Guns of the Temple (The Polaris Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

“Heh, race to the top, you big lump?” Hadassah prodded Draco, who grunted imperiously in response before bolting down the stairs in a head start. Miffed at his quickness, the redhead started after him and disappeared around a bend in the stone halls.

“Let’s go,” Lotte said.

“Of course...Captain,” Taki said. He glumly readjusted the leather sling of his carbine to ease a growing ache in his shoulder.

“Something the matter, Corporal?” she asked, picking up the troubled expression he unsuccessfully tried to hide. For a moment, Taki considered lying to her with a simple denial, but squelched the thought.

“I… Captain, don’t you actually rank on par with that castellan?”

Lotte shrugged. “We don’t answer to the same lord, but I suppose I do. Why do you ask?”

“I was surprised by his...um, disrespect? If I’d addressed you or the Major like that, I know I’d be flogged or stuffed in the brig at least.”

“Oh? Do you regret that you can’t talk to us in the same fashion?”

“What? I…
No!
” Taki protested, his eyes widening.

Lotte chuckled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t tease. I keep forgetting that this is your first mission. About the castellan, did you grow up around soldiers before you were taken?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you notice, Corporal, how Mikkelsen and I are the only women you’ve seen here wearing any sort of combat kit?”

Taki frowned. What she said was true. They had seen many women in and around the garrison, but they had all been scullions or maids. He had also seen a knight’s entourage in passing, and with them the man’s wife on a palanquin, but the squires had all been men. He nodded to Lotte.

“Our kind are rare enough, so that’s why we have boys and girls recruited into the academy. But the basileus and his vassals don’t allow women to take up arms otherwise, so men like him aren’t used to seeing someone like me with a captain’s braid. If you hadn’t been around many fighters beforehand, you wouldn’t know that,” she continued.

“But shouldn’t they respect the rank?”

Lotte smiled sadly.

“You’re very young, Natalis. I hope I get to see you grow up. Now, come along, we’re wasting time here.”

With one hand, she grasped the leather-wrapped hilt of the zweihander leaning against the wall and effortlessly hefted it to rest on her shoulder. Forged from the steel found in old-world leaf springs, it was as tall as she was from pommel to point. It also weighed enough to prevent Taki from lifting it off the ground, much less swinging it. The blade was as thick as a man’s thumb and wide as a palm. A blow from such a weapon would crush as much as sever.

The other arm she slung into the loops of a round greatshield. Hers was constructed of split wood laminate embossed with a layer of precious ancient aramid and then sealed behind riveted steel plate. The metal was engraved with a sun wearing a confused expression that was probably meant to be haughtily serene. It weighed nearly as much as her sword, and was thick enough that she would die of old age before most weaponry could penetrate it.

Her load was impossibly heavy and virtually suicidal on the battlefield. But Lotte’s prana had developed in a way that she could move and fight as freely with a hundred kilos on her back as she could in her smallclothes. Only a few others shared her particular talent, among them the exarch of the Cloud Temple. She briskly made her way to the stairs, the lightness of her steps contrasting with the creaking of wooden planks under strain. Taki was agog at the sight, and he decided that he would do his utmost to avoid being disciplined by her hand.

Hecaton grinned as she slapped her cards down on the slate-cobbled floor to reveal a royal straight flush. In front of her, four men-at-arms in various stages of undress groaned and cursed under their breaths. A few flung their hands in the air to rain down pairs of eights and other useless combinations. The game had started out with wagers of steel-cased .32 caliber and fingers of grog, with a battered half-grad Luger thrown in to spice up the odds. Her goading and the men’s desire to see her in the nude had turned the game to strip poker by the time Lotte and Taki found her squatting in the kitchens.

“Major, if I recall correctly, gambling while on duty is forbidden for Dominion soldiers, am I right?” Lotte asked cheerfully as she dug the point of her zweihander into the pile of winnings. It scratched a deep pit between the cobbles as if to accentuate her displeasure. Taki flinched at the sight, unable to shake the image of the massive sword going through his midsection. The keep guards started to make themselves scarce. Some attempted to surreptitiously reclaim their losses from the pile, but Hecaton shot them an imperious glare and they froze in fear. Satisfied that she again had a captive audience unlikely to make off with her winnings, Hecaton turned her attention back to Lotte, shrugged, and took a long drag of her cigarillo.

“That’s your bonus pay you’re skewering, Captain.”

“We both know it’s not, Major.”

“You and the boy should join the game.”

“Strip poker, is it? I’m afraid I can’t really get out of my armor. Some of us need to be patrolling the citadel, you know, against the Imperium.”

Hecaton hopped forward on the balls of her feet, reminding Taki of an overgrown frog. She thrust her cigarillo dramatically in the air and let out a throaty, masculine grunt.

“I ask you, my soldiers. What is best in life?” She pointed glowing embers at Taki.

“Um...” he began.
What the devil is she even asking me? Is this some sort of weird heathen enchantment?
He looked to Lotte for help, but she only responded with the same expectantly fearsome look as Hecaton.
Jesus, I have to say something or they’ll think I’m totally witless!

“The, uh, open sky over your head? The caress of a woman, or a man, I suppose. Riding a horse? Eating delicious things?”

Hecaton snorted derisively. “Wrong! Lotte, what is best in life?”

Lotte clasped the hilt of her sword and twisted, fracturing stone. “The greatest happiness is to crush your enemy. To drive her before you, to see her cities reduced to ashes. To see those who love her shrouded in tears, and to gather into your bosom her husbands and sons."

Sweet merciful God.
Taki swallowed on a dry throat. Hecaton, however, pumped her fist in glee.

“A good answer! And one I used to agree with. But a wise woman showed me that in actuality, it is the simple pleasure of watching others work hard.”

Lotte rolled her eyes. “You’re not even doing that, Major.”

“It’s because I trust my soldiers fully.”

“Then raise our pay.”

Hecaton waggled a finger. “Professionals don’t get overtime.”

“You know that’s a lie. The Code lays out what we get paid, and that includes overtime.”

“Are you going to make a grievance?”

Lotte scowled. “Perhaps I will.”

“Then I’ll tell them I saw you plotting against the exarch.”

“And I’ll tell them I saw you jerking off the padishah.”

Hecaton let out a throaty chuckle at that.

“You’re getting better. Kid, you’ll learn a lot from her,” she said to Taki. He blinked in amazement and found not words to convey his horror.

“We’re wasting time here,” Lotte said in resignation. She slapped Taki on the shoulder. That was his cue to follow.

With the barely audible hiss of steel burying itself into flesh, the blackened stiletto found its mark in the Argead sentry’s upper back, twisted, and tore into his aorta. Although the unfortunate soldier’s mouth was uncovered, he issued naught but a strangled gasp in response, as the pain was instant and overwhelmed even his training to cry for help. With viscera lacerated so savagely, he lost consciousness in seconds as his abdomen filled with blood. Death followed quickly.

Aslatiel von Halcon, oberleutnant commander of Alfa Gruppe
,
slowly—almost tenderly—eased his victim to the ground to rest unmarked in the tall grass growing on the east bank of the river. He wiped the crimson off his weapon on a cloth and replaced it in the sheath at his hip as he scanned the riverbank. The Dominion keep’s sentries patrolled fifty meters apart on the shore. If his company eliminated even a handful of sentries, the result would be a massive blind spot through which the janissaries could slip through unopposed. The men would then take advantage of the thick fog over the river and stealthily paddle up to the low-decked carronade ship anchored in the depths. From there it was a simple matter to slip on board, kill the night watch, and take out the rest of the crew in their bunks. Meanwhile, the Alfa would swim the river, infiltrate the docks, and prepare the way for the meat of the invasion force.

“Lucatiel, report,” he murmured. The wind carried his words over the distance and into Lucatiel’s ears.

“I’ve got my man,” she said. “And Mikhail and Elsa report success, too. It’s been a long time since we swam together, dear brother.”

“You haven’t seen
Ba’gshnar
sneaking around, have you?”

“I haven’t. But I can feel him watching us.”

Aslatiel glanced over his shoulder, though he knew it a useless gesture. “The first boats will be here soon. We have a half-bell before the next watch comes on. Watch for any unexpected company in the meantime. Silent techniques only. Enjoy the fall weather.”

“I’ll expect you to warm me up later,” Lucatiel whispered.

“That’s a little difficult when you always steal the bedding.”

She giggled. “What a tease you are, dear brother! I just wanted a cup of mulled cider.”

“I’ll give you a castle, instead,” Aslatiel said. He scanned his surroundings one last time to make sure he wasn’t being watched, waded into the water until the waves lapped at the top of his head, and vanished into the foggy depths.

“This godrotting fog…”

Draco cursed under his breath and attempted to scan the riverbank again through his spyglass. After a rowdy footrace through the claustrophobic passageways and winding staircases of the armory’s outer ring, he and Hadassah had settled into overwatch within a spire that looked over the water. After what seemed like an eternity of fruitless searching, however, his frustration was overtaking his vigilance. The drafts blowing through the ancient tower also did not help.

“
I’m cold,
” Hadassah said. She shivered against the parapets, miserably clutching her rifle. “I command you to warm me up. Anything will do. Even
your
body is fine at this point.”

“Whatever,” Draco snorted. “You’d kick a guy in the crotch and then die of blushing if he actually laid down beside you in anything but full plate.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been with guys before, lots of ‘em.”

“The captain using you as a huggy-pillow doesn’t count.”

“She’s manlier than you by far.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Draco sighed. “Well, what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

He quickly looked around to make sure they weren’t being eavesdropped upon. “You know, sleeping with her.”

“Lady fluids everywhere.”

“Really?” Draco steepled his fingertips.

Hadassah rolled her eyes. “Of course not, you nitwit. It’s actually annoying most times. I’m always too warm and she’s always too cold. If I toss and turn, she swats me. And sometimes she’ll just start weeping for no reason.”

Draco pouted. “When you fart, I also feel like crying.”

“Oh, go sniff your own bung.”

“If I could sniff my own bung, do you know what else I could do? I’d never want for company again…”

“And the world would be better for it,” Hadassah said, smacking him on the chest. She yawned, flailed as if to fend off sleep, and poked Draco in the arm. “Actually, speaking of wanting for company, do you think Natalis has been with many girls before?”

“Oh, so you fancy the new boy?” Draco chuckled at the thought. “He’s only a bit younger than you are, anyway…”

“N-no! I just, you know… All men are dangerous perverts, and virgins are even worse, so I just kind of wanted to know if he’d try to molest me in my sleep or something.”

“If that happens, kick him in the dick.”

“Were you serious about getting him to teach us about how to write and do numbers?” she asked, changing the subject. Another deep yawn escaped from within and she fanned at her face.

“I was. And I intend to make him follow through. If we can learn that, it means that our lives after our fighting years won’t be so hard. You remember how hard the scrubbers worked, all scrabbling around the academy? How Maryam’s hands are always aching and bound up and shaking? They were once fighters like us, and they were among the best. Basically heroes. Now their bodies are spent, but they still have to live, you know? Sometimes I see them picking through the midden for scraps. I don’t want to end up like that. I don’t want you to share that fate, either.”

“That’s assuming we don’t die first.”

“Compared to slowly grinding apart, dying would be a relief. The thing is, they don’t tell you this stuff at the academy. We live to fight, yes, but what happens after that? It’s not like we can go and start our own little farms, and it’s too expensive to lease a storefront. We’re stuck wasting away on our sacred rock.”