A Royal Coalition for Our Very Survival

Long into the night, the group was made to travel across a vast, featureless plain under the protective invisibility of Daigay’s magic, only the plant-adorned sentries for company; and what poor company the soldiers made.

They kept quiet, speaking with their silent hand language, air the only good exchanged willingly – though maybe not even that; given the frequency with which they passed the shimmering threshold, in and out. If the wagon risked diverting in any unapproved course they would gather at one side and stare at the magus through hooded caves until she realigned her direction or ran them over. No one had tasted the pleasures of life as a speedbump. Yet.

Ol-Lozen himself held no love for these quiet specters. The one with mutable height unnerved him most of all. Shrunken back to inconsequential size, they jingled along at the head like a purse holding three polished coins. But Daigay was willing to extend a measure of trust, so he would endure their prickling mannerisms. He did, however, envy them their stealth suits: night had plunged the temperature down to a freezing low. He’d once read of the suits unfortunate benefit as a heat trap.

At a certain point after many hours, the sentries gathered around their jingling leader and held up their hands for Daigay to halt. Ground to a stop, Ol-Lozen heard the gentle shick of a sharpening stone from the wagon, and looked inside to find Joshua laboring over his hatchet. Mouse ran her hands along the spine of her book, as if petting it for comfort.

“Cease your barrier. We are here,” the leader said. Without question, she follows their command.

With the shimmering gone, the landscape is revealed in full. To no one’s surprise, vines blanket the ground. It is the only vegetation in view for miles, a sight allowed by the flat terrain. No trees grew in these former badlands, nor bushes. If there’d been tough grass at one time, the vines choking the sandy soil have overrun the blades and eaten the seeds. Steep sedimentary rock outcroppings formed walls of young mountain ranges layered in earth tones, the jeweled sea of heaven above within reach if one were to stand atop one and stretch out their hand. To Ol-Lozen, the stars here were more visible than any time previous, and he stood enraptured by its majesty until Daigay rapped on his chest with the back of her hand.

He returned his attention to the soldiers quickly enough to see the last one stride into rippling nothingness, as if the empty vine-stuffed plain had been illusory, the soldier passing through an oily film to the true landscape beyond.

“They are bending light as well to hide from Incursion sight, just as Mouse and I predicted,” she said, seeing his awestruck face. “Possibly even sound. We must only walk forward.”

Past the barrier was a new world entirely. Light and smoke from countless fires blotted out the traces of night visible beyond the haze of protective magic. From a sea of tents rose pavilion islands in a mishmash of styles and colors, banners of allied kingdoms meekly fluttering in what little wind had been allowed through. There were soldiers half-garbed in plate armor, archers in colorful leather, men and women in free flowing robes with dangling sleeves and curved swords at their waists, turbans wrapped tight on their heads, women with bows the length of their bodies, men chained at the wrists to bulbous spiked spheres, warriors on horseback with sharpened clubs of wyrm bone. Ol-Lozen counted scimitars, falchions, double-bladed spears, pikes, flanged maces, unwieldly flails, shields emblazoned with a plethora of crests and sigils. Weapons and people gathered together, all for a single purpose.

They were guided by the sentries through the camp to one pavilion at its center more elaborate than the rest. Smaller structures branching off gave an appearance not unlike a mansion. A road flanked by colored banners bearing royal sigils led up to it. The wagon was stopped there, and the sentries took positions in a line, stripping the suits they wore from their bodies and hanging them over their posed arms like towels, like butlers awaiting an order. The leader handed theirs to a companion before approaching the wagon. Raven hair flowed down their back; dark metal that appeared to drink light and offered no reflection clad their arms and legs in the carapace of a beetle.

“Only you and the Orkan are required,” they said. “My underlings will remain here until we return.”

“Lead on, then,” Daigay replied.

In the pavilion was a wide rectangular table upon which a colossal map lay unrolled, pinned with tiny flags in various colors. Documents, charts, and ordered lists scribbled with values were arranged about the table, around which grizzled men and women convened, not an unscarred face among them. A tired, solemn man holding onto the last dregs of white hair was speaking at length, a wrinkled finger emphatically prodding the subject of his words. Ol-Lozen had met enough military types to gain a feel for hierarchy, and thought him a general.

He looked up at his new arrivals, giving them his full attention while he waxed overlong about troop positions, or the events of Goldhome-In-The-Dell his sentries had caught sight of, or necessary information to bring their new magus into the fold, or a verbal slap on the wrist for using birds to spy on them; none of it had any bearing on Ol-Lozen. He spared no attention for what was said, not only because he – as was customary – had no grasp of the language, but because standing behind the general was an Orkan.

A muscular Orkan at parade rest, clad in full plate, black hair pulled back into a braid that reached down to the small of his back. At his waist hung a pair of axe-bladed tonfa with spiked, brutal-looking gauntlets for his knotted fists. He wore the dour drawn expression common to military types, and eyes that accused every slight movement of hostile intent.

His gaze flew to Ol-Lozen’s awestruck one, traveling down to his toes, then back up to his face. Down. Back again. Lingered on the Tankbuster. He blinked and his eyes snapped back to constant attention, and did not return. His chest rose the smallest amount and fell.

Ol-Lozen hadn’t caught up with the conversation being finished until he was already back outside, the orderly ranks of banners guiding Daigay and him like runway lights on their descent to reclaim the wagon. This time, they were given free leave.

“Independent forces gather at the camp’s edge. Sequestered more like, but we will join them anon.”

Fewer campfires burned where the independents took residence, and the fancy pavilions present elsewhere were conspicuously absent among their number. Many forsook tents entirely, and had chosen to lay their bedrolls under the stars. Under the barrier, at any rate. Even glued together by magic, their wagon was a pavilion all its own, standing out above the rest. A firepit was dug, a fire was started, and a meal’s preparation was underway. Daigay chopped vegetables wearing a scowl sharper than her knife. The others sat around the fire; Joshua warming his hands, Mouse engrossed in a new tome on maladies and sickness, her finger tracing lines on differentiating malign buboes from the benign.

Ol-Lozen felt keenly aware of both kinds swelling in his body, the fire’s warmth barely noticeable. That Orkan’s stare replayed over again, and again, and again until its afterimage was burned into the screen.

Joshua lifted his head to peer at the other campfires, observing the lives of those he’d be marching alongside, and gasped. A lone, gangly form hunched by their own fire to the north. “It’s that woman,” he whispered, furtively pointing. “That soldier who made herself taller before.”

“You’ve taken a fancy to them?” Daigay asked.

The red of their campfire hid his blush about as well as a bear concealed its intention to eat salmon –  while it stood in the river. Her scowl lessened, if by the thinnest of hairs. “I only jest, boy. No need here for embarrassment.”

“I’d only meant to point out a familiar face.”

“Considering how long we’ll be here, the chance to grow very familiar is high, indeed.” With her knife’s blade she slid thin slices of carrot into the bubbling cookpot. “Our road will be littered with casted stones. If you’ve any nagging desires, then I suggest you act on them while time permits.”

“I do not take fancy to those I’ve only met, to say nothing of how she and her allies drew arms on us. How long is long? Months? Days?”

“You know as much as I. These leaders keep plans close to their chest here. A magus who finds them without invitation is not one considered trustworthy. I hate the idea of blindly following, but, if we must, then we shall, carrying out whatever task they ask of us.” She rolled her eyes. “Managing the animals, no doubt. Inspiring their troops with song and dance. Cutting meat too tough for broken teeth. They will find work. If not, they’ll create new ones from air.” Into the pot she dumped yellow onions, garlic, the last of their cream, and sliced chunks of washed pork, covering their soup once done.

A deep belly laugh rumbled from the night.

“None so tedious as what you describe. Though, the tasks of magi here are never-ending, I will admit, and for good reason. They keep one from dwelling on the doomed aspects of this mission that has taken over our lives.”

From the edge of their firelight approached a plump man dressed in all the shades of red, his robes long in the sleeves but short in the legs so he would not trip over his own garb. His skin was brown, bordering on black, so his teeth stood out against the night when he smiled. “You are new arrivals, yes?”

Daigay’s face was stone. “We only arrived in the hour.”

“Ah,” he said, bumping his forehead with the palm of a hand, “Forgive me. I forget myself in these times.” He held a hand over his heart. “I was named Edrikt, former court magus to Lord Larkhen the Second before this expedition.” With a cough to clear his throat he turned to Ol-Lozen, pausing, before he growled out, “Edrikt. It is nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” The response spilled monotone from the Orkan’s tongue, caught off-guard from hearing his language. They were basic words, but understandable. He hadn’t expected to be acknowledged in the first. Joshua leapt to his feet, a shaking finger pointed at Edrikt.

“You can understand our demon!”

Edrikt winced. “Only the essentials. The complex Orkan language brims with stumbling blocks that have proved more troublesome than expected. Even with constant practice, my vocabulary is no greater than a child’s.” He held up his right hand. The runes were there, blended neatly into his skin.

Beaming, Joshua banged on the ground beside him with an open hand. “Have a seat with us! Have a seat with me! Only Daigay here knows what our demon says, and she never shares her wisdom.” His boisterous laugh masked the daggers from Daigay’s eyes.

“I’ve placed high value in language since my youth,” she grumbled. “Knowing more words earns you more respect. Embarrassment can be avoided, bad deals intuited. Repositories of otherwise inaccessible knowledge open up by speaking additional tongues. There’s no reason not to.” Daigay held up her own runed left hand.

Edrikt inclined his head in agreement. “May I sit?” he asked her.

“By all means.”

He placed a hand to the ground and whispered. As he raised it up, so did a flat seat of earth follow. “It is fortunate the ritual affords magi direct access to the language of the summoned,” he said, sitting. His eyes flicked over to Ol-Lozen momentarily. “It has allowed a fruitful partnership between myself and Az-Uharapak.”

“That damned scientist is here?” Ol-Lozen’s head whipped so fast his neck cracked.

“He does come complete with a certain reputation, I’ll admit.”

“Murdering hundreds tends to see that happen.”

“You said a scientist?” Daigay interjected. A familiar twinkle had lit in her eye.

Edrikt sucked his teeth, looking between the two of them. “An impeccable mind, he has, save for his failings. I had been warned those affected by his actions might one day arrive seeking vengeance,” he said to Daigay. To Ol-Lozen, he asked, “If you’d please allow me a chance to speak for him –”

“Go ahead.” Ol-Lozen crossed his arms. “I have no mind for vengeance. Our world believes him dead, is all. Months of televised trials exposed his actions, and he never showed up once. Color me surprised to find him here.”

Daigay smiled, and added, “But he is here in this camp?”

“He is.”

“Might I be allowed to meet him? His is a wealth of knowledge valuable to me, and for my apprenticed granddaughter.” She gestured to Mouse and the tome in her lap.

Scratching at his jowls, Edrikt appeared to consider it. “An audience is possible, though his work requires long hours chained to worktables with all his vials and flame. How about this: I’ll speak with Az-Uharapak, and you’ll confer with…” He let the word stretch out.

“Ol-Lozen, and he accepts.”

Fire crackled in the pit. If one listened, they could hear the bubbling of stew in the pot, and the pages of Mouse’s tome as she turned one thin sheet.

“If you’ll excuse me, then, I must away and see this meeting established. A pleasure it’s been to meet you all.” Before leaving he returned his seat into the ground, and acknowledged all present with a hand on his heart. Edrikt’s eyes lingered on Ol-Lozen, and the Orkan saw a pearl of sweat roll down his temple. He strode off at a faster pace than he’d approached.

Daigay took the lid off of the cookpot and began to stir, adding in sprinkles of salt and pepper from a pouch at her feet, and a hand’s worth of hazel leaves, giggling to herself all the while. “A scientist,” she whispered, “A scientist! After all this time I’m finally thrown a chance.”

She reached over and squeezed Mouse’s tiny shoulder. “Just dream of all you might learn! All the new methods in which to ply your craft with new understanding.” Sighing, she tilted the girl’s chin up with her thumb and forefinger. “Are you not excited?”

“The day’s been a long one, grandma. With a night of rest I’ll be new and happier.”

“See that you are, daffodil. For tonight, we sleep well!”

“Why do you keep claiming yourself as the demon’s master and not letting Mouse have it?” Joshua blurted out.

The two magi turned towards him, sitting there, hands folded in front of his knees with face drawn severely. “You kept it from me, you kept from our new friend; and if I placed a wager, I’d wager you’d keep on keeping your secret. What I don’t understand is – why?”

“You’re livelier than expected,” Daigay said. “Incursion wasn’t enough and now you want to pick fights with magi, is that what your mind desires most? Here I thought disembowelment would have subdued you.”

“If anything, that pain made me more, especially since you can keep me alive with your magic.” He grabbed at his father’s necklace. “I followed you. From home to these lostlands I followed you, and I will follow still, but I want to understand also. Like the demon,” he said, pointing to Ol-Lozen. “He just sits there not knowing the words coming out of our mouths, all silent. Doesn’t he want to know what’s happening here?”

Daigay watched him carefully. From the ground, she picked up a small bowl and spoon, and from the cookpot ladled out a generous portion of the soup. She set that one aside for herself. Pouring another for Joshua, she held out the bowl, he offered thanks, but she did not budge when he tried to take it.

“Mouse, put down the book. Repeat what I say to Ol-Lozen.” Only then did she let Joshua have his supper. “Would you like to learn the summoning ritual? Have your own Orkan to order around?”

He blew on a spoonful of hot soup. “You would teach me?”

“Oh, there’s no teaching involved. Mouse only had to read the notes I’d received on the subject. A child can complete the ritual; in the same way a child can become a moneylender. Would you like to also hear a scrap of history about the kingdom of Roun, when a child was made to preside over their justice system? Enlightening tale. The boy pronounced his pet bear as arbiter. Want to learn how the kingdom collapsed the following year?”

“I only want the answers I’ve asked for, thanks.”

“Narrow-mindedness does not become you. Have you not wondered why only one Orkan travels with us? Given what we saw in Goldhome-In-The-Dell, would it not benefit us to have two? Three? An army? Or why I’ve not summoned Ol-Lozen a companion?” She leaned in closer to the fire. “Because I cannot. There’s a debt incurred with summoning – our world’s the moneylender – and any further borrowing will end with me facedown in the proverbial river.”

Joshua scraped the bottom of his bowl. “My Da’ was right about the crimes of magi, then. There really is a great pile of sins under the bed.”

“Metaphorically speaking.”

“You sound like an authority on summoning demons.” He swallowed another spoonful of soup. “Mum would say exactly the same words you would whenever I gave her an answer that was both right and wrong.”

“In a way most magi you’ll meet are authorities on summoning. If you had any notability at all, you received the exact notes Mouse grasped successfully from the one, Quaqua, who conceived the magic.” She handed a steaming bowl to Ol-Lozen.

“What does that make the Incursion?”

Does it matter what they are, thought Ol-Lozen.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Given the soldiers’ plans include a particular destination, they must have some novel theory. Perhaps we’ll learn they really are divine retribution.” She started filling a bowl for Mouse. “The simplest answer I can give about Mouse is this: I can resist the demands of leaders as I’d done in Larkhen’s Hold while my apprentice lacks the skills. They’ve tried to take him once. Knowing the power bonding them, she will be tempted into ordering him to burn their cities, slaughter all their soldiers, and behead the royal line next time such occurs.”

“I would never do that!”

“I never said you would, only that you could.”

“Your demon is a strong one, Mouse.”

“He threatened the Orkan in the tent, that’s why he was ignored.”

“What would they even speak on? Separated by time and a world of experience, what possible commons exist between them?”

Mouse cried something in her words

Daigay responded with snark.

Joshua asked another question, for he was curious.

Daigay elaborated on her own intelligence.

Joshua rose up, excited, and pumped his fist.

Mouse, looking her book, said something quietly that made them all laugh.

Ol-Lozen supped his soup as the conversation continued, the sounds of banter steadily moving further away. Fire crackled. Spoon scraped bowl. Chew. Chew. Chew.