Page 22 of The Scouts

“Well…” Lieutenant Javyés scratched his jaw and faltered, giving off a somewhat guilty aura. Dried blood stained the skin under his nose.

My eyes darted to Lochan’s.

Despite his straight face, I could tell he held in a smile.

“Wait.” Marbles lifted his two fingers from the side of the unconscious Northerner’s windpipe where he’d checked for his pulse. “Is he fucking snoring?” he asked, incredulous.

Javyés flailed his arms about. “He got in the way of me casting the sleep charm on Sigrunés. Fucking grabbed my shoulder when I didn’t expect him to. Who does that? So the spell hit him, too.”

Frozen in a rare moment of speechlessness—eyes wide and mouth agape—Heinnés was a sight to behold. “Well, wake him the fuck up, man,” the commander barked as he recovered. “What are you waiting for? Lugging one lifeless lump around is plenty already.”

“I can’t, sir.” The lieutenant sounded pitiful. He tugged at his source stone necklace. “I’m out of Magic. I shoved it all into the Creator, just to be sure he got it good and proper.”

Hence the nosebleed.

“Supreme all-wise gods.” Heinnés pressed at his temples, mumbling something I didn’t catch apart from fuckwits and cockwombles. “Never mind that for now. We’ll sort it out when we stop at a camp. Mount up.” He swung into his saddle. “And give me Sigrunés.” He snapped his fingers at Marbles and Javyés, who rushed to hoist the Mage and sling him over the stallion’s back. “I’d rather take him myself than risk you idiots forgetting him in the forest or the likes. Féyes, with me. Archers, to the back and keep your eyes peeled. Marbles, until we can unfuck the swordmaster, you’re his nursemaid.” The commander clicked his tongue to cue his horse forward and rode off, Lochan at his flank.

Only then did I notice that the gale had abated.

Fucking typical.

Just like the wind itself, we were gone, too.

* * *

Chapter 7

CAMPING

Cyan Forest

LOCHAN

We left the province of Rottehwÿn like a horde of demons and headed for the north-east. It wasn’t until we’d reached the dense woodland of Cyan Forest—so named after the bluish-green of its spruce—that Heinnés ordered us to make camp. A few days’ break from the saddle had been overdue for the horses and riders alike.

Naoki, the Weather Mage initially designated to help with Sigrunés’ abduction, tracked us down there, clearly of a mind that being tardy was better than not showing up at all. He joined us for the duration of our forest stay with his protection guardian in tow.

As it turned out, an ambush by a band of mercenaries had prevented the Elemental and his yojihito from attending our appointment. Having narrowly escaped the pitiful fate intended for them, they fared a little worse for wear. Whatever had occurred during their ordeal must have caused a rift between the two. They hardly exchanged a word, an air of awkwardness following them around like a dark fog.

Mollified by the mission’s success, the commander didn’t give them too much shit. In fact, little Naoki proved himself so useful to have around that Heinnés promised not to report the incident to the Guild of Mages.

For starters, he constantly tweaked the weather. Keeping the rain away during the day and taking the chill off the nights made camping an entirely more comfortable experience. While by his own admission his healing abilities weren’t elaborate, he managed to treat minor ailments amongst the lads, a bout of Heinnés’ lumbago included. That alone cranked up his popularity since it had made the commander less of a crabby bastard. The Mage also spent a diligent hour working on our first aid kit, topping up the infection control charms, painkilling bracelets, and blood-clotting accelerants for wounds.

But most importantly, he transferred Magic into Lieutenant Javyés’ source stone and sorted out Sabre. And that without stirring Sigrunés. According to our Spark, it counted as no small feat because of the spell’s singular nature.

That—plus an occasional Magic gimmick—endeared the Mage to everyone in the unit. Things were the opposite, however, for his protection guardian. Naoki was cheery, small-boned and pretty in a strawberries-over-cream kind of way. In contrast, Raiden had a blunt manner, a brawny build and a facial expression suggestive of chronic constipation.

I saw little wrong with arrogance if one could back it up with skill. And the yojihito’s swordsmanship turned out to be nothing short of impressive. On catching a glimpse of him practising forms one morning, I recognised his smooth, minimalistic fighting style as that of the renowned Yamato Fencing School. The fact that no convincing winner emerged in a sparring duel between Raiden and Sabre confirmed that the yojihito was on par with our own swordmaster.

On the eve of our departure for Asirhwÿn, I took longer than usual grooming my mare in the horse enclosure. While strolling back towards the main camp, I happened upon Sabre and Marbles.

Standing outside of a tent, they paid me no mind, engrossed in yet another spat.

The duo were oil and water—they fought often and loudly every chance they got. Since Sabre had woken up from his magically induced sleep, the tension between them had grown even thicker.

This time, however, their squabble found a rather unexpected resolution.

“Is that so? Well, fuck you.” Marbles snarled in response to something I didn’t hear, stepping farther into Sabre’s space.