"That was quite a ‘challenge’, young spear.” Manipular shook her head as I approached her. “I’ve sent you to humble a single wermage in battle, not charge the enemy all by yourself. What was that anyway?”

“Ulah!” My fist smacked my chest in a customary salute. “A dervish dance, Manipular. I’ve heard the drums so I knew the maniple charge was coming. I could either do nothing and let that wermage get in the way of your soldiers… Or I could assist the charge as much as I could in my situation. You saw the rest.”

The battle raged on but it was a highly concentrated affair. Both fist units of our maniple were united into one square but only four fingers were engaged with the enemy at the same time. The other six were maintaining the perimeter in case we got flanked and waited for their turn to engage in melee. The ratio was smaller for the palms since wermages were less numerous in the first place and had more stamina than spears, but there was still a constant ebb and flow of them going in and out of the engagement. A few were so eager that they had to puke again, even after puking in the morning — I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were doing it intentionally to showcase their ‘eagerness’. Archers had issues of their own since werbows demanded significant expertise to be fired quickly without snapping their bowstrings in the process. If magic was cycled too slowly, the shooting time suffered as a result, too fast and the bowstring would lose its strengthening Flow mojo before the bow stopped moving. An issue that was likely exacerbated by the influx of ‘green’ wermages right before the campaign.

Judging by Manipular, her cadre of lieutenants, and maniple standard bearers calmly observing the storm around them, even if those hiccups were unwelcome, they weren’t unexpected or unaccounted for. Her messengers were twitchy but it was their job to start running even before Manipular finished issuing orders. I was delivering a message myself. Hajar was busy keeping the shield wall in check while I was sent to the ‘local high command’ to deliver my ‘report’.

Her gaze scanned the battle once again and then returned back to me. “A ‘dance’ you say… Tell me — how long you would’ve kept dancing if there were no orders from our General to commit the entire right wing as soon as the first enemy wermage was slain?”

I gave myself a second to think as I observed my Manipular. As usual, the Kamshad commander looked quite fierce with the scar across her face but she also reminded me of Lita’af with her silvery, wolfish mane of hair and reserved facial expressions. A distant older aunt or a cousin, without a doubt. But then again — Muramat also had a similar placid expression on his face up until I started to undermine his power, influence, and plans with my mere existence.

“I am certain that Sophia Chasya has uses for me one way or another. Without drums, I would’ve tried to finish off the second wermage as quickly as possible so I could return back into formation.”

“She is aware of your capabilities.” Manipular was nodding before I even finished. “Or the capabilities of your gear.”

I gave her a faint smile, “We are blessed by a very capable General. She wouldn’t miss an opportunity even if it comes from a murk.”

Her eye twitched. “I am not interested in the games of words. I don’t care if you are wearing the treasures of the Kiymetl because your Domina fears for your life or if you obtained them… elsewhere. What I want to know is whether the enemy can use them. Your toughness and resilience are welcome but what would happen if you were to fall on an enemy sword mid-battle and one of their wermages or even one of their sheydayan picks up one of your… trinkets? The enemy standard and the three braids that you have recovered will be properly marked as your personal achievements — which are laudable — and your share of loot will reflect that as well. However, if your continuous presence at the front brings the possibility of a fire-immune sheyda barging into my maniple and reaping my spears with your whips — I will fold you into an empty chest, lock it, and send it to a baggage arusak until the morning comes.”

Her staff poked me in my naked thigh where my kaftan once was before the fire and earth magic turned it into a pile of rags and soot, and I had to stifle a groan emerging from my throat. Albin sensed the unpowered runes on me by simply standing nearby — granted, he was in a league of his own, but I shouldn’t have dismissed the possibility that an experienced wermage wouldn’t sense the literal dozens of artefacts strapped across my body simply because I tucked them underneath my brigandine. Especially someone in a line of work where a wrong ‘read’ on your opponent could spell your death.

And things were somewhat trickier since Manipular couldn’t sense the function of these artefacts — she would be questioning my sanity for carrying fart pillows, otherwise — while I was forbidden from revealing more on Sophia’s orders. The choice I had wasn’t clear-cut either. Returning to the rear might keep me close to Irje and being a gopher boy to the General’s chicken-legged hut meant having the ability to ask personal favours from Sophia directly. But that could also backfire spectacularly since Sophia was perfectly aware my toughness and strength didn’t come from the musical tokens on my chest. Showing up at her headquarters with a proverbial tail between my legs might…

Chirp swished over my head and I twisted my head with a scowl. “How stupid can you really get?”

“What did you just say!?”

I shook my head, ignoring the threatening growl, and gestured east. “The enemy lured Things out of the Forest and toward our left wing. The barbarians are suffering from heavy losses themselves but they are mounted while our maniples are not.”

As the old saying went — one didn’t have to be faster than the incoming Creature, they just needed to be faster than others running away from it.

The werwolf claws wrapped around my neck. “Silence.”

Manipular easily lifted me off the ground by the collar of my brigandine as if I was a puppy that soiled her precious farshat. She wasn’t paying attention to me, however, as her gaze and ears were pointed east. Was she trying to see what was happening beyond the horizon or hear the soft creak of Creature carapaces through the cacophony of battle? But then again — she was a Pillar wermage with an extensive magical education and the Kamshad had that particular bias toward body enhancement through beastly transformation.

I didn’t bother to hang and wait. Heeding my command, Chirp pivoted in the air and dashed toward Sophia’s arusak. Information was a precious commodity on any battlefield and I wouldn’t allow Sophia to make decisions without knowing what was happening on her left flank. Nor would I let Anaise ride into the dangerous unknown without a warning either. And then I needed to meet up with Irje and assess the chrysalis of my grub. I might have to sacrifice some of its functions-

The Kausar twins had spotted the brewing situation — there was a sharp bark of their horn and one of the twins jumped off the balloon and onto the arusak balcony below.

“So you weren’t bloated with farts,” Manipular mused without letting me go. She did bring me closer, however. “I was starting to contemplate whether I should simply ignore what you said or lightly tan your hide so that you could continue to keep your tongue in your mouth and your head — on your shoulders.”

“You said it yourself — General is well aware of my capabilities.” While Chirp could sense Sophia’s anger bubbling behind the mask of an aloof and competent strategist, she wasn’t particularly surprised by its appearance nor by Huare reporting about the incoming Creatures. Well, ‘not surprised’ was quite an understatement — there were missives for Chirp to deliver as soon as it landed on her windowsill. Ink fresh and wax hot. Subtle perks and benefits of being a time mage.

She could be quite perceptive when she wanted to. “Yes, you can offer them your protection — fewer boulders on my shoulders — but if you step into shit don’t ask me for water!”

Very scary, but I was washing the shit off my feet all this time anyway so this threat was nothing but her tacit permission to act without involving her directly. And so I would, in my own way. “She knew of me and personally met me as far back as Samat. Once we’ve reached the barbarian horde, I’ve been sneaking out at night on her order-”

For the first time ever, a glimpse of emotion appeared on Manipular’s face “Oh!?”

“…to kill enemy scouts.”

“Oh.”

I continued as if nothing happened. “Because not only am I capable of ambushing enemy wermages in the dark of the night and finishing them off before they realised I wasn’t ‘just a mere murk’, but I can easily find them skulking in the steppe with the help of my companion. Enemy shamans might boast about the sight of their hawks and falcons, but those birds have only two separate eyes. My Chirp has a total of sixty thousand…”

Even without Sophia’s permission, Manipular’s casual quip about me getting flogged or worse would’ve spurned me to speak. It reminded me that my current strategy of obscurity had drawbacks of its own. Just as much as it left me being underestimated by some of my potential enemies and ignored by others, it made me extremely reliant on borrowed gravitas in order to have any leverage of my own. I relied on Albin when I had to deal with Sophia, I relied on Kiymetl and my status within it to ‘earn’ the initial respect from Hajar Kishava — the First Spear and my direct commander. It was working, but it took time before the rewards showed themselves. The Kausar ‘confirmation’ of my Creature claims was quite timely, but it was also the result of an extensive groundwork done well in advance — the balloon and looking glasses helped them to observe the battlefield and made them visible to us in turn. If that wasn’t the case, I could’ve been dealing with an irate commander, who saw my warning as nothing but empty words at best.

Right now, I needed something more flexible than the timely returns on my previous investments and my available time seemed to be in a rather short supply. Meanwhile, my usual social ‘levers’ were nowhere close. Albin was moving his maniple somewhere on the left flank, Sophia had made her stance known, and Anaise’s chariot wing was currently harassing the centre of the enemy infantry, softening them up for a maniple charge just as I’d done here.

A shout nearby. “Arrows!”

With a grunt, Manipular pulled me away from the incoming barrage, summoned a shield, and let it hover in the air. “I am not concerned about the loyalty of your pet but your trinkets.”

An arrow volley peppered our positions, causing sporadic cries and widespread cursing — a passing gift from the enemy cavalry.

“My trinkets are just as loyal,” I answered her question. “Loyal to me and no one else. I wear them not because I am so spoiled by my Domina but because I am the only one who can wear them at all.”

The whistling trill of arrows continued, accompanied by the distinctive voice of First Oar barking orders. Her voice carried far as she was perched on a free-standing spear and barking them from above like an angry parrot.

Manipular smashed me feet first into the ground and hammered me deeper by smacking her hand on my shoulder. “Good! You aren’t fit to stay as a mere spear anyway! Not with that show of strength and valour. I have better tasks for you to do and an opportunity to receive a larger portion of glory from our victory.”

I met her gaze, ignoring her heavy hand. “I care not for the glory or renown. All I seek is the continuous safety of my sadaq.”

A slight twitch of her eye. “Their safety lies in our swift victory.”

“Indeed. But if I hear their cry for help, I fear that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from acting, no matter how brief such actions might be. I seek your leniency and understanding in this matter.”

“Succeed, and you will be lauded by your accomplishments. Fail, and you will be judged by your blunders.”

I gave her a curt nod. “What are your orders, Manipular.”

A quick back and forth and an offer that cost her barely anything, but I got what I wanted. Asking for a complete freedom to act during the battle was outright unthinkable, but the mere benefit of the doubt was just as crucial.

She jerked her head sideways and accented the movement with the flick of her tail. “Your task is to entertain the pack of hyenas trying to harass my maniple.”

I blinked. Was she deliberately trying to get me killed? Did I fail at reading her character, or was she that close to Muramat? “You want me to single-handedly destroy the enemy cavalry?”

Manipular barked a laugh. “If you do that, I will name my next son after you and tell him to call you uncle! Cease your fretting — I didn’t become the Manipular of the first maniple by sending everyone with a glimpse of potential straight to their deaths.”

The grinning smile disappeared and the piercing eyes were on me once again. “Your dance isn’t as deadly as you think… Erf, was it? I was watching carefully — not a single wermage was killed or seriously wounded. I am giving you this task because of what you have here,” she poked me in the chest, eliciting a faint response from my keyboard, “isn’t the heart of a warrior. Neither is it the heart of a coward. It is the heart of a tactician. Because you chose to dance. Because your heart sensed the flow of the battle and acted upon it. Spears like you quickly reach the rank of the First once they nurture that feeling with experience. And experience is what you will get.”

Manipular poked me a few more times and I gently pushed her finger away before she could honk the keyboard another time. “You want suppression. You will have it.”

The cavalry wasn’t just sapping our morale and momentum. The arrows drew attention to themselves and away from the enemy infantry, forcing our troops into cover. Rather than hitting the pinned down and crumbling enemy, oars and archers were forced to attack a cohesive and mobile target instead. For a good reason too — without a proper and timely response from our side, the enemy wermages wouldn’t even need to resort to the hit-and-run tactics and could continuously shoot at us with impunity.

As Clausewitz once said — friction.

“Call it as you wish. Wermages are tough and prepared wermages are even tougher. Their horses are not. Lita’af Hikmat spoke much about your true abilities — I know that you can move faster than you did during the dance, faster than their horses can gallop in the field. Get close, wreak havoc on their mounts, and keep moving.” She pulled out a red bandage and deftly tied it around my sash. “I lost your wife to our General, so you will be my Procurer chariot instead. Even if you have no chariot under your feet.”

“Please, allow me a moment to observe my battlefield.” I made myself look mysterious as I tried to organise the influx of information coming from Chirp.

The battle was progressing both slowly and lightning-fast at the same time. It almost felt like I was in space, with split-second decisions that would yield results minutes, hours, or even days later. Our maniple was a perfect example of it — the charge had to be timed perfectly but the resulting melee was slow and methodical enough for Manipular to spend her time on a rather in-depth field promotion.

In the meantime, Creatures swarmed our left flank, routing one maniple outright and forcing another dozen into hunkered-down positions. That slowed down their casualty rates but it still meant at least a thousand warriors of our already numerically inferior army were now occupied by a third party. That number could grow further but so far Sophia had left them to fend for themselves. For a good reason too — while suffering devastating casualties, the horse archers managed to retreat in good order and were already posed to reinforce the centre or counterattack the left, once the Creatures took their macabre toll. Their infantry was left behind but that wouldn’t affect their offensive power. Just like the fingers of our maniples, the nomadic auxiliaries were more of a living mobile wall, brought forth to restrict, corral, and control their foes, rather than the main striking force of their army. And just like our fingers, they had few wermages within their ranks. It made them susceptible to my previous attack but it also made them less attractive to Creatures. Especially when our Sparkies were nearby.

How fucking convenient.

The surviving auxiliaries also tried to stay away as much as possible but Creatures themselves acted as a much tougher obstacle to our maniples than any of those murks and wer could ever be. If Sophia had plans for a breach on that side, it wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

That left the centre and the right. Anaise and I with Irje. I wasn’t sure what was worse — not knowing what was happening at all or knowing that Anaise was alive and well but also that the enemy was repositioning thousands toward our centre. What would Sophia do if her left wing started to buckle? Would she send reinforcements there? Would “Azhar Mesud” control that wing by himself? Would they stop fucking around and start openly using their time magic? And was I willing to wait for that to happen?

Especially when the enemy was responding this swiftly. Whether they were simply adept at rapid manoeuvres and disengagements due to the style of their warfare or if this gambit was planned well in advance mattered little.

“We have three horse wings circling our maniple alone, and two for every other maniple engaged with the enemy on this flank. They are spread out but that might work in my favour,” I rattled off as I turned toward our archers. “I need to meet my wife be-”

“You will do it once the battle ends!”

I met her gaze with mine, my lashes uncoiling with a hiss. “Barbarians noticed your success — more horse detachments are coming our way. To have a chance of tangible success, I will need every tool at my disposal, including those that Irje carries with her.”

 

 

XXX

Irje stood out among the rest. Partially because she was my wife, partially because she was quite sweaty, and partially because she was looking at me with a hint of worry in her eyes.

I caught a lot more glances but First Bow ignored my sudden presence outright and others didn’t look too offended by my intrusion into their ranks, despite being occupied with the ongoing battle. I even got a few quick pats on my shoulder and a couple of muffled cheers as I passed by.

“By the three horns, Erf, you look like a corpse! If I didn’t know this blood isn’t yours, I would be swearing an oath of revenge on someone’s head.” Irje cast a quick glance at Manipular watching us from afar and turned back to me. “What’s wrong? Why are you here and why do you have a Procurer’s ribbon on your sash?”

“Battlefield ‘promotion’.” I sighed and gave her a crooked smile. “Thank you, Irje. For watching over me as I fought.”

She hid her blush by ruffling my hair. “Nonsense! That is what being first means.”

I waved her off. “Just as it is my duty to appreciate you. But my appreciation would have to wait until the night. Right now, we have other, equally pressing matters on our hands. I need to see the cocoon and borrow two of your good arrows.”

Her palm stilled on my cheek. “She is sending you back into the enemy forces, isn’t she? That is why you have the ribbon.”

I rubbed her twitching ear. “I made her do it with my tales, actually. We have a Creature infestation on our left flank and the enemy is using this opportunity to focus its attacks elsewhere. Including here. If I don’t act now, it wouldn’t be just a few hundred archers peppering us with arrows but a few thousand.”

She sighed. “You are not an arm, Erf, stop trying to act like one. That is the duty of Sophia Chasya.”

“I know — you and the rest of the maniple are that arm. I am but a distraction. Sophia might be a ‘wind’ mage and ‘hear’ enemy orders before they leave the lips of their commanders, but maniples can’t redeploy as fast as horse archers can. Nor can they be in two places at once. Until I witness the magic that can do that here, I will care for my sadaq in my own way.” I opened the proffered bag and touched the pulsing pupa. “I swear, that Creature either planned for this or knows more than it should. Fuck.”

As I was expecting, the grub wasn’t close enough to complete the nominal pupation. A small part of me hoped I was wrong, but another part of me knew that it would be better to have something when needs must rather than fail waiting for the best.

My finger slid across the central seam and slowly pushed inward. It gave in with a faint crack.

“Here.” I passed the rapidly warming pupa back. “I’ve initiated the ecdysis but it will take time for it to emerge and harden. Keep it with you, for now — I will come back for it once it’s ready.”

Two arrows creaked in Irje’s grip. “You are expecting to be hurt?”

I shook my head. “It won’t heal others. Not anymore. Yet it will be a very capable, living ‘sword’ of sorts. Worry not, my love, I am as sturdy as I am cautious. I am not a warrior-hero of Emanai songs — I carry my own music. If your heart still aches — let it fear for our enemy instead.”

Irje gave me an exasperated smile. “Then don’t talk to me like I am your commander. Have you forgotten who I am? Why I am your first wife and not just another servant of Aikerim Adal, watching you from afar? I was the one who saw your talent first!”

“Uh-huh. You thought I was a girl. I had to spend an entire night proving you wro-”

“Shaddap! Go, Erf. Go, before I change my mind and ask Manipular to go with you.”