

edonil, I really like your writing style. It's quick, clipped, and has just the right amount of detail. I rarely feel overwhelmed by the volume of information you're giving me, and I always want to know more. :) Good job!

[edonil]

Thanks Fell! I'm sorry about the fragmented feel to it...I'm sorta discovering the plot as I go along. I have an idea of where things are going, but it's not super detailed. And I'm glad you like the style! I must admit, I intend to go back through things once I hit 50,000 words (or the end of that scene once I get past that mark) and revise things, adding in more description and details, so it may not stay so concise. In the meantime, here's the next section:

Faulkner smiled as he looked out from the wall. The rain had continued all through the night and the next day at the Dragon’s Teeth, and he was incredibly grateful for that. The Drasvarians weren’t about to risk their flyers in the storm, and that meant the enemy would be fighting without their traditional advantage in the air. It was going to be an old fashioned siege, the colonel thought with satisfaction.

“Wall batteries, prepare to open fire!”

The four artillery pieces were the one advantage the defenders had over their attackers. The Drasvarians were so used to their air support, they had never developed a true analog to the large guns of the other nations. Normally, it wouldn’t matter, Faulkner knew. But today it most certainly would make a difference.

True, the cannons at the wall were a far cry from the largest, or even the newest, of the designs Victrix had available to them. With luck, though, the guns would punch a few holes in the army arrayed outside the walls. Faulkner could see the front lines of his enemies through his spyglass, moving from cover to cover in spread out groups up towards the wall.

He raised his hand, and threw it forward. “Fire!” The wall batteries roared, flashing in the dim light. Moments later, explosions lit downrange as the shells slammed into the rocky terrain. Even before the shells hit, the gun crews were reloading, keeping a continuous rate of fire going. Faulkner watched the Drasvarians fall back, dragging wounded with them, and he smiled. So long as the artillery kept up their bombardment, the enemy wouldn’t be able to advance.

“Colonel!” a panicked voice called out. “Sir, something’s climbing the sides of the pass!”

“What?” The colonel turned his eye to one of the natural walls, and quietly bit out a vicious curse. He could see a handful of metallic creatures, shaped like large cats, climbing up the rocks with great dexterity. Just what they needed, he thought, a new weapon from their foes.

“Batteries one and four, retarget toward the cliff walls!” he called out, not letting any of his bitterness show. Even in the worst possible conditions for his enemies, they had found a way to outmaneuver him. Changing the coordinates for the artillery was going to cost him men, and he knew it. Two batteries couldn’t cover enough ground or fire quickly enough to keep the enemy from reaching them.

“Soldiers of Victrix,” he roared, drawing his sword and holding it aloft. “They’re going to be coming for us soon. We’re outnumbered, we’re outgunned, but we will not run! This is our home, and we’ll make them bleed for every step they take!” They yelled back in reply, lining the walls with their rifles as the rain poured around them. He looked at them all sadly, whispering, “They deserve better than this.”

“Aye sir, they probably do,” Waechter said, appearing next to Faulkner. “In the meantime, you’ll do nicely. Just wanted to let you know, the Hunters are off varminting. Try not to lock the door behind us, eh? I ain’t keen on being stuck out there with some thousand-odd angry Drasvarians sitting at the gates.”

“We’ll keep the back door open,” Faulkner promised with a grim smile. “Good hunting, Waechter,” he added, slapping hands with the older man. The captain grinned like a loon, threw an extremely casual salute, and walked off. Faulkner shook off the voice in his head that wondered if he’d ever see the Witch Hunter again as he turned back to survey the battlefield.

The exchange between colonel and captain had taken only minutes, but in that time the Drasvarian infantry had managed to move forward. Not many of them, but more than sufficient to start a real assault on the fort. The artillery commanders had already begun shifting their aim, and he urged them on silently. If they weren’t quick enough, the shells would land behind their targets, leaving the enemy infantry unharmed.

----
The machine crawled up the mountainside, its metal claws scraping on the rock. The rain bouncing off its metal skin sounded like a peal of bells as it stopped to look at its target with glowing red eyes. The fort walls were massive, several dozen feet in height, and connected directly to sides of the pass. The machine growled softly as it felt the presence of its master in its simple mind, urging it on.

Silently, it started running, and could see its pack members doing the same. The pack had been split by the artillery shells, but it couldn’t comprehend that. All it understood was that the master had given the pack orders, and it knew what those were.

The automaton begun moving down the side of the cliff as the fort came nearer, feet scrambling on the loose rocks. Agilely, it held its balance, continuing to move forward, closer and closer to prey. With a roar of triumph, it leapt onto the wall from the mountainside, startling the defenders into flight away from its large bulk. Contemptuously, it batted aside one of the soldiers, a man who was barely taller than it. Eager for the kill, it jumped onto him, teeth tearing open the throat. Blood splashed onto the machine, briefly covering its eyes before rainwater washed the fluid out. It snarled, hearing its pack mates landing behind it, and began sprinting down the wall, making its way towards the cannon its master wanted destroyed.

----
The screaming from the southern end of the wall was the only warning Faulkner got. He spun on his heel, and stared in dismay at the set of metal monstrosities that had landed on the wall. The height of a man, they were feline in both design and function, beautifully crafted, and terrifying as they tore into the young men of his command. His soldiers backed away from the abominations, some of them maintaining enough sense to start firing.

“Hold!” he yelled at his soldiers, trying to stave off a rout. “Hold, damn your eyes, fight back!” He pulled out a pistol and began shooting at the creatures, sparks flying as bullets glanced off the armor. He watched in horror as one of his soldiers primed a grenade and deliberately threw himself at the monsters. The explosion was brilliant and sudden, one of the machines collapsing off the back of the wall in its death throes. The other two continued to make their way systematically towards the artillery piece on that end of the battlements, and Faulkner nearly screamed in frustration as his soldiers were unable to stop them.

The first creature to reach the gun scattered the crew, and proceeded to hold off any attempts to counter-attack as the second machine began tearing the cannon apart with its claws. The sound of metal on metal overwhelmed even the blasts from the other three guns as the gun was ripped from its mounting, parts flying through the air.

Desperately, the colonel ran to one of the abandoned anti-aircraft guns on that part of the wall, grabbing the triggers, turning it toward the Drasvarian war engines. He began firing, the rotary cannon bucking with recoil as it poured high caliber rounds into the closer of the machines. The metal creature was thrown toward the back of the wall, claws screeching as it scrabbled to maintain its position while the bullets tore holes into its plating.

A feeble moan came from the machine as the glow in its eyes disappeared. A metallic shriek filled the air as gravity pulled it from the wall, landing loudly on the ground. Faulkner stopped firing, eyes wide, an exultant grin on his face. Steam hissed from the rain hitting the overheated gun, and he let go of the triggers while his hands shook.

A harsh growl from behind him made him freeze, and he swore as he remembered the last of the predatory automatons. He rolled forward, feeling a gust of wind across his back as he dodged the attack blindly, and spun onto his back, scrambling away from the machine’s harsh glare. “Oh bloody hell,” he stammered, reaching for the hilt of a knife at his boot.

[TheOneWhoFell]

I see some of the pieces fitting into place now. I like it, a lot :) And I like the cliff hanger, even if it is very prime time commercial break style ;)

Great job Edonil!!! Can't wait to read more :D

[SteamHammer]

Great stuff as usual.

[Absolution Black]

A very enjoyable couple of sections edonil, and certainly starting to fill in some spaces as Fell mentioned.

I think if it seems disjointed, it might just be that we are reading it in small separate parts...I may try and read all of it so far in one go, and see how that flows..I'm thinking it will be better!

Otherwise, nice cliffhanger....and it worked, I want to read more!!

[Ebonstar]

I think it's great. As was mentioned before- it can be hard to write in a forum format, so I look at each section as a snapshot of what's going on.

[edonil]

Picking right up where the last left off...

The machine reared up over him, and let out a startled grunt as a body in grey landed on its back. The soldier held a knife in their right hand, and climbed toward the head, dodging the ineffective swipes from the cat. Faulkner backed up even more, staring in amazement as the Witch Hunter somehow held onto the slick metal surface and began to pry at an armor plate on the creature’s back.

The machine quickly grew tired of the game, rolling onto its back agilely. The soldier let out a pained cry as he hit the rock of the wall, but managed to maintain his hold with his legs. As the cat’s feet hit the ground, he finally got the armor plate open and slashed his knife through a hose hidden in the armor. A loud hiss filled the air, and the machine collapsed, legs buckling under it. Faulkner ran over, helping the Witch Hunter to his feet.

“How badly are you hurt?” he demanded.

The young man gasped, grabbing his side. “I think my ribs are cracked,” he gritted out through his teeth. “Tough bastards,” he gasped, nodding his head to the machine. “Wasn’t sure that would work, but damn grateful it did. I was up on the cliff when the artillery starting going up there. I saw one take two near hits before it dropped. I’m glad I came back, although this hurts like hell.”

The sound of the mounting infantry assault on the wall filled the air, causing Faulkner to pause in leading the young man to the surgeons. “Can you still fight?” he asked, hating himself even as he did.

The Hunter laughed, then doubled over, amber eyes full of pain. “I won’t be much good with my rifle,” he said with a cough. “Probably can’t aim worth a damn. But if you can get me on something where I just have to point and pull a trigger, I’ll fight for you, sir.”

The colonel nodded. “We’ll find you something. What’s your name?”

“Niklas Schmidt,” the young man answered. He winced, black hair falling over his face.

“Glad to meet you, Niklas. Let’s go find you a gun,” Faulkner said as he started walking.

----
“So, these are our charges?” Jensen asked with a frown, staring at the student mages. Her brown eyes flicked from face to face, and then back to her senior officer. “You’ve gotta be kidding with me, captain. They’re children. And you want us to teach them how to be soldiers?”

“I think it’s crazy too,” Soli said. “But I’m not about to tell Admiral Niles that. In the meantime, the plan isn’t too horrible. These are the top combat students, after all.”

“Great,” the sergeant muttered. “The magical ability to level a building, the ingenuity to figure out how, and none of the discipline to follow orders. You weren’t at the Academy, ma’am. Students with the potential of this lot? Independent learners. Oh, they’re brilliant I’m sure. But they don’t usually like military mages, and we certainly don’t like them.” Soli gave her a level stare, and Jensen threw her hands in the air. “Fine! I’ll give it a shot, just stop looking at me like you’re my mother. I got sick of that look while I was stealing cookies from the jar, it’s no better now.”

Soli covered her mouth to smother a giggle as the pilot stalked off. She could understand the sergeant’s annoyance. She turned back to the window, looking out at the group of young men and women. The oldest of them couldn’t have been eighteen, while the youngest, a small young man with spiked green hair, looked to be fourteen. Green hair? What in the world, she wondered, would possess someone to color their hair green?

She smiled as Sergeant Jensen walked out into the practice yard. For all her complaining, the sergeant was a good teacher, if a bit unorthodox, especially when it came to magic. The more experienced mage had been teaching Soli for the past few weeks, and Soli’s skills were coming along slowly. It was frustrating to say the least, especially given how quickly she’d picked up every other skill she had. Still, for the time being at least, she could throw a passable fireball when she had access to a spark.

“ATTENTION” Jensen yelled, the glass of the window shaking briefly. Soli would bet that the sergeant was using her magic to make her voice louder as a shock effect. If so, it certainly worked, as the young mages all jumped in the air. The captain nodded in satisfaction as she noted a few of the older ones landing instinctively into a combat stance. Some of them seemed to have good reflexes, if nothing else.

Soli turned to her desk, tuning out the welcoming lecture from the sergeant. On the wooden surface lay a pair of ink drawings, one of which was a new flyer. The design was still a large bird, but specifically crafted to evoke the imagery of the age old phoenix. Being the design from the artisans, it lacked any technical information, but she already loved the feel that it brought to mind. Lord Enchanter Marx had suggested the new model as a reward for the surviving pilots of the Destiny, and she agreed wholeheartedly with his reasoning.

“You are a unit being brought back to life,” he had told her that day at the arena. “A phoenix, rising from the ashes of defeat to defend Drasvar. It would be appropriate for you to look the part.”

The new phoenixes would be at least as equally impressive as the griffins that already flew in the Drasvarian air armada. She had already sat down with the engineers and mages who would bring life to these metal works of art, explaining to them what she wanted for her pilots. They had all flown raptors before, a light combat wing, quick and agile, using pack tactics to take down the enemy. At the battle for Destiny, they had met their match with that. Their beloved raptors were unable to match against the new Assarian Huntsmen airships. No, to fight those enemies, they were going to need heavier flyers, and the phoenixes should fit the bill nicely at half again the size and twice the weight of the raptors.

Her green eyes drifted onto the second drawing, and a pleased grin tugged itself onto her face. While her pilots were getting the gorgeous new phoenixes, she would getting something far more beautiful instead. Lovingly, she ran her callused fingers over the parchment drawing. The drawing was of a dragon, the largest and rarest of the Drasvarian flyer designs. Each one was unique and crafted to match the pilot at astronomical expense, but they were the heavy combat forces of the armada. Awarded only by command of the ruling council, dragons represented the ambitions of every pilot, a prize earned in the fires of war.

The captain had already spent a great amount of time studying the design, but she had yet to tire of the sleek lines and smooth curves that it showed. It was a fairly traditional design, four limbs, large wings, long tail and neck. There were, however, a few tweaks to it that made the dragon very much hers. The wings shared a sharp, angular look with those of a falcon, and the tail tapered to a fine, curved blade. The notes scattered around the page discussed the artisan’s desire to do the final layer of armor in black iron, to make the green of the power lines and the emerald eyes stand out. Soli wasn’t too sure about that, but she trusted that the artist knew what they were doing.

She sighed as her mind turned back to reality. It was going to be a long time until her dragon was ready. In the meantime, she had work to do. She picked up her uniform hat and pulled it on over her red curls, then turned to head out the door. While Sergeant Jensen was in charge of training, it was time the students met the real master of the Aegis’ flyer group.

[Absolution Black]

A nice little bridge there edonil, showing us a little bit more of Soli's character and new position in the army.

Nice to see Faulkner survived...He has the potential to be a very likeable character..

[TheOneWhoFell]

Love it!! Wonderful as usual!!!

[edonil]

Thanks! Here's another update, finishing off the battle for Dragon's Teeth. (ducks away into the off topic thread to avoid potentially angry readers)

After twenty-six hours of fighting, Faulkner’s voice was starting to die. How appropriate, he thought to himself. He had started giving orders to his shrinking garrison with sign language as the fighting wore on into the night. It was brutal, bloody work. Twice the new Drasvarian terror machines had attacked the wall. Each time, an artillery piece had died, along with a dozen or more men. The survivors, less than fifty strong, had managed to protect the last gun and cover the wall.

In elder days, Faulkner would have been sure his men’s last stand would be sung the world over. By God, how they would deserve it too! They had fought like demons, never breaking, never surrendering. The Drasvarian witches had raked the wall with lightning only to be dropped by a bullet fired from one of several heroic Witch Hunters, most of whom died almost immediately. The colonel had no idea if any of them were left, excepting the young Schmidt.

Schmidt lay on his stomach on the wall, bracing a machine gun against his shoulder. He hadn’t moved from that spot in hours, one hand on his ribs, the other on the trigger. A few of the other young soldiers worked to keep him reloaded, rallying around the Hunter.

Now, though, their luck was running out. They had managed to successfully hold the gate against hundreds, but the rain was thinning, and the clouds were starting to go away. Once the Drasvarian flyers got into the air, their defiant stand would be over.

“Once more, boys!” Faulkner yelled hoarsely as he saw another charge at the wall starting. “For Victrix!” He got no answer, his men too exhausted to reply. Mechanically, they propped themselves up on the wall, reloading to fresh ammunition that was rapidly disappearing. The crack of rifles filled the air but Faulkner saw no enemy soldiers go down, much to his dismay. His soldiers were too tired to aim properly. The tactician in him told him to order them to stop firing…but he knew it wouldn’t matter anyway.

He jumped as a hand clapped on his shoulder. The colonel staggered, spinning around to see Waechter behind him. The Witch Hunter looked just as exhausted as the rest of them, his lean face haggard. “Evenin’ colonel,” Waechter said. “Glad to see you’ve made it so far.”

“Waechter,” Faulkner said, tiredly grasping his friends arm. “Good hunting?”

“Good enough,” was the reply. “I closed the back door behind me.” The captain’s lips thinned into a line. “No one else out there to come in, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry,” Faulkner said quietly.

“Aye, so am I. More than it might seem.”

The colonel looked at his friend quizzically, then his eyes widened as he saw Drasvarian soldiers lining up in the courtyard behind the wall. Faulkner opened his mouth to call out a warning, then stopped as he felt cold steel touch his forehead. “Uh uh, colonel,” Waechter said, wagging his finger. “You get to just watch this one.”

Faulkner froze, his mind paralyzed. “Waechter…what in hell?”

The Hunter pressed the pistol barrel tighter against Faulkner’s forehead. “Be quiet,” he hissed, his pale eyes narrowing.

The defenders of Dragon’s Teeth, so focused on the enemies charging them, never noticed the drama only a few feet away from them, or the fresh enemies moving in the courtyard. If Faulkner said nothing, they’d be slaughtered, and he refused to let them have such an ignominious end, betrayed by one of their own. The colonel stared at the traitor, jaw clenched.

Swiftly, he spat in Waechter’s face, then yelled, “From behind!”

The Victrixan soldiers didn’t react for a few, terrifying heartbeats, then some of them turned, alerting their fellows. The Drasvarians in the courtyard started shooting up at the wall, trying to lay down covering fire as they went for the stairs that would lead up to their foes. Schmidt fought to turn his machine gun around, finally managing it with help, and opened up, firing out long bursts that he spread back and forth.

With a snarled curse, Waechter raised his pistol and put a round through his fellow Witch Hunter’s head. Blood and gore drained out of the valiant young man’s head, and Faulkner screamed a denial. The traitor captain kicked his former commander in the stomach, and fired another round through the colonel’s leg. “Oh, foolish, stupid colonel,” he jeered over Faulkner’s cries of pain. “So trusting and patriotic. Too bad you didn’t ever pay attention.” He leaned down, grabbing the colonel’s blond hair and twisting it around painfully. Faulkner felt tears of pain and grief flow down his face, fighting off the pain so he could try to accomplish something, anything.

Instead, he watched the entirety of his men slaughtered, unable to prevent it. “Damn you,” he whispered. “Why would you do this, Waechter?”

“I told you once. I ain’t going to die to these stupid witches. But you, you’d never surrender the fort. So, I cut myself a little deal. Lucky for you, you’re part of it.” A cold smile lit the ex-Hunter’s face. “Or perhaps you ain’t so lucky.”

Waechter let go, and stood, waving to the invaders. “Medic!” he called. He turned back and Faulkner’s blood went cold at the expression on his old friend’s face. “We wouldn’t want to lose our prize, would we?”

[SteamHammer]

Great chapter. And we can find you even if you hide in the Off Topic thread.

[Absolution Black]

Wow, enjoyed that twist.......I have to be honest and say i never saw that betrayal coming...so well done! It might be that i was liking Waecthers character too much to notice the subtle signs...

And Faulkner lives! Well, for a while anyway...probably would have been better for him to have died though!

All in all, a good..dramatic conclusion to that confrontation, and it sets up a whole new arc nicely...though i am now hoping the Drasvians (?) execute Waecther for the hell of it...serve him right!

[edonil]

Honestly, I was really debating just killing Faulkner...but I don't want to get too predictable. But yeah, this has been around since...second paragraph of writing Waechter? Just seemed like it'd be a nice twist. I'm glad (if somewhat surprised) that I managed to catch you off guard with that, Abs!

[Absolution Black]

Honestly, I was really debating just killing Faulkner...but I don't want to get too predictable. But yeah, this has been around since...second paragraph of writing Waechter? Just seemed like it'd be a nice twist. I'm glad (if somewhat surprised) that I managed to catch you off guard with that, Abs!

so am i! Maybe i skimmed a bit....don't know... ah well, i must be slipping..

Keep it up!

[TheOneWhoFell]

excelent Edonil!!! I really like the twist. I'm curious to see where Faulkner plays in.... can't wait to read more :D

[edonil]

In some ways, I'll be curious to see where Faulkner fits into things myself. It was as I was writing that I decided that bullet from Waechter would be going at Schmidt instead of Faulkner. So, I have some plans, don't worry...but, as usual, not really defined. Now I just need to figure out the next set of scenes...

[elril]

My only catch would be that once the gun was pointed away from Faulkner instead of Schmidt, I am surprised that Faulkner didn't jump Waechter. That bit happened kind of fast in the story and lost me a bit.

[edonil]

As much as you're right, Elril, in Faulkner's defense, he's been awake for 35 hours, in a warzone. Reflexes aren't that good at that point in time.

[Chucklemonkey]

Firstly I just want to clarify I'm coming at this from the perspective of someone who does not read sf/f stuff at all so have no idea of the conventions of the genre etc.

The world you've created is nicely done and generally feels consistent. There were one or two occasions where the language seemed too casual, but they were rare enough considering how much you have written.

I'm liking the characters though and you kept me reading which, given my lack of exposure to the genre, is meant as a compliment.

[elril]

As much as you're right, Elril, in Faulkner's defense, he's been awake for 35 hours, in a warzone. Reflexes aren't that good at that point in time.

Ja, I knew you were going to say that, it was the out I gave him too.

[edonil]

Thanks Chucklemonkey, glad you're enjoying it! By any chance, could you tell me where the tone got too casual?

“Oh come on,” Arias scoffed, brandishing his rapier with a grin. “You should be able to do better than this lot! A yard full of navy types, and the marine doesn’t want to fight?” He gestured with his free hand, then slid it behind his back.

Marine Sergeant Justice Black scowled down at the younger captain. “I hate using these things,” he grumbled, indicating the long knife and the metal buckler he carried. The sergeant dropped into a defensive stance, buckler leading, knife in a backwards grip.

Arias warily observed the larger, dark haired man for a few moments, then cautiously began probing with his sword. Every thrust or slash was blocked competently by the buckler, but the marine made no effort to attack on his own. Strange, thought the captain. He hadn’t sparred with Black before, but the man’s reputation was for anything but a defensive fighter. With a shrug, Arias threw caution to the wind, quickly building up the speed of his strikes.

Black suddenly stepped forward, angling his buckler to deflect Arias’ thrust up and to the side. The captain’s rapier slid with a screech across the metal surface, and his blue eyes widened as he felt the subtle, controlled touch of the knife press gently through his leather gorget. Arias opened his hand, letting the rapier drop, and he frowned.

“Damn,” he said mildly. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Black stepped back, a crooked grin across his pale face. “All due respect, sir, don’t be a moron next fight. Not much good of a practice for me if you’re just plain stupid.”

“Fair enough,” Arias said with a grin. He reached out with his foot, and kicked his rapier up into his hand. “Another go, then?”

“If you’d like,” Black replied, then jumped forward, stabbing violently with his knife. Arias skipped back a step, sword ringing as it bounced away the attack. This time, it was Black driving the pace, and Arias’ inexperience with the style was definitely a disadvantage.

“Are you going to stop playing around at any point?” Black asked, face calm.

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” Arias said, watching desperately for an opening. Seeing one, he jumped forward, free hand grabbing the extended knife arm. He ducked under the buckler, placing his rapier against the side of Black’s neck. Black nodded at the touch, and the two separated again. The marine rubbed the side of his neck with a smile.

“Didn’t realize we were playing by real rules,” he said. “In that case, this can get more interesting. Alright, captain, let’s see if you can get another point off me.”

“Absolutely, Black,” Arias said, panting from the effort. He took a deep breath, then settled into a guard stance, free hand at his side. Black cautiously launched the first few exchanges, a measure of respect on his face. Arias blocked the attacks easily, then counter attacked. The combatants moved around, the fight even as they both gained the measure of the other. Arias tried a few grabs again, only to be brutally intercepted by the sergeant.

Black suddenly stepped forward into the captain’s guard, scything a leg into the other man’s ankle. Arias tumbled to the ground, rolling aside from the knife blade that flashed down. The captain sprang to his feet and charged, hoping to catch his opponent off guard, and ran face first into the metal buckler that was waiting for him. Black dropped a knee onto Arias’ chest, knife against his throat.

“Yield,” Arias croaked out. As the sergeant stood up, Arias gingerly touched his nose. “Ow,” he winced. It didn’t seem to be broken, but it certainly hurt like hell. He wiped blood from his lip and grinned. “Well done, sergeant. And you said that you’re not a brawler.”

“I’m not, sir,” Black said. “I’m a marksman. But,” he shrugged, “I’m also a marine. They make sure we can hold our own in a boarding fight.”

“Consider me glad you’re on my side,” Arias said. He pulled a handkerchief out of a coat pocket and pressed it to his nose to staunch the bleeding.

“Honestly, captain, I’m surprised that you’re a fighter at all. You’re decent at it. Not the best, but you’ll keep yourself alive for a while at least. A little formal, even when you’re trying to fight dirty, but we can work that out of you.”

“I got some good training as a midshipman from the crew on my first boat. Never was all that brilliant at it, but it got me through a few fights with pirates. I’d be glad to learn some more from you while you’re on the Merlin, sergeant. Mind teaching the rest of the crew? At least those who are willing to learn. We’ll need a good group of people when we get back into the war.”

“Well, you are the captain, sir. I’ll do my best, but we’ll see how much I can do.”

“It’s a deal, then,” Arias said, holding out his hand. He noticed the blood on his hand and paused, as the sergeant stared at him with eyebrows raised.

“You might want to get that looked at,” Black said. “Sir.”

“That does sound like a good plan. We’ll continue this later, then?”

“Of course, sir,” Black said, saluting.

[TheOneWhoFell]

“Absolutely, Black,” Arias said, panting from the effort.


Nice Homage (I'm sure it wasn't on purpose) :D

I already love the character of Black! Great job, Ed!

[edonil]

Nice Homage (I'm sure it wasn't on purpose) :D

I already love the character of Black! Great job, Ed!

Actually...it was totally on purpose, LOL

[Absolution Black]

Yay! I loved this section...can't think why! I too noticed the homage and thought..intentional or fluke?

But yes, I do like the look of the new character, and it certainly means things are going to get interesting on the ship!

But not only that, the scene was very well written, believeable fight sequences and a little bit of comedy for light relief..

Well done sir!

[edonil]

Alright, opinion question for you guys: the readers.

At this point in time, who are the top two characters you'd like to see developed more? (aside from Black...he's just been introduced, and that's cheating) Must admit to a bit of writer block on the next couple linking scenes to the next big plot point, and I don't want to start jumping around, (bad things happen then...) so if you guys could give me a target, I can work on that to space things out the way I want to.

[Absolution Black]

Well if i can't vote for Black..I'd have to say Soli and Arias...

I also like Faulkner, but i can't see him being developed much at the mo!

[Chucklemonkey]

Definitely soli. She's my favourite so far. Think I would also go with arias.

[elril]

Wintertide and Waechter

[edonil]

First character focus...Soli! (Sorry Elril, although I'll probably be doing something with Waechter next just for you...and cause it'll most likely irritate everyone else ;))

Soli sat in the antechamber nervously bouncing her fingers off her knee. This was her first time reporting to the Council of Magisters, and she had no idea why she’d been summoned. The training of her new recruits, along with her own practice, had been proceeding well. Not perfectly, but the young mages were rapidly improving as soldiers and flyers, and she’d heard nothing but satisfaction in response to any of her reports. From everything she’d heard, the construction for Aegis was still on schedule, along with the phoenixes and dragon, so she had to wonder just what the purpose of this meeting was…and hoped in the back of her mind that it wasn’t going to be just a waste of time.


An older man in the livery of the staff of the palace entered the room and bowed. “If you would follow me, Captain, the Council is ready to speak with you.”


She stood up, smoothing her pants and wiping off a spot of dust that had gotten onto the white dress uniform. As she walked over to join the servant, she caught sight of herself in a mirror and spent a moment adjusting her hair. She frowned and rubbed at a blemish in her makeup, then heard the servant cough politely. “Sorry,” she said, walking through the door.


“There is no need to apologize,” he said, tone kind. “But understand that the Council values punctuality more than they do a pretty face.” His smile lightened the rebuke, and she felt her nerves shrink some.


“Thank you,” she said gratefully. They continued on in silence, and she spent the time looking at the paintings and sculptures that lined the hallway. She saw a dozen styles from all over the world and history, a legacy of the high culture of Drasvar. Some of the pieces were unusual, others just left her in awe and envy at the skill of the artist. She felt a small bit of patriotic pride creep its way into her. This was the true heritage of her home, a country that valued culture and beauty more than it did military power.


The people of this country were hers to protect, and she took comfort in that pride, letting it steel her spine. When they got to the room that the Council met in, she had managed to get her anxiety to shut up enough so that it was only in the back of her mind. She stepped through the door the servant opened, dress boots clicking on the marble floor. As the door closed, she dropped to one knee, head bowed respectfully.


“No need to stand on formality here in private, Wing Captain,” a gravelly voice said. She looked up to see a middle aged man stepping down from the tables arranged in a circle around the room. He wore dark robes of blue, and the grey streaking through his beard and hair lent him an air of wisdom. A welcoming smile was on his rough face, and he gestured briefly to the others in the room. “We don’t bite, after all.”


“Well,” a young woman in a red silk dress added, throwing her raven hair back over her shoulder. “We don’t bite much.”


A few of the others in the room laughed, and Soli felt a cautious smile on her face. She glanced around the room as she stood up, noticing a few seats empty at the tables that were arranged in tiers of ever increasing height. Even with those unfilled spots, the room still had at least a dozen mages, of all ages and sex and dressed in a variety of outfits. She recognized Lord Enchanter Marx seated in one of the upper seats, and nodded a greeting that was returned.


“Thank you, Magister,” Soli replied to the older man.


“I hope that you won’t find it too uncomfortable,” the Magister said, “but I will be serving as the Council’s voice today. An old tradition, but it helps keeps things a little more calm in these matters. I am Magister Harris. At times, other Council members may ask questions as they see fit, but primarily I will serve that function. Do you understand?”


“Yes, Magister,” Soli said, feeling almost as if she was being interrogated. What was going on?


“Excellent!” Harris said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s begin then. If you wouldn’t mind, Captain, please tell the Council a little about yourself,” he said, waving his hand to include the rest of the room.


Unusual, but fair enough, she thought. “I am Wing Captain Soli Navin, eldest daughter of the Navin House, born to the primary branch twenty-six years ago. I have served in the air armada for eight years, enlisting as soon as I reached my majority.”


“You are of the primary branch of your bloodline?” Harris asked. She nodded in reply. “Why did you not go to the Academy to train as a mage?”


She hid a wince. “I chose to serve Drasvar in other ways, Magister, rather than follow in the traditions of my house. I felt that my other talents would be more worthwhile to the military.”


The Magister nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer. “Would you briefly describe for us the events leading to your recent promotion?”


“I was a sergeant serving aboard the Destiny as a raptor pilot on the Assarian front. While I was on patrol, I came across an enemy squadron comprised of several of a new design of airship, and alerted my air carrier. Wing Captain Edori told me to wait for reinforcements, saying that we would be attacking the airships before they could reach the Destiny. The attack was launched successfully, and we managed to severely damage three of the enemy airships before we received instructions from the Wing Captain, alerting us to an attack and recalling us to defend our carrier.


“We returned in time to assist, but by then it was too late.” She closed her eyes for a moment, memory assaulting her. Even now, months later, she could still see the enemy airships surrounding the Destiny, surrounding the burning air carrier with their cannons firing faster than any she had seen before. She could hear the thunder of the guns, the roar of the wind as she pushed her flyer even faster to save the ship. She shook her head, and continued.


“Destiny and her escorts were already burning when we got there,” she said, her voice hoarse, so she coughed to clear her throat. “My Wing and I fought through the Assarian perimeter to get out as many survivors as we could.” She hung her head for a moment, red curls covering her eyes. “We managed to escape with a quarter of Destiny’s crew.


“It took us two weeks to return home. We were able to find islands along the journey where we would sleep at night. Some nights, we slept on our flyers. Luckily, we didn’t lose anyone while doing that. Wing Captain Edori, who had been injured during the battle for Destiny, was unconscious during the entire trip. While I was not the most senior officer left, the others looked to me for guidance, so I led them.”


“Why did they look to you?” a woman asked. Soli looked up in surprise, and met the grey eyes of an elderly Magister who sat in the middle tier of tables. The woman’s wrinkled face was creased with a frown, and she stared at the Wing Captain intently from within the hood of her black velvet robe.


“I’m not entirely sure, Magister,” Soli replied after a moment. “I think it was because I decided that I would make it home at any cost, to bring back the information on the Assarian airships.” The Magister’s frown deepened, then she gestured for Soli to proceed.


“After our return, my Wing and I were given a few weeks to rest and recuperate. At the end of that period, Lord Enchanter Marx discussed with me the existence of the Aegis, and offered me the position of Wing Captain for the air carrier.”


“Thank you,” Harris said with an encouraging smile.


“What is your opinion of the war?” asked the young female Magister, smoothing her red dress as she did so.


“Magister?” Soli asked uncertainly.


The magister made a shooing motion with her hands. “Do you support the war, or are you against it? No need to worry about your position, Captain, it won’t impact that.”


“I believe war is a terrible necessity,” Soli said. “I feel that the human cost is horribly wrong, no matter which side, but I also believe firmly that if a good person will not stand up to evil, then they are just as guilty as if they committed the crime. As far as this war is concerned, I am in support of it. The atrocities done at Newedge demand a response, and both those who ordered those horrendous acts and those who carried out those orders need to be punished.”


“An admirable position,” Marx said from the back as he stood and walked down to the ground level. Harris stood to one side as the Lord Enchanter stepped onto the floor, but Soli noticed the look of frustration on his face. “However, if this council were to order you to delay that retribution for the good of Drasvar, would you follow those instructions?”


Soli tapped the fingers of her hand against her thigh, heart and mind at war. Her desire for justice was so strong she could taste it, feel it pounding through her veins in time with her heart. But duty also called to her; duty and trust in the Council of Magisters. She raised her head high, proudly, and said, “I would not like it, Lord Enchanter, but I would do my duty. I have faith in the wisdom of the Council.”


Marx smiled, then turned to the rest of the Council, spreading his arms wide to include the room. “You have heard from her yourselves, brothers and sisters. You have heard my arguments for her inclusion in this. Have your questions been answered?”


Slowly, one by one, the other members of the Council nodded. The last to do so was the woman in the black robe, who still frowned at Soli, but finally nodded, a short chopping motion. Marx turned back to Soli, whose confusion and anxiety had resurfaced with a vengeance.


“Wing Captain, I have another assignment to request of you,” Marx said formally. “In a week’s time we will be sending an ambassador under flag of truce to Assar, and it is the desire of this Council that you accompany it as head of the ambassador’s bodyguard.”

----
“I must say, I appreciate that you proved me right in the Council Room, Captain,” Marx said, handing Soli a glass of wine a half hour later in his office at the palace. “I’ve been arguing with them for weeks over this. They weren’t too interested in the idea of a diplomatic mission to begin with, much less allowing you to accompany it.”


“I admit, I’m somewhat confused why you want me with the ambassador, Lord Enchanter,” Soli said, then took a sip of the wine. It was a little dry for her liking, but she refrained from commenting on it.


“Politics, Wing Captain. Only of the international variety. They were worried about your well documented sense of justice interfering with your duty. I told them that was a load of nonsense, but they weren’t interested much in my opinion on the matter. Still, you managed to convince them quite handily. I look forward to them discovering just how valuable your presence on the mission will be once the Assarians find out who you are.”


“What do you mean?”


“You are the commanding officer of the survivors of the Destiny, and led our pilots back from that disaster. It will be a symbol they’d have to be fools to misunderstand when you show up with your unit as part of the ambassadors bodyguard. Drasvar was defeated, but we are anything but beaten, after all. Your attendance will drive that home without us needing to say a word.”


“I…see,” she replied slowly.


Marx laughed gently, shaking his head. “You’re a terrible liar, my dear. If you would do me one favor and learn to correct that before you reach Assar, I would appreciate it.” He held up his glass of wine. “To Drasvar and her soldiers,” he toasted.


“I’ll drink to that,” she said with a laugh, clinking her glass against his. She drained the rest of her wine, then set the glass down on the table. She smiled somewhat apologetically at the quizzical expression on his face. “I am sorry, Lord Enchanter, but I need to be returning to my duties. I don’t allow my soldiers to be out drinking during the middle of the week and I hold myself to the same standards.”


Marx smiled. “Of course,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “Until next time, Wing Captain.”

(Speaking of 'with a vengeance', that's what my muse hit me with... 2,172 words there...sheesh.)

[TheOneWhoFell]

Great character focus! I enjoyed reading it :)

The transition from the Council chamber to the private room was awkward. I think giving us a place and time first would fix that... I liked it over all :)

[edonil]

Great character focus! I enjoyed reading it :)

The transition from the Council chamber to the private room was awkward. I think giving us a place and time first would fix that... I liked it over all :)

Do you mean giving a time and place at the beginning of the Council chamber part, or the private room part?

[TheOneWhoFell]

private room...

like...

"an hour later, marx poured Soli a glass of wine in his private sitting room"

then continue with the dialogue...

[edonil]

hm. I put in a bit of that there, guess it didn't work. I'll tweak it, thanks! :)

[Absolution Black]

Liking it edonil, and it certainly begins to fill out Soli's backstory.

The story seems to be coming together now and the missing pieces are slowly being filled in...which is good.

Look forward to more!

[edonil]

Faulkner woke up screaming. He tried to sit up, but restraints over his chest held him down. His eyes were wide as they looked around the room in panic, looking for his interrogator. His yelling died into a painful coughing fit, arms instinctively fighting the restraints to attempt to cover his mouth. Tears leaking from his face, Faulkner’s breathing normalized.

“You are to be commended, Colonel,” a familiar voice said. The Victrixan soldier strained his neck, looking for the mage who had been interrogating him for the last several…days, weeks? Time had little meaning anymore.

“While I appreciate the love and passion you have for your country, this cannot last. Eventually, you will tell us what we want. If not, I’ll continue this until you do.” Faulkner felt a metal claw scrape his shoulder and felt his muscles start to spasm as electricity hit him.

“I doubt you appreciate the honor in this,” the voice whispered by his ear. “While my art is rejected as such by the Council, my master keeps my services for times like this. There’s something truly special about people like you, people who have the will and the strength to hold out against torture.” The touch of metal to his bare chest caused the colonel’s body to flinch away, then electricity hit him again.

Faulkner’s teeth snapped shut over his tongue, biting into it. He could feel his interrogator gently, but firmly, grasp his jaw with a bare hand, pulling it apart to keep him from biting through his tongue. When he had control over his body once again, he spat a mouthful of blood into his tormentor’s palm. He smiled as he heard a muffled curse of disgust, and the sound of boots on the floor, moving away from him.

He closed his eyes, bringing to mind images of his wife and children. He could picture them clearly, waving to him as he left to his posting of Dragon’s Teeth- Emily’s clear, bright smile from her plain face, golden hair shining in the daylight, brown eyes full of equal amounts pride and concern, holding their youngest son in her arms. Their daughter, a cheerful girl full of energy, stood next to her mother, waving with all the enthusiasm a six year old could muster. The mental picture gave him both comfort and strength.

Light filled the room, causing him to wince even with his eyes closed. Gradually, the light dimmed somewhat and he opened his eyes to see a beautiful woman with brown hair holding an oil lantern, adjusting the dial of it. She was anything but what he’d imagined, tall, brown eyed, wearing a suit of leather armor over a practical shirt and breeches. The woman set the lamp down, then turned to Faulkner, resting her hands on her hips.

“What am I supposed to do with you, Colonel?” she asked absently, and he recognized her voice instantly. He could see blood dripping off her right hand, and shivered. What kind of person wasn’t bothered with blood covering their hand? She stepped over to him, and pulled up a chair with her gauntleted left hand.

“Let’s try something different, shall we? I’ll ask questions about you, and you’ll answer them. No military intelligence, nothing that will betray anyone. Just a conversation. Much better than me continuing along in the vein of the past few days, isn’t it?” Her smile held genuine warmth that was present in her eyes, and he found himself more disturbed than if she’d been cold and harsh with him.

“My name is Isabella,” she said, crossing her legs over each other and resting her hands on her knees. “I am a mage of the first order, from Drasvar. Before my time in the Academy, I was from the city of Newedge. Incidentally, the city that your military and its allies leveled to the ground.” Her smile slipped and her eyes turned dark. “I lost all of my family there. So, needless to say, I don’t have a lot of love for you or your kinfolk.

“But!” she said, smile returning. “I must confess to a strong interest in you, Colonel Lukas Faulkner. It isn’t often that I meet a man so utterly resistant to my charms, and it’s quite refreshing.” She leaned forward, holding something up between two bloody fingers. Faulkner recognized the golden band of his wedding ring, and felt anger, fresh, energizing anger, pour through his veins.

“How dare you- give that back!” he shouted, immediately falling into another coughing fit.

“I thought that might be it,” she murmured with apparent satisfaction. “A wife is a strong force with men such as yourselves. A source of love, affection, motivation…and, of course, tragedy.”

He began to fight against his restraints, and she laughed. “Ah, so there is fight in you after all! That’s good. I had worried that my earlier ministrations had dulled that edge.” Isabella leaned back in her chair, holding the ring carefully. “Don’t worry, Colonel. This little game is just between you and me. But I have no control over the general. If he notices that a ring is missing from your left hand, he will find out who your wife is, and he will use her to get answers out of you. Probably by giving her to me.”

The mage shrugged and brushed her ponytail back over her shoulder. “Personally, I have no opinion on that either way, but that certainly won’t be as much fun. Then the game gets more players and it just becomes a bother. Even if he doesn’t notice the missing ring, if you don’t tell me about the city defenses, well, I expect there to be a lot of civilian casualties if we have to take it the hard way. It won’t be pleasant, and the chances of your dearly beloved dying go up rather drastically. The reason for me telling you all of this, is that it can be avoided. Just tell me what I need to know, and I can tell the general, and we can even arrange to get your family out of the city.”

Isabella’s eyebrow arched, and she smiled. “So, what will it be?”

Faulkner was tempted, dearly, to reject the offer. But the thought of Emily and his children in the hands of this monster warred with his patriotism. His tormentor had, he realized, upped their ‘game’ rather well. Hanging his head, eyes closed in pain, he whispered, “Very well. I’ll tell you everything. Just get my family out of the city first.”

“Excellent,” the mage said with a clap of her hands. She stood up, and he could hear her get closer. He opened his eyes to see her leaning over him, and flinched as she laid her bare hand on his cheek. “Sleep now,” she crooned, “and rest up. There’ll be a lot of questions when you wake up.” Like some grotesque parody of motherliness, she leaned over and kissed his forehead. Despite himself, Faulkner felt his eyelids drooping close, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

[SteamHammer]

Love these recent chapters. Keep going strong.

[Absolution Black]

Ooh, I like her! Reminds me of an ex girlfriend! ;)

seriously, she is a great character and one I can see being quite integral to the plot. She is well written, and i immediately can tell she is cold, calculating and hard...though I still suspect there is a softer weaker side to her...maybe faulkner will find it and manipulate it too?

Anyway...I'm hoping we see more of both of them in the future!

[Cambrius]

Nothing like a good questioning! Very cool, man. I like that there's another colonel! :P

Victrixan... I like that, too.

[edonil]

Glad to see that Isabella's been such a hit with people...although I find it somewhat entertaining that someone I envisioned as an antagonist has gotten such a reaction. (shrug) Ah well. As I was telling Steam in the OTT, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to avoid writing a cliche with an interrogator, so I went with the one I've seen the least- a female who enjoys the work, and is lively and energetic. (Contrast with Semirhage for those of you who've read enough of WoT...)

Abs, I don't want to know about that ex-girlfriend if Isabella reminds you of her, lol.

[Absolution Black]

Glad to see that Isabella's been such a hit with people...although I find it somewhat entertaining that someone I envisioned as an antagonist has gotten such a reaction. (shrug) Ah well. As I was telling Steam in the OTT, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to avoid writing a cliche with an interrogator, so I went with the one I've seen the least- a female who enjoys the work, and is lively and energetic. (Contrast with Semirhage for those of you who've read enough of WoT...)

Abs, I don't want to know about that ex-girlfriend if Isabella reminds you of her, lol.

Similar name too..she was called Isobel! And I get the contrast with Semirhage...I am one of the few people who seem to actually like the WoT series!

[Ebonstar]

Is she based on a real person? She is very believable to me.

I think some of us writers (myself included) have a hard time breaking out of stereotypical female characters, and I think you pulled it off very well. Great work!

[Cambrius]

Ah, yes, the hedonist Semirhage! I see resemblance, very nice. :)

Usually questioners are just so very stoic or sadistic, or simply mad, that the contrasting character here is almost likeable.

[elril]

Ah, yes, the hedonist Semirhage! I see resemblance, very nice. :)

Usually questioners are just so very stoic or sadistic, or simply mad, that the contrasting character here is almost likeable.

I haven't ruled out mad yet...

Once upon a time I love the WoT series, the fact that Brandon Sanderson was asked to finish them means I might go back. Mostly because I know he can be trusted to thin out loose ends and end characters that need ending.

[edonil]

Is she based on a real person? She is very believable to me.

I think some of us writers (myself included) have a hard time breaking out of stereotypical female characters, and I think you pulled it off very well. Great work!

Thanks! Luckily for me, she's not based on a real person that I know of...although, with Abs, mileage may vary...

oh hell, I'm starting to use trope speak -_-


Ah, yes, the hedonist Semirhage! I see resemblance, very nice. :)

Usually questioners are just so very stoic or sadistic, or simply mad, that the contrasting character here is almost likeable.

That was the kind of stuff that I was trying to avoid. It seems like people almost think of it as a requirement of some kind...which, in reality, it might be, as a coping mechanism. But, that's why I did so much of implication here, because I wanted to keep it hidden just what she does.


I haven't ruled out mad yet...

Once upon a time I love the WoT series, the fact that Brandon Sanderson was asked to finish them means I might go back. Mostly because I know he can be trusted to thin out loose ends and end characters that need ending.

Sanderson really injected new life into the series, I'm looking forward to seeing him wrap it up. And, honestly, I'm glad you haven't ruled out mad yet. ;)

[Cambrius]

Not to get too off topic, but I have many friends who were very disenchanted (read: ticked off) with the WoT series, for quite a wide range of reasons. It seems Brandon Sanderson is good enough with the new volumes to warrant a read and even some praise.

Personally, I got into the series after Crown of Swords was published and had the habit of re-reading the entire series with each new book, just to get/stay re-acquainted with the whole broad tapestry of story and detail. This habit cost me many months of re-reading, to say the least. I last read Knife of Dreams in 2006, I think. I have yet to read anything further, but with Sanderson's efforts getting praise from my local herd of nerds, I may read them at some point.

[edonil]

Many apologies for the short section...had more than a few moments of thinking over how I wanted to do this; and even more over whether I wanted to do it this early. I decided the answer was yes. So, here you go! I do hope for a longer section to put up tomorrow, but no promises. For those interested in the numbers, I'm at 18,065 words.

General Thomas Drake leaned over his desk, pen scratching as he finished drafting orders for the next stage of his plans. The Drasvarian general paused and closed his brown eyes, thinking intently, before continuing to write. The conquering of Dragon’s Teeth had finished a week ago, and he was tired of waiting for the information from the Victrixan colonel. His pen lifted from the paper, and he studied it closely, before nodding in satisfaction and spreading sand over the surface. The land campaign had progressed nicely in Victrix, and the next step of the war would require careful manipulation to achieve the desired effect.

He stood, arms crossing behind his back, as he waited for the ink to dry. Walking over to the entrance to his tent, he stepped out into the moonlight, nodding to the two sentries who guarded it. He breathed deeply of the pleasant night air, stretching his arms behind himself, then reached up to run his hands through his grey hair. He had been at that desk too long tonight, and he still had a few more sets of orders to write. With a shrug, he began to walk towards the barracks that his army had appropriated in their occupation of the fort.

One of the two sentries immediately fell into step behind him, and Thomas rolled his eyes. While he was over fifty years old, he certainly didn’t need a nanny. With a resigned sigh, he made no comment, knowing that arguing served no point. In enemy territory, senior officers always traveled with a bodyguard, whether those senior officers wanted to or not. As he walked through the camp, he could hear his men and women settling into their nightly routines. Nightfall came early here, something he still hadn’t gotten used to himself, so dinner was only just now being wrapped up, along with the various jobs involved in running an army in the field.

He arrived in the barracks and nodded in acknowledgement of the silent salutes his soldiers gave him. He felt more than a little satisfaction at the way he was regarded, unbothered by the nickname of ‘The Butcher’ that he’d been labeled with. He was one of the best tacticians in Drasvar, and while he had a reputation for getting soldiers killed in highly aggressive plans, he also got his objectives done. Not always on time, as the battle for the fort he walked in proved, but the task would be accomplished. Including the next one before him.

He was snapped out of his thought process by the sound of a door opening. The general looked up to see his torturer, Lady Isabella Leon, step out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind her. She had an unusually serious expression on her pretty face, and he stopped, curiosity piqued.

“Good evening, Lady Isabella,” he said. “And how is our guest?”

“Hm?” she said, looking up in surprise. She grinned after a moment, eyes sparkling with devilish delight. “Well, it appears that our guest is willing to talk now. He’s resting just now, but in a few hours, I’ll wake him up and we’ll have all the information we need.” She glanced down at his hands. “And just in time, I see. Writing out the next set of orders?”

Thomas looked down to see inkstains on his fingertips, then smiled. “Of course. We need to get moving on with the campaign for all of this to work correctly. Do you think the colonel will fit what we need better than that Witch Hunter captain?”

“Oh, certainly,” she said. “The colonel is a noble man. It took a most unusual pressure to get him to break.” She held up a gold ring in one hand with a crooked smile. “It’s a rare man in the military who loves his wife so much more than his country. But, it did provide us with the information we needed. And, more importantly, we now have someone who the Victrixans will love once we win.”

“Tell me, will he be able to form a resistance after we conquer the land? Does he have what’s required?”

Isabella’s smile grew wider. “The only thing he’s missing is a reason to do it. But, like I told him…men like that are so easily motivated by their wives.” She handed the ring to Thomas. “With the right sense of tragedy, he’ll be perfect.”

[SteamHammer]

Excellent. I can't wait to see where this goes.

[TheOneWhoFell]

*shivers*

Bad Lady! I like it :)

[Absolution Black]

ooh tingles! Looking forward to the next instalments!

[Cambrius]

Very nice... a politically savvy questioner. Dangerous! :)

[edonil]

Glad everyone is liking Isabella...and that she's giving some of you the shivers, cause she was supposed to in the first place! Changing gears with this section, moving back over to Captain Arias. Hope you enjoy it!

“There’s the signal. Mages, you have your orders. All hands, ready the ship for rough weather!" Arias yelled, folding his spyglass. He pulled his cloak around him as he walked back to the bridge, predicting all manner of unpleasant things once the mages onboard his ship began their work. He caught a glimpse at the stern of the three mages, Ensign Lillian Fel, Mage-Captain Alexis Stormhand, and Mage-Commander Arthur Windborn, as they stood in a tight group with hands touching in the middle. The first time Arias had seen the mages practicing that formation, he had laughed. After seeing what they were able to do with it, he had made it a priority to disappear whenever they stood like that.

He stepped into the bridge just as the first hints of a dark cloud formed right over the mages’ heads. Excitement and dread filled him as he thought about what it could mean if this worked. The goal wasn’t just to create a storm, Wintertide had told him. The actual aim of the mage groups that were present on every Huntsmen in the air with the Merlin was to create a storm that would sustain itself, for hours. The Mage-Captain didn’t expect it to work, but he did expect that they could generate one that would only require short bursts of additional energy to last the required time.

Arias hoped that his friend knew what he was talking about, because the other end of the spectrum that the mages had discussed was accidentally creating a hurricane. He’d been in the midst of a hurricane only once in his life on an airship, but that experience had been more than enough, and he wasn’t keen on repeating it. He was unsettled by the feel of electricity charging in the air around him, but kept his face blank. It certainly wouldn’t help anything for the crew to get the impression that their captain was close to being scared out of his wits…especially since it happened to be true.

He didn’t like magic. He knew it was, in many ways, incredibly silly, but that changed nothing about his attitude around it. In spite of his years knowing Wintertide, Stormhand and others, and in spite of having courted Stormhand at one point in time, he still found what they did unnerving. Small pranks didn’t bother him, Wintertide having cured that years ago. But anything on the scale of what they were attempting today had him nearly terrified. The military strategist in him knew that mages were vital to the war effort, especially when used like this. The stubbornly irrational side of him didn’t seem to care about any of that.

In the meantime, he still had a job to do, and he was thankful for the distraction of his own work while the mages did theirs. At the moment, that job was simple; don’t look terrified in front of the bridge crew. Once the storm got itself up to speed, he’d have more to do. Subtly taking a deep breath, he brought both hands behind his back and clasped them firmly together, hoping that no one else heard the slight creak of leather as his gloves compressed sharply.

The cloud above the mages was expanding rapidly, and his trained eye could see the signs of more clouds in the distance. Each of the five ships were around a half mile away from their partners, giving them plenty of clearance to maneuver once the thunderstorm began. The formation was a loose sphere, a suggestion from Wintertide to maximize the effectiveness of what the mages were doing.

Suddenly, Arias was unable to see anything as the cloud grew larger than his airship. He clamped down on the panic that burst into his mind, and forced himself to remain calm. This is what’s supposed to happen, he reminded himself, pushing the panic back. A few moments later, his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, and he could see the crew of his ship steadfastly continuing their work as the heavy rain started.

Lightning cracked nearby, causing everyone in the bridge to jump, a few of them crying out in surprise. Arias was quietly amused at the slightly embarrassed look on their faces at their outburst, but said nothing. The next bolt didn’t faze them, and they continued about their work with all the professionalism of their many months working together. The captain could feel his ship being moved about by the strong winds, and watched with satisfaction as his helmsman expertly corrected Merlin’s heading.

The door to the bridge opened and Arias smiled as he saw the three drenched mages stumble in, exhaustion plain on their faces. “Well done,” he said quietly. “Well done indeed. You’ve done us proud, now it’s our turn to take over.” Fel smiled at the praise, Stormhand and Windborn seemed too tired to acknowledge it. One of the midshipmen on the bridge walked over to them, footing unsteady in the heavy storm, and directed them to the entrance to the lower decks.

Arias nodded with satisfaction, then turned to his communications officer. “Anything from the rest of the squadron?” he asked. The man sitting at the desk with the transceiver held up a hand for a moment, continuing to copy down what he was hearing onto a piece of paper. Arias wished, not for the first time, that he could understand the beeps and pauses that made up the communications branch of the Assarian military, but that training was jealously guarded at the moment. Finally, the communications officer tore the sheet of paper out of his book, and handed it to the captain.

The note was from Wintertide, observing everything from a merchant ship down below. Arias’ reading was interrupted abruptly by a violent blast of wind that shook the Merlin, and he looked up in alarm, but already the ship was being righted. He shook his head, and continued reading.

A slight smile crossed his face as he saw that all five ships were in what Wintertide described as a “mass storm cloud” that had been generated by the mages. The conditions down at the surface weren’t too bad, yet, but the Mage-Captain was predicting that the storm would be at least equivalent to the heavy winter storms that struck this part of the ocean.

Arias looked up just in time to see lightning snap against the foremost part of the ship, and his mind froze as he heard the engines shut off. For a few agonizing moments, the Merlin hung in midair with no power, and then she began to fall. The captain began yelling orders to brace for impact as the crew that he could see began to panic. The heavy airship’s lighter than air balloons contained within the hull kept them from plummeting as fast as they should, but without the engines actively lifting them, it was going to be a rough landing in another couple minutes, and that only if they were lucky.

“Bloody hell!” Arias spat, running for the entrance to the lower decks. He yelled for people to get out of his way, sprinting to the engineering section. He knew the engineers were going to need as much trained help as they could get with starting the engines back up, so he started grabbing members of his crew who had that kind of training. The group of them arrived in engineering to find alarms of all kinds going off, and the head engineer, a man known only as ‘Steam’ for reasons unknown, shouting instructions as he fought with a turbine.

“Steam!” Arias yelled. “What do you need?”

“I need these damn engines to turn over,” the engineer retorted, his face red with exertion as he pulled a wrench around. “They aren’t meant to just shut off, must be something in the electrical circuit shorted when we got hit by that lightning bolt! If I could just get them to start, I think we can get enough control to land, but I’m not sure.”

“Well, you’ve only got a few minutes,” the captain said. “Think that Captain Stormhand would be able to help out?”

“It’s worth a shot, just get her in here,” Steam said, then turned back to giving instructions to the frantic engineering section.

Arias turned around and nearly ran into Stormhand. The tanned woman was panting from running and her raven hair was a mess. “I felt the lightning bolt, anything I can do to help?”

“Ask Steam, he knows what’s going on,” Arias said, jerking a thumb at the engineer. “I’m going up top to get everyone ready for the landing, even if we get the engines working it isn’t going to be pleasant.”

They stepped around each other, and Arias sprinted back up to the bridge, giving orders to the helm. “Lift her nose up,” he said. “We don’t want to go diving into the water, we probably won’t get back up if we do!” He turned to the man at communications, who was already tapping out a distress signal.

With a whining roar, Arias heard the engines finally start up. “Thank God,” he breathed. “Alright everyone, brace for a crash landing!” The captain watched as all of the members of his bridge crew, along with everyone out on the deck that was still being drenched by rain, grabbed for anything to hold themselves steady. He reached up and took hold of a piece of bulkhead as the ocean began to appear through the dark clouds.

The Merlin hit the water with a bone shuddering collision. The bridge was full of cries of alarm as the airship skipped across the surface, the terrifying sound of warping metal going throughout vessel. After a few more skips, one in which the airship threatened to flip over lengthwise, it finally settled, leaving the sound of rainfall the only thing that could be heard in the bridge for a long time. Arias looked around in the stillness, then smiled as he could hear a loud cheer coming from the lower decks, which quickly spread.

The captain laughed in relief, then waved his hand for calm on the bridge. “Alright, people, let’s find out the damage. See who’s hurt, get them to the surgeons. I want to see if we can get under our own power by the time help arrives!”

[TheOneWhoFell]

Wow! That was exciting :D I think... a little more detail... a few more flashes of what is going on... might make it feel... more solid. I don't think it felt rushed... but I (personally) want more detail. Maybe you could do a clip from Stormhand's POV? give the other side of it... I don't know.... just a thought :)

I'm really enjoying the read so far :)

[SteamHammer]

What she said.

[Necromorph]

Well, I finally caught up with the whole story...took me a while, haha.

Very nice work, E. I like the scope of both factions' inclusion in the story. As others have said, I like that both sides are portrayed about equally. The characters are original and well written....Can't think of anything that really stands out that needs fixing.

Keep up the good work, look forward to reading more.

[edonil]

Glad everyone is still enjoying the journey of this book. :) I do intend to go back and add in a section in Alexis' POV, but I'm trying to avoid going back and starting revising now...once I do, I won't stop, and that won't help. So, if the muse wants to write that, I'll let people know and edit that post. Here's the next section, sorry for putting it up late, I was exhausted this morning and the muse wasn't helpful in figuring out how to wrap the scene up.

Didn't like how this scene originally ended...if you've already read it, skip to the red to see the changes.

Soli watched dusk approaching quietly, listening to the sound of the ocean. She had made it a habit to sit on the deck as twilight set in while on the Wave Dancer. The courier had been at sea for two weeks, well on its way to Assar, but even with the number of times that she’d seen the sunset, it still took her breath away. The habit had become almost a ritual, a chance to calm herself and relax from the training that she was putting her Wing through.

The sun dipped below the horizon, and she could hear the sailors changing watch behind her. Standing, she stretched, working the stiffness out of her limbs, and stared into the sky as the first stars came out. Nature fascinated her, and it was unusual for her to get the chance to see everything from this angle. Since the beginning of her service in the armada, she had been assigned to airborne carriers, and the difference between the evening sky in the air or on the water was astonishing.

Shaking her head, she turned to walk back to her quarters. The courier was a surprisingly large ship, and in spite of her guest status she had managed to acquire a room to herself, a privilege she treasured on the voyage. Unfortunately because of the nature of sea travel, she wasn’t able to get as clean as she would like, but she was looking forward to the chance for a real bath once they arrived in Assar in another week.

Well, if they arrived, she reflected grimly. Though the Wave Dancer was flying the white flag that indicated a desire for peace talks, there was no guarantee that the Assarian navy wouldn’t open fire anyway. Ambassador Rath Thay had expressed his opinion that their enemy would honor the age old sign, but she still had some lingering doubts. She couldn’t imagine that a nation who had leveled a port city with no warning, or even a declaration of war, would have too many qualms about opening fire on an ambassadorial mission. Still, that was the pessimist in her and she knew it.

Besides, she thought with considerably more cheer, it wasn’t as if the courier was completely undefended. Her unit had been tasked with the defense of the ambassador and his entourage, and they had been more than equipped to accomplish that task. While her dragon hadn’t been ready to join them on the assignment, the first of the phoenixes were ready, and they had been able to fit four of them on the Wave Dancer. The flyers were gorgeous and she was glad to have them. The lack of any other serious military options on board was troubling, but all of her mages were present and ready to see action- at least in their minds. She still had her doubts, but their confidence was a good thing for now.

All in all, if they encountered a hostile Assarian ship, they’d be able to make a good accounting of themselves. She still wouldn’t put any real money on the odds of them drastically changing the outcome of such a scenario. She shrugged as she opened the door to her room, fighting to shake her dark mood. She paused at the door, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then stepped in, pulling her shirt over her head as she closed the door behind her. She paused for a moment to find a candle, after a minute or two, and the occasional swear, she finally gave up on hunting in the dark. She snapped her fingers, calling on her fledgling arcane powers. The friction of her bare fingers wasn’t much, but it was enough to create a small flame over her hand.

“Aha!” she said triumphantly, picking up the candle from her dresser. It was a small matter to transfer the flame to the wick, and she blew out the flame over her hand. As she turned around, she jumped backwards in surprise, letting out a startled squeak as she saw the cloaked figure in her room. Soli covered herself with one hand, anger filling her eyes as she recognized the ambassador’s personal guard in her room.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” she snapped. “Get out! You have no right to be here!” To emphasize her point, she brought her candle towards her mouth and blew on it, sending out a short burst of flame at him.

The man waved his hand, and the flames went around him. His red eyes glimmered coldly in the candlelight, and he looked at her almost without seeing her. She shivered as she felt his eyes on her, and her anger grew. “Dammit, Zygmunt, get out of my room!”

“Calm down, Wing Captain,” he said with a slight smile. “Your modesty is safe, I saw nothing I shouldn’t. I’m here for the ambassador, who wants to meet with you tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

“Fine. Now get the hell out of here. And if you ever come into my quarters without my permission again, whether I’m present or not, I will gut you. Understand me, bodyguard?”

A sneer lit Zygmunt’s face. “Very well, Captain.” He turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him. Soli let out a shaky breath, rage slowly dulling from a thundering roar to a quieter growl. How dare that bastard do that? She locked the door, savagely slamming her hand into the doorpost, then collapsed into a chair with her hands over her eyes, memory lashing her mercilessly. She could remember even now the feeling of helplessness she had felt as a child when one of the household servants had attempted to rape her. At the time she hadn’t even understood what was happening, she had only known that she was terrified.

Soli took in a shuddering breath, fighting back tears, then stood up and walked over to her desk. She picked up the bottle of wine sitting there and took a swig of it, trying to fight off the memories before they paralyzed her. A tear slid down her cheek, and she sat on the edge of her bed, fighting the demons of shame and terror that attacked her. It was a full ten minutes before she trusted herself to not cry, and another five minutes before she felt anything approaching normal. She looked down, only mildly surprised to find that her fist was tearing a hole in one of her bed covers.


“I am so going to kill that man,” she muttered, anger returning. She hadn’t liked the ambassador’s guard from the beginning, and this certainly hadn’t helped. She knew at least part of her anger was related purely to her past and not the man, but at the moment she didn’t care. She’d have to warn Ambassador Rath to keep the guard away from her, otherwise she was going to make no guarantees about his survival. The sense of violation, however mild compared to her past, was very real, and she was never going to let that happen again. And if she heard anything similar to this from one of her unit…Zygmunt would be lucky to die quickly at that point.


Soli put down the bottle of wine, and curled up on her bed, eyes closed in an attempt to bring on sleep as soon as possible. Her last thought before drifting off was a sincere and strong hope that her rest would be dreamless.

[Thechosenone]

Still as good a read as before. Thanks sir

[Absolution Black]

Really enjoyed the last two parts though I too agree that the crash section could possibly benefit from a bit more description...sadistic as it sounds I do like a good crash scene in books!

Apart from that, glad to see Soli back and Arias....

Keep it up!

[TheOneWhoFell]

What a creeper! *shivers* I like the humanization of Soli in this portion... giving her frailties... weaknesses... makes her a more dynamic character great job, Ed!

[edonil]

Made some changes to the previous scene...for the changes, see the above in red. For the reasons, see below. Seriously, you need to read the changes for this to make sense. Go ahead, I'll wait.


...And welcome back! (The following was written in Word, hence the font changes)

So, I just felt the need to explain the decision for this change. Perhaps I don’t need to, but I’m going to anyway. This originally wasn’t a part of Soli’s character. As of right now, she is probably the furthest she can get short of villainy from her base character. Which, as an author, I’m okay with. I’m very proud of Soli as a character, and as such, I want to do her justice. The original wrap up to this scene didn’t do that in my mind. It was flippant, rushed, and certainly didn’t build Soli as a character (although, based on Fell's comments, I do believe she would disagree with that). Hence the rewrite, in spite of my many promises to not do any for a while. In some ways, I’m quite proud of Soli in going this direction (my characters have much more control over themselves and their development than I do, in many ways)…in other ways, it’s somewhat terrifying. I’ve never done this with a character before, and it’s new territory. But, even more than that, Soli is now the new ‘bar’ for my main characters…by doing this, she has far more depth and strength to her than she did, and she has become, in my mind, the most ‘real’ of the entire cast. While I look forward to the challenge of building up Arias, Faulkner and the other members of the cast, it’s also somewhat scary. Anyway, that’s all from me. Hope you guys don’t mind the change too much, and, as always, thanks for reading.

[TheOneWhoFell]

I like the rewrite... she did seem kind of weak in the first, but with an explination, it makes more sense. I was kind of wondering why she didn't go for a weapon, or at least look to see which was closest. But being paralyzed by fear due to past traumas... it works :)

[edonil]

Thanks, Fell. Glad that people like the growth of Soli. And now...scene change!

Arias finished the paperwork with a sigh, signing his name at the bottom of the page. After the incident with the Merlin, he had been told to deliver a full report detailing what had happened, and it had taken quite a long time to find all the information. More importantly than that was the annoyance that so much of what had occurred was a result of things he didn’t understand. The captain knew he was anything but stupid, but oh, how his ignorance of science made him feel like he was.

He stood up, stretching his arms behind his back, then gathered the papers on his desk. The sooner he filed this report, the sooner he would be able to join the others in the officer’s club on base. He had a mug of hot chocolate waiting for him, or would once he got there. Grabbing his uniform hat from the dresser next to his door, he stepped out into the bright sunlight. A smile lit his face as he felt the warmth on his skin. After so many days of bad weather, it was good to see clear skies.

It was a relatively short trip to the Commodore’s office, and he stepped in to see the secretary seated at the desk. What was the man’s name? Ah, right, Elijah Kern. “Good morning, Secretary Kern,” Arias said, nodding his head.

The tall man looked up from the desk, blowing a strand of black hair out of his face. “Captain, good to see you. I take it the messenger found you successfully?”

Arias froze. “Messenger? No, I can’t say that I’ve heard from a messenger...I’m just here to drop off my report from the Merlin’s crash.” He held the report up, and the secretary’s blue eyes flicked to it before back to meeting Arias’.

A barely audible grunt came from the frowning secretary. “Very well. Commodore Kerwin wants to speak to you. If you’d be so kind as to step in? I’ll take that report from you and see that she gets it when she has time.” He stood up, towering over Arias, and walked over to the door. Kern knocked, barely glancing back to Arias.

“Yes, Elijah?”

“Captain Falmarin here to speak with you, ma’am,” the secretary said.

“Good, send him in.”

Kern opened the door, waving Arias into the room. The captain stepped inside, idly wondering what was going on, then snapped to attention as he saw the Commodore sitting cross legged in an armchair, reading over a letter. He suppressed the urge to sneeze as he smelled the tobacco smoke in the room and sincerely hoped she hadn’t noticed it.

“Captain,” she said around the pipe, glancing up at him. She gestured with her free hand towards the second armchair. “Please, have a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Arias said, slipping into the chair. He looked around the small room and noticed that nothing had changed in the six months since his squadron’s arrival at the base. The furniture was the same, nice enough as it was, the paintings, what few there were, hadn’t even changed location and even the flowers seemed to have been replaced by exactly the same kind in the vases. He wondered how much of that was Kerwin, and how much was her assistant. Knowing them, he decided it was probably both.

Kerwin finally put down the letter, setting it gently on the short table between them, then pulled out her pipe and tapped the contents into an ashtray. Her amber eyes studied him for a few moments, then she sighed. “This is probably going to be very strange news to you, Captain. I just received word from the capital that we’ve got a Drasvarian naval courier on its way. Apparently, based on the limited communication the Navy has had with them, Drasvar is interested in peace.”

“What?” Arias stared at her, unsure of his hearing. He shook his head to clear it. “I can’t have heard that correctly. Drasvar is interested in peace?”

“That’s the rumor,” Kerwin said. She stood up and walked over to her desk, pulling out a pouch. She gently took a small amount of leaves from the bag, and proceeded to fill her pipe. “I don’t know any details, unfortunately.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Arias said, resting his chin in one hand. “I mean, they attacked us. They started the war. Sure, we downed one air carrier, but…” he trailed off. “I don’t understand this at all.”

Kerwin shook the match to put out the flame then took a draw on her newly lit pipe. “I don’t understand it myself. It is a bit strange, but nevertheless, it appears to be how things are going to progress. As such, your operation to capture an air carrier has been suspended for the time being. Additionally, I’ve got shipping orders for you and your squadron.”

“Shipping orders? We’re possibly going to have a treaty, and command is going to send us away from the only base on the coastline that has enough room for the squadron? Why?”

Kerwin shrugged, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Nary a clue. Raven and her half-squadron is actually supposed to provide an escort of all things for the courier. Your half of the squadron will be ferrying some courtiers and diplomats from the capital to Port George, where the negotiations are supposed to be held.”

“Really? Why would any of the Huntsmen be involved in this?”

“I don’t know.” Some of Arias’ frustration must have shown on his face because she gave him a well-practiced look. “Captain, have I ever deliberately withheld information from you?”

“Yes. Twice, in fact,” he deadpanned. “Ma’am.”

She coughed a few times, fist pounding her chest, then glared at him. “Dammit, Captain, this is important! If I knew, I’d be telling you. Leave it at that. You’ll get formal notification of your orders by nightfall. Dismissed.”

With a sigh, Arias stood. “Sorry, ma’am. I’ll let my officers know.”

She nodded, then waved her hand. Arias saluted, then left. As he walked out of the building, his thoughts were conflicted. Peace with Drasvar…it sounded so nice. Wars were bloody and violent, and he’d be glad to see this one go. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, if this offer of peace was sincere, or some sort of trick. Time would tell, he thought as he pulled on his hat. For now, he had work to attend to. As he headed off to begin preparing Merlin for leaving, he thought regretfully of the mug of hot chocolate.

[SteamHammer]

Another great chapter.

[Absolution Black]

yet again you have delivered another solid chapter...keeps the story ticking along at a good pace and helps to define characters that little bit more!

[elril]

Hmmn, so the Assarians are of the opinion that the Drasvarians attacked them; but we have heard Soli believing she was fighting because the Assarians sacked/levelled a Drasvarian port city? Did I get that right? Either the spin is at high RPM's or someone is playing both off for suckers.

I was most amused at the cliche of the commodore smoking a pipe spun with the fact it is a female CO. I actually liked that a lot. Well done Edonil.

[edonil]

Hmmn, so the Assarians are of the opinion that the Drasvarians attacked them; but we have heard Soli believing she was fighting because the Assarians sacked/levelled a Drasvarian port city? Did I get that right? Either the spin is at high RPM's or someone is playing both off for suckers.

I was most amused at the cliche of the commodore smoking a pipe spun with the fact it is a female CO. I actually liked that a lot. Well done Edonil.

You did get it right, and I'm not saying. ;) I'm glad that you liked that little inversion there of the pipe smoking CO...it took a little bit of research to get it right, but I do like how it turned out.

[edonil]

Soli watched the Assarian airships with a sense of foreboding, recognizing the distinctive silhouettes as they approached the Wave Dancer. She tapped her foot on the decking to release some of her nerves, scanning the sky for sight of her flyers out on patrol. Ah, there was one of them, keeping pace with the lead airship. Probably guiding them to the courier, she supposed.

She glanced around, and bit back a frown as she saw the ambassador and his bodyguard. The ambassador had been quite apologetic on behalf of Zygmunt, but that had done little to cool Soli’s anger. Since then, the ambassador’s guard had kept well away from any of the soldiers on board, finding more company among the courier’s small crew. A few days later, Soli still wanted nothing to do with the man. Unfortunately, events seemed to conspiring to force her to work with him.

She walked over to the short, jovial ambassador with a polite smile on her face. “Ambassador Thay,” she said. Her eyes flicked to Zygmunt, and she fought down her revulsion to nod to him. The bodyguard smirked, but returned the greeting.

“Wing Captain!” the ambassador said brightly, reaching up with a cloth to wipe sweat from his balding head. “Glad you decided to join us. Are you ready to meet our escorts?”

“Ready enough,” she replied. “Do we know who they’ve sent us?”

“Unfortunately not,” the middle-aged man said, frowning. “Assar promised us that we’d see some of their best, and so far, I must admit to being impressed. Those ships are very unusual compared to ours. Do you recognize the design?”

“The airships I’ve seen are called Huntsmen,” she said after a moment. “They’re of the same design as the ships that took down the Destiny.”

“Really?” Thay said, an odd look on his face. “Not even in the city, and we’re all already playing games. Interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Wing Captain, your unit was brought along to prove that Drasvar still has strength and will to pursue the war if we must. If you think of politics like a card game, that’s our opening bid, as it were, although we haven’t told our fellow players just yet. Assar’s opening bid seems to be one of a position of strength, to remind us of what they’ve accomplished already in the war. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if those airships are the ones who brought down the Destiny.”

Soli stared at him for a moment. “All due respect, Ambassador, but that’s somewhat insane. Are they deliberately trying to provoke us?”

“No more than we are by bringing you along.” Thay waved his hand as if trying to keep her calm. “This is all just a game, my dear. A game with severe consequences undoubtedly, but in the meantime enjoy the thrill of it!”

Soli stared at Thay for a few moments. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she finally said.

“Captain, this is my realm of expertise. Trust me, I’m the best at what I do,” he said with a smile. “Just as I’ll trust you if we find ourselves in a war situation.” He turned to stare up at the airships and looked confused. “What are they doing?”

Soli looked up and felt her jaw drop open. “What in hell?” she heard Zygmunt say behind her, a sentiment she thoroughly agreed with.

The airship had started to descend rapidly towards the Wave Dancer, the roar of its engines drowning out the waves. At the last moment, the pointed prow tipped up and Soli could see the water being pushed away from a set of engines mounted underneath the ship. It settled noisily in the ocean next to the courier, a fine mist spreading around.

Soli could hear the sound of voices from the other ship, and watched in fascination as the crew scurried around on their tasks. The Huntsmen ship started to move forward after a few minutes, apparently seeking to match pace with the Drasvarian ship. “An airship that’s seaworthy,” she murmured. “Amazing. This is what Assar managed to make?”

“Ho, Wave Dancer!” a young voice shouted from the Assarian airship. “This is His Majesty’s Ship Raven! Permission to come aboard?” Memory stirred at the name, and Soli found herself barely suppressing a snarl as she remembered the Destiny’s final moments. Raven had been the ship to fire the last devastating shots into the air carrier. It looked like Thay was right about why Assar had sent the Huntsmen squadron after all.

The courier captain, a quiet man Soli had met only once in the three week trip, nodded to one of his lieutenants. “Wave Dancer, permission granted!” the young woman yelled back.

Soli watched as a small lifeboat went over the side of the airship and people clambered in. It was a tense fifteen minute wait as the lifeboat approached, then the sailors on board the courier began throwing ropes down. Soli walked back over to rejoin her flyers as the first of the Drasvarian soldiers climbed up the rope ladder.

She recognized the black and gold uniform of the Assarian Marines on several of the ones carrying weaponry, along with the blue and white uniform of the Navy. She stared intently at the man who wore the insignia of a captain. He was handsome enough, if you liked older men. His grey eyes glanced around, stopping on Soli, then moving on to Thay. The Assarian captain bowed, one arm crossing his chest.

“Greetings, Ambassador. I am Mage-Captain Matthias Wintertide, of the Huntsmen class airship Raven. In the name of His Majesty, King Damon, I welcome you to Assar. My squadron and I are here to escort you to the port city of Ithis.”

Thay returned the bow. “Thank you, Mage-Captain. I come on behalf of the Council of Magisters, to open negotiations. We appreciate your willingness to guide us. May I introduce the leader of our military guard, Wing Captain Soli Navin, of the Aegis?”

“Wing Captain,” Wintertide said with a nod.

Soli took a step forward, holding out a hand, forcing a smile onto her face. “Mage-Captain, it’s a pleasure.”

The Assarian took her hand and kissed the back of it. “The pleasure is mine.” He turned to the ambassador. “We’re a few days away from the city. If you and some of your staff would care to join, I’d be honored to have you as a guest for dinner onboard the Raven tonight. We’ll be staying with you here on the ocean while the other ships maintain watch overhead.”

“Gladly, Captain Wintertide, your invitation is most generous,” Thay replied.

[TheOneWhoFell]

hmmmm.... The plot thickens.... ... ...

[Thechosenone]

As always, the most important thing i can congratulate you on is the readability. Edited nicely with a real easy flow. That's important. Good work.

[edonil]

“Lukas!” the familiar voice hissed.

Faulkner stirred, waking up from his dream. He blinked his eyes blearily, reaching up to clear them, but the chains stopped him. With a sigh, he shook his head to try to clear it, then looked around for the speaker. The spartan room was dimly lit, but he could barely make out a figure in grey standing in one corner.

“C’mon, Colonel, time to wake up,” the man said. Faulkner frowned, his exhausted mind trying to place the voice, but it wouldn’t come to him. The Victrixan colonel sat up, favoring his injured leg. The wound had been treated, but the Drasvarian surgeon had informed him that it would bother him for the rest of his life. Abruptly, the voice clicked into place with his memories.

“Waechter,” Faulkner spat. The figure stepped forward into the light, and the colonel recognized the features of his betrayer. “What do you want, you treacherous bastard?”

“You wound me, colonel,” the Hunter said. “Twas the best chance I could see out of the situation…besides, if I hadn’t given the fort to the witches, we’d both surely be dead. So, a little gratitude might be in order, eh?”


“Gratitude?! How dare you-”

Waechter rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Colonel. After all, we don’t want ta bring the guards down on us. Would be a terrible mess to have them all coming here as I’m breaking you out.”

“You’re doing what?”

The Hunter snorted, pulling a key out of a pocket. “You heard me right.” A snarl twisted the man’s mouth. “I’m quite sick of staying here, so a jailbreak it is. I ain’t sure about you, but I’m most certainly ready to leave. It just so happens that my best chance to do so and get out with my skin intact is with you. Hence, our little situation. Now hold still.”

Faulkner waited as the traitor unlocked the chains. His limbs stiff from over a month of imprisonment, he rubbed his wrists to ease the pain that had been his constant companion. The Hunter stood up, and Faulkner lashed out with a roundhouse punch that caught the other man squarely in the jaw.

“Dammit, colonel,” the Hunter snapped, grabbing his bleeding lip. “What the bloody hell?”

“I owe you far more than that,” Faulkner replied, his eyes cold. “But I suppose I’ll have to content myself with getting out of here alive and never seeing your ugly face again.” He paused, and looked at the Waechter critically. “Why do you need me to get out? You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”

“Oh, aye, just bloody fine. Fine enough to not be able to go anywhere in Victrix,” the other man replied, wiping his lip on his coat. “I’ve no regrets, colonel, ‘cept not leaving soon enough. The witches say I’m free to leave whenever I care, but I know the lie of that. There’s nowhere to go, now that the capital’s been sacked. They control every which way out of the country. Means if I want out, I need myself a smuggler, and they won’t take on a deserter. But if I can bring you along, mayhaps I can weasel my way out of here.”

“The capital’s been…sacked?” Faulkner repeated, disbelieving.

“Damnation,” Waechter muttered, then sighed. “It’s gone, colonel. Took only a week after all the stuff you told them. Wasn’t a long fight.” His lips curled sourly. “But it was bloody. The army didn’t die easy.”

The colonel swayed on his feet, stunned. A week? He couldn’t even remember everything he’d told Isabella, but he didn’t think… It was several moments before he was able to regain control of his thoughts.

“Did they take any prisoners?” he asked hoarsely.

“Lots of them. Look, can this wait? We’re on a bit of a schedule, in case you think elsewise.”

“Did you see my wife? And my children? Isabella said that she’d get them out of the city before they attacked.”

The Hunter evaded his gaze. “I ain’t been looking for prisoners aside from you, colonel.” He pulled out a pistol, anger flooding his face. “And we’re leaving, now. No more questions, no more answers.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s be out of here, shall we?”

“You bastard,” Faulkner said. He sprang forward, rage giving him energy and strength, and tackled the Hunter, grabbing for the pistol. Waechter stumbled back in surprise, dropping the gun to the floor. He raised his arms in an attempt to shield himself from the furious blows the colonel landed.

Faulkner lunged for the gun, picking it up deftly. He could feel the pain of his injuries at the edge of his mind, but he fought them off. The colonel rolled, and fired a shot, shattering the Hunter’s knee. Waechter yelled in pain, grabbing for the wound.

The colonel stood up, injured leg on fire, but a smile lit his face. He felt nothing but grim satisfaction as he looked down at the Hunter. He raised the pistol to Waechter’s face. “Now then, Adler, you’re going to tell me what you know about my family.”

“Damn,” the Hunter gasped, oblivious to the weapon in his pain. “Bloody hell, damn it all! My knee, my damn knee!”
Faulkner calmly clicked back the hammer of the pistol, then fired a second shot by Waechter’s head. “Answers, Adler. You’re going to give them to me.”

“They’re dead, dammit!” the traitor snapped, tears down his face. “I saw them while wandering the streets a few days ago, and they’re all dead.”

Faulkner swore his heart stopped. His Emily…their children…all dead? Rage threatened to blind him, but he held it off. Right now, anger would only get him killed, and he wanted to live at least long enough to shoot that witch Isabella through her black heart. She’d promised him that they would be safe, and she’d lied. She would pay for that.

Faulkner turned to limp away, and stopped as he heard Waechter coughing behind him. “I’m surprised you ain’t killing me,” the Hunter gasped.

The colonel turned slightly and smiled. “Why would I do that? Drasvarian soldiers will find you here eventually, and then they’ll give you to their torturer, Isabella. I find that so much more fitting than me putting a bullet through your head.”

“Damn you!”

“Oh, more than likely. Especially after what I intend to put Drasvar through for their crimes. They may have conquered the heartland of Victrix, but they’ll never hold it.” The colonel started walking again, strangely calm. Drasvar had brought war to his home, it was time for him to return the favor.

-----
Isabella smiled as she watched the colonel step out of the room. The man was such an interesting puzzle. Too bad that he needed to go at this step in the plans. In her own way, she was quite fond of Faulkner, he had such a sense of tragic nobility to him. With a shrug, she stepped out of the hidden compartment in the wall, and walked over to the bleeding Waechter, her boot heels clicking on the floor. “Well done, Hunter. Marvelous performance!”

“Performance?” the traitor asked with a gasp. “Who said that was faked? I did as you said, now fix this damn knee and let me out of here.”

“So eager to get away from me?” she pouted. “I’d almost think you didn’t like me anymore, Adler.” She leaned down, steadying herself by putting one hand in the pool of blood spreading from his ruined leg. Her other hand reached out to caress his face, and he flinched away from her.

“What? You don’t think I’m beautiful anymore? You didn’t seem so opposed to my touch the past few weeks.” She laughed at the pained expression on the man’s face. “It’s been a fun few weeks, my dear.” Isabella leaned forward, kissing him passionately. “But now it’s time for all this to end,” she said somewhat regretfully as she pulled back.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “I did everything you asked! Even pointed out Faulkner’s wife and kids so you could kill them.”

“You did indeed!” she said brightly. “You’ve done wonderfully. But now, there’s one last thing I need you to do.” She continued caressing his face. “I need you to die, Adler.” Her eyes flared widely, and Waechter screamed as his flesh began to melt under her touch. It was a gruesome death, but her smile never dimmed as she continued to stroke his face.

Finally she stood, blood dripping from her hands. She looked down at the congealing liquid with some curiosity, then pulled out a cloth from an inner pouch. Briskly, she cleaned the blood from her hands, then dropped the cloth onto the ruined corpse of her lover. She grabbed a torch, then blew on it towards the remains, creating a fireball that caught everything in the stone cell aflame. Isabella stepped out of the room, using her magic to tap her thoughts into the general’s radio frequency.

“General Drake, this is Isabella.”

“Isabella? I take it our pawns played their roles as intended.”

“Yes, General, they did. Our plans are moving along nicely now.”

“Good work, milady. I’ll make sure that the guards put up just enough resistance to the colonel leaving to keep him from being suspicious. What about the Witch Hunter?”

She glanced back at the inferno building behind her. “He has been dealt with,” she replied with a hungry smile. “I take it that the objective has been taken?”

“Of course. I’ll notify the master of our progress and get his insight on where we should progress from here. It shouldn’t be too long. Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

“Certainly. If possible, could we make it a large meal? Today has been taxing so far.”

“I’ll let the cooks know. I’ll be eager to see you. Drake, out.”

She turned back to watch the inferno, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the flames rise higher and higher. The symbolism was oddly fitting, she mused. Soon, the world would look much the same as that room. But, she smiled, it would be only the cover for something much larger. With a firm nod, Isabella walked away to fetch some guards to put out the flame. No point in burning down the keep early.

[TheOneWhoFell]

I love what you've written so far. My only regret is that, starting tomorrow, I'll be writting my own novel (which, btw, I have no idea how to begin... I think I might start in the middle...). So I may not be commenting on your writing, but I'll finish reading it as soon as I'm done with mine :)

[edonil]

Arias tugged uncomfortably on the collar of his jacket, scowling as his hand brushed the embroidery. “I feel ridiculous,” he said to no one in particular.

“Oh, quit being a grump,” Alexis Stormhand said next to him as she picked up her mask. Arias transferred his glare to her, and she just smiled. “Come now! Masquerades are a ton of fun, Arias. Don’t be so serious.”

“She’s right, Arias. Enjoy the evening,” Wintertide said as he stepped into the room. He stopped behind Stormhand, wrapping an arm around her waist and gently kissing her. “You look lovely, my dear.”

“Thank you, Matthias,” she beamed. Arias had to admit, she did look good. The deep blue velvet dress she wore clung to her figure in ways that both revealed and hid everything with the help of some strategically placed white lace. Even…

“Wait,” Arias said, staring at his friends. “When did this start?”

Wintertide started chuckling, while Alexis scowled. She reached into a pouch at her waist and handed the other mage a handful of coins. “Cheater!” she sniffed. Arias stood there mystified as the grinning Wintertide put them into a jacket pocket.

“We made a bet guessing how long it would take you to notice. Tonight was the last night for you to figure it out before Alexis won by default. We’ve been together for the last month.”

Arias stood there, dumbfounded. A month? “I don’t pay attention to anything, do I?” he asked finally.

“Mm, I’m afraid not,” Alexis said with a laugh. “Whatever your skills in military matters, you’re absolutely blind to anything social.” She reached out and patted his shoulder gently. “Don’t worry about it, though, it’s part of your charm.”

“Lovely. Do I at least look presentable?” Arias asked. She eyed him closely.

“Absolutely, although your mask is a little bizarre. A blank face? What exactly inspired that?”

“I was feeling rushed and not in the mood, honestly. It doesn’t mean anything, I just grabbed something and paid for it,” Arias said. He could tell that she didn’t believe him, so he attempted to deflect the woman. “Besides, I’m not like any of you mages, I don’t have a name that just naturally translates into a mask.” He pointed to the mask she held in her hand, a silver rendition of her face with blue lightning etched into it.

“As much as this banter is entertaining,” Wintertide said, interrupting Alexis’ reply. “We’re going to be late if we don’t head out now.” He pulled out his own mask, a simple piece of silver and white that went over his eyes, then held out his arm for Alexis. With a smile, she put her arm through his and they started walking out the door. Arias rolled his eyes, and followed them. Just one more complication he didn’t need in his life…

----
“So, Wing Captain, are you enjoying yourself?”

Soli tried to see the questioner from the corner of her eye and fought the very impolite urge to swear as the mask blocked her vision. She turned and pasted a smile on her face. “Yes, I am, sir…?”

“Abner Fireseeker,” the man said, taking her offered hand and kissing it. “Head librarian of the Assarian Mage Academy.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Abner,” she said. She took a sip from the wineglass that she held and took a moment to study the librarian. It was hard to guess his age without being able to see his eyes behind the mask, but she guessed him to be about thirty, based on the lines around his mouth and the dark head of hair she could see. A little taller than she was, he leaned forward, almost as if his back was bad. His outfit was demure, a green robe cut in simple fashion with little embroidery.

“How did you know who I was?” she asked finally.

He smiled at her, picking up a wineglass from a passing servant. “My dear, you’ve become quite the celebrity here already. A beautiful foreign woman such as yourself here in our humble town? And a mage at that! Why, stories of your splendor have already begun circulating the Academy among the young men.” Even with the mask, Soli could see the wink he gave her. “Actually, I took the time to speak with Ambassador Thay, and he indicated that I might want to meet you and discuss magic with you. It’s rare to have a military mage here from Drasvar, and I must confess to a great deal of curiosity.”

“I’m not sure if I’d be the best person to talk to,” Soli murmured, taken aback by the candor of the librarian. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to charm her, but if that was the case he was failing utterly. “Actually, I’m just a student myself. I only started my training a few months ago. My second, Sergeant Ann Jensen, would be a better person to ask. I can introduce you, if you’d like?”

“My apologies, Miss Navin,” Abner said, bowing his head. “If you wouldn’t mind, that introduction would be most helpful.”

“Of course.” Soli looked around the room, silently thankful for the masquerade. Normally, Jensen was difficult to spot in a crowd due to her brown hair, a common color in Drasvar, and her slightly below average height. But tonight, Jensen wore a bright turquoise mask shaped like her raptor, and it took only a minute to find the sergeant. “If you would follow me,” Soli invited.

-----
“Arias, this is Sergeant Ann Jensen of the air carrier Aegis,” Wintertide said, gesturing to the woman in front of them. “Sergeant, this is Captain Arias Falmarin, commander of HMS Merlin.”

“A pleasure,” Arias said courteously. She nodded in greeting, looking like some large owl as she did so, although the ensemble of colors certainly was off putting. Her mask was turquoise, with silver trim on it, while the coat and breeches she wore made him smile mentally. Here was a woman who apparently didn’t care what polite society thought of her.

“Captain of the Merlin, are you? Another of the Huntsmen design?” she asked, her accent curious. He couldn’t quite place what was odd about it, but it was certainly different.

“Yes. The first off the line, actually.”

“Unusually young for such a position, aren’t you?” she asked, tilting her head to one side. The image of the owl came to mind again, and he fought a grin.

“So that Arias doesn’t embarrass us all with his humbleness,” Wintertide commented drily, “It’s worth noting that while Merlin was the first completed, it wasn’t the first laid down. Merely the one with the fewest problems during construction.”

“And yet, I’m squadron commander,” Arias said with a smirk behind his mask. “After all, I am senior officer of our group.”

“By a whole five minutes! Just because your name came before mine at graduation!”

The laughter was interrupted by the arrival of a new pair to their group. The man was vaguely familiar, but Arias couldn’t place that face for the life of him. The mask certainly wasn’t helping anything, for all that it only covered the man’s eyes. But the woman was definitely someone new.

She was dressed in a sleek emerald gown that shone in the light of the hall, and held herself with a noble elegance. Her fox mask was trimmed in red fur that matched her hair, and gave her an exotic air. He found himself grateful for his mask so that she couldn’t see him staring at her.

“Abner! It’s good to see you, been a long time since you’ve left your books,” Wintertide said with a smile, holding out his hand.

“Captain Wintertide. It has been a long time,” the other man said, grabbing the captain’s hand. He nodded to Alexis. “And Captain Stormhand, I haven’t seen you since we were students at the Academy. Enjoying the night?”

“Of course, Librarian,” she replied with a smile.

“Wing Captain Soli,” Wintertide said, bowing. “I hope you’re enjoying the evening. May I present my companion, Mage-Captain Alexis Stormhand, and my superior, Captain Arias Falmarin?”

“It’s good to meet you, Captain Stormhand,” Soli said. “Captain Wintertide has told me much about you.”

“Really?” Alexis asked with a sidelong look at her partner. He grinned and winked, the action barely visible behind the mask.

“Greetings, Captain Soli, Librarian Abner,” Arias said, nodding in greeting. The group paused as they heard the sound of music from the next room.

“Music! Well, it’s about time that they started some dancing,” Alexis said with a satisfied smile. “Come on, everyone, we can continue talking out on the floor!”

Oh my goodness that was annoying to write...and I didn't even get out of the scene. Just doing some setup for later scenes and tossing in some lighter mood to the story after the last section. Just shy of 1,500 words today, but oh well...I'm very late getting to bed as it is. Hope people like it! For all that it took a while, I like how the scene is coming along.

[SteamHammer]

I like it. It's light hearted and like all your chapters it's easy to read. Great pacing.

[edonil]

“Music! Well, it’s about time that they started some dancing,” Alexis said with a satisfied smile. “Come on, everyone, we can continue talking out on the floor!” She grabbed Wintertide’s arm and started dragging him over to the room.

“Miss Jensen, I presume,” the librarian said. The sergeant looked at him oddly and he shrugged. “Captain Soli told me to ask you about Drasvarian magic, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Jensen gave her captain a very old fashioned look from behind her mask. The woman shook her head then smiled. “I’d be glad to, librarian, but only if I can ask you about Assarian magic.”

“Certainly! After all, that’s what tonight is all about, isn’t it? A cultural exchange in preparation for an end to the war.” He held out his arm and Jensen looped hers through it. The mages walked away, chatting briskly. Arias watched them, bemused by the situation.

“I hope you don’t intend to ask me to dance,” he heard Soli say. Arias turned and looked at her curiously. She stood with her hands on her hips, head tilted to one side. He found himself wishing that he could read her expression, and cursed the masks once again.

“I’m afraid not,” he said with a smile. “I’ve never been all that interested in dancing. Nor any good at it, to be honest. However, I do love music, and I was intending to sit where I can listen to tonight’s. Could I tempt you to join me?”

“Alright,” she said after a few moments. He held his hand out, but she declined to take it. After a slight hesitation, he dropped his arm, confused.

“Well, allow me to lead the way, then,” he said. They started walking toward the ballroom, dodging through the crowd. Finally, Arias found an empty table at the edge of the room, and pulled out a seat for Soli. She sat down, back straight, and he sighed mentally. This certainly wasn’t going well.

He took a seat across from her and leaned his chair back against the table, closing his eyes to listen better to the music. The song was an old one, a popular song in Drasvar, with a lively beat to it and beautifully led by a violin. It had been a long time since he had heard such a piece, the war hadn’t given him many chances to listen to concerts. Idly, his hand begin swaying to the tune, unconsciously imitating a conductor.

He smiled as the song ended some minutes later, joining in the applause from the dancers. He looked up at the musicians seated on the stage, and was surprised to recognize the man standing at the front of them holding the violin. “Well, they certainly did their best to make tonight memorable,” he said to himself.

“Excuse me? I didn’t hear you,” Soli said. He flushed slightly, embarrassed at being caught talking aloud.

“Sorry. I was just commenting that the diplomats did a great job trying to make tonight remarkable. They hired one of the best musicians in the world, after all.” He pointed to the man at the front of the musicians, who were even now preparing to start a new song. “That’s Marcus Navin, the Bard. I had heard he was in Assar while I was at the capital, but I didn’t realize that he would be here tonight.”

“Marcus Navin?” she asked, voice odd. He turned back to see her staring at the musician.

“Yes…” he said slowly. “Why? Have you heard of him?”

“Of course I have! He’s my older brother. I haven’t seen him in two years.”

Arias let his chair drop onto all four legs, interest piqued. “Really? You’re not just pulling my leg?” He laughed at the look he received. “Fair enough. Do you play any instruments?”

“Afraid not,” she said, picking up a wineglass from the table. “I’m more into the martial arts myself. He was learning the violin while I was learning how to throw someone twice my size.”

“I find that somehow hard to imagine,” he said wryly.

“I can give you a demonstration if you’d like.”

He raised his hands defensively. “Hey now, not trying to insult you, just saying. So, you’re a flyer, correct?”

“Yes. I have been for eight years. And you are captain of the Merlin, aren’t you?”

He blinked in surprise. “Yes. I assume Wintertide told you?”

“Actually, I recognized you from a few months back. I took a shot at you with a rifle and barely missed.” She calmly took a sip from her drink, levelly staring at him.

His mouth dropped open, and he leaned back in his chair. Slowly, he started chuckling. “God does like playing odd jokes, apparently. So, that was you? You know, you didn’t miss by much.”

“I guessed that when I saw you duck,” she said with a slight smile.

Arias laughed, and grabbed a wineglass from the table, lifting it in a salute. “Well, Captain Navin, here’s to God’s little jokes.”

She returned the salute, and they both drank.

----
Zygmunt slipped in through the library window, pistol drawn. He looked around, red eyes glowing in the dark room. He nodded in satisfaction as he recognized the record room that he had seen during his visit earlier that day. According to the information they had, his goal was to be found here. He reached up with one hand and touched the wick of a candle. Within seconds, he had a bright flame illuminating the space.

He picked up the candle, and began to walk through the room, whistling softly as he absorbed the true size of it. This was going to take a while. Still, he had a few days to make the attempt, if he didn’t find the book tonight he’d try again tomorrow. He stopped at one bookshelf, and took out a book, glancing quickly through the pages. Nothing. Setting it aside, he took down the next book, and did the same.

He continued with this task for some time, his mind wandering back to what he had been told to find. A book hidden in plain sight, with information buried for years by the mages of Assar decades, if not centuries, ago. While he knew enough to recognize the contents of the book when he saw them, his sponsor hadn’t known what the book was precisely about. More complications to the task.

With a frustrated sigh, he picked the candle back up from the table next to him, and moved on to the next bookshelf. The last one had been filled with nothing more than notes about economies and taxes. Interesting intelligence to be sure, but not what he needed. He was looking for something more…esoteric.

He searched for hours, the moon rising through the window behind him. Luckily, the masquerade was planned to continue all night, it was unlikely anyone would come looking into the obscure room while he hunted. Suddenly, he froze as he began to put down a book that seemed a little too heavy for its size. He turned his attention back to it, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Could it be…? He began prying the cover apart, and laughed as he saw it separate easily. Of course! What better place to hide a book than inside another one?

He reached into the false cover and pulled out a handful of pages. Taking apart the back cover, he found even more, and began to rifle through them. Zygmunt spread them out over the table, staring intently. After a few moments, he pounded his fist on the wooden surface, growling out a curse. He had certainly found part of the manuscript, but only a portion. It was going to take a lot of work to track down the rest of the pages.

A noise made the bodyguard look up. Cautiously, he picked up the discarded pistol, and crept to the entrance. He pressed his ear to the door, listening, then heard the sound again. Footsteps, coming closer by the sound of it. He swore quietly, and looked around the room. There was too much of a mess spread out for him to put everything away and leave before the person arrived. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he went to hide in the shadows of the room.

The door opened, and Zygmunt watched closely as a young woman entered. She looked around with surprise at the light and the books scattered everywhere. “What’s going on in here? Who’s accessing the records room at night?”

She held up her hand, and Zygmunt could see warmth glow around it. A fire mage then, readying herself to cast some sort of spell. He gave a silent prayer of gratitude for his modified eyes, and raised his pistol. The woman took a few further steps in, looking around carefully. The Drasvarian held himself still, waiting for the perfect shot. Just another few steps…

The Assarian mage looked straight at him, and he swore as her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to scream, and he reacted, pulling the heat from her hand. He watched as the warmth increased, sparking in the air around her and destroying the breath she had drawn in to yell with. She stumbled backwards, agony on her face, and Zygmunt raised his pistol, firing a shot through her head. Blood flash boiled in the fireball around her face, and the coppery smell filled the air. He started to swear violently as the corpse hit the floor, and began tearing through books.

At most, he had a few hours to find the remaining pages. If he failed, he’d never have another chance. He paused only once in his frantic searching to contain the flames from the burning corpse before they caused any damage to the books.

[edonil]

The explosion snapped Colonel Patrick Carlisle out of his sleep. He sat up in bed, blue eyes wide, and turned to look outside his tent. Seeing the fire coming from the outer perimeter of the base, he grabbed his rifle and ran outside in only his breeches. “Damn this place,” he muttered. “Can’t even get a good night’s sleep anymore!”

The moon was high and full tonight, so he was able to see everything as gunfire was exchanged between the Drasvarian soldiers and the raiders. He sprinted to the edge of the camp, directing soldiers to their posts as he did so, yelling orders as calmly as possible. With sheer force of will, the men and women began to settle into their roles, the panic from the unexpected assault disappearing.

“Where are they?” he asked Sergeant Varick running to the command post of the picket guard.

“I don’t know, sir,” was the distracted reply. The sergeant aimed his rifle, eye pressed to his scope, hunting for targets. The man let out a breath and fired, and Patrick heard the sound of a startled scream from off in the distance.

“First hint we had of the attack was the fireball that struck the outer pickets,” Varick said as he pulled back the breech of his rifle to reload. “I’m gonna guess that we’re looking at that warpriest’s group, he’s been awfully energetic the past few weeks.”

“Anyone seen him?” the colonel asked.

“Nope. I’m betting he’s not here, his white robes would stand out a little bit in the middle of the night, especially with the full moon. Still, one of his disciples is, and I’m keeping an eye out for that bastard,” the sergeant said grimly. “My sister was in the picket line that he exploded, and I owe him a bullet or two for the favor.”

Patrick nodded. “Keep up the fire here, sergeant. I’m going to go see if the mages will let loose some of the hunters tonight, we need to start thinning out the numbers of these bastards if we’re not going to be driven out of here.”

“Yes sir,” Varick said, sighting down his rifle again. It cracked once more, but the sergeant frowned. “Dammit, they’re getting better at ducking behind cover. I hate these militias, they learn far too quickly.”

“Agreed with that,” Patrick said with feeling. They had been in Telios for over a month now, and the fighting was hell. He wondered as he ran, body hunched over to make himself shorter, how the war was going on other fronts. The citizens of Telios had immediately begun digging in once the Drasvarian armies had landed.

Every step of the way in had been met with dozens of raids, hundreds of raiders, and one hell of a resistance. While the Teliosian army was nothing too impressive when it met Drasvar on the field, the militias were fanatical in their attitude. Men, women, even older children, all had joined in the fighting, led by the priests of the Telosian church. While not all of the priests were mages, enough of them were to make Patrick wish he had more control over the ones attached to his regiment. Unfortunately, his mages stood outside of his command because of the quirks of this front, and so far they hadn’t been as useful in raids as he would like.

He arrived at the section of the camp the mages had claimed for his own to find a handful of them outside. At least two of them were doing something useful, he thought to himself, preparing a hunter automaton for combat. The three others were standing there, looking in the direction of the fight with frustrated expressions.

“This is unacceptable, Colonel,” one of the three said, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Then do something about it, Gavin” Patrick snapped. “I need some of you out there on the frontline to help with the defense, we’re seeing what looks like at least one disciple, maybe even a priest, and my soldiers aren’t equipped to find them.”

“We are here to help you against the Telosian army, not some civilian rabble.”

“Then get out of my way so I can find some mages who are actually useful,” Patrick said, glaring at the other man.

“Both of you, calm down. This isn’t helping,” one of the mages working on the hunter said. She came over to them, and looked at Patrick. “The hunter is ready to go. Farril is connected to it, and will guide it. You want us to focus on finding the disciple?”

“Thank you, Sabina. Think you can find him?”

“Possibly. We’ll send it out, and go after secondary targets along the way. I’ll join you at the battle shortly.” She went back to her partner, and Patrick turned to leave.

“Colonel,” Gavin said as the colonel started walking. Patrick paused, waiting for the mage to speak. “We are here for a purpose at the request of the Council, not to serve as your personal shock troops. Keep that in mind. And learn to speak with some respect to your betters, if I’ll teach it to you.”

“If you were actually better than me,” Patrick fired back, “I might bother. In the meantime, I have a job to do. Since you obviously are too much of a coward to care, you are welcome to go back to bed, milord.”

“Lowborn bastard,” the mage snapped. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

Patrick pointed his rifle at the man’s face and snarled, “I earned that right by fighting your wars. If you want my respect, you’ll earn it out there.” He lowered the rifle, spat at Gavin’s feet, then stalked off.

----
Meryn Kell lit the soaking wet fuse to the bottle of alcohol she carried, then sprinted forward in the night to toss it at the Drasvarian invaders. It flew through the night air burning brightly, and exploded as it hit the ground, sending fire everywhere. She could hear the sounds of screaming as her enemies caught fire, and snuck back to the woods where the rest of her group were planning the next assault in the raid.

Disciple Mallory stood in the center of them, giving out instructions as people came back from their assigned tasks. She felt a burst of pride in her heart as she looked over the other members of their flock. Only a handful of them had any military training before the resistance began, but they were veterans now. The weeks had been long, but with the leadership of the church, they had managed to hold the enemy off, keeping them away from the cities. Their flock was one of many, under the overall command of the Warpriest, and everything she had heard was that the enemy was stalling everywhere the citizens of Telios fought back.

“I want everyone to keep safe,” Mallory said. “No one do anything stupid. Right now, they’re off balance. Once they figure out where we are, it’s going to end badly. Alright? Everyone without a weapon, get ready to head back. We’ve done most of our job for tonight. I want volunteers to go get our fighters.”

Meryn raised her hand along with a few others. The disciple nodded and gestured for them to go. She headed out, carefully placing her steps as she ran, and found the first of their gunmen, Daegal. He was reloading when she arrived, and grabbed for his knife when he saw her coming.

“It’s Meryn. Disciple Mallory says it’s time we were done,” she whispered. The man nodded, flinching as gunfire flew by overhead. He finished reloading his rifle, then stood up to follow her. Meryn heard the crack of a rifle and screamed as Daegal’s head exploded, blood and viscera covering her face and shirt. Shrapnel struck her cheek, cutting a thin line through her skin.

She dropped to the ground, arms covering her face, trying to keep herself from falling into hysterics. Her mind scrambled in panic for a few moments, then sanity returned by degrees. She found herself crawling along the ground away from the body, rifle in her hands. As she continued moving, she tried to remember everything she knew about guns, which was precious little.

She froze, and wondered why. Suddenly, she looked up to see a massive cat standing nearby. “Oh God,” Meryn whispered, recognizing the machine from stories told around the fires back in the meeting areas. She hadn’t seen a hunter in person but she knew what they could do. Hands shaking, she brought the rifle up, resting it on the ground in front of her. Deliberately, she closed her eyes and said a prayer under her breath.

She opened her eyes, watching the hunter with a great deal more calm now. More of the lessons on firearms returned, and she picked up the rifle, prepping it to fire quietly. Propping herself on her elbows, she braced the rifle against her shoulder, sighting down it. The hunter had to be looking for Disciple Mallory, and she wouldn’t allow it to find him without at least attempting at stopping it.

Meryn took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. The crack of the rifle was deafening, but in spite of where her aim was, the bullet appeared to completely miss the hunter. It growled, head snapping around, and began to stalk towards her, low to the ground. It reminded her grotesquely of a kitten she had kept as a child when it went hunting mice.

She fired again, missing once more. Again. This time there was a spark on the slow moving creature’s shoulder. It ducked low, then leapt toward her, shaking the ground as it landed heavily to her right. She squeaked, dropping the rifle to the ground as she frantically backed up. The panic was too all encompassing this time, and she curled into a ball on the ground as the machine leaned over her.

Meryn wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she opened her eyes to see fire all around. She quickly got to her feet, staring as she watched a man in the white robes of a priest fighting the hunter. The machine had rivers of molten metal pouring down it from lines that seemed to be carved in its side, and it swung frantically at the priest. The man stepped around the attacks, staff spinning in his hands to shove aside the slashing paws.

“In the name of God Almighty, you will not have this woman, Drasvarian hellspawn,” he said, elderly face harsh. The hunter jumped into the air and he shoved his hand up. “Teine!” he yelled. A glow appeared around his hand, and a bar of white hot fire burst from his palm.

The amount of noise the headless machine made as it crumpled to the ground made Meryn jump. She stared at it silently, amazed at how quickly the fight had ended. The fire around her disappeared, and she smiled broadly at the priest. “Thank you, Father Malvyn,” she whispered.

“I am glad I was able to reach you before it had finished its awful work. Come, daughter. It is time to go home,” he said, gently enfolding his arms around her. Trembling, she leaned against him, allowing herself to be guided back to their encampment.

[edonil]

Wintertide stood over the burned corpse of the mage, staring down at the woman, face hard. Abigail had been a member of his crew, one of the first mages to be assigned to the Huntsmen. He had watched her grow from a midshipwoman to a lieutenant, and she’d done everything well. And now? Now she was dead. But why?

He looked at Abner with a frown. “Why would anyone be in here last night?”

“I... I don’t know,” the librarian said, wringing his hands together. “It’s just the records room, after all. I mean, some foreign nation might have a use for some of the stuff in here, but even then, all this information is at least five years out of date. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Foreign nation? Like Drasvar?”

“Well, of course, but why would they want anything in here? It doesn’t help them. And destroying everything else in the room? I’m just counting it lucky that only this room caught fire, the whole building is made of wood.”

Wintertide turned to look at the walls, taking a deep breath to steady himself and keep his temper under control. He studied the pattern of the burns on the wall, looking for something useful in vain. “This is the only room that was damaged?” he asked finally.

“Well, yes. Why, is that significant?”

“Abner, don’t be so dense,” the captain snapped. “A woman is dead in a room that no one should have been in, and this is the only room that’s had any damage? Someone was looking for something in here, we just need to figure out what.”

The librarian shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any idea what could have been in here. I’m rarely in here, and I have more reason than most.”

There was a shuffling noise from the hallway, and Wintertide’s attention shifted to the commotion. A few men in somber outfits stood patiently in the entry, holding a large bag between them. “Excuse me, Captain,” one of them said politely. “We’re here for Abigail’s remains.”

“Of course,” Wintertide said stiffly, making room for them. He watched as they worked, putting the corpse into the bag, and found himself memorizing the scene. Abigail deserved to rest in peace, and he was going to give that to her. He looked around the room one more time, looking for some pattern that he could find. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think of was that it had to be the work of a mage. The flame was too localized, too contained. Which left a lot of people.

“Where to start?” he wondered aloud.

“Why not start with Drasvar?” Abner asked quietly.

“And start a diplomatic crisis on day three of the negotiations? Are you insane?” Wintertide sighed. “If I had some reason to, I might. Do you have any way of knowing if anyone’s had any interest in this room lately?”

“Nothing formal, but I can ask around. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thanks, Abner,” Wintertide said. He put his hands in his jacket pockets, then headed out. He had a letter to write to Abigail’s family.

-----

“Soli! My god, girl, it’s been a long time!” a deep voice said as arms wrapped around her waist. She struggled for a moment, then her eyes went wide as she recognized the voice.

“Marcus!” she said with a laugh, spinning around to wrap her brother in a hug. “You’ve been gone too long! How are you? How’s the traveling been?”

His brown eyes met hers, twinkling. “Oh, not too bad. A bit lonely at times, but there’s all sorts of interesting things out there. And there’s people everywhere looking to share a bit of their story with a traveling bard, so at least I get to hear new things on my trips. Come on, let’s go find somewhere to eat. I know a few good places in town. The food isn’t quite like home, but it’s still good.”

“Lead the way,” she said with a grin. They started walking through the port city, chatting idly. They stopped a few times in the market as Marcus pointed out different merchant’s wares. Soli found herself relaxing for the first time since leaving Drasvar. She had forgotten how much fun it was to be around Marcus.

They arrived at a small restaurant out on the pier, and Marcus held open the door for her, continuing with his story. “You’d be surprised,” he said, “just how many of the priests in Telios are easy to get along with! I know that lots of people think they’re some kind of religious nuts, but, honestly, they’re quite nice. I met this one, a warpriest named Malvyn, who just had a faith that was inspiring. Very gentle and humble man.”

“Really? That’s definitely not what most people talk about when they come back from Telios,” she said.

“Well, think about it. Unless you’re a great storyteller, what’s going to be easier to get people interested in? The gentle old man who talks softly and feeds kittens, or the one spitting hellfire and fury, pronouncing judgment on the unbelievers?”

She started laughing as they sat down. “Put that way, I can see your point.” She looked down the menu engraved into the wood, not recognizing any of the names. “Anything that you’d care to recommend?”

“They have a grilled fish meal that’s quite good. Sea bass, if I remember right. Myself, I’m starting with a bowl of clam chowder,” he said with a grin.

“Sounds like a good place to begin,” she said with a laugh. They placed their order, and her brother leaned back in his chair, resting his arms on the table.

“I must admit, I was surprised to see you here, Soli. And with a captain’s rank at that! Last I heard, you had just gotten your first posting on an airship.”

“That was two years ago,” she said with a laugh. “I was on the Destiny up until it went down.” She frowned and began running her finger around the rim of the glass of water. “I was given this rank soon afterwards. It’s been an interesting time.”

“You were on the Destiny? That’s a story I’d like to hear someday. What I heard from the gossip didn’t really make a whole lot of sense. I wasn’t in Assar or Drasvar at the time, so all my information was handed down the grapevine, and that’s never very reliable.”

“Some other time,” she said, frowning. Soli looked up to see him staring at her with frank concern. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. “It was several months ago.

“So, what about you? What are you doing here in Assar?” she asked, deliberately changing the topic. He grinned at her, as fully aware of her tactic at this age as he was when she had been three.

“Just traveling through, actually. I rotate through places every few months, and it’s been a while since I’ve been into Assar. I was in the capital performing at court when they hired me for the masquerade ball, and any other of the diplomatic events. Considering how much they offered, I get the feeling Assar really is interested in this treaty.” He paused as the food arrived, and laughed. “And this is why this place is one of the best in the city. Good food, pleasant atmosphere, and lots of cooks so the food gets done quickly.”

Brother and sister dug in, the conversation slowing down. When Marcus started using his silverware to act out scenes from an adventure story he had picked up while in the capital, Soli found she couldn’t stop laughing. He finished with a flourish, and there was applause from others in the restaurant.

Marcus bowed, laughing the whole time. He took his seat, setting down the spoon, and grinned at her. “So, who was the young man with you at the ball? It seemed like you were both having a pleasant conversation.”

“Oh no!” she protested. “We are not having this conversation. Not at all.”

“What? I haven’t gotten to tease you about your suitors for two years, it’s only fair I get to do so now!”

“He’s not a suitor, I just met him. Besides, he’s an Assarian captain. I took a shot at him during the war!” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “How did you see us, anyway? You were playing the whole time!”

“Ambassador Thay told me you were there. Once I knew that, well, it wasn’t too hard to find you. You always did like foxes, and I’ve met few women with your shade of hair.” He winked at her. “Call it a lucky guess?”

She snorted, and he started laughing. “Anyway! So, what’s this ‘not a suitor’ like?” he asked.

“Off limits in conversation,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

“Fine!” Marcus threw his hands in the air with a smile.

“What about you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Found yourself a lady love yet? Or several, perhaps?”

“You wound me, dear sister!” Marcus said, miming an arrow hitting his chest. He settled onto his elbows grinning. “No, I’m still a bachelor yet. Met one girl, but she was a little bit off, if you know what I mean. Things definitely weren’t going to be working out, so we both moved on.”

“Too bad,” she smirked. “Would’ve been fun to have a sister to harass you with. Payback and all that.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would have enjoyed that a great deal,” he said, then glanced outside the window. “What time is it?” Marcus pulled a watch out of his pocket, then jerked upright in surprise. “Damn, it’s almost three. I have an appointment in a half hour!”

Soli stood up with him, waiting as he left money on the table. “This was fun, thank you,” she said with a smile. “We’ll have to do it again. Hopefully next time you’re in Drasvar I’ll be there too.”

“We’ll have to see what we can manage, won’t we?” he laughed.

[elril]

Liked this one section a lot. Trying to figure out if Marcus is one of the circle of bad guys or not... Looking forward to Soli doing something awful (and terminal) to Zygmunt.

Side note: I have gathered that this is a very "shades of gray" world and nothing is white/black, cut and dried. I like that Marcus put a "nice, gentle old man" spin on the priest that just melted the hunter; but it is a fine line to walk between making that point and beating it over one's head. I am sensitive to such things, so I am putting it out there.

[edonil]

Side note: I have gathered that this is a very "shades of gray" world and nothing is white/black, cut and dried. I like that Marcus put a "nice, gentle old man" spin on the priest that just melted the hunter; but it is a fine line to walk between making that point and beating it over one's head. I am sensitive to such things, so I am putting it out there.

...eesh. Didn't even think of that when I did it, it was more for comic relief. :p Ugh, yeah, that's going to be something I'm going to pay more attention to. Think that it should be changed, or just be careful in in the future?

[edonil]

Faulkner limped into the warehouse slowly. Days later, his leg still wouldn’t work properly. According to the former army surgeon who had looked him over once he found the resistance, it probably never would. As nearly as the surgeon had been able to tell, his knee had partially fused during the torture from Isabella. The colonel added it to the list of offenses that he’d be calling her to account for eventually.

He was stopped at the door and a man checked him for weapons. Sloppy, thought Faulkner, as the man skipped checking his forearms. Well, at least it meant his holdout pistol wouldn’t be found. If anything went wrong, he’d have an advantage. He waited as the man checked his two guards, then they walked further in together.

In the center of the warehouse, hidden behind the piles of boxes and crates, sat a table with a single lamp on it. Faulkner grunted as he took a seat at the table, giving the others who sat there an odd look. “Bit melodramatic, isn’t this, gentlemen?” he asked.

“What can I say,” one of them said, spreading his hands. He had a scar running across his face, splitting it diagonally. “I like the atmosphere. I hear you’re looking to get some people out of the country. We might be able to arrange that.”

“Oh?” the colonel asked, glancing back at one of the soldiers behind him. “How about bringing things back into the country?”

“Eh? What are you talking about?”

“Well, I do have some people I’d like to hire you for to get out of here. But, I’m far more interested in hiring you to acquire some things for us and bring them back…without Drasvar noticing,” Faulkner said, adjusting his position to sit more comfortably. “Can you do that?”

The three men on the other side of the table looked at each other uncertainly. “I’m not sure who told you about us, but we’re not interested in getting involved in your little resistance,” the largest of them said.

“Well, who said anything about that? I thought you were here to do business. Of course, if you’re not, I can take my resources and go elsewhere.”

The scarred one laughed, snorting through his nose as he did. “Oh really? What resources would those be? Your nation is dead, Drasvar’s got hold of your treasury. What can you offer us?”

Faulkner pulled a pouch out of his boot and undid the strings that held it closed. He tossed it onto the table, spilling out a handful of gems onto the table. “Drasvar has our treasury, but the resistance still has its sources in the mines,” he said as the smugglers stared, raw avarice on their faces. “Uncut gems. In the right hands, which I’m sure you’ll be able to find, they’re worth a fortune. Consider this a down payment on our first order.”

The third man, who had been silent up until now, picked up one of the gems, a sparkling ruby, and looked at the colonel. “You’ve got my ship,” he said, voice rough. “I’ve no love for Drasvar or what they’ve done to my homeland. What do you need, Colonel Faulkner?”

“You have me at a disadvantage, mister…?”

“Captain, actually. Captain Kuno Eichel.” The smuggler held out his hand, and Faulkner shook it. “If you can supply me with enough gems to make your purchases and cover my expenses, I’ll bring in whatever you need.”

“We’re going to need firearms, explosives, along with a few more normal essentials. Especially food to supply ourselves and give to the city. We’re going to need the people on our side to make this work.” The colonel looked at the other two smugglers. “Well, what about you two?”

The scarred man spat to one side. “Lovely as this all is, I’m not about to risk running weapons back into this country. I’ll take the contract to get people out, but if you want supplies, you’re on your own.”

“Alright,” Faulkner nodded. “We do have some people who need to leave. Ten people, to Telios. I’ll pay ten of those uncut gems a head. Fair enough?”

“So that’s what, a hundred gems? Go one-twenty and we’ll have a deal, colonel.”

“One-ten.”

“Done.”

The colonel looked at the last man, the largest at the table. “And you? Are you going to help us out?”

The man crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back into his chair. “I don’t see why I should. There’s a lot of risk here, and those gems aren’t worth enough money to justify it for me.” He shoved his chair back and stood up. “I’ll go find something with a little less risk for my return, I think.”

“Really? That’s unfortunate,” Faulkner said. The pistol dropped into his hand from its holster. With one smooth motion, he raised it, and fired. The shot was impossibly loud in the quiet warehouse, and the smuggler stared down at his chest as a red stain spread from his heart. Without a word, the corpse tumbled onto the ground.

The room exploded into action. The smugglers and their guards drew weapons, mostly daggers, while the two soldiers stepped forward to protect the colonel. Faulkner smiled, calmly setting the smoking gun on the table. “I do apologize for that, gentlemen. But I didn’t think it worth our lives to let him decide that his ‘less risk’ was to go talk to Drasvar about what we’re doing.”

“Dammit, you crazy bastard,” the scarred man snapped. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the man who’s had everything taken from me by Drasvar, captain,” Faulkner said, slowly getting to his feet. “My country, my reputation, my family. Everything. I have nothing left, not even my honor. But I do have this one chance for revenge. And I won’t let anything get in my way for that. Understood?”

Eichel frowned as he looked at the cooling corpse on the ground. After a while, he nodded looking back at Faulkner. “I understand, colonel. But that?” he said, jerking a thumb to the body. “That’s going to cost you extra. We’ll need to find a new captain for his boat now.”

“That’s fine,” Faulkner said with a grim smile. One of the soldiers handed him another pouch and he tossed it on the table. “I believe that covers everything, correct?”

[edonil]

Zygmunt looked over the notes carefully in his cabin aboard the Wave Dancer. He recognized some of the concepts from his days in the mage academy, but most of it was incomprehensible to him. Something about all of it was just strange. Was he missing a page? Frustrated, he shoved himself away from the desk and began pacing. Very deliberately, he walked wall to wall, pressing his fingers against them each circuit before heading back.

Damn that Assarian mage! After killing her, he knew his time was limited, so he had been forced to rush the job. He probably was missing information, just because of that. Still, he had at least some of it. They’d have to be content with that. He’d burned the rest of the room, after all, so there wasn’t anything left to get the information from.

His head jerked up as pounding struck the door to his room. He spun back to his desk, slamming closed the book he’d hidden the notes in. “Enter,” he called out. The door swung open, and Zygmunt frowned as he saw Ambassador Thay come in.

The mage grunted and returned to his pacing. “What do you want, Rath?”

The ambassador closed the door behind him carefully. “Did you get it?”

“Of course I did,” Zygmunt said, pointing at his desk. “All of the pages I found are in there. I hope the masters can make sense of it, I know I haven’t been able to. It’s almost as if the manuscript is only a part of the whole.”

“You didn’t miss any pages, did you?”

“I don’t think I did, but I was rushed a lot more than I would have liked,” the mage said snidely. “Having an enemy mage walk in on you tends to do that.”

“You should have been more careful. Right now, it’s being kept fairly quiet, but I don’t expect that to last long. You just had to go asking them about the records room, didn’t you? If any of the assistants at the library remember you, I’m going to have to turn you over to them just to maintain this charade.” The ambassador ran his hands through his hair. “Dammit, Zygmunt, you couldn’t have just waited a few more days, could you? We’re supposed to start the war back up only after we confirmed we had what we needed!”

“I know that! What do you want me to do about it now?” Zygmunt stopped his pacing to glare at the other man. “It’s too late for us to follow through on the other plan. I messed it all up, so we’re going to need to make this up as we go now.”

“Any suggestions?”

The mage fumed. “No.” He started walking back and forth again, increasing his speed as his anxiety rose higher. How did they fix this? Would it be possible to fix it? Thay was right, once any of the assistants remembered him, he’d be dragged in for questioning and it wouldn’t be long before he started telling them everything.

His head snapped up as he heard a commotion on deck, and he muttered a curse. “Sounds like they may have figured it out already.” He moved back to the desk, picking up the book and tossing it at the ambassador. “Here, hide this. Odds are I won’t be able to deliver it, so that’s your job now.”

“What are you going to do?”

Zygmunt’s smile was grim as he pulled a short-barrel pistol out of his desk. “Something stupid to keep them from looking at you too closely. You’re going to want to practice some very good lies, Rath. It looks like it’s time for me to pay the piper.” He positioned himself so that he stood over the desk, back to the door.

There was no knocking this time, only the door being smashed open. Zygmunt turned, carefully concealing his pistol under the sleeve of his robe. He glared at the Assarian captain who stepped through. “Captain Wintertide,” he said. “Did no one ever teach you to knock?”

“Zygmunt, you’re coming with me,” the captain said, eyes furious.

“Oh? Why should I?” The Drasvarian mage’s hand trembled as it clung to the pistol tightly. Carefully, quietly, he pulled back the hammer of it.

“We have reason to believe that you were involved in the death of Lieutenant Abigail Mihas, and we’re bringing you in for questioning,” Wintertide said. He turned his head to the side, and thunder exploded in the cabin. Blood burst through the air almost in slow motion, and Zygmunt immediately began to aim again as the Mage-Captain’s headless corpse dropped to the deck.

“For Drasvar!” the mage yelled, pulling the trigger of the second barrel. One of the marines who had been behind the captain fell back, grabbing for his wounded shoulder. Zygmunt could hear the yelling from outside and charged the second Assarian marine, whipping the pistol across the man’s face. The soldier fell back, and Zygmunt stumbled outside, landing on his knees.

He froze as he felt a steel blade touch the back of his neck. He carefully craned his neck to stare into the cold, hard green eyes of Soli Navin, and forced a grin onto his face. “Going to kill me yourself, eh, Wing Captain?”

“Oh, I’d love that. I really would, Zygmunt. But right now, I think Assar has a better claim to your neck.”

He snorted. “How typical of you, Soli. Letting others do your dirty work so you can have a good night’s sleep. It must burn you so, knowing that you failed to get me in time to stop this little disaster.”


“You can try all you want, Zygmunt, but you’re not going to goad me into killing you.” She reached out with a booted foot and tapped it against his chin. “Come on, up with you now. Now you have two murders to answer for. And I’m going to look forward to seeing your execution.”


Not pleased with that last set of lines...in the meantime, though, I'm running away from any potential anger at how I killed Wintertide. Not that I regret doing it. If you really don't like it, blame Fell...my muse stole it from her.

Edit: Found what bugged me and changed it. Why did I write her smiling? Oi. I blame exhaustion. Alright, now it seems to be a bit better...

[edonil]

“Arias, get out here! Captain Stormhand’s going to rip the place apart!”

“What in hell?” He looked up from his book, then dropped it onto the table in his living room. The captain stood up, running over to his door, sticking his head out into the courtyard. “Dammit, what’s going on?!”

Alexis stood in the middle of the courtyard, lightning arcing off her. “Oh bloody hell! Alexis!” he called out, running towards her. What had set her off? He could see several soldiers trying to get close to grab her, but the lightning was getting in the way.

“Let me through,” he yelled, pushing past the crowd of observers that was gathering. Arm raised to shield his face, he slowed down as he got closer. “Alexis! Alexis, calm down!”

“Why should I, Arias?” she yelled, tears running down her face. A bolt flashed from her hand past him, and he flinched from the heat and the light. “He’s dead, dammit! That bastard from Drasvar killed him! And you want me to calm down?”

“What are you talking about? Who’s dead? I don’t understand,” Arias said, trying to inch closer to her. Another burst of lightning nearby, and he swore, all the hair on his head standing straight up because of the static that surrounded her. “Tell me what happened, Alexis, I don’t know!”

“Matthias is dead,” she snapped, heading for the gate. “And I’m going to send that bastard to hell for it!”

Arias stopped, his mind grinding to a halt. Dead? His old friend was dead? That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. “That can’t be right,” he whispered, staring dully at her. A bolt of electricity hit the ground in front of him, and his world disappeared in a flash.

He woke up a few seconds later as his body limply hit the ground. Gritting his teeth, he levered himself up, then collapsed again as his muscles spasmed. “Damn it all,” he bit out. He could feel liquid running from his ears, and vomited onto the ground. Stubbornly, he got to his feet, wiping the vomit from his face and watched one of the field medics run toward him.

“Sir, hold still!” She grabbed him by the arm, flinching at the bolts still bursting all around them. He stared at her, unable to understand. All he could hear was the ringing, but he could sense the lightning through the trembling of the ground. Arias shook the woman off, trying to get his legs to work right, but stumbled to the ground again.

Alexis continued her steady pace, ignoring the shouting around her. Suddenly, she stumbled is if she’d run into a wall. Arias watched uncertainly as she shook her head, and said something he couldn’t hear. Why couldn’t he hear anything? He looked up to see another one of the mages, Arthur Windborn, standing in her path, dust swirling around him. Alexis threw her arm up, sending a lightning bolt crackling past the man, who flinched away from it.

Windborn said something back, face tight from exertion. The commander took a half step away from the woman, fists clenched. The two mages spoke again, Alexis shaking her head angrily, tears running down her face, then she threw another bolt of lightning at Windborn. Expression frustrated, he threw his hands up and made a pushing motion. Arias tried to stand up again as he watched Alexis fly through the air, slamming into a wall.

“Alexis!” he yelled, starting to run toward her. Immediately he fell to the ground, vomiting again, head spinning painfully. After a few moments, he looked up to see the Mage Captain lying limply on the ground, eyes closed. Arias felt the medic grab his arm again and shook the woman off angrily. “Go help her!” he snapped.

The medic frowned, saying something to a person behind Arias. He turned to see who was there, and felt a stab of pain in his arm. He opened his mouth, then collapsed onto the ground as darkness overwhelmed him.

-----
Zygmunt sat in the dark cell, whistling idly. He was surprised at how calm he felt. After all, he had just murdered an enemy captain under a period of truce in front of dozens of witnesses. He knew that he’d be sacrificed in a heartbeat as an attempt to placate Assar… just as he knew that the whole thing was a sham anyway. Too bad he had managed to mess up the timing of the plan. The negotiations were supposed to implode from unreasonable demands, not a true act of war.

He leaned back against the wall, blindfolded eyes staring up at the ceiling. He would have loved to have been pacing, but they had chained his ankles to the floor. Assar obviously wasn’t used to dealing with mages as prisoners, but he had no reason not to play along at this point. The blindfold was an interesting trick he hadn’t thought about, nor had his mentor, Lady Isabella. What the purpose behind it was, he wasn’t sure.

He stopped whistling as he heard footsteps and the door to his cell creak open. He tilted his head toward the entrance, listening. After a few moments of nothing, he said, “Can I help you? I’d offer you a seat, but that’d be a bit difficult at the moment.” The chains around his wrists clinked together as he attempted to spread them in a welcoming manner.

He heard footsteps again, and flinched away as he felt the blindfold being removed. His eyes watered at the bright light that now filled the cell, and he blinked a few times to clear them. A sardonic smile lit his lips as he saw his guest. “Librarian Abner, what a pleasant surprise.”

“You know, Zygmunt,” the other man said, leaning against the bars of the cell. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned all of this insanity. That, or you’re just one hell of an unlucky bastard.”

“How about we go with a little of both. I’m guessing you want to know if I found the book?”

“Amongst other things, yes.”

Zygmunt chuckled. “You can rest easy, the book was found. Not without a bit of work, though. It was hidden in the covers of the oldest books in that record room. Honestly, it was a clever little scheme that they pulled off.”

Naked avarice was clear on the librarian’s face. “And the contents? What was it?”

“It seemed to be everything we’ve been told, but it wasn’t complete. I’m sure I found every page that was in that room, but I couldn’t make any sense of the details. Still, it’s enough to know that the legends are true.”

Abner clapped his hands together, a broad smile on his face. “That’s excellent! Then all of this will be worth it after all.”

“You had doubts about that?” Zygmunt shook his head. “The master has never led us wrong before.”

“Hmph. Of course I had doubts. The idea that this kind of knowledge ever existed, much less still does, is a bit of a stretch. Still, now that we’re certain that it is real… well, that will certainly change things.” The librarian arched an eyebrow. “Of course, you know that this forces my hand in this situation.”

“I expected nothing less. I know too much to be left alive, after all.” Zygmunt raised his head proudly. “I gladly give my life for this cause.”

“You’re remarkably calm in the face of your own death.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I know just as well as you what the legends are about this information. Death holds no final barrier to us once our master holds all the pieces. ‘Even though I die, I shall rise again’,” Zygmunt quoted.

Abner stared at him uncertainly for a few moments. “You are one hell of a disturbing fanatic, Zygmunt. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Well, I’ll hardly be in a position to regret it, will I?” the mage asked with a slight smile. “And perhaps I am a fanatic. It does seem a little insane, even to me. But at this point, I don’t have anything else to trust in. Did you at least make sure to bribe the guards?”

The librarian snorted and pulled a metal gauntlet out of his robes. “This is supposed to cause more problems, remember? I used electricity to knock them out. People who take bribes are just more people who can talk, and that will lead to more complications.”

“I didn’t think you used lightning.”

“Normally, I don’t,” Abner said, pulling on the gauntlet and flexing his fingers. “I don’t tend to use gauntlets either, but lightning isn’t my specialty. Fire would be aptly fitting, but it’ll be harder to try to pin the blame on Alexis Stormhand if we did that. Even if they prove that she had nothing to do with it, it will finish the damage you’ve done and absolutely ruin the talks of peace.”

“Ah.” Zygmunt slowly stood up, joints stiff. “Is this going to be quick?”

“Unfortunately, no. A woman out for blood with Stormhand’s reputation? This won’t be quick at all.” Sparks began to fly from the gem at the center of the back of the gauntlet, and Abner nodded in satisfaction. He looked at Zygmunt thoughtfully. “Do you want a few moments?”

“I appreciate the offer, Abner, but no.” Zygmunt smiled. “Just get on with it. The sooner it’s over, the better.”

“Of course,” Abner said. He raised the gauntlet, and ignored the screaming that started shortly afterwards.

[Absolution Black]

Wow, I had a lot to catch up on and in the space of those six parts or so, a lot has happened: the plot has thickened, characters have turned one way then another and the pace is starting to crank up!

Everything is flowing nicely along and its good to see you are not afraid to kill off major characters.

Looking forward to the next parts...and when does Black reappear! ;)

[Thechosenone]

Another enjoyable chapter sir. thanks for the good read

[edonil]

Thanks, glad you guys are still enjoying it. I want to do some editing of that last scene when the muse is more cooperative...elril very kindly pointed out a plot hole. I'll call it out when it happens. Have a short (very short) scene up today, didn't have time to finish the second part to it, but this section of it will make sense, so here you go:

General Drake looked up in surprise as he heard the sound of engines in the air. “What the hell?” he muttered, stepping away from the table where a map of Victrix lay. He winced as he looked into the sky, the bright sunlight stabbing into his eyes. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he scanned the air, not seeing anything, but the noise was certainly getting louder. The sound was coming from the east, towards the coastline, but there was nothing out there.


The first explosions came from behind him, and Drake spun, stumbling backwards as the first aeroplane roared overhead from the west. He stared at it dully, unsure of what he was seeing. The plane was unlike anything he had ever seen, with one set of wings and a sleek, rounded fuselage. A different kind of roar ripped out from it as machine gun fire lanced from it towards the ground. He turned his head and watched in horror as the bullets tore lines in the dirt and blood flew through the air.


His bodyguards ran to him, helping him up out of the dirt. “Sir, are you alright?”


“I’m fine,” he snapped, shaking off the soldiers. “Get me a radio, now!” Drake looked up, cursing under his breath as he saw a second plane on an attack run. Where had these things come from? They certainly weren’t Victrixan planes, those had been destroyed during the invasion. Even if they hadn’t been, the design was all wrong! He took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists, forcing down his emotions.


“Calm,” he whispered, eyes closed. “I am… calm.” His eyes opened and he began to clinically study the second plane as it committed itself to its run. He memorized the layout of the wings, the placement of the weapons, the lack of visible landing gear. Of particular interest to him were the colors, a pale bone white with blood red trim. If these were mercenaries, his spies would be able to recognize them based on those colors alone.


A communications specialist ran up with a radio on his back, ducking down as the second plane dropped its bombs and sent fireballs into the air. “Sir! Who do you want to call?” he yelled over the explosion.


“Get me the Ascension,” Drake ordered, dropping to one knee to make himself a smaller target as the machine gun fire started. The bullets landed closer this time, sending dust into the air close enough to make the soldiers huddled together start coughing.


The radio officer pulled his backpack off, adjusting the settings and pressed the headset against his ear. After a few moments, he held the headset up to Drake, who snatched it out of his hand. “Ascension? Get your flyers out here, dammit!”


“Who is this?” the voice on the other end snapped. “We’ve got enough problems out here without some jackass getting on the line making demands!”


“This is General Drake. Who are you, soldier?”


“Sorry, sir! Lieutenant (someone) (someone), sir. My apologies,” the voice said, obviously nervous. “We’ll try to get you some air support right away, sir, but Ascension is currently under attack.”


“What?! Under attack by who?” Drake winced as a third plane flew by, followed by more explosions and gunfire. “Ascension, we need your flyers out here, we’ve got at least three planes out here and they’re doing a lot of damage.”


There was a mutter of sound from the earpiece, then a different voice came on. “General, this is Wing Captain Voigt. Ascension is under attack by at least ten aeroplanes of a design I’ve never seen. At the moment, we haven’t taken too much damage, but I’d rather not risk the ship if I don’t have to.”


“Well, consider this one of those ‘you have to’ moments,” Drake snapped. In the distance, he could hear the deeper, throaty roar of gunfire from the Drasvarian defenders who had finally gotten their weapons armed. “Trust me, Wing Captain, a court-martial will be the least of your worries if this occupation gets wrecked by three damn planes!”


“Right, sir,” Wing Captain said, his voice trembling. “I’ll detail a flight to help your forces immediately. Expect them in five minutes.”


“They better be here, Wing Captain.” Drake threw the headset on the ground as the line cut out. He stood and froze as the radio officer screamed, the roar of the machine gun providing an unusual counterpoint to the shrill sound. The general felt liquid splash onto his face, and reached up to wipe it off his cheek. He glanced down at the warm fluid, and felt his stomach attempt to rebel as he stared at the blood.


He looked up and around, amazed to find himself still standing. Both of his bodyguards were dead, along with the radio officer, the ground around them stained crimson. Shaking his head to clear it, he began to walk away from the bodies, pausing only to grab a rifle from the blood soaked ground.

[edonil]

Another short scene today, continuing off the previous one from another angle...I'll have one more scene in this sequence and then we'll be moving on. Some more character development for Faulkner...

Faulkner watched the attack from a distance, holding a spyglass to his eyes. A sense of grim satisfaction filled him as he watched the mercenary planes systematically destroy the Drasvarian base. He turned to the man who stood next to him and smiled. “Your warriors are quite impressive, Chieftain Gansukh. I must thank you for so speedily considering my offer of employment.”


The tall dark skinned nomad nodded from within his bone colored robe. “It is my pleasure,” he said. “Not often that we get to face as capable a foe as Drasvar. The clan was eager for a fight, and your offer will allow us to earn some coin in return.”


“I’m glad that you’re enjoying the sport,” Faulkner said. “Now that I’ve seen your warriors in combat, I’m quite curious if any of the rest of your kinfolk would be interested in such a fight over the next months.”


“You must have quite the treasure if you expect to hire more than one clan,” the chieftain said, blue eyes curious. The Victrixan only smiled in return, and Gansukh grunted. “It is possible. How many clans do you have use for?”


“How many clans are near Victrix?”


“Twelve. Two other clans travel the skies, three hunt on the seas, the others find their way on the land.”


“Then I have use for twelve,” the colonel said. He held out his hand. “Will you find your kin and join them to my cause?”


Gansukh looked down at the hand, face hard, and drew his knife. “You think me a fool, Victrixan? You seek the death of the Bedere in this land! Why else would you want us all in one place?!”


“Heh.” Faulkner shook his head, letting his hand drop. “I know that my people have done yours many disservices over the years, Chieftain. But I mean you no harm now. Look around! Victrix is bleeding out. We have no leaders, no government. The citizens are only too gladly embracing the Drasvarians.” He spat on the ground, face twisted in rage. “There’s no way to keep this country together now. It’s dead and gone, it just doesn’t know it yet. I don’t seek to restore my home. It cannot be done. No, I want to punish Drasvar. I want to hurt them, to bleed them.


“Your warriors were eager for this fight? I assure you, my men and I hunger for it. There is only one outcome to this war: annihilation. Whatever the cost, we will pay it. What we can’t pay for, we’ll steal. If we can’t steal it, we’ll kill for it. There is nothing left to lose, except our lives, and even those are pitiful things. This war is happening, Gansukh. I wish to do it with the Bedere at my side, for none are as skilled or fight as hard as your kin. But if you won’t fight for me, I will find someone who will. And after Drasvar is beaten, I will remember the Bedere, and how they refused to fight for us. Then I will devote my life to hunting down you and yours.”


The colonel glared at the taller man, eyes filled with murderous flame. “I will not allow for failure. Do you understand me?”


The Bedere returned the glare, then began to laugh. He rammed his knife back into its sheath and grabbed Faulkner’s hand, shaking it heartily. “You have spirit after all, Galjin! You have my warriors and their Falcons. I will talk to the other clans.”


The colonel smiled hesitantly. “Galjin? What does that mean?”


“Of fire,” the other man explained. “You will lead us to the shores of hell, yes? It is fitting for you to have a name showing who you are, in the Bedere way. We will follow you, Galjin.”


“Good. I think we are done here, Gansukh. You’ve shown Drasvar that their victory here isn’t as complete as they think. If you wouldn’t mind withdrawing your warriors, I think it’s time we start planning for the next part of our little war.”

[edonil]

Meryn stood from her morning prayers, knees aching some. Sleep the past few nights had been difficult to come by. She couldn’t help seeing Daegal’s death in her dreams, smelling the blood and gunpowder… she shook her head, concentrating her thoughts on the challenges of the day. After the raid on the Drasvarian base, her flock had been taking a break from the fighting, receiving training and supplies. Tonight would be their first time back in the field, and she had much to prepare for. The woman picked up the rifle she had been given to learn with, and carried it outside.

Learning the weapon had been difficult, and she wasn’t very good with it yet. She had figured out the breathing, though, and managed to hit her target at least half of the time. Her instructor assured her she was doing fine, saying that she would improve the more she practiced.

Meryn smiled as she felt the warm sunlight on her skin, turning her face upwards and closing her eyes. God’s creation was a wonder to her, and she received it everyday with joy, especially since the war’s beginning. After a few moments, she sighed and proceeded to the area where Disciple Mallory was holding audience, meeting with those of the flock who would be involved in the raid.

The small crowd around the Disciple had their heads bowed as he lead them in prayer. Some of them stood, others kneeled, depending on their personality. Meryn’s flock was one of the most mixed, with people from several different traditions joining together to defend their homeland against the invaders. Even now, in this simple act, she could see the diversity in how they acted, some of them holding symbols of the faith in clenched fists, others mouthing the words the Disciple spoke, still others with eyes closed and not moving. It humbled her to see the people of the church join together, setting aside their traditions for their greater call.

Her own faith was an intensely private one, but she could appreciate the power of the Disciple’s faith as he led the prayer. She bowed her head, adding her own words silently to his prayer, feeling the presence of God in the company of these other believers. After a minute, the Disciple stopped, and Meryn lifted her head up. She braced the rifle on the ground, leaning against it to make herself more comfortable as the Disciple started talking.

“Tonight, we’re going to be leading the way in for a larger assault,” he said. “As such, we’re not interested in fighting a normal battle. We don’t have time. We’re going to be trying to do as much damage as we can to their supplies and machines, then pulling back. As the fighters for our flock, the bulk of this will be on you. I wish I could say that we were going to be getting help, but we won’t. We’re the closest ones to the base we’re attacking, and that’s why we have the job.”

“Disciple,” one of the men asked quietly, raising his hand. The priest nodded, and the soldier continued. “What kind of supplies are we going to be hitting? And do we know where they are?”

“We’re going to be destroying all of the food, but leave the ammunition alone. If the raid goes off as planned, the larger force led by Father Malvyn will capture those supplies and we can use them ourselves. We have plenty of food coming from the villages, but we’re running short on bullets for our rifles. We think that the supplies are to the east of the base, back towards the coastline, but that’s only guessing.”

“Targets?” Ella asked, her scarred face eager. Meryn shivered slightly as she watched the other woman. An intense believer that all who were not part of the church deserved death, Ella had always bothered Meryn.

“Nothing has changed along those lines. Leave the wounded and anyone not fighting back alone. Knock them out if you feel they are a threat, but we are not going to be active in wanton destruction. We want to drive Drasvar out of our land, not encourage them to start slaughtering our people out of hand.”

The woman grunted her acknowledgement, clearly unhappy. Meryn couldn’t fathom what had made Ella so bloodthirsty, and hoped that she’d follow the Disciple’s instructions. Disciple Mallory looked around, apparently waiting for any other questions. He nodded in satisfaction, then turned to Meryn.

“Meryn, would you start a hymn for us? Something to focus our minds the rest of the day.” She started, staring at him uncertainly. He hadn’t ever asked her to do anything like this before. She didn’t even think that he’d known she was a singer back home. At his encouraging smile, she began to sing, an old hymn from her home about the mercy God offered those in His service. Her voice trembled at first from nervousness, then strengthened as the others joined in.

The group stood after the song finished, then separated to their tasks. Meryn stayed behind for a few moments, hoping for the chance to speak with the Disciple. When the others had left, she walked up to him. “Disciple?”

“Yes, Meryn?” he asked with a smile.

“I’m… I’m not sure I should be doing this, Disciple. Being a fighter, I mean.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s just… I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said hurriedly. “I’m not a warrior. I barely know what I’m doing with this thing! I know why I’m here, I believe God called me here to fight for Telios and defend my home, but I certainly shouldn’t be somewhere important.”

“Meryn, you’ve been with us since the very beginning. You’ve been at a dozen raids, and you even faced down a hunter. And still, you’re here. In spite of everything that you’ve seen, you’re alive and staying. That matters a great deal.”

She started to chuckle bitterly. “Does it? I’m anything but a brave woman. When that hunter came after me, I panicked. I felt like a scared child, and wanted to do nothing but run.”

“Did you have to shoot that hunter before it started to chase you?”

“Well… no.”

“So why did you?”

“To keep it from hurting anyone.”

“Well, there you have it,” he said with a smile. “That’s why you’re here. Meryn, you sought to protect others over yourself, and did it without hesitating. That makes you perfect for what we’ve asked you to do. You don’t know much about fighting, no, but you know a great deal about courage.”

“If you say so,” she said doubtfully.

Mallory chuckled and shook his head. “Meryn, you are an unusual woman, and you have a good heart. Go in peace. Try to relax some so that you’ll be ready for tonight. We’ll be counting on you.”

[Thechosenone]

Good addition sir. For me, reading through it, I get a sense of great reluctance on the part of Mallory to even be sending people out on this particular mission. It seems like such a delicate surgical mission to be on, causing destruction while at the same time being careful about specifically what is targeted. The mission itself seems difficult.

The characters are spot on and well written as always and I say it every time but i'll say it again. Wonderfully edited and readable.

[edonil]

Holy crap, the muse seems to be back from her coffee break...well, just two more scenes before I come to an actual 'break' in the story, and I'll make a new thread once I do. This one is getting a little unwieldy...Some notes on this scene at the bottom. Enjoy!

Isabella looked up from her work with a barely restrained scowl. The building shook once more, dust falling from the rafters, and she set down the scalpel on the metal plate that rested on the table in front of her. “What’s going on?” she demanded, glaring at the guard who stood at the door.

“I’m, uh, not sure, milady,” the veteran soldier said nervously, scarred face pale.

“Well, go find out!” she snapped.

“Yes, Lady Leon.” The guard snapped to attention, boot heels clicking together, and left the room at a run. She shook her head and rested her hands flat on the table, staring at the corpse that lay on it with frustration.

“Why is this so difficult?” she asked no one in particular. Isabella snarled as the building shook again, grabbing a knife and stabbing it into the corpse. Unfortunately, the act did nothing to slake her aggravation. She took a deep breath, brown eyes closed, and let it out slowly. That didn’t help either.

“Dammit,” she muttered. “What am I missing? What is it that I don’t understand?” She walked over to the book on the table, and started flipping through the diagrams, eyes scanning it hungrily. The pages were weathered and yellow, the ink fading, and she stopped at every section of writing that had worn away to try to make out more of the details.

“Bah,” Isabella said finally, shoving away from it. “Worthless thing!”

She walked over to a small stand in another part of the room and poured water into a glass. Taking a sip from it, she turned back to contemplating the book. The book had been retrieved from the ashes of the Victrixan Academy that the fortress of Dragon’s Teeth had been guarding. The Academy had been destroyed so many years ago, that few, if any, of the Victrixans remembered it had existed. The superstitious populace had torn the building down, burning it and the mages inside. Idiots, she thought. Weak-minded fools always would destroy what they failed to understand. Still, at least they had missed this manuscript.

The knowledge it gave was archaic and bizarre, and it sounded almost like those ludicrous fantasies of changing lead into gold. If she didn’t know better, she’d have dismissed it out of hand as just another madman’s ramblings. But, she did know better. The book was part of a set spread throughout the Academies around the world, hidden and suppressed because of what it contained. It had been considered too dangerous, too unstable to work with, and the Telosian church in particular had called for the destruction of the knowledge outright. They hadn’t wanted anyone messing with-

“Isabella!”

“Hm?” The mage looked up, thoughts interrupted. She arched an eyebrow as General Drake entered the room, covered in dust that fell off him while he stalked towards her, then narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “What are you doing here? I said I didn’t want to be interrupted.”

“Too bad,” he bit out, stepping close to her. Sensing the anger coming off him like waves of heat, she took a step back, fighting her own anger. Who the hell did this normal think he was? How dare he act like this toward her?

“You’re too close,” she said quietly, fingers clenching into white knuckled fists.

“I don’t care. Your little experiment with that colonel just exploded at my feet, and I’m not about to put up with it. What the hell were you thinking? I’m not sure if you’re stupid or incompetent when it comes to planning. Now that he’s started this insurrection early, all of my planning is going to fall apart. We were supposed to be done with this campaign and leaving in a week, so all this would be handled by my replacement.” His eyes burned as he glared at her. “Now, we get to deal with it, and the entire scheme is affected by it. I will not have my glory stolen from me, do you understand?”

Isabella forced a laugh to cover the murderous feelings that crept up on her. “I think you forget what’s going on here, General. Shall I remind you? You’re a pawn, you insignificant fool. A tool, however valuable, but a tool nonetheless. And you think you can dictate orders to me? You barely know your part in the plan, and nothing about the greater portion of it.”

“A pawn?” Drake reached up and grabbed her shirt by the collar, teeth bared. “I don’t think so. I won this war, and I’m going to get exactly what I deserve, dammit.”

Instinct overrode everything, and the mage grabbed his arms to pull them away. When nothing budged, Isabella let a savage grin on her face. A sharp crack filled the air, and the smell of ozone and burning flesh wafted into her nose. Drake screamed, dropping to his knees as electricity charred his skin.

She had to fight down the urge to kill him. Of all the non-mages she had encountered, Drake was one of the most frustrating. Most feared her, or at least respected her. Drake thought himself superior to her, and she hungered for the chance to prove just how wrong he was. But she couldn’t.

“You’re lucky, Drake, that those above me value you more highly than I think they should. Otherwise I’d kill you right here. As it is, we’ll need someone here to take the blame when this rebellion proves too strong to overrun. Thank you ever so much for volunteering for the position. Your dedication to the cause rather than your honor is commendable.” She punctuated her words with another charring bolt of lightning to his chest and smiled as he fainted.

Isabella walked back to the book and picked it up, snapping the cover closed with one hand. It was time to leave, and move on to her next task. She glanced at the unconscious general and paused. After a moment, she decided that it would be best to let the soldiers know where he was. The object lesson would be better if they knew she had caused the wounds, after all. Nodding, the mage walked to the door, letting her mind wander to where she would be in the next few weeks. Why her master wanted her to work with a Wing Captain on the Assarian front was a mystery that would be intriguing to speculate on during the trip…

So, the one regret I have writing this, is that the tension between Isabella and Drake is extremely abrupt. It's something I want to work on when I start revising stuff (which is going to happen, I swear... sometime, lol) and I plan to add in some scenes of these two showing it. Hope it didn't throw anyone off too much.

[TheOneWhoFell]

wow... I finally got caught up (I started at the party where Soli meets what's his face). And all I have to say is WOW. I'm really mad about the bloke you killed... and I'm looking forward to reading more :)

[elril]

wow... I finally got caught up (I started at the party where Soli meets what's his face). And all I have to say is WOW. I'm really mad about the bloke you killed... and I'm looking forward to reading more :)

It is a war (several in fact) and wars aren't believable unless people die. I am going to miss wintertide, but I am guessing his death is going to fuel the other protagonists on.