Baiting the Muse

[edonil]

The sound of steel scraping on steel filled the air as Arias stepped into the practice yard. After a week of strategy meetings, he just needed to hit something. He tapped his sword hilt against his shoulder as he walked, holding the rapier by the sheath. He took a deep breath as he passed through the gate that separated the yard from the rest of the barracks complex, letting it out with a satisfied grin. “Been far too long.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he saw the crowd of people around one area of the yard. It took a few moments for him to find an open spot on the far side to observe the fight. As he saw the combatants, he crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed with curiosity.

Wintertide stood in the ring of people, a longsword held in a high guard above his head. His opponent was a blond woman in full armor, holding an odd pair of curved daggers. Her stance was low to the ground, with the blades of the daggers following her forearms. After a few moments of circling each other, the woman charged forward, swinging up and around with one dagger as the other stabbed at Wintertide's chest. The Mage-Captain spun to the side, dodging the stab, and swung his sword to deflect the other blade.

Arias winced as the sound of the blades scratching against each other filled the air. A moment later, he stumbled back with a muffled curse as an explosion lit the air. “Oof!” he heard from behind him as he fell into someone. He could feel a pair of hands on his shoulders holding him up.

There were several explosions after the first, the time between them decreasing rapidly. Abruptly, the yard was quiet. Arias finally dropped his hands from his ears with some confusion, unable to remember covering them. He blinked watery eyes and shook his head. “What the hell just happened?”

“You stumbled into me,” an amused voice said. He turned around to see Kiiva Strata standing behind him, a crooked smile on her face. “Or did you mean the light show?”

Arias flushed slightly. “Sorry about that, Colonel. More meant whatever the hell Wintertide is up to.”

“No worries, Arias,” she said. “One of the Rosethorn mages, Selena Devran, is showing off some new techniques. Wintertide offered to help out. Instead of the normal gauntlet that fire mages use to generate a spark, she made a set of serrated edge daggers. They scrape along a blade edge, there's a shower of sparks, and then...well, you saw the result.”

“That's pretty useful,” Arias admitted, hiding his unease. “I've never heard of anything like it.”

“It does come in handy from time to time. Selena isn't the most talented mage you'll find, but she makes up for it in the most important ways- being creative and being sneaky. She helped to develop our jump packs after we left Drasvar.” Kiiva looked him up and down. “So, are you here for some practice?”

“It's been a while since I got the chance to do some sword work,” he said. “Since we're taking the day off from the strategy sessions, I figured I'd join everyone and get back into practice.”

“Need a partner?”

“You fence?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“What, did you think the sword is decoration?” she laughed. “Of course I do. Come on, let's go find some room, I'll give you a lesson in the proper way to use a blade.”

“The proper way? Bah! I'll have fun making you eat those words.”

It took a few minutes for them to find an empty spot with enough room. “So, ready to be embarrassed by a younger man, Colonel?” Arias asked as they both stretched.

“Oh, because I'm so much older than you,” she scoffed. “What, three years?”

“Two and a half, if I remember right,” he said, drawing his sword. He swung it a few times, trying to remember the weight of it. It had been three weeks since his last serious sparring match, but he should be able to hold his own. Kiiva continued to stretch which managed to show off her athletic body to best advantage. He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.

Just what you need, Arias. Falling for a mercenary? What would your family think, eh? He chuckled as he played out the scenario for a moment. His father probably wouldn't care all that much, but his mother was very proper. The idea of her son in a romantic situation with a mercenary, and one from Drasvar at that, would send her into ever so polite fits.

The ring of a sword tapping against the stone of the practice yards brought him out of his thoughts. “Ready to start?” she asked with a grin.

“Might as well,” he said, settling into a low guard.

She charged before he finished the last word. Arias managed to get his own blade up in time to block the attack, stepping to the side to keep her from pushing him off balance. Her follow up attacks were strong and aggressive, driving him backwards as he sought for an opening to breathe. Her style was similar, but unfamiliar enough to leave him off footed.

Arias finally managed to dodge past one of her swings and grinned, stabbing forward in a series of feints aimed high. Kiiva tried to back away, looking for an opportunity to use her longer reach, but he refused to let her. Just as he managed to sneak his blade past her guard to tap against the side of her neck for the ‘kill’, he felt her grab the collar of his shirt with her free hand. One of her legs snaked around his, and pulled, dropping him back toward the ground.

His breath exploded from him as her knee dropped onto his stomach, although he didn’t feel the expected ‘crack’ of his head smacking into the ground. Kiiva stood up, gently lowering him to the ground, and took a step back to let him stop gasping for air. A few moments later, his breathing was under control, and he looked up to see her standing over him, grinning. Arias returned the grin- and cut his foot through her ankles, sending her to the ground.

Kiiva hit the ground laughing, letting her weapon fall next to her. “Well played, Arias!” she said finally. “You suckered me into that one rather handily.”

The Assarian sat up with a grin. “Glad you’re impressed.”

“It'll do for now. Of course, you know that this isn't the end of this.” She stood up, kicking her sword up into her hand. “Hope you're ready for another match.”

“Sounds good to me.”

End Chapter 2

[edonil]

The sound of thunder woke Soli from where she lay, curled in a ball next to Rasha's memory core. Her green eyes opened slowly, her mind weary and confused because of the nightmares that had plagued her for the last several weeks. She grabbed her clothes from the foot of her bedroll, trying not to wake any of the other pilots. Getting dressed within the confines of the bedding took additional effort, but all of the pilots had made the adjustment for the sake of modesty.

She rested her hand on the memory core, taking comfort in the small amount of warmth she could feel. The engineers had said that so long as the core had warmth to it, there was a chance that the raptors could be revived. She sighed, then grabbed her boots and quietly walked out of the storage room.

It had been two weeks since they had left the Javelin behind. Two weeks in which the morale for her already hurt pilots had plummeted after the dismantling of their raptors. In the end, she had chosen to keep in the air the best of the scouts and the combat pilots. All of the pilots had taken to watching over the memory cores in shifts, while the remainder worked to maintain the four left active. She'd started asking Captain Amrell for jobs to give her people, just to keep everyone from spiraling into self destructive behavior.

She finished tugging on her boots, and headed for the bridge of the airship. The Emberlight was built as a combat escort, making it significantly smaller than the Destiny. However, the designs were similar in that much of the ship's major components were built into the framework of the balloon itself, with the exception of the cargo bay that sat snugly against the bottom. Getting to the bridge required navigating a maze of ladders from memory, a task that gave her plenty of time to think.

If Amrell was right, they should be at the closest of the Drasvarian air fields soon. The sooner, the better, in her opinion. They'd lost at least fifteen of the wounded survivors, including three pilots from her own scout unit, and the surgeon wasn't optimistic about the chances of the rest of the heavily injured. They needed to be in a proper hospital.

What idiot thought it was a great idea to send us six weeks out into Assarian territory without so much as a supply base on an island? She scaled up another ladder, snorting at the thought. Funny how no one noticed the problems with the campaign until it all collapsed into ruin. The fact that no one had fought a war like this in the past was no excuse for stupidity while it was costing lives. The world's changed a lot in a short amount of time.

Turning to the last part of her journey was interrupted by a young member of the crew running by. “Sorry!” he called back, grabbing onto the rails and sliding down. Soli just blinked in confusion.

She entered the bridge, surprised at all the activity. It took a moment to find Amrell, who stood by the helmsman, and she carefully made her way over. “What's going on, Captain?”

Amrell looked up, eyebrows raised. “Huh. The kid must have made better time than I thought. I just sent him out to find you, and you're here already.”

“Actually, I was already on my way,” she said. “He rushed by me.”

“Hmph.” He turned to the helmsman for a moment, saying something Soli couldn't make out over the rest of the noise in the room. The crew member nodded, making an adjustment, then Amrell turned back to Soli with a satisfied smile on his face. “We'll be at the mooring tower on Thornhill within the hour. We're home, Wing Leader.”

[edonil]

Soli scrubbed her fingers through her hair, luxuriating in the steaming water of the bath. She leaned back against the tub with a sigh, eyes closed. Finally. A proper bath, for the first time since deployment. And it feels as great as I hoped, especially after all the work of this past day.

Unloading the Emberlight had been a logistical nightmare. The overcrowded airship had people all through its major arteries, slowing things down as the surgeons attempted to get the injured to the hospital. Soli had stayed with her pilots to watch the artisans retrieve the memory cores, finally letting herself relax only after Rasha had been put safely in their hands.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her stupor. She opened her eyes and yawned. “Must've fallen asleep,” she muttered, noticing the heat gone from the water. “Just a minute” she called out in response to a second knock.

She stood up, pulling on a robe from the table nearby. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and frowned. Great. Suppose I shouldn't be surprised that I'm nothing but skin and bones now, she thought, pulling at her cheek. Hopefully a few weeks of actual food will fix that.

Soli walked to the door, cracking it open. “Who is it?”

A middle-aged man wearing ornate black robes stood by her door. “I'm sorry, I seem to have come at a bad time,” he said, hesitating at the sight of her.

“It could be worse,” she said.

“I was looking for Wing Leader Soli Navin, and was told that these were her quarters.”

“That would be me.”

“I am Augustus Marx, Enchanter of the Academy. I had hoped to have a word with you, but... well.” He gestured somewhat helplessly at her. Soli flushed bright red, eyes wide as she recognized the name, then squeaked and slammed the door shut. She stood staring at the door for a few moments, then felt the blood drain from her face.

“Oh hell!” She pulled open the door, bowing in apology. “Lord Enchanter, I'm so sorry, I just...”

Marx stood there in front of her, eyes narrowed, mouth twitching in what she hoped was amusement. “Don't worry, Wing Leader. I apparently caught you off guard, and for that I owe you an apology. Allow me to make it up to you. Say, over dinner? In an hour?”

Soli blinked. “Uh. Of course, milord.”

“I'll send someone to get you.” He bowed. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Soli closed the door, sliding down against it with her face buried in her hands. “I can't believe that just happened.”

-------

“Once again, I have to thank you for joining me, Soli,” Marx said after the meal. “I often find myself eating alone since my wife passed away, and you've been very welcome company.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” she replied with a smile. “It's been a while since I've had anything this nice for a meal!”

“I'll let my chef know, I'm sure she'll appreciate the compliment.” Marx stood, picking up his wineglass, and offered her his hand. “Would you mind joining me outside to continue our discussion? I always make it a habit to see the sunset while I'm by the ocean, and I'd hate to miss tonight's.”

“Not at all,” she said, taking his hand and letting him guide her. It was a short walk to the balcony, and she gasped in delight as she saw the view. “Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous,” she whispered, resting her hands on the railing.

The sun was just starting to set, and filled the sky with a riot of colors. High above, she could see the first of the stars winking into sight. Below her, down at the base of the mountain and away from the military base, she could see the city of Thornhill in all its radiant glory. Many of the buildings were crafted from white stone, which reflected the colors of the sky and gave the city a unique beauty.

“Indeed it is,” Marx said. “I never grow tired of it.”

Soli watched the sky for a few minutes longer, then finally asked, “So, milord, what is it you wished to discuss with me?”

“Ah, yes. I suppose we should get on with business,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I actually wanted to ask if you intended to return to the frontlines of the war.”

“An interesting question. You make it sound like there's a choice.”

He smiled, eyes hooded. “There's always a choice, my dear. Especially in the case of those of you who survived the Destiny. The Council decided that those who wanted could be released from military duty, considering all that's happened. Or transferred to other tasks, if they didn't want to return to the front.”

“I...hadn't thought about it,” Soli said. “I assumed that I'd be sent back anyway.”

“In all honesty, I think it would be best for the military as a whole for you to stay.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Why do you say that?”

“You are something unusual, Soli. Whether you realize it or not, you're a hero. Yes, all of the survivors are, but you specifically have stood out to the people. The Wing Leader who fought the Assarians, who spat in their eye even as they drove us back. Your legend precedes you in many ways.”

“That's not what happened, though. We weren't just driven back, we had to run,” she protested.

“Welcome to the basics of propaganda,” he said with a grin. “The reality is less important in some ways than how it's presented. At times this can be a bad thing, but in a war when something goes wrong? Well, that's when things get shifted around for the bigger picture.”

“I don't know how I feel about that.”

“Propaganda is a weapon, just as important as a raptor or a rifle. It raises morale here at home, and can even cause problems for the enemy if treated correctly. Which, incidentally, leads us back to you. Your status, whatever it's from, can be leveraged for us. We have a new air carrier commissioning soon, the Aegis, and we need pilots for it.”

Soli thought for a few moments. A chance to get away from the insanity? It was tempting, so very tempting. But... but then, if she wouldn't fight to defend her home, who would? Wasn't that why she'd joined the military all those years ago? Who would replace her? “...Alright, Lord Enchanter. I'm not sure how I feel about being a propaganda piece, but if you need a pilot to take charge of one of the wings aboard the Aegis, I'll do it.”

“Excellent! Although, from what I hear, we need to get you new raptors, correct?”

A fresh stab of pain over Rasha hit her alongside the question. “Yes,” she said quietly. “We brought home the memory cores, but we were told not to expect them being revived.”

“Well, I know an artisan who will be taking over that little project,” he said. “He'll do everything he can to incorporate those cores into your new flyers.”

“New flyers? You mean new raptors?”

He shook his head. “Raptors aren't thematic enough for the full impact of what we want to do. We're going to be bragging about your unit coming back from the brink of disaster stronger than ever. Steam, the artisan, once talked about wanting to redesign the raptors with newer techniques, so I'm going to push him to work on making something new for you. Phoenixes.”

Soli stared at the Enchanter. “You have a strong sense of melodrama, don't you, milord?”

He smiled. “Well, as I said, propaganda is a weapon. While we're at it, we might as well push for as many angles as we can. However, you won't be getting a phoenix. Instead, we'll be tasking a new dragon for you. Fitting for a hero, wouldn't you say?”

“A dragon? But...but there hasn't been a new dragon in decades!” Dragons were 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.

“Fifteen years, actually,” he corrected. “I know that you've always been a scout pilot, but I trust that you'll be a quick study. And in case you even think about objecting, this one isn't up for debate, Wing Captain.”

She leaned back against the railing, breathless. “This isn't really fair, Lord Enchanter,” she said severely. “I've been back less than a day and you drop all of this on me?”

He shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I'm a politician, my dear. Fighting dirty is all part of the game.”

“So I see. Well, it appears I don't have a choice but to accept.” She gave a slight bow. “Thank you for this honor, Lord Enchanter.”

“Don't thank me, Soli. You're the one who did all the work. This is the Council's way of showing our appreciation.” He reached out and took her hand, kissing the back of it. “I'm sure that you'll prove our trust in you is well warranted in the coming days.”

[edonil]

So, I really don't like this, but I'm going to stop updating this story. Honestly, I don't like making the decision, it's just that I do intend to publish this novel at some point. Because of that, I need to stop posting this online. However, I do know that there are a bunch of you who've been reading this as I update it. I'm going to start a mailing list where I'll be sending stuff out as I get it done. If you'd like to be a part of that, send me a PM and I'll add you.