Shadows in the Smoke - Chapter 39 - Guard Duty

  “Before the Republic, hunger was the natural state of a large portion of humanity. Barring famine and similar disasters, most nations produce all they need to feed their peoples. However, in less advanced systems, the nobleborn accumulate a surplus far above their needs and in doing so create a deficit for the majority of their subjects.”

  The Struggle for Freedom by Bjarne Midthun

  =====

  Jakob Rostad stood on the fort’s battlements, the collar of his coat turned up against the frigid wind. It was only getting colder and there was no sign of their promised relief.

  His breath misted as he let out a sigh. The more senior officers seemed unconcerned, but then they would. They’d been through so much together, sometimes it felt like he was just a boy amongst men.

  It wasn’t like he wasn’t a veteran. He’d fought the undead before being assigned to the 13th; almost everyone had. But it wasn’t the same. The 13th got the most dangerous missions, the hardest tasks. They were the best of the best, led by the most effective soldier in the Republic. Sigrid Lindholm might not be the most powerful Arcanist in the nation, but there was no one he’d rather follow into battle.

  But he was still afraid, terrified even. His stomach was never full. The undead camp looked huge and every day without reinforcements just made things worse. He didn’t know how the others could seem so relaxed when he was constantly scared he was going to unman himself.

  Not that Jakob would ever admit that to them. He’d die of embarrassment to say something like that to grizzled veterans like Ulrik.

  His men were depending on him too. They were probably even more scared than he was, so he had to reassure them. He had to convince them that, whatever he might be feeling on the inside, he was utterly confident in their survival and victory. Anything else would be dereliction of duty.

  Jakob glanced at Mazar. She stood beside him, looking out over the snowy landscape. Once she’d started coming out onto the walls, she’d borrowed a Republican overcoat, otherwise she might have frozen to death just standing there. He had no idea how the woman could have thought it was a good idea to come this far north without proper winter clothing.

  For a moment he allowed his mind to wander into fantasy, a drink, a kiss and… He forced it away. There were a few female soldiers in the fort, but no officers other than Sigrid. That meant no dalliances, not unless he wanted to bring his career to a crashing stop. Mazar was no different really, a Chartered Mage and a diplomat: he might as well set his promotion prospects on fire.

  Sometimes it was hard to imagine what her life in the Empire must have been like. She was clearly a very dangerous woman, but she managed to be so naive at the same time.

  Despite all that, she didn’t seem to be as cold as he was. She never so much as shivered while she was up on the walls.

  He’d initially thought it was some kind of technique the Empire taught its Mages so that they could ignore heat and cold. It was the sort of thing they’d want to know, so that they could emphasise their superiority over ordinary subjects of their queen.

  After her first day patrolling the walls, he’d nearly asked her if that was true, but then he’d looked at her again. Not just looked with his eyes, but really looked. Whenever she was out in the wintry air, there was a hint of magic around her. Not enough for him to be able to see its shape, but just enough for him to be aware of it when he focused. So, either a spell or a Schema to keep herself warm.

  The thought made him grimace slightly. He wasn’t sure what it said about her. Was she a fool for wasting her energy on warming herself when they might be attacked at any point? Or was he the fool for standing there shivering in the cold? Or maybe he was just jealous that she could do it subtly enough that he’d only just noticed. She was a strange girl, woman. He needed to remember they were the same age.

  He could never quite make up his mind what she was thinking either. One moment she behaved like a typical, haughty civilian dignitary. Full of arrogance and offended by everything around her. The next she’d be almost awkwardly shy or naive. The Empire must be a strange place. He couldn’t imagine an Arcanist of her skill acting like that.

  Jakob glanced again at the Mage. He really should try to learn more about her.

  “Quiet today, isn’t it?”

  “Mmm.” Mazar didn’t take her eyes off the empty ground surrounding the fort. “It feels like it is quiet everyday. In the stories that is always a bad sign…” She made it sound halfway between a question and a statement.

  “No doubt they’re planning something. It’s just a question of what it’ll be.” He looked back out at the snowy ground. “Whatever it is, we’ll smash it.”

  Mazar nodded without looking at him. “I am sure we will. Hopefully we-” She suddenly turned to one of the spotters. “You, Citizen, may I borrow your telescope?”

  “Uh…” The soldier glanced at Jakob and then handed it to Mazar when he gestured his assent. “Yes, Ar- Mage.”

  “Thank you.” Mazar brought the device to her eye and panned it across the landscape. “Ah. Yes. There is a group of them perhaps three miles away. Doing something in no man’s land.” She pointed ahead of her.

  Jakob gestured and the other spotter handed him his telescope. It took him a few seconds to find them, but eventually they sprung up into the lens.

  “Hmm.” He fiddled with the focus, trying to sharpen up the image. How had she even spotted them? “About twenty of them, dressed to blend in with the snow. Too far away to hit I think.”

  “Are you sure?” Mazar had a distant tone to her voice, one that he was quickly coming to associate with her being deep in thought.

  “Far beyond anything I can manage, I suspect Arcanist-Colonel Lindholm could, but other than that…” He left an opening for her to correct him.

  “I think you are right, although we could try building a ritual here and now. If you lent me your power we could strike further out.”

  “No.” Jakob shook his head. “We can’t let ourselves get distracted by something like that when our job is to watch.” More importantly, there was no way he’d make himself that vulnerable to an Imperial Mage, even one who seemed so determined to be helpful.

  “Fine.” He got the impression Mazar hadn’t expected him to agree. “I wonder if there is some way to extend my range though. Perhaps, if I… Oh, yes, that might work. Maybe.” There was a hint of excitement to her voice now, an enthusiastic energy that hadn’t been there before.

  “Mage Mazar…”

  “It is already cloudy, I wonder if I could… No, I do not think so.”

  “Mage Mazar…” Jakob had no idea what she was thinking and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out when it all went wrong.

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  “Shhh.” She didn’t even look at him. “I wonder. Tamfala dol’ellende’fa ai’sgoth nvatn e spèittan antan marnak’ai’gr?nn.”

  Runes exploded around Mazar in a flare of magic that stretched far into the sky. Jakob was left standing there, his jaw dropping slightly as he tried to parse the spell. He knew the words, but that was only a small part of the equation. It was clear enough that she was trying to use the clouds to extend the spell. Presumably she’d expand it into lightning when it reached out far enough. He just couldn’t see how it worked though. The complexity of her magic left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth. Surely this wasn’t typical of what an Imperial Mage could do?

  “Gr?nn nvatn ai’diwaien ai’saig vlidsich jel’ai’saarde.” Mazar rattled off more words and the magic changed again, smoothly shifting to run along channels she’d already formed up and into the clouds.

  Lightning. At least that part of the spell was clear to Jakob, even if he was probably going to spend the next few days trying to decode his memories of the rest of her spell. Surely she hadn’t just come up with it on the spot?

  Far away from the walls, the spell came together in a boiling mass of cloud. A moment later, blindingly bright lightning flashed down to the ground, to be followed a second later by the crash of thunder.

  Mazar let the spell dissolve and sagged slightly. “Bother. That was not even close.”

  Jakob looked back out at where they’d seen the enemy. She was right. For a moment he’d actually believed she could do it. Still, there was no need for her to look so despondent. It looked like she’d managed to land the strike a good three kilometres away. That was more than double what he could have managed.

  “Don’t be…” Jakob trailed off as his training reasserted itself. “Mage Mazar, we need to move to a different part of the walls.”

  “Oh, why?” Despite the question, she followed him without protest as he stepped back from the parapet and started walking.

  “It’s probably fine, given the wards around the fort, but it’s a good habit to be in. You’ve just put on enough of a display that anyone watching probably knows exactly where you are. That means they can hit the spot you’re in with a surprise attack, or they can avoid it and attack somewhere you’re not. So it’s better to move.”

  “Ah, that makes sense. Sorry.” It was hard to tell with her darker skin and the cold, but Jakob was fairly sure Mazar’s cheeks had darkened in embarrassment.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you’ve had military training, you wouldn’t have known.”

  For some reason her face went blank at that. Had he offended her? He was trying to be nice! Jakob groped for something else to talk about before she decided that she was going to blank him for the rest of the day or something.

  “Uh, I was very impressed by your spell. Where do you sit on the Frandsen-Brunsvold Scale?” It wasn’t, strictly speaking, the most polite question to ask, but he was genuinely curious.

  “I do not know.” She frowned. “Is that how you rank yourselves?”

  “Oh. That was a silly question I suppose, you said to the Arcanist-Colonel that you didn’t have the scale in the Empire. Yes, we use it, mainly for military purposes though. I suppose it’s not all that precise anyway, but in the army we all get tested until we plateau.” If they survived long enough to hit their full strength, he didn’t add. “What do you do in the Empire?”

  “I do not think we do anything. I suppose I know people’s strengths by reputation or by seeing them perform magic. Maybe it is different for Battle Mages, but if it is, I do not know about it.” She looked as unhappy as she always did when she admitted ignorance of something.

  “How odd.” It seemed very disorganised. “Do you not have criteria for promotions? Like a minimum strength to be a Mage or Master? Or even an Archmage?”

  Mazar hesitated, coming to a stop for a brief moment. “I had never thought about it in any detail. Her Eternal Majesty decides on who is awarded the titles like that."

  Jakob couldn’t help but notice the almost reverent way Mazar named her queen. It was ridiculous how indoctrinated the woman was, just like most privileged people in the Empire he suspected. Still, he couldn’t quite resist tweaking her nose.

  “Your Undying Queen must be a very impressive woman if she has time to consider every single new Mage’s promotion.”

  He was rewarded with an annoyed look from Mazar. “Obviously she would not have time to consider every case personally. However, she has the final decision. That is why I can say that I was awarded my Charter by the Throne.”

  There was so much pride in her voice that Jakob didn’t quite have the heart to keep teasing her. “Of course. So, how do recommendations get presented to her?”

  “Well, Chartered Mages come through the Academy. The professors there decide when an Apprentice is ready and then recommend them for their Charter.”

  “And for Masters or Archmages?”

  “Hmm.” He got the impression she’d never really thought about it before. “I suppose it is just a consensus for Masters. If enough other Masters think you are worthy, then the Throne will take notice.” That seemed implausibly vague. “As for Archmages,” she laughed, “they are so rare that I think even someone as busy as Her Eternal Majesty would be able to find the time to consider them personally.”

  “Ha, I’m sure you’re right.” She actually had a nice laugh, when she relaxed enough to let someone hear it.

  “What about the Republic? Is everything based on this Framsen-Brundsvald Scale?”

  “Frandsen-Brunsvold Scale,” Jakob idly corrected her pronunciation. “Not as such. Most Arcanists don’t need regular testing, so while you might be tested during your training, unless you join the military that might be it. We don’t have different ranks of Arcanist in the way that you do, so really the only time that you need to worry is at graduation. At that point, there’s a series of standard tests that you have to complete and if you score above a certain level on them then you’re awarded the title of Arcanist.”

  “That sounds…” Mazar trailed off as she searched for words. “A bit inflexible.”

  “Ha, well your system sounds a bit imprecise.”

  To his relief she smiled at that. “Maybe there is no perfect system to judge these things.”

  “You’re probably right.” As far as Jakob was concerned, the Republic’s was better, but then, he suspected she thought the Empire’s was superior.

  =====

  By the end of her first week of joining the Republican soldiers’ patrols on the walls, Ester was bored. She hated to admit it, when she’d been so desperate to actually contribute, but walking up and down Fort Statvinger’s walls, or watching from a higher vantage point just wasn’t exciting. She didn’t know how all the soldiers didn’t go mad.

  She paused to look out into the night. After the first few days, the Republicans had decided she was able to work by herself rather than needing Jakob to be with her the whole time. It was nice that they trusted her skills that much, but she missed at least having someone to speak to. Jakob was decent enough company, for a Republican. Unlike the ordinary soldiers. Some of them were coldly defiant, as if she was plotting to appoint herself as their lady or something. Most of them were just politely distant though. Not so different from the commonborn men of the Watch when she’d first arrived in Vass Karan.

  Her job was to focus on looking out for signs of the undead, especially anything magical that the non-Talented soldiers might not see, but nothing actually happened. The most excitement she’d had was trying to figure out a way to hit enemies in no man’s land and that had ended in humiliating failure. Great Spirits only knew how much she'd hurt her reputation after Jakob saw that.

  The cold and hunger didn’t help either. She could at least keep herself vaguely occupied by surreptitiously casting silent heating spells on herself and trying to make them as subtle as possible, but maintaining them got tiring as the hours of a shift dragged on. Especially with the distraction of the gnawing feeling in her empty stomach. She still ate two meals a day, just like everyone else in the fort, but they weren’t enough. Watery soups with a little bit of vegetable and perhaps some dried meat. Plus a small piece of bread that wouldn’t satisfy a child.

  She could see the hunger in the eyes of the common soldiers, but the Republican officers never complained. They must be affected, but they didn’t show it. So she hid her own hunger too. She wasn’t going to be shown up by the Republicans and there was no way in the world she would complain before they did. That didn’t mean that her mind wasn’t constantly drifting back to thoughts of food.

  Succulent roast meats. Thick sweet curries. Rich vegetable stews. They all floated through her mind, quickly coming sneaking back whenever she forced them away.

  Would the undead win by simply starving them all to death? Presumably they didn’t even need to eat, although that didn’t quite fit with what people had said about vampires and liches. Maybe only the stronger undead needed to eat. There were living people in their army too. That much was clear, so they must be hungry too. But they could get supplies. Fort Statvinger was isolated. How did the undead feed their troops anyway? Would the horrific prison camps and slave labour that Jahangir Amini described really be enough? Probably if all they cared about was feeding their army.

  Ester shuddered at the thought of the undead. Not for the first time, she found herself fervently hoping that the Republic’s government was more effective than she’d been told it was. She didn’t want to die. Obviously. But she really didn’t want to die wasting away from hunger until she was too weak to fight back properly.

  Ester gave herself a shake and turned her eyes back to the ground outside the fort. She wasn’t even sure there was much point in looking through the dark. It wasn’t like she could see much, even with the dim light provided by the moon shining down from the clear sky. In daylight it might even be quite pretty, she’d never even seen snow before she’d left Trevayn.

  Hopefully her relief would come soon and she could get some food, however inadequate, and some rest. In the meantime, Ester started to mentally run through the types of undead Jakob had told her she might encounter. Walkers, ghouls, vampires…

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  Dramatis personae:

  Ester Mazar - Chartered Mage, must not embarrass myself in front of Jakob...

  Jakob Rostad - Arcanist-Subaltern, why is everyone else so much cooler than me?