Company Unknown 4, page 9
After blasting the giant chicken away with an Ice Fist, Buttons struggled to his feet and met my eyes. Mercifully, he couldn’t think what to say next any more than I could, and he finally gave up to go back to the battle.
To my surprise, the crowd stopped laughing at me. While a few people were disgusted, a lot more showed sympathy or somehow approval. I liked those reactions even less, so I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds of the battle behind me.
As always, they were a confused mess, but I occasionally made out a voice behind a grunt or the subtle difference in an ability I knew only someone in my squad possessed. Unfortunately, there were a lot more sounds I knew belonged to our opponents. Buttons’s spells were at the forefront.
By the time the protective spell released me, I knew what I’d find. We’d lost. The most troubling thing of all was that it made me feel better. I really needed to figure some things out, and as always the best way for that was to hit things—but maybe somewhere else.
WHAT A WELCOME
As the grasp of the spell faded, Captain Jerkass stepped up and cleared his voice. More magic was in play as the sound echoed across the arena. Lending credence to the theory that we were related, and also that I had nicknamed him well, he paused dramatically to take in the entirety of the crowd.
“Ladies, gentlemen, soldiers, warriors, the opinions of our veterans must be heard before we grant the next status as a Gaelkini warrior,” Captain Jerkass said. “What do you say?”
Mask looked ready to speak, but Jerkass stopped her cold with a glare.
He cleared his throat and waited for the echo to die down. “Warriors only. I will ask for the mages’ opinions after.”
Initially turning to address the audience as a whole, his attention was now directed toward another raised area, identical to the one that held Mask and the guards who had led me in, but on the opposite side of the arena. Judging by their shinier armor and clothes, I figured this second group to be some sort of important people. Unlike the nobles who filled the role in most kingdoms back home, this group’s clothing and equipment glowed more from enchantments than to make it look pretty. Not a one of them had anything that didn’t have a few dents or scratches from use. I still didn’t like them, but I had a feeling I might respect their prowess at least if it ever came to a fight—and this is me, so there almost assuredly would be blows.
A scarred middle-aged man with half a horn missing was the first to speak. “The prince’s skills are quite a bit lower than our standards, but he does have that adaptability our warriors have lacked for decades.”
Sighs, grumbles, and headshakes came from behind him at the last point.
The same forceful glare returned to Captain Jerkass’s face, but unlike Mask, this opponent met it full on. “And what is your recommendation, Samptin?”
“That the prince needs more training before he can be considered a regular warrior in our army,” the scarred warrior in the stands said.
Instead of using the voice that he so loved gifting to the world this time, Captain Jerkass simply beckoned toward the box with his hand. Half the people behind the warrior raised their arms in response. Another person stepped forward to replace Samptin, who returned to his seat. This older woman had no scars or blemishes on her face, yet I saw even without using Perception that she could wipe the floor with the scarred warrior and probably everyone besides maybe Jerkass. The respect they showed to her back, the way they held their breath when she spoke, the unease on their faces—I knew those small signs for what they were.
“We have no king. For how long, we do not know. Not having someone in charge for even a small time can be disastrous, as we saw last week. And the laws are clear: No king, queen, prince, or princess can command our armies if they have not passed the trial to become a regular warrior. I do not like agreeing to this any more than Samptin and his cronies, but I say we put the prince on a kind of probation for now, while I personally give him a crash course in our ways.”
Samptin initially bristled at her insult, but he was now shuddering at what she suggested. This was going to be way worse than all of Dink’s extra training combined. I’d probably unlock a number of new skills and gain a few levels, but I’d wince at the memory of what I had to do to get them every time they were used. The older Gaelkini could evidently read my mind, as a sadistic grin curled up the corner of her lips.
Looking to the two squads behind me for support, I found them either backing away or doing their best to unlock Hiding. How had they gotten so far away? I know at least a few of them had been only a couple steps behind me ten seconds ago, but now they were all on the opposite side of the arena. Jerks. Just because that was what I would have done to them didn’t mean they had to do the same.
The wall separated to reveal a large opening and all the cowards hustled through it. The doorway clanged shut seconds later. It didn’t matter what that thing was made of, it wouldn’t protect them from what I had planned.
Joke would be on them when I showed them everything I learned from this taskmaster. Once I recovered, that was. The glint in her eyes said that wouldn’t be anytime soon. Couldn’t be any worse than when I’d finally annoyed my mom to the point that she’d agreed to let me join the Crew. Mom had at least known what she was getting into then; this new woman had no idea how clever and annoying I could be. Like Jerkass had with Samptin, I met her glare with one of my own.
This wasn’t going to be fun overall, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have some or—
The wall exploded behind me. My first thought was this was the beginning of my training or some other trial starting, but a quick glance at the group of veteran warriors above showed them equally surprised. Captain Jerkass took a more proactive approach and leapt into the arena to charge toward it.
But would he be enough?
The dust cleared from the new hole to show a line of soldiers inside. Many of them were red-skinned Fahrkini; quite a few were not. Just like my first two opponents, these supposed enemies were working together.
The newcomers were no less decisive than Jerkass as a squad broke off to meet him. Though fully armed, the newcomers lowered their weapons when they approached me—the opposite of what they were showing my “savior.” I’d seen ploys like this hundreds of times, but something made me want to believe they meant me no harm.
Was it a skill or spell affecting my mind? My gut said no, though my guard stayed up. With hammer at the ready, I approached their leader—no, leaders. A Gaelkini and Fahrkini stepped out of their lines to meet me as equals. The two sets of eyes said they were not my enemies.
“Would you like to get both sides of the story?” the Fahrkini said.
The Gaelkini shook her head at her counterpart. “Or avoid that mean lady’s lessons?”
I glanced up at older warrior above. She was pointing in anger at the edge of the box while Samptin pounded on an invisible barrier. They evidently couldn’t get out to help Captain Jerkass. His guards had no such obstacle in their box and had leapt down to join him. Considering the way he was slicing through the squad who was sent to oppose him, Jerkass probably didn’t need their help. In answer, two more squads poured forth from the hole to meet them.
“Why should I trust you?” I asked the Gaelkini in front of me. “Who even are you?”
“We’re . . . friends who have got an offer you can’t refuse or something. Look. You have two options. That.” She pointed to the stern-looking woman above. “Or not that, and a way to end this war.”
“And you had to break through a wall to bring that offer?” I asked. “Love the esthetic of a big hole. Right up my alley, but very suspicious. Haven’t you guys ever heard of diplomacy? White flag, no weapons, and not killing the people you want to end the war with.”
The Fahrkini sighed. “All excellent points that I mentioned to my companion before. We definitely could have done this another way to put you in a better mood, but—”
“No time,” the Gaelkini said. “And your advisors up there wouldn’t hear our proposal, or at least most. A particular one tipped us off that you’d be here and not in that ultra-tight palace, so we took our chance. You want to hear what the other side thinks? Be the hero they need and not the hero they want?”
She might not have intended it, but her eyes trailed toward Mask when she mentioned the “particular one.” Mask nodded once toward me when she caught me looking.
A conversation to confirm everything would have been nice, but that wasn’t going to happen. The noise of the crowd was too much to ignore.
Armed to the teeth and loving to participate in a fight as much as watch one, most of the crowd wanted to join in, but the same barrier that protected the veteran warriors extended around the arena. Made sense, as I had no doubt dozens of spectators would want to jump in and participate in almost every fight.
Finally, though, someone found the off switch and bodies poured down. While more Fahrkini soldiers stood in the new hole’s entrance, none of them ventured forth. Coming out was a death sentence.
Both of their leaders glanced at each other. The Gaelkini nodded to the Fahrkini. Almost before the gesture met his eyes, the Fahrkini turned and tossed something at me. I’d never seen a potion vial explode before impact, let alone the glass evaporate. A green gas spread out and that was the last thing I remembered.
Maybe training wouldn’t have been so bad after all?
THAT NIGHTMARE WASN’T SO BAD AFTER ALL
Surprise! The gas didn’t kill me.
The headache it left me with made me wish it had. It was so awful I didn’t even care that some sort of magical breeze was carrying me. By the time my wits started to return, it was too late to make a run for it. We were deep in the middle of an armed camp. Most of the soldiers were red-skinned Fahrkini, though there were a few dozen Gaelkini present as well. The mist did make me feel like I was being massaged by an army of pixies with hands made out of butter, yet every muscle in my body was on edge. This had to be the main Fahrkini army by its size, and I was at least enemy number two to them.
The possibility that they might not know who I was ended when the cloud finally set me down in front of two new faces. Warham was perhaps stubborn enough to ignore everything that had been said since we’d arrived on this world, but her sergeant, Criterion, wasn’t. I’d seen the goat-like kozai taking copious notes every time Mask had explained anything about the area, the people, and especially the political situation. The pair that had gassed and kidnapped me were nowhere to be seen, and I had a sinking suspicion I knew why.
“Yeah, don’t even think of running, cutie.” Warham’s smirk should have made me want to punch her, but for some reason it didn’t. Must have been whatever they’d gassed me with.
“Only if it’s toward danger,” I grumbled out.
“Go ahead and try. Been itching to finish that duel that ended prematurely earlier.”
“You mean the one I won. Twice?”
Warham took the mace from her belt and pulled the head loose to unleash the whip portion of the weapon. “Your cheating buddies aren’t here to save you this time.”
“Bull crap. You cheated by calling in help. Big surprise that you mean to do the same this time.” I eyed my hammer.
Warham rolled her eyes for a bit before she reached back and tossed the weapon to me. “Won’t be any chance to call the other a cheat after this. To the death.”
Criterion stepped between us with his bardiche held wide. “I would not recommend that to either of you. Every Fahrkini eye is glued on you, Mer. You are the prince of their enemy, and they would love any excuse to make you the last of your line. And for you, sir, that would be the opposite of the reason why we had him kidnapped. Dead princes make poor gifts.”
“Agree to disagree,” both Warham and I said in unison. We blinked in surprise and stared at each other.
To end the awkward implications of us agreeing, I changed the subject. “So, why the illusions earlier? Why not just gas me as soon as you saw me?”
“Our new buddy—”
“King,” Criterion corrected. “He gets rather angry whenever you try to present us as equals, sir.”
Warham waved his concerns away. “The big doofus with the crown thought you coming of your own free will would put you in a better mood to listen to that peace crap he wants for some stupid reason. But he gave us the gas vial in case things went south.”
“You mean Dregnox, the guy who tried to kill me?” I half-growled. “Yeah, for some reason I don’t trust him.”
“Dregnox is not their king,” Criterion corrected. “He is their second-in-command, or at least he was before he tried to kill you. The king was not happy about that and Dregnox has lost a lot of favor because of it.”
“Not like you have much of a choice but to come anyway.” Warham pointed to the army all around.
After barely seeing a fraction of the camp earlier, I’d concluded this was their main army. That didn’t change, but my assessment of their strength did. While I had no idea how big my own people’s forces were, I couldn’t see how they could be a match for such a quantity.
They were easily bigger than any army I’d seen before. Was it a hundred thousand or double that? No idea, but no four kingdoms combined could field anything this big back home. “Numbers matter less than levels” may have been one of Mom’s sayings, but if what Perception estimated for those I passed, this army had more than enough levels to go with those numbers. More than likely, they’d left some of their higher-level soldiers to watch me, especially when we neared what had to be their command tent, but still… Usually there were only one or two champions in the twenty-to-thirty level range, but the dozen I saw were closer to fifty.
After that sobering thought, the conversation ended and we started walking. This time, I walked instead of glided through the camp. It may not have been as relaxing, but with my wits mostly back, I could take in my surroundings a little better.
Still as blue skinned as she’d been with the illusion on, Warham no longer had horns or a tail. She was also back to being a few inches shorter than me and even slighter. Those differences did little to make the Fahrkini not glare at her distrustfully. There was a good chance some of that was not from her appearance but from her attitude. Still, none of them accosted us or approached, even as it became obvious we were heading to their command tent in the center.
It was a good thing too, because I only loved a good fight if I was confident of victory. Even with the elites out of the equation, their numbers were insane. Plus, unlike the raw recruits we’d faced on the way into the city, the majority of these were professionals who knew their business with the wicked-looking weapons at their sides. Made sense that they would be as warlike as their mortal enemies—wouldn’t have survived centuries of fighting against them otherwise—but this really sank the point in. Demons had a reputation for nearly every bad thing you can think of, and the Fahrkini looked the part. They fit the stereotype I was familiar with for demons but were only a fraction of the beings who fit under that term.
They were everything you'd expect from people who knew only war. Aggressive. Disagreeable. Short-tempered. Crude. And oh, so dirty. If it weren't for the smell, I would have fit right in—in those categories anyway. I was the lone pale-skinned being I saw, and of a much slighter build. Though she put on a brave face, that thought must have occurred to Warham as well. Like me, however, that intimidation would barely last for a couple of seconds before our naturally combative natures took over in a fight.
That tension eased up a little when we overheard the argument one such group was having. Murals and war weren’t the only activities enjoyed on his world, evidently. Warham was as mystified as I was when we realized they were debating philosophy. This group was the stereotype all scholars were based on, right down to the thick glasses and emaciated limbs. The small knives in their belts did nothing to belie that, as I had little doubt the weapons would be more dangerous to their owners than us if they ever drew them. These were the classic “not worth the effort for the experience” opponents.
There were also farmers in another area, prattling on and on about droughts. Several scared and gawky-eyed youths wandering around stumbling into everything. Some fat nobles, by the looks of them. A dozen children acting like the place was one big playground. Obvious noncombatants might have been their mothers or fathers, or just servants or washer-people. A few entertainers that thankfully were not musicians, or else I’d have to start playing a different tune with lutes and faces. And least surprising in a large military camp, merchants trying to squeeze every coin they could out of each person they passed.
There were so many questions about everything I saw, and so many more about everything I didn't. The memory of Garin’s nagging about “priorities” played through my mind, so I reluctantly focused back on the task. This king evidently wanted peace, but could I trust him?
My unwanted companions had similar thoughts. Not too far under her constant veneer of confidence, the cracks of worry were appearing on the edges of Warham’s face. Criterion’s shaggy visage covered most of his preoccupation, but he was also doing less to hide it. Before I could puzzle that out, we arrived at the command tent. One of the guards grunted at Warham, but the other opened the flap and beckoned us through.
Inside the tent was the oddest scene yet. I could only describe it as spartan opulence. There were just three pieces of furniture, yet all of them were expensive, comfortable, and well made. Despite the camp being a temporary one, on one side sat a long, heavy desk that must have taken a half-dozen people with double-digit brawn to lift. I wasn't familiar with the type of wood because different world, but slamming my fist down on it left my hand sore. Despite such durability, its polish was exquisite.
