XII

The scout’s news had not been the most pleasing thing to hear. The fact of the matter was that they had an enemy army right there, straddling the border between Kurtz and Helheim, and the white coats were working hard to rectify that, opting to attempt to put all 6,000 men of the army onto Helheim soil instead of straddling the border.

And he only had 400 men to his name…

Holding the fort was a lost cause, what with the large amounts of Kurtz soldiers that would be on their way and likely here in a number of days if they continued to move with the speed at which they were moving now.

Adrian leaned back in his chair, staring at the newly hewn ceiling of the command office and thought. On the rough wooden desk in front of him was a map of the surrounding marshlands. It was a crude rendering, done by an artist that had flown over the area in a hot air balloon. Adrian opened his eyes and stared at the map distastefully, the small little rocks and marks surrounded by an ocean of trees did little to actually tell you anything about the swamps themselves, it did nothing to truly tell of the swamps with its ever-changing landscape. Sometimes it even seemed like the trees themselves were moving…

“We can’t hold the fort, not against those numbers,” 6,000 men was a good sized force, but in all honesty, it was simply a drop in the bucket for the Kurtz empire. Likely this troop was sent out to clear the way and work on getting the swamps passable for the larger forces that would no doubt be coming along behind them. Still, that many men were far more than he could handle here. And while a good group of soldiers could hold out against a much larger force if they were positioned correctly and used efficiently they were simply a token force, placed here to show that the border was manned and nothing else, because who in their right mind would attempt to march an army through a swamp?

Apparently, their emperor was such a man…

“That was my thought as well sir,” Torin said, sighing as he scratched the sub of ear he had and leaned forward, a pipe in his mouth. The sickly sweet smoke drifted up and filled the room, he sighed, pulled one last drag and then turned the pipe over and knocked out the dregs of tobacco by tapping it on the table with the bowl over the edge. He used his foot to crush the still glowing ends in the ash and looked up at Adrian. “Are we pulling out?” he asked.

“How goes the evacuation of Brejiksvile?” he asked not answering the question.

“Poorly and slowly, how else do you expect the evacuation of 1,000 men women children and there damned goats to go?” he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I have twenty of my best men on it, but it goes slow and I dare not send any more as we might need them here.” Twenty men to herd and protect a thousand refugees? Adrian shook his head at that.

“Any sign of the initial scouts that went missing?” he asked looking down at the map.

“No sir, their patrol ruite takes them very near to the main body of Kurtz groups, so I believe it is safe to assume they won't be coming back.” Adrian nodded, moving the small piece of stone he had designated as Kurtz into the location of the army,

“Noted, is there any more information on the army’s composition?”

“There seems to be a remarkable amount of building supplies, sir.”

“Building supplies?” Adrain leaned in staring harder at the rock as though it would tell him everything he needed to know about the enemy force if he just stared at it long and hard enough.

“Yessir, and it would seem as though they are sending out groups of men to get materials and supplies.”

“How far are these foraging parties going?” Adrian asked, “A mile or more?” if they were sending the troops out to gather resources that far than a small group of Helheim soldiers could hit the foraging parties, wiping them out before reinforcements could be mustered. No doubt the Kurtz officers would call them cowards, saying that it was improper to not line up and fight in a conventional war. Adrain didn't really care what they said, at the end of the day all that mattered was survival and victory.

“Sometimes further sir.”

“Good, Sargent Torin, inform the men we will not be pulling out,” the Sargent grimaced, not liking what that meant. “And also inform them that we will not be holding the fort either, we will begin strike missions against the foraging parties, harassing and generally bugging the hell out of those damned whitecoats, making sure they can get no reprieve, also send a rider out with news of the situation back to the generals,” Adrian glanced at the map again and glared at the stone. “Send him with two horses, tell him to ride them both to death if needs be.” He looked up to see Torin smiling. “It should take a week or so for any sort of response, which means we need to hold out, doing our duty to the best of our knowledge, gather as much information as we can and wait for orders.”

“Yessir!” Torin snapped a salute “am I dismissed to tell the men sir?”

“Go, we need to get prepared to abandon the fort, ” he said and watched as the man turned and strolled out of the command structure. Adrian breathed in deeply calming himself before he turned towards Isi. She was currently wearing a now fully tailored mage’s uniform, the fabric for which had been cannibalized from one of his own uniforms. She lacked the black iron grieves and the breastplate, in its place instead she wore her corset, which apparently had become something of a favorite of hers. “I'm still mad at you,” he said, crossing his arms and staring daggers at her. “I would have thought of all the people there you would have been the one who trusted me the most, the one who would listen to what I say the most.” she looked up at him, completely unrepentent. “You could have been shot, and believe it or not I cannot fix a bullet hole in your head.”

“Ish Salcha Mallen?” she asked, one eyebrow raised and a small sardonic smile on her lips.

“Yes, I am worried for you, as I have a right to be!” he growled, her eyes narrowed at that and she got up and walked forward until she was in his face.

“Ish malken,” she punctuated the words by poking him in the chest with her finger,”torin ja.”

“You see,” his hand reached up and grabbed her wrist, “that is where you are wrong, I do own you,” her eyes flared wide in anger and before she could speak another word he continued, “and you own me, that is how this works, so I am responsible for you and you are responsible for me, so you better damn well get used to me getting angry when you do stupid shit like that!” he was the one in her face now, but she didn't back up, in fact Isi didn't even look upset anymore, her steely expression had morphed into one of soft understanding. She nodded and leaned forward a small smile on her lips as she brushed them against his own.

“Ish malken torin ja,” she said softly, “Ma malken torin ja, torin ja harmusa.”

“I didn't mean it like that,” he said, resting his forehead against hers, “when I said I owned you and you, I didn't mean it like a slave, you should know me better than that...” she nodded and her eyes looked away from him even as she kept her forehead resting on his. “Isi, what is it? There was something more wasn't there?” she shook her head and attempted to pull away but he trapped her by placing both his hands on her face and forcing her to face him. “Tell me.”

“Inuma memorum.”

“We all have bad memories,” he whispered, “everyone does, but we can’t let that cloud our judgment,” he looked at her at how she was studiously ignoring his eyes like she was afraid of what he would see. At that moment he knew that if he pushed it might not go well for him, so he simply nodded, “We are not done with this conversation, but lets shelve it for now,” she glanced back at him and there hidden under the relief was a sadness, and perhaps even a loneliness, “just remember,” he wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her into him. “You are mine, mine and no one else's,” he whispered against her lips before taking them…

***

He didn't make it far, the ball punched in his throat, causing the man to stumble, he used a tree to prop himself up but this only lasted for a second before he fell down to his knees, his blood gushing out of his neck and mouth in a beat that ran in tandem with his still working heart. Adrian sighed as he lowered his rifle, watching as the man fell never to rise. Every whitecoat in a mile had heard that musket fire was too unique to have had it been any other way. A very distinct explosion that gave away your location. But then again, that was the point, after all, it might give them the idea to follow him.

He pulled out his sword, and peered around the edge, only to pull it back when a musket ball glanced off of the tree just above his head. He cursed under his breath, the whitecoats were supposed to follow him, but not that quickly... He looked over at Isi, who was at this time pulling a cartridge out of the bag on her belt and stuffing it down the spent barrel of his musket before ramming it home with the rod. He looked her over and she caught his eyes. She didn't like using the muskets, she claimed they made it harder for her to cast her magic, but he had convinced her of the need, sorcery was all good and fine, and hers was a much more effective at killing than even his but there was nothing wrong with having a spare. And honestly, she was quicker than even he was at reloading the damn things, which may have wounded his pride a little. She looked back down at the musket and tipped another line of powder into the pan and closed the flap meant to keep rain out And laying on her stomach in the marshy water, her upper body on dryland as she faced the direction of the Kurtz patrol, and before he could move she rolled out sideways from behind her tree careful to keep the gun From getting wet. When she had made one full rotation she pulled the pan back and aimed.

At this time Adrian had already rushed out, and as they were focused on the demon wielding a blade in his left hand and arcane fire in his right they didn't see the prone figure of Isi as she lined up her shot. A man on the right wielding a musket that was aimed at his chest went down as the world shuddered under the roar of her firearm, like thunder rending the sky he was struck down with an almighty blow that knocked him off of his feet, blood spraying out of the hole on his chest and between his clenched teeth, the shot he had been aiming at Adrian going wide, arching over his head.

At this point in time, the man who had fired the musket at him previously had just finished reloading the firearm and had it lowered, dropping to one knee and lining the shot up by looking down the barrel of the firearm. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger and the Axe bladed musket barked its response. Adrian threw himself down into the marshy water diving in without a second thought. As the water greyish water came up to meet him he twisted pointing two finger as the man in a gesture that was almost a parody of a pistole and arcane fire exploded around him, vaporizing the water in a giant plume of steam and smoke as the man was reduced to ash in the blink of an eye. He caught a glimpse of a third man as his head went under the foul oily brackish water, not a yard away, eyes fixed on Adrian.

He heard the shot, felt it go through his right arm and ignored the pain as he sprung to his feet sopping wet and stinking of the stagnant waters of the marsh.

The man’s face was grim, he understood he didn't have time to reload the musket, therefore he used it another way, he swung the implement, both hands on the stock, the musket, in fact, was made for this purpose seeing as the front of it indeed came down to a bladed point much like that of an axe, it was an ingenious design that allowed more flexibility when needed, it was one of the things he wished his own country would adopt from the Kurtz army. Adrian ducked under the swing of the blade, allowing it to pass within an inch of his face as he twisted his torso back. He came up leading with the blade, which punched easily through the man’s shoulder, coming out of the bone on the backside as Adrian had cut through a simple cloth. Twisting the blade he disarmed the man.

Literally.

As the man’s appendage fell to the ground he slipped past the man, and before he could even scream at the loss, Adrian lashed out in a backward swing, the blade not removing the man’s head but rather cut the spinal cord, causing the man to collapse in a boneless heap.

It would be at least an hour before he died.

He stood there, holding the blade in his right hand aloft, peering around the marshlands for any more flashes of white. He saw one, a man turning tail and fleeing, Adrian pulled out the pistol and took aim, pulling the trigger. Nothing happened, cursing he lowered the weapon and a stream of water flowed out of the barrel sighing he replaced it in the holster on his chest. He glanced up at the man and sighed, but as he watched the man simply stopped, and it was as though all the color drained out of his body. His black hair turned white, the color of his skin turned greyish, and the billow of his white cloak froze in the wind like some sort of artist's rendering of a man in flight. Glancing over he noticed Isi standing next to him, her hands raised in front of her, her eyes shining with a purple light. She smiled and looked at him, her smile faltering as she saw the biceps in his shoulder. It morphed to a look of anger as she slowly reached up and brushed her fingers against the wound.

“It’s fine,” Adrian grunted, “went through the meat, didn't even hit the bone,” he said, and she reached into his pocket and pulled out the tin, carefully she shook the water off of the lid, using a spot on her own uniform to carefully wipe it off before opening it, somehow it made it through that impromptu swim without the seal that kept the water out from being compromised. “I hate this part,” he grunted before whipping the blade clean of blood on the dead man's trousers and sheathing the blade. Reaching in the offered box for Calamine and Cuprum. Once his fingers were coated in the stuff he gritted his teeth and stuck his fingers in the hole in his arm, pushing them deep. The blood reacted to the reagents and a dull red light glowed ever so slightly as the flesh knitted itself back together, not quite fully healed, but more than enough to allow basic movement of the arm.

They both ducked as a shot rang out and a ball whizzed overhead, exploding bark and wood debris that showered the two of them as the tree not four feet away from them received a musketball. Adrian glanced over his shoulder and noted the group of about twenty men coming into range, all of whom were wearing what had once been white uniforms but at this point had been stained grey by the swamp’s filth. “Time to go!” he growled, grabbing her by the arm and snatching up one of the discarded Kurtz muskets. He could hear the whitecoats splashing in the water behind them, attempting to catch up or at least get into effective musket range. A wicked smile twisted his face, “That’s right you bastards, follow us.” He growled as they led the poor bastards to their death.