Khavinar: The Last Wars

The Last Wars

A Book of Khavinar

J.R.R.Trollan

NEW ARRIVALS

The cold woke me as sure as any noise would. Shivering, I reached across for my cloak. It was damp with the onset of dew...I swore, the sound loud in the predawn silence. Daylight was still a few hours away and trying to go back to sleep was next to impossible. Maneuvering through the still sleeping forms of my comrades, I managed to leave our tent without waking anyone.

It was a close thing. Woler and Eseri were propped next to each other at the entrance, their naked figures still entwined from their latest rutting session. Peeved, I made certain to step roughly on Eseri's fingers as I stole past. Her sleepy complaints music to my ears as I made my way out.

Naturally outside wasn't any warmer, we were deep in enemy territory and couldn't afford the luxury of a camp fire. We had been camped out here in the sticks for a week.

Everyone was on edge to join up with the main army and tempers had flared the night before. The squad scout Nep had gone crazy and stuck a knife in the squad healer Efae. She in turn had tried to claw his eyes out with near success. 

A beautiful thing courtship is.

The Dune brothers, Ned, Frost and Reki had gotten into a row about a card game. Apparently Ned had conspired with Frost to cheat Reki and also with Reki to cheat Frost, they had both let him win and then found out he was playing both of them.

Ned's face would be needing treatment for a while but he had more coin in his purse.

Sighing I drifted towards the pickets and almost stumbled into a squatting figure near invisible in the moonless night.

A blade was at my throat in a heartbeat. It bit and drew blood, I froze and tried not to swallow.

A soft chuckle ensued as the figure straightened. My eyes adjusted enough to barely make out a slender feminine figure.

"uhh Deyija its me" I croaked. 

"That's Sergeant to you soldier" the blade seemed to hesitate for a second then after a heartbeat it withdrew slowly.

"Knew it was you all along just killing boredom" she seemed disappointed.

I suppressed a shiver....evil bitch. My fingers traced the valley of my neck where I'd been nicked by the blade. It singed.

She cocked her head, assuming an inquisitive posture.

"Too cold, couldn't sleep" I offered.

Talking hurt and the wound throbbed. She seemed satisfied and the blade vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Should know better than to sneak up on a lady, soldier".

I ignored the bait, the Sergeant was anything but a lady. When I had signed up as a recruit for the Empire's host, I had not expected to find anyone from my town and I hadn't. My luck ran out when I was transferred up north following the near annihilation of my company in the campaigns to the far south.

I encountered the Sergeant and a bunch of other recruits that served in my platoon at the war academy. It had been hell.

The Sergeant was a nasty piece of work. Known more for her looks, threats and her blades than for her  company.

Unfortunately for the male and occasional female trooper she wasn't hard on the eyes. She had a face that would be at home with the nobles up in Arciala and the attitude of a Borman gutter rat in heat.

The Sergeant was talking..

" and seeing as you are wide eyed and all, mind taking watch?"

I couldn't see it but I could imagine the sneer on her face, the evil bitch was pushing again. She was still a couple of hours away from relief.

She never requested anything, everything was really an order no matter how sweetly she coated it, she just made it seem amiable so she'd have a reason to cut you.

"Sure why not?" 

I forced cheer I did not feel into words that struggled to form past lips long accustomed to lying. Hopefully she'd get an arrow in the eye when we gave battle eventually.

She snorted and strolled into the dark naturally escorted by the most unsuitable obscene gesture I could muster.

"You wanna keep that finger soldier or should I take it?"

My jaw dropped, another chuckle in the dark.....evil bitch. 

Sometime before dawn, I spied two figures on horseback making their way to the camp. It was still too dark to tell who they were and I felt outmatched so I did the normal thing any soldier worth his salt would. I ran to camp to get help.

Unfortunately, my salt isn't worth much. Only Tarr agreed to come with me but he was enough.

The guy was a brute of a man, square jawed, broad shouldered and heavy browed. The perfect specimen of a senseless killing machine. I had gathered he was a descendant
of the northern berserker tribes of Cabinar.

His people had migrated from the tundra wastelands that bordered the lands of Wildonia. Big, scary and quiet, the man was a genius with a blade. I had seen Tarr split a dwarven war hammer
in halves, heard he dispatched a Scitern wraith lord with a backhand slap and that he cleaned his arse with a switchblade.

This guy was tougher than a desert cockroach with dragon armor. I walked behind him, longblade in hand. My preferred combat weapon looked like a toothpick next to his two-handed bastard great-swords. Yes I said swords, one in each giant sized fist...like I said tough bastard.

Together we stood sentinel as the riders pulled up. I tried my best to look scary next to the big northerner. I'd like to think I was successful.

The riders pulled up, their mounts snorted. The lead rider sat high on his horse, his features hidden within the shadows of a hood.

From within the darkness of his cloak, his eyes glowed an eerie silver, my hair stood on end.

A nether blasted sorcerer! The bastard was a practitioner and as he considered us with those eerie eyes I couldn't shake a feeling of dejavu.

I suppressed a shudder and tried to muster up my previous bravado.

"who the hel.."

I never finished 

"At ease soldier"

The voice managed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

Mind-speak. I'd heard of it but never had it used on me, the effect was nauseating at the least.

The only reaction from Tarr however was a slight shift of the brute's golden bangs by the wind...like I said cockroach in armor.

The sorcerer didn't seem to notice my discomfort or maybe he just didn't care. I hated him already.

The bastard went on, his voice pronounced in my skull.

"we were sent here by the Ambassador".

A missive appeared in my hands and I almost dropped it. Stupid wizards and their party tricks. It was a thick roll of paper and had the Ambassador's seal - a fat cherub gorging on pastries.

I opened it and read.

                                   " To whoever receives this, these guys are hereby assigned to your company"
                                                                                                                           yours forever
                                 Ambassador Odiar V.II
    p.s. Let Sergeant Deyija know I still await
                        her reply, it has been a year.
    oh and forgive the waste of paper, don't
     know why they don't make these things
     smaller
                                                                             
I shook my head softly. It was him alright, the political benefactor of our little outfit.

The stupid fatarse probably was too lazy chasing imperial whores to utilize the appropriate communication channels. A dove carrier would have been suitable enough for liaisons.

I tucked the missive away and nodded to Tarr. The big northerner stepped aside, making way for the riders.

Guiding them to the Captain's tent I couldn't help but consider the implications of their addition to the squad.

With the advent of the Sorcerer, we now had four mages in our outfit. Our previous cadre count already exceeded the allotted squad mage requirements. We were now two mages above the norm. I must admit it felt pretty good. I waved at the rider and his companion to wait outside and paused to watch them dismount. It had skipped me before but now I sensed there was something odd about the Sorcerers companion, something in his movements was off. Putting that aside I walked to the tent and spoke to the guards acquiring details of the Captain's disposition.

The Captain was awake and in a foul mood, the events of the night before had tested her and she was nursing a hangover.

Dawn arrived and soft sunlight bathed the inside of her tent in a warm golden flood of light. She sat on a stool and ran a comb through unruly locks of blood-red hair. Her glacier green eyes regarded me dispassionately and I swallowed. She was naked but for a half worn chemise that covered her lower body, her breasts stood firm and pronounced in the amber glow of the tent.

I quickly found myself having to deal with two lumps on my own body. I swallowed and was left with one. The other I gave free rein, maybe she'd be impressed, just maybe...

"I'm assuming you have something to report soldier?"

It took near heroic effort to remember she had a face and I, a message for it.

"oh s-sorry Ma'am, I-I mean Capt" She wasn't amused.

I handed her the missive, calling upon my iron will and years of intense training to maintain eye contact while I did.

She took it, took a look at the broken seal and arched a brow.

"Had to make certain it was authentic before I let them in Capt" I explained

She nodded in the affirmative, I felt no small pride.

"Bring them in" she drawled.

I swallowed again....damn thing was becoming a habit.

"Forgive my boldness Sir, but you may want to meet them adequately dressed" I suggested.

No way I was gonna share this gift with a couple of wet behind the ear sorcerer bastards.

She seemed to realize her state for the first time and groaned
"give me a few minutes and send them in"
I nodded and had started towards the entrance when she said

"oh and soldier" her voice was sweet and honey laced.

I managed to turn without betraying my eagerness. My bastard eyes however found their targets on her chest.

"yes Capt?" I croaked.

"you are on latrine duty today" her smile was captivating.

Bitch..my bastard eyes burned holes in her chest...I saluted "yes Capt!"

I gave her a few minutes to ensure that the Captain would be fully dressed before I brought in the Sorcerer and his companion.

Her long hair was packed neatly into a bun and rebel strands ran across her face. She stood at ease, easily towering over the average man.She was an amazon, they were already a fair minority of them in the army to make her an oddity but the Captain was a rare one. She had been raised in the wastelands by her exiled mother. Her pale white skin was a silent testament to her time in the badlands.

Once again I felt no small pride in my squad. We had the most beauties this side of the war and...

"Soldier?" Her voice broke me out of my reverie.

"Y-Yes Sir?" I managed.

"I believe you were asked a question?" Liquid green eyes held mine.

Uh oh, she was getting edgy must be that time of the month. I made a mental backtrack

"Yes Sir, we have been ready to move for sometime, preparations to break camp are well on the way".

She closed her eyes and nodded softly. Her attention turned to our new recruits.

The sorcerer had thrown back his cloak to reveal startling white hair, a hawkish nose and a youthful face with angled features.

This bastard was a halfling! A mix between human and something else. My guess was faeish but his features were leonine at most.

His eyes still held their silver glow and he bowed slowly as he introduced himself

"My name is Leoni Vartrasi, apostate of the supreme order of fire and warmagi of the fourth circle" he used mindspeak 

My eyes grew a few more inches in my skull. There were only five circles achievable. The bastard was both a bloody highmage and warlock. He seemed to like my reaction because he smirked and gestured at his companion.

I watched as the other figure threw back his cloak and stepped forward.

"Stand down soldier!" the Captain's voice came like a slap.

When had I moved?

Everyone was stared. I had my short knife out and was breathing hard, my eyes were dead set on the just revealed figure of the sorcerer's companion.

He..she had snow white hair. A stark contrast to her ebony dark skin. Amber hued eyes radiating with echoes of power regarded me with amusement. Almost as tall as the Captain, she stood regal and elegant with a slight air of unmistakable authority. Her features were too perfect to be human and a slight smile played across her lips.

I was in the presence of a dark elf.

..........................................................................

.

THE 13TH DETACHMENT

.

Her name was Faeina Volatris, A dark elf native to the gray lands on the far reaches of northern Kharvina. She was here as an envoy from the Faeina Priaera the great dark queen herself.

The alliance between Deortha and Khavinar was barely a century old, but it was only till about a decade ago that the darfae of Deortha had deemed it worthy to join their mortal allies in the field of battle against the ever present evil of Wildonia.

Even so, sightings of darfae were few and far between. Details of her assignment were on a scroll she passed to the captain. I had never seen a dark elf before but I'd heard enough tales about
them to stay my hand on my blade. I was sure she'd forgive my slack jawed stare. The warmagus however didn't seem to appreciate my enthusiasm towards his companion. Grunting he looked pointedly at the captain and nodded my way. The captain misread his intentions and proceeded to introduce me.

"This is Nhili Trinii Arta, sub lieutenant first class. Forgive his manners, he's native to the red wastes of kharvina and evidently has
never seen a darfae before"

With the introduction, the dark elf seemed to focus more on me to the chargin of the warmagus.

"Trinii Arta" she at least, communicated with her natural faculties. Kreia was the common language of all cities in Khavinar and her command of it was impressive. The words seemed to roll over her tongue in a way both eerily unnerving and equally enticing.

Ember red eyes fell fleetingly on me and then returned to the captain.

"a rather peculiar name to be borne by a mortal".

The Captain snorted. "Then that's perhaps the least peculiar thing about him"

I had a vague perception of hidden undertones in her statement, I preferred however to brush it aside and focus more on my ogling. Her heavy cloak and under armor had done little to blunt the edges and curves of her feminine features. The twin waterbag sized mounds on her chest almost put the Captain's to shame. My lust however was shortlived, our eyes met again and in them for just a moment I saw whispers of unhinged insanity. ..great.

One would think we already had more than our fair share of capricious characters.

The warmagus grunted again. I suggested a drought of wine to clear his throat. Ha!...If looks could kill.

The captain meanwhile studied the missive from the Priaera with a slight frown on her face. She caught me watching her, sighed and returned the missive to Volatris. The missive now in the hand of the darfae burst aflame with ephemeral blue witchfire. There remained no ash to mark its existense.

So somebody didn't want the contents of that missive to be known? Interesting.

The captain dismissed us and gave me orders to see to their settling into camp. Great, as if latrine duty wasn't punishment enough.

We exited the Captains' tent and proceeded to make our way into the heart of camp, my plan was to dump them off on another poor sop but I was sidetracked before I got the chance.

Gathered around the edge of the camp in a roughly drawn circle marked by what looked like the hilt of a blade was a group of noisy troopers. In their midst three figures stood. My eyes grew wide as I realized who these trio were.

The duel was about to begin. I hurried towards them.

The tallest of the three was Klaws Runt of the ninth squad, he was a company oddity. The man claimed he was a hybrid of some ancient werebeast creature and a Romire. The Romire is a rare family of demons, they survive mainly by feeding on the life force of other creatures. Legend has it that they were exiled from Truun, a world of all things dark and twisted. Hated and hunted by their kind, they fled into our world at the dawn of humanity. Being the weakest family of demons did little to discourage them from attempting to dominate mankind.

Mankind however had something alien to the demons. Mankind had its gods. These deities granted humanity the ability to fight and destroy the Romire, further reducing their already dwindling numbers. It wasn't long until the Romire faded into obscurity and myth, becoming nothing more than phantoms in scary stories told by housewives to naughty children. Sometimes I amaze myself with how much I know having had no memories of an education, it is to say the in least frightening.

As far as anyone could tell however, Klaws was as human as they came. From the ground he stood a few lengths away from a metre and its half.
He had a shock of dark brown hair that he let run uncombed, and pale gray eyes on a face that would have been pleasant but for the rugged beard and battle scar that gave him a wild and manic visage. Today he wore nothing from the waist up and stood with his legs apart and a fighting blade in each hand. For all his mental shortcomings, Klaws was a fine warrior, his reaction and flexibility in combat were only second to Deyija. You wouldn't want him to be with your enemies on any day. This time though, I had a feeling he had bitten on more than he could chew.

Efae Harvern of the sixth and Nepiroth Zilo of. also the ninth stood facing Klaws. Barring the fact that Nep had tried to stick a knife in Efae the night before, the two were inseparable and not in a romantic sense.

Unlike her opponent Klaws, Efae Harvern was a true hybrid. Although details of her past were murky, several things were evident. She had the healing magi of an arfae, she spoke faeish like a second tongue and she looked like a spoilt nordic lass. Her hair was flaxen and her
eyes a cold hue of blue. Needless to say I'd like to have met her mother. Efae was more or less the conscience of the her squad the sixth. At least she was when her queen bitch attitude was at bay. Today however was not one of those days. 

Although not a pure fighter, due to her non-human persuasions Efae is able to harness strength enough to rival Tarr the great dragon armor wearing cockroach himself.

It was rumored even that she was infact a bimorph. A jaguar looking fiend her alter form. She had done nothing to support the rumors but she hadn't outrightly denied them either.

Then there's Nep. Nepiroth Zilo Khartakas Daeolithara, Although we go some ways back I've come to realize that there's very little I really know much about Nep. What I do know is this...If Nep wasn't with us, he'd be somewhere else conquering cities and raping babies. He has that feel. He is also the nicest guy you'd never know. Nep cuts a dimunitive figure and is probably the smallest guy in my squad at six foot one. He insists on wearing a ridiculous multi-colored cloak he claims is a family heirloom. Nep's a minor mage but a fun guy to be around when arrows and spears rain down on you behind a shield wall.

The wave of susurrations amongst the crowd had ebbed.

Someone was making a move.

Efae moved first.

Her fist flashed lethal blows straight at Klaws. He ducked and spun, throwing a leg forward in a bid to catch her shin. She anticipated the move and leaped forward. Her momentum brought her down heavy on Klaws who had yet to recover from his errant kick. Knees connected hard with the back of his head. 

Nep became boisterous.

"One point to Efae! Can Klaws get one in return? Place your bets you bastards! I bet the queen throttles him the whole round!"

The soldiers became charged with the thrill of the bet. Everyone knew Klaws didnt stand a chance against Efae in unarmed combat.

Nep went around collecting the copper coins that passed for money in these lands and stuffing them into his rainbow cloak. 

His path brought him near where I stood and I tossed him a silver. 

"One silver crown on Klaws! I say he gets one in before the round goes out!"

Nep snatched it from the air with a sneer.

"Your pocket Nhili not mine"

The warmagi and the elf closed in. I could sense their thinly veiled curiosity but I wasn't going to offer anything. 

Finally they couldn't hold it in and the warmagi asked in mindspeak.

"The Volatris wants to know why your people fight each other"

I smiled and without looking at the warmagus I explained in the most pedantic tone I could. 

"Every once in a while especially in an army of this size there's certain to be a variety of characters who don't play well with each other. We've got troops ranging from the furthest reaches of Khavinar to the very heart of the capital itself. Following so far?"

The warmagi and Volatris nodded in understanding.

I went on "Due to this collusion its hard to not discover the occasional slit throat or garroted corpse rotting amongst the trenches. An army can really eat itself up from stuff like that"

"A human army you mean" The Volatris chirped.

I grunted an ascent and went on "After a few unfortunate incidents, our Captain came up with what we are witnessing"

The crowd went wild as Nep collecting bets had strayed too close to the circle and Klaws had seized the opportunity to give him a good whack for his concerns.

It was up to the scout now to either ignore the attack and blame his carelessness or to join in on the duel and make it a lynch. 

Nep wasn't a big fan of lynches, but he wasn't entirely keen on the idea of letting physical harm go unanswered. We are really all villians. The scout was up immediately, a wicked sneer flashed across his face and he stepped into the circle.

The crowd cheered and roared for blood.

I sighed heavily, looks like I had just lost a silver crown. There was no way Klaws would get a hit on Efae now with Nep in the way. Nep wasn't exactly the strongest of warriors but something about him made dueling him a bad idea. I'd seen Nep take on three of the camp's strongest warriors at once without batting an eyelid. He was totally uncanny in combat. Never an agressor, he preferred to provoke attacks then react accordingly. He was the worst sort of opponent for Klaws. 

However,  it wasn't entirely bleak for Klaws. There was a flaw in this matchup that Klaws could exploit. For all his many talents, Nep didn't play well with others. He grew significantly stronger when facing stiffer odds, and weaker when given an advantage. Efae would eventually get in his way. When that happened, Klaws could get a hit in on Efae and I'd get to keep my silver crown and make a killing.

I rubbed my palms together and cheered.

'Isn't that against the rules?' Mindspeak. The warmagi.

I didn't feel it was fair that I had to use my mouth to reply so I feigned a state of mental deafness. Almost immediately I felt an alien prescense brush my thoughts, leaving me with faint notions of amusement.

I looked at the Volatris, her features where still hidden within her hood but I was certain she was smiling. Creepy. Try as I might, i couldnt shake a feeling that I'd just been mind raped by a darfae

The warmagi seemed to get the message.

'What happens now?' His accent was clipped in the manner of the Western Cape cities.

I could see why he preferred mindspeak. Not many people were fond of mages, but even fewer were fond of the citizens from the Western Capes. 

I was not entirely keen on being around him anymore.

'Well now, the wild haired one you will come to know as Klaws will have to face down on the the colorful bet keeper and the blonde halfae'

'And this is acceptable?' He pressed

'To some extent yes, if a duelant chooses to, he may assault anyone from within the circle. The assaulted party may then choose to walk away from the duel or partake just like bet keeper did. It really just comes down to egos at the end'

'I see' Mindspeak again. The guy was an addict.

I didn't think he did so I went on to explain. 

'We aren't animals here but we do our damned best to pretend otherwise. The risk of calling for a duel is exponential' heheh exponential I liked that word, Eseri had thought me a few big words since coming to camp. Exponential was my favorite. 

'and?' The Volatris herself had addressed me indicating I had piqued her interest. 'Why is it of great risk to hold one of these duels?'

'Lynches' I gave it to her straight. 'Depending on your popularity or notoriety within the camp, the chances of you getting lynched or assisted vary' 

I pointed at the circle 'Klaws there, is always picking fights with any and everyone. He has been lynched more than once but that doesn't discourage him, the halfae is more or less the same. She however always has allies so an all out lynching hasn't occurred yet. It's in the air though, any day now she'd step in there and find no one to cover her back. Scary thing is, I don't think she minds. Nep there thrives more in lynching than he does in solo duels' 

The Volatris giggled 'you sure know alot about these things don't you?'

'Every detachment needs a know it all, I found the position vacant when I was dispatched here. It's also quite lucrative' 

The crowd groaned in unison. 

Nep had cornered Klaws in-between himself and Efae. He was in the process of stringing together a complex series of feints and kicks that would have certain to take down the tired Klaws when Efae seething with impatience had managed to interrupt with a poorly aimed attack from Klaws's blindspot. 

Klaws had anticipated Efae would attack first. My guess was he had obviously baited her into lunging for him by placing her in his blindspot. Attacking from a blindspot was never a bad idea, the opponent more than often would never see it coming. However, attacking an opponent who intentionally places you in his blindspot is naive. 

Efae realised her error a fraction of a second too late. Klaws leaped backwards into her attack, just as Nep realized the ruse and tried to salvage the situation. 

The result was comical. Klaws's' elbow caught Efae full on her face. I smiled, I was gonna eat like a king tonight. Efae temporarily disoriented, threw out a palm that caught not Klaws but Nep who had showed up in time to land a well placed blow to the jaw of Klaws, instantly knocking him out. He was rewarded for his heroics by an open palm backed by faen strength. The blow threw him out of the circle and into the crowd where he collided with a bunch of unfortunate troopers. He didn't get up again

Efae had won the duel but Klaws had gotten a hit in so my bet had paid off. 

I was a decidedly happy man as I showed the recruits the rest of the camp. 

...............................................................................

It was almost noon when I had finally dumped the recruits on the camp quarter master. The camp was now a beehive of activity. Messengers ran in and out of command tents, soldiers gathered what scant belongings they called theirs and the war engineers set to taking down our pickets.

I set out to find members of my cell. 

Although being already a small contingent of motley soldiers, the Captain had deemed it fit to break us up further into cells. I suppose she did this to enforce some sense of security and bonding amongst the troops. Can't say it wasn't effective. 

Tarr and Nep sat by our usual hangout. Nep was sporting a fresh bandage over his left arm.

A rowdy pile of old tents and other camp gear surrounded the makeshift camp circle, giving us some near element of privacy or the illusion of it.

Wasn't gonna be surprised if we discovered some camp spook like Deyija or Taryaw hidden amongst the rag pile just for the hell of it.

Tarr raised an arm to me. In his grip was a metal cup, I accepted it and took a sniff at the swirl.  I recoiled.

'What on Favel's planet sized balls is in this!?, Demon fucking piss!?' Nep chuckled. 

'Don't be such a stiff Nihl, that's my latest batch of swigorama!' Kings would sell their kingdoms to get at this stuff but I'm stuck pedaling my skills to you ungrateful sods!'

Struggling to get on his feet with a chargined expression, he continued.

'I can see genius is naught but a thing amongst lesser men!'  He took a large draught of the evil liquid and the whites of his eyes turned red. Staggering, he made a series of gagging noises and fell face down.

Poor guy, had to wonder how much damage Efae had done to the wretch. 

The camp's trumpets blared a short note. The hundred man company moved out on its March to the thousand mile meadows