|
Chapter 28. Fox Hunt |
|
 |
iselle Starria spent the morning restoring her armor to its original pristine brightness. After the drill, there was not much else to do now that the war was over. She was glad, of course, but this new found idleness was wearing thin. A day or two of revelry she could manage, but her unit was still giddy with delight and talk of going home. Not that she blamed them. After the battles she had seen, it would be difficult to go back to mundane duties. Nothing had made her feel more alive and useful than driving off the Margonites and their demonic minions. She longed for those times but felt selfish and terrible at the same time. She should be grateful her homeland had been graced with peace and had escaped Nightfall. Yet she bridled at the idea of spending hours patrolling the coastline for mere Corsair. There was no glory in chasing dirty pirates, even if it was a necessary duty. Still, she was a Sunspear and she would do her duty without complaint or bitterness. As she rubbed and buffed her armor, the sharp oily smell of the polish caused her to wrinkle her nose in disgust and her eyes began to sting. The pearlescent parade armor gleamed and its gold detailing flashed in the sunlight filtering through the high windows of the barracks hall. The armor hardly needed her attention for it had lain wrapped in silks in the bottom of her traveling chest for months awaiting a special occasion. She had worn it once since the war started. She remembered Kormir rallying them to battle and how proud she had felt to be there at a seminal moment in her people’s history. She wondered why Spearmarshal Ghaffar wanted to speak with her now. Giselle was a mere Captain. She was flattered to the same degree she was anxious. Several commendations had been bestowed upon her, but none had entailed meeting personally with such a high ranked member of the order. And it was not just her, but Captain Malaika Zo as well. Giselle glanced up past the thick curtain of deep red hair that furled around her face as she was bent to her work. The smaller woman was sitting at the other end of the hall, a silent truce between them. The rows of tidy beds with a chest at the foot of each of them represented their currently absent and celebrating units. Giselle rose from her bed and put away the polish and the rags, her armor laid out neatly on the top coverlet. Removing her plain white field armor, she reverently replaced each piece with the gold-trimmed finery. She was faintly aware of Malaika doing the same and it irked her. Why both of them? Why stubborn, bossy Malaika of all the dozens of Captains currently awaiting new orders in Kamadan? Apparently the feeling was mutual for Malaika scowled as she finished dressing and pinned back her short brown hair with a shimmering focus of four starry gems that made her appear annoyingly regal. Giselle fumed silently as she tried unsuccessfully to pin back her unruly mane only to have it fall forward in a russet wave to half conceal her own focus. Sighing, she cursed silently to herself for not getting her hair trimmed back to manageable proportions, her mood further darkened by the realization that her hand mirror had been lost somewhere between Kamadan and Gandara. “I probably look like someone’s old scruffy nag,” she grumbled. Maybe Spearmarshal Ghaffar was going to choose between them. Giselle frowned angrily, hurrying now that she realized the brash and over-confident Malaika might upstage her simply by virtue of arriving first. She rushed to the door, then slowed to a calm and collected amble when she saw Malaika standing outside the barracks as if waiting for her. Giselle chided herself for her unkind and childish thoughts toward a fellow officer. She nodded politely and decided to try making idle conversation as they strode toward the low stone building that was the current headquarters for the order. “Any idea what this is about?” she asked as they fell naturally into step with one another. “I would wager good money it has something to do with that woman from the Order of Whispers who showed up this morning.” “Really?” Giselle asked, trying to keep the annoyance from her voice. How had Malaika learned this and how much more did she know? Every good officer understood that knowledge was power and Malaika clearly had the upper hand in that regard. “This is stupid. All this useless sitting around has made you testy,” she thought to herself. Malaika tossed her head like a spirited horse so that the salty breeze pouring past the stone walls of the city played rakishly through her dark mane. It was a haughty gesture that Giselle was growing to hate, “By the gods, why does she have to be so annoying?” Fortunately, it did not take them long to arrive at their destination. A pair of guards dressed in gold trimmed livery lifted their crossed red-plumed spears, opening the way to their appointment within the squat building. Inside it was dim and claustrophobic, reminding Giselle of the cramped canyons she had used to shelter her renegade unit from marauding demons and the brutal midday sun. A woman dressed in pale robes arrived and bowed to them, an advisor or servant with no rank in the order. Giselle and Malaika nodded in return before the woman led them to a room with a great table at its center. Papers were strewn over its surface, maps or battle plans she surmised, while others were rolled up and piled to one side. A lean figure stood on the other side of the table from the door and Giselle pounded her breast in salute instinctively when she saw the badge of a Spearmarshal pinned to his battle-stained leathers. Malaika matched her every movement. Ghaffar saluted back at them then nodded that they could be at ease in his presence. He was a handsome man despite his weathered armor and the scars that pitted his lean mahogany features. His black hair was shaved nearly to his scale, a shadow that indicated where it grew out but indicated nothing about its luster or true color. When Spearmarshal Ghaffar looked upon her with his intense black eyes, she understood then how he had gained his rank. There was no denying the strength of spirit behind his gaze. Something stirred nearby and Giselle turned her head sharply, annoyed with herself for not noticing a smaller figure standing nearby in travel stained crimson robes. “Captain Starria, Captain Zo, this is field agent Farishta from the Order of Whispers,” he said and the robed figure nodded to each of them in turn, “Have either of you read Bei Shi Jiao’s work, The Way of War?” “No Sir, Spearmarshal, I do not believe I have had the pleasure,” replied Malaika before Giselle could reply. She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. “Captain Starria, you had something to add to that?” Spearmarshal Ghaffar asked and she realized both of them were staring at her. “Yes Sir, Spearmarshal,” she replied, her voice annoyingly thin. She cleared her throat before continuing, “I have read that work.” “Good. I believe it should be required reading for anyone aspiring to lead in the military,” he said. Giselle forced her face to remain expressionless even as she felt the faintest blush of pride, “Could you please enlighten us about the contents of the chapter called ‘The Vanquished Fox.’?” Giselle blinked, racking her memory. It had been three years since her first trainer, an elderly, bookish Paragon named Masoud, had asked her to read the slender tome and debate its merits with him. She recalled him with great fondness, his deep understanding of what drove people forward in battle had served her well. “Yes Sir, Spearmarshal,” she replied, smiling now as she remembered reciting a passage for Masoud, “The fox may flee when discovered amidst the fowl. Think him a coward, but he merely desires to live. Track him to his den and confront him amid the evidence of his wrong doing and he will fight fiercely, for he has nothing to lose. You may win the war, but it will not truly end so long as these foxes abide. For the sake of peace, the guilty must be slain. Do so swiftly and without reserve.” Giselle hesitated, studying Ghaffar’s impassive face for any sign that she may have guessed wrong. When he said nothing, she continued. “Be in accord with nature, for the fox is Melandru’s creature. So long as it causes no harm, be content to let it thrive so long as it is blameless. Persecute the fox merely for its nature and you will drive it to plot in the shadows. Cruelty will garner the support of others. While it may hunger for the bounty of your peaceful land, it must know the cost of war is greater than the rewards of peace.” “Thank you, Captain Starria, that will be all,” Ghaffar said, the faintest gleam of admiration in his gaze, “I will describe the nature of the foxes we face now that the war has been declared over. The greatest of them have been eliminated. Varesh Ossa is dead. Some of her generals defected when it became clear that she consorted with demons or when they were asked to slaughter their own people. To them we showed mercy and in exchange we received vital intelligence to deal with the others. “Despite offers of amnesty, however, the majority fought on when it became clear some would share in the infamy of Varesh Ossa’s crime and be held to account for it. The command structure of the Kournan military is in tatters. Some have already surrendered, but others refuse to accept defeat and continue to skirmish and resist. “Our new duty is threefold now. First, those known to prey upon the innocent must be exterminated quickly for the sake of peace and justice. Second, areas that are now lawless must be restored to order so that those who scavenge upon the spoils of war are driven off. Third, and most dire, Kourna’s military must be restored to its former strength. Turai Ossa’s nemesis has been freed and the fate of our lands is overshadowed by the evil of Palawa Joko once more.” As appalling as the news was, Giselle felt a surge of excitement that her nation still needed her. Something similar must have been going through Malaika’s mind, for the petite woman smiled faintly as Ghaffar unrolled one of the large pieces of paper that had been piled on the end of the table. It was a map of Jahai with a series of red marks drawn over portions of it. Farishta smoothed down the corners of the map with four stone weights. Her long fingers traced the flowing lines of the cartographer’s pen that depicted the contours of winding canyons and baking plains. “I have taken the liberty of perusing your assignments and accomplishments during the war,” Ghaffar said, “I assume both of you are well acquainted with this region given the skirmishes and battles you have seen.” “Yes Sir, Spearmarshal,” Malaika said quickly and Giselle nodded. “The Order of Whispers requires your help,” Farishta said when Ghaffar nodded at her. Her pale eyes gleamed in the dimness of the room against her sun-bronzed skin, “While we celebrated Kormir’s rise to the throne of the gods, a valuable member of our Order was kidnapped. We have sought for them, but they have gone to ground in the wilderness. We require the help of those who know these regions well.” “Since both of you have skirmished in this region, you and your units were a natural choice for this mission. Farishta will go with you, but it is ultimately your decision when and where to strike. Her role is as an advisor only,” said Ghaffar. There was a harsh edge to his voice that suggested he was uneasy with the arrangement, “As a result, I am giving you both a choice to assist our ally.” “Sir, Spearmarshal, I accept this assignment,” Malaika Zo snapped, saluting. Not to be outdone, Giselle also saluted. “My unit will be ready to move within the hour, Sir,” she announced, hoping she was right. “Very well,” Ghaffar replied, saluting in return, “I will inform the quartermaster that he is to furnish you with any reasonable request for supplies to support you on this mission. May the six gods ward you.” |
