Arcane mercenaries gener.., p.23
Arcane Mercenaries: General, page 23
Christoph had once saved Grant from himself and gave the mercenary a new purpose. Grant met Ez, Cheli, and Jafran on the fields of battle, and he found a home with a group of Touched misfits avoiding the zealots and the church’s fires. Hundreds of mercenaries waited for his leadership and would follow him anywhere.
The church would hunt down the remaining Touched, and the Tul would continue their hidden campaign to gain StarTouched power. The Mad Emperor would fret about the Apocalypse, and Eklund would continue its successful campaign against Alenann. The war with Nanteene would go on.
Nothing would change in the Mage Wars if Grant disappeared. Things would get worse.
Grant took a deep breath and gazed upward to find the few flickering stars holding back the night’s darkness. He caught a whiff of the peculiar scent of their extinguished flames.
Grant believed he could make a difference. The Mage Wars changed when a small company of Touched officers came together to protect themselves. Nations fought over who could afford their price, and opposing armies dreaded seeing the colors of the Arcane Mercenaries leading the charge.
Jafran watched his commander and friend but said nothing.
How could he betray this trust? Jafran traveled to Maro to save him from himself. Ez believed in him when everyone else wanted to keep him in prison until the next battle broke out. Cheli and Christoph died because they trusted him.
Grant held out his hand to his friend. Jafran reached back, gripped his friend in a bear hug, and thumped a hand into Grant’s back. They released each other and stared at the remains of the science experiment.
“Hey, you down there.” A voice called from the upper levels of a residential building.
Grant looked up at the face looking down.
“Put out that fire. It’s not allowed in the streets. Go find a bar or something.”
That was the best advice of the day. Grant and Jafran walked back to their quarters.
38
RACE
Grant’s body ached after the clash with the Tul soldiers, and his Touched powers coursed through his veins to heal the wounds. Doctor Tytus wanted to ask questions, take measurements, and probe Grant, but the mercenary captain would have nothing to do with the man’s science after destroying the vials. Jafran’s glare also kept the man at bay.
Grant watched the doctor reorganize the research area and gather his notes. The quill went to work as the beakers bubbled with unknown fluids. He wanted to pull the man out of this lab and whisk him away to a location protected by his mercenaries. A small team could get him out of this office and sanitize the lab before the church, the Tul, or the city knew what had happened.
Instead, Grant waited for his soldiers to arrive. He gave them explicit orders to keep everyone away from the office because of the dangerous research. Refer questions to the Arcane Mercenaries headquarters. He didn’t think the small patrol would stop the influential organizations interested in bringing down the Touched, but he would respond in force.
He just needed those seventy-two hours.
Comfortable with the laydown of his soldiers, Grant left the office and returned to his headquarters. His Touched power receded when they reached the upper floor of his headquarters, and his injuries didn’t leave scars.
The place was alive and busy with soldiers scribbling reports and marking maps. Messengers reported in with Jakar, and the cavalry officer directed the newcomers to talk with the appropriate staff officer. Grant watched the activity with pride and a strong sense of curiosity as his command center changed from a pair of soldiers updating rosters to a wartime operation.
“Captain, welcome back. You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Jakar said as he broke away from another messenger. Mud splotches covered his uniform, and the man bowed as he approached his captain. Grant smiled with Jakar, deep in his element.
“What’s going on?” Grant asked.
“You know I maintain good relationships with the Alenann scouts and couriers.”
“I didn’t, but I’m glad that you do.” Grant’s officers never ceased to amaze him with the depths of their skills and their devotion to their unit. Even without his cavalry deployed, Jakar could still gather information.
“Well, it took me a few days, but I found a friend of a friend of an old acquaintance. You know what I mean. In any case, the Alenann leadership is getting terrible news. Eklund defeated several divisions, and the queen’s making her move toward her next objective.” Jakar led them to the board with a detailed Alenann map.
“You’re going to make me wait for the answer, aren’t you?” Grant asked. Jakar enjoyed the theatrical side of his job, and Grant endured the suspense because the rider was the best in the world at his business.
“Semturm. They’re coming this way.”
Grant eyed the map and checked Jakar’s math. Soldiers stepped aside as Grant and Jafran checked unit locations and confirmed Jakar’s proclamation. Semturm was next.
“What are your spies saying about Semturm’s response?” Jafran asked.
“Spies? Come, my friend, I’m not a government worker. These are close associates and friends who like to share information,” Jakar joked with the first sergeant. “Semturm is unprepared for the turn in this direction.”
“They just had a strategy meeting with every commander in the area, even those as far away as Varenne. They don’t know what to do?” Grant couldn’t believe Semturm had no prepared plans.
“How long until the population realizes their merchant lives will turn into a siege?” Jafran asked.
“The reports are just coming into the Alenann headquarters, and I don’t think the city is aware yet. But when the lord mayor finds out, she’ll have to prepare for the attack.” Jakar shrugged his shoulders. “Days?”
If they were lucky, they’d have days, Grant thought. Bad news traveled fast, and he wouldn’t count on that much notice. The lord mayor was about to have her hands full.
“What’s the status of the cure?” Jakar asked. His friends lay in the hospital as well, and their recovery was more important than ever with the Eklund offensive.
“The doctor hasn’t worked on one.” Jakar clutched the hilt of his saber as Grant let the words sink in. “The Tul and the church influenced how hard the doctor researched the cure. It turns out our good doctor decided he liked full funding from everyone who would drop off some gold,” Grant said. “But we ended that, and the doctor has some exceptional motivation to produce.”
“We need everyone,” Jakar said. The war was coming to Semturm, and the Arcane Mercenaries would be back on the front line.
After dinner, Rienne returned to the headquarters and sought Grant. Her eyes glowed with wonder as the command center hit full swing with regular reports, but she didn’t stop and talk to everyone.
“Good news?” Grant could use a change of pace.
“You look like someone didn’t like you poking around again. Please tell me you didn’t fight with the cardinal’s men,” Rienne said.
Grant glanced down at his torn uniform and the dried bloodstains. “It’s not all mine, and it wasn’t the cardinal’s forces. The Tul visited our medical friend.”
“And you made sure they won’t get to speak to him again?” Rienne asked.
“Well, the ambassador got away, but his bodyguard is much smaller than it was this morning. What about my officers?”
“No change. Your soldiers and those from the Alenann military keep everyone away. The medical staff keeps the Touched comfortable,” Rienne said.
Grant worried his plan wouldn’t work. What if Tytus’ disease turned back the effects of StarFall, and his officers couldn’t heal? He couldn’t think like that. Tytus Gornick worked for himself and his science and kept Grant’s friends in a coma.
“Will you keep visiting them?” Grant asked. “Things are getting busy around here, and the city won’t have time to help them.”
“That bad?” Rienne pointed to the maps and the activity.
“Yeah, Eklund is coming this way, and Alenann can’t win a fight on their home terrain. Semturm is in the path, and the city is unprepared for a siege. My mercenaries lying in those beds are about to be forgotten. I can’t let that happen,” Grant said.
“I’ll help, but you should get cleaned up. Everyone keeps staring at you,” Rienne said as she held her nose.
Grant chuckled but took her advice.
He was glad he did as the following days became busy with activity around his headquarters. Every morning, he got an update report from Jakar’s “friends” about the Eklund advance and Semturm’s preparation, and the news was never good.
Alenann fought a heroic delaying action, but the terrain didn’t favor the defense. Open fields and rolling hills allowed Eklund’s forces to brush aside pockets of resistance and consolidate their forces on the march to Semturm. Messengers raced to the emperor’s vassals to raise troops to defend their lands. Grant doubted it would help Semturm.
By lunch, the command staff analyzed the status of the Arcane Mercenaries. Jafran delivered miracles by securing military supplies to replenish the mercenaries’ depleted stock. Every day, the lines crept forward as the Arcane Mercenaries quietly prepared for the inevitable battle.
General Lasch didn’t invite Grant to the city’s planning sessions, and Grant worried about the commitment of his mercenaries. He suspected the church’s outsized influence kept him and his officers in the dark, so he relied on Jakar’s contacts to keep their awareness about the city’s events.
At nightfall, Grant and his inner circle broke away from the command room and entered his private quarters. They discussed the status of the officers and the development of the cure. The Arcane Mercenaries made exceptional progress preparing for the upcoming battle, but they fell short every day regarding the crippling disease.
Doctor Gornick’s time was running out.
At the end of the third day, Grant had a decision to make. Part of him wanted to exact revenge and put the doctor to the sword for the pain and suffering he delivered to Sina and the Touched officers. No one would question his justice, but he faced the lord mayor’s ultimatum.
A larger part of him recoiled at either option. He couldn’t murder this man while there was still hope for a cure. Tytus still had value, but Grant couldn’t allow him to disappear in the siege's chaos or the mayor’s dungeon. He developed a different plan.
Grant, Jafran, and an entire squad of mercenaries waited the three days of Grant’s demand. When the soldiers entered the office, the secretary stood up and stepped aside from the procession. He didn’t realize his services were no longer required.
“Captain, I need more time,” Tytus said. “Developing a cure could take weeks, months, or even years.”
Grant didn’t say a word as his soldiers filled the room and waited for his command.
“You had three days, and you delivered nothing. Our agreement was three days, or it was the end of your life. Have you filled out your will?” Grant asked.
The man’s knees buckled when his pleas did nothing to soften Grant’s stance.
“Three days wasn’t enough time. You don’t understand the science. No one has ever tried this before.”
“Collect his papers—all of them,” Grant ordered.
His soldiers didn’t hesitate as they moved through the room and gathered every scrap of paper, including blank pieces. Grant was afraid of a cipher or hidden message on the blank paper, so he gave them orders before they entered the room to collect everything in boxes and sacks.
“No, you can’t. Please,” Tytus begged.
“Restrain him,” Jafran said.
Two soldiers revealed shackles and restrained the man’s arms behind his back. Tytus collapsed to the floor as he witnessed the soldiers’ efficient work and watched them transition to collecting his laboratory equipment.
“I warned you, doctor. And I live up to my promises,” Grant said. “But I value my officers’ lives over yours, and I’ll be your exclusive employer. You’re coming to the mercenary camp with your equipment and notes, and you’ll deliver on your promise.”
“I need the controlled environment of my office. You don’t understand.”
“No, doctor, you don’t understand. I’m not protecting this office from the Tul, the church, the military, and the city anymore. You won’t get distracted by someone else’s offer. You’re missing the proper motivation, and I think my military camp might be exactly what you need.”
“You’ll be sorry, captain. I swear it,” Tytus said as the soldiers pulled him to his feet.
“I’ve heard that so many times since StarFall,” Grant said. “But I’m positive you’ll be the one who is sorry if you don’t produce a cure. I swear it.”
39
MISCOMMUNICATION
“Captain, we have a problem.”
Grant tried to focus on the voice tearing him out of his dreamless exhaustion. He pushed off the blanket and rubbed his eyes to focus on his tiny room. He thought he would lie down for a couple of hours, but sunlight streamed through the windows. A soldier was at the foot of his bed, trying to get his attention.
“That’s a tough way to wake up. What’s the problem?” Grant asked.
“The city is here to arrest you,” the soldier said.
The sleepy haze burned away instantly, and Grant’s mind was in full gear.
“Where’s the first sergeant?” Grant rumbled as he fumbled for his pants.
“He said I was the newest soldier on the watch, and it was my job to wake the captain.”
Grant chuckled, and he felt terrible for the man’s discomfort.
“Next time, don’t believe everything the first sergeant tells you. You’re dismissed, soldier.”
Relief crossed the man’s face as he hurried out of the room. Grant ran his hand through his hair and examined his complexion in the small shaving mirror. His StarTouched abilities couldn’t substitute for a good night’s rest, and the dark circles under his eyes and fatigue lines on his forehead were proof he needed more rest. Whatever they woke him up for wouldn’t wait.
Grant flipped open his footlocker and saw a folded uniform. The jacket was black with red trim to highlight their current contract with the emperor, and his pants would tuck neatly into polished boots. Jafran ensured his captain’s rank reflected the light and stood out from the dark material. He grabbed his cloak, hat, and weapons as he headed out of his quarters.
The command center was a bustle of activity with soldiers consolidating intelligence reports and updating maps. Stacks of paper covered every surface, and another team pushed through the paperwork. Pride swelled in Grant’s heart as he watched his team perform the thankless job of command and control. He couldn’t be prouder of these soldiers as they prepared for the upcoming battle.
Jakar and Jafran waited for him near the door.
“The cavalry is ready to move now, and the rest of the company is on alert,” Jakar said.
Grant glanced at the maps to glimpse the encroaching red line of enemy forces pushing toward Semturm. The general staff had to decide to fight away from the city or prepare for a siege. They were out of time.
“When did you get more clothes?” Grant asked Jafran.
Jafran chuckled. “The city came to arrest you, and you wonder what tailor I use?”
“Every time I think I should get a uniform cleaned, I end up with a new set.”
“When you decide to clean a uniform, you should burn it. Getting another is easier than finding someone to touch the filthy ones.”
Grant laughed as his first sergeant handed him a steamy mug. The hot liquid burned his lips but never felt so good as the bitter taste filled his mouth and warmed his belly. The last traces of slumber evaporated, and his mood improved.
“So, what does the city want with me?” Grant asked after enjoying the brew.
Someone banged on the outer door downstairs, and voices shouted up from the street.
Jafran shrugged his shoulders. “They were polite and had written orders to bring you in. I made them wait.”
Grant placed his coffee down and adjusted his belt. “I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting. They’ve been respectful so far.”
A dozen soldiers waited in the streets, readying their weapons. Grant wondered what they expected from him, and he sorted through the arrangement of units. The city guard was closest to the door, but the Alenann military had a pair of soldiers. The troops in the cardinal’s red and white concerned Grant.
“Captain, you’re under arrest,” a city soldier said.
“On what charges?” Grant asked.
“Crimes against the church,” a guard from the cardinal’s forces said.
Grant turned back to the city officials. “I didn’t realize Semturm enforced church law. I’ll stop by the church and ask for penance after breakfast.”
The soldiers on the street didn’t know what to do. Grant didn’t resist arrest, and he wasn’t disrespectful. The mercenary captain wasn’t in the mood to be compliant.
Jafran and Jakar joined Grant on the road, and the mercenaries pushed through the first row of city soldiers. People watched from Monument Street as the soldiers confronted the officers of the Arcane Mercenaries, but Grant had no intention of fighting outside his headquarters. Alenann needed every trained soldier it could muster to throw back Eklund.
The cardinal’s veterans weren’t pleased. Grant moved through the city forces unopposed, but the church soldiers moved to stop them.
Grant stopped a foot away from the line of the cardinal’s soldiers.
“I’ll take you all to breakfast if that makes it easier,” Grant said.
“Captain, we have orders. Please don’t make this difficult,” the city officer tried again.
“I didn’t see the paperwork for my arrest. Who signed the warrant?”
“The lord mayor.”
