*

“Gods! No!” My own scream wrests control of my consciousness away from the memory.

The magi had come to forcibly recruit Melinda. Or perhaps to drain her magical powers for themselves. I never found out. I had found Melinda’s body the next day, barely an hour’s walk away. She was naked, bound, and even paler than her normal alabaster skin would account for. She’d either been useless to them, or served her purpose.

My sores are bleeding openly now. I’m the only one remotely near my campfire. Even Droba won’t come near me. I can’t blame him. There’s nothing he can do for me at any rate.

I’m thirsty. I fumble open the water skin that has been left near me. Gods bless him, Droba has been giving me cold water the entire time, even going so far as to drop one near me from the end of a long halberd so he doesn’t need to come close.

As the cold water hits my lips, I revel in the sensation. As I try to swallow, I begin to gag. Bad idea. I’m now coughing up blood in fairly significant spurts. Not long now.

What in the Nine Hells. Might as well dredge up my most recent memory – the one that got me into this mess in the first place.

*

I’ve followed the Commander for five months now. Not many of us call him Woldrun anymore. He exudes leadership and grace. He gives such respect to all of us. He’s truly admirable in nearly every way. Who better to command this motley band of misfits? He’s speaking to a new recruit, giving him what some of us have come to call “the speech.”

“If you, or anyone else, believes yourself more fit to lead, just say so. I lead because I am most fit for the task. When someone more able presents himself, I will follow that person.

But until that day, you follow my orders without question. If you fail to do so, I will mount your head on my wall.”

Rumor has it that the prior Commander used the same line about mounting heads, but that his odd sexual deviancies left the exact meaning in question. Not so with Woldrun.

“Do we understand each other, Rakegowl?”

The new recruit nods. He is felar. Felar are a race that was created by magic – an attempt by some mage to create a race of slaves. Many of his kind hate all magi for this reason. Often they are filled with a self-loathing as well. I can understand the feeling. Being this close to him makes me uncomfortable.

It isn’t fair of me – Rakegowl isn’t a mage, nor was he technically created by one – he is second-generation felar, he says – but that doesn’t ease the hitch in my shoulders.

The disquiet isn’t helped by the thought of what we’re about to attempt. Our new recruit has brought news of a tower full of magi, and of a terrible ritual that will happen there, soon. Our Commander has weighed the options and decided on a large-scale assault. Take as many mage skulls as we can, disrupt the ritual, tear down the tower, salt the earth – the entire harvest.

We are camped near the tower. Our force is large, at least by our standards. Every scout has been pulled in, all warriors, even the smiths. Some of our number are beginning to show nerves.

Woldrun’s second in command makes the rounds, instilling confidence in everyone she speaks to. She approaches me – apparently I’m showing nerves as well. What she tells me is probably the same thing she’s told everyone else.

“Remember, Relon. A mage can’t throw lightning at you with a knife in her gut.”

It’s a simple message. And not entirely true. But it works. My nerves are better. I nod, and rest my head on my pack, letting my eyelids droop as I see her going to speak to two of my fellow shadow-dwellers nearby. Thieves by trade, brothers by birth mother, Sivorolindo and Elkhalabib have never really explained why their mother gave them such ridiculous names. We call them Sivor and Elk. They relax visibly as she speaks with them.

“Caitlyan, take a look at this.” Calls the Commander. She moves to his side as he draws in the earth near the fire. A battle plan of some sort, most likely. He’s showing her out of courtesy – as drillmistress, she knows her purview is the morale and discipline of the troops, not planning the battles, but he always likes to involve her as much as he can. Respect, again. It is very important to him.

When dawn breaks, we move. I close my eyes fully and try to sleep. No doubt I’ll need it.