Cinders of Magic

Chapter 3-2

The night had lapsed into deep darkness by the time Elias woke. A few lanterns burned in the damp pit that his squad camped in, and most were passed out from their futile struggling and exhaustion. Just across the trench, Elias could spot Vira sleeping, her chest slowly rising and falling in a natural rhythm that betrayed none of the terrible injuries she had sustained earlier in the day.

Other than the soft orange glow of lantern light, there was only the warm green light of the moon above bathed in the glow of stars. The night was warm and humid, and the smell of dirt, blood, and smoke was as ever-present on the battlefield, but tonight Elias smelled something that reminded him of home, of his life in the south.

Captain Eladrine was easy enough to spot. He sat on a dirtied mat, resting his head against a wooden board that had been laid against the wall, and he swirled a bottle in his hand. “Didn’t expect you to wake up so soon,” he said with a pleasant smile.

“How long was I down,” Elias asked. The stiffness in his back relaxed with an audible pop.

“A few hours,” the captain replied. “I don’t have a timepiece on me.”

Elias nodded and found a seat on the mat the captain was occupying. “That Svelen fire whisky you have there, sir?” he asked, motioning to the brown bottle the captain still held.

“Will be in a second.” The captain pulled a bit of shredded svelen root from a pouch and lit it in his palm with a match. The Svelen caught instantly and gave off a warm, earthy smell before the captain dropped it into the bottle, where it continued to smoke, even drowned by the whisky. “Here.” Eladrine handed the bottle to Elias. “It’s my third bottle tonight, and I ought to share it.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Elias said, downing a swallow and sighing when the familiar cool spread down his throat and into his belly. “It’s been too long.”

“You from the Svel, Sergeant?”

“Not originally. Father lost the farm to Deadtrees when I was eight, and we had to move further south to do any kind of living. Lord in the Svel was kind to my family and gave us a lot on the Spine to till and plant.” Elias smacked his lips, savored the lingering burn, and took another swallow. “Life was good there for a long while before things started getting bad all over.” He handed the bottle back to Eladrine, who took a short pull on it before gifting it back.

“Risky to farm away from the Spine,” Eladrine said.

“True,” Elias agreed between drinks. “Cheap too. Forest lords will pay second citizens to farm that land and build the soil up to something usable. I’ve even seen a few third citizens have their statuses raised just so they could be allowed to own a farm to work. Didn’t happen too often, of course, but it did happen.”

“News to me,” the captain chuckled, “but that’s none too surprising, I suppose.”

“Always been a topper, sir?”

“That makes me difficult to speak with?” the captain asked.

“Not really. All the officers are toppers, so I don’t see too much of a difference.” He smiled at the younger man. “You seem better than most. Don’t know too many captains that would charge foolishly headlong into the enemy lines with less than a dozen men.”

“I wouldn’t have either,” the captain said, “if not for those channelers sent up to see it through. Have you seen many channelers in the fight, Sergeant?”

“Not too many, and more often than not, they are on the enemy’s side. Took a shot at one once. Nearly pissed myself when the bastard took the round to the head and stood up not a second later to stare me down. Learned that day it’s probably better to leave the channelers to fight their own battles. We mortal men have enough problems to deal with without adding to the list.”

“Must have been one of the Sloanish necromancers,” the captain remarked, “surprised you survived the meeting.”

“Well, I was very, very far away at the time, and I think he was more focused on making sure his monster was protecting him from the mortar fire.” Elias swirled the last bits of the whisky with what remained of the charred svelen root and gulped down what was left. “Didn’t work though. Mortars blew the monster to bits, and the man behind it was gunned down a hundred times before he stopped trying to get up.”

The captain hummed in appreciation of the story, and the two lapsed into silence for a while once Elias set down the emptied bottle. There was the sound of fighting far off to the north where the front must have moved to. Elias could not recall a time when the Fioran army had made so much headway in a single day. They had even gone to the length of pulling at least one artillery regiment out of their holes to follow the advance by the sound of it.

“Do you like the 3rd army?” Captain Eladrine asked to break the silence.

“You mean do I like Orailse?” Elias replied with a wry laugh. “I pray daily the Lowlord might choose to hold his next battle up here with us so that at least the scenery might change.” It was a lie; years had passed since last he prayed. “I’ve been fighting in these muddy pits since I joined up, and that was so long ago I don’t bother trying to figure out just how long.”

“Think you’re due for a change of venue then?” The captain asked with a smile.

“I’d give a few fingers for that, sir.”

“No need to do that. You might need them.”

“I’ve plenty to spare.”

The captain set his head back against the plank he was leaning on with a dull thunk and produced another bottle from his bag. “I’ve only been on this field a week or so, and already I can feel it draining my spirit away. Can’t imagine spending years in this mud.” The captain set about lighting another handful of svelen to drop into the bottle before taking a pull. “That’s going to change soon though,” he said after a contented sigh.

“How’s that?” Elias asked, holding out his hand for the bottle.

“The 4th and 8th armies have been sent up to reinforce Orailse. The plan is to push the Sloanish back upriver before they can muster the forces to respond. Someone high up is angry that the city has stayed unsecured for as long as it has and wants to set about righting that.”

“Burn me,” Elias exclaimed softly. “Didn’t think anyone cared enough to send us more men than they had to.”

“Well, if we succeed, the 3rd will likely change to securing Lake Trina and the river to the north to make sure the Sloanish never get another foothold here.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Likely not, but it won’t be an enviable position holding out against endless assaults either.” The captain gladly accepted the bottle back from Elias.

“Sounds like you’re trying not to see the fire, sir.”

“Fair enough, Sergeant.” Eladrine paused, and Elias was sure he was being weighed in the younger man’s eyes. “How would you like to have your squad transferred to the 4th and rejoin us when we return to the fight around the mountain,” Eladrine offered.

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, Captain, but I don’t have too much of a squad left to transfer.”

“I’d be willing to take your soldiers anyhow,” Eladrine replied.

Elias considered for a long time, sipping away at the Svelen fire whisky in his hand and listening to the distant drumming of the firing artillery. “Plenty of spinebacks at the mountain?” he asked.

The captain frowned. “Unfortunately, not. There isn’t a war as far as it goes at the mountain if you didn’t know better. The Highlord or the Low conspires to keep it a quiet post,” the captain replied.

“Think I might like that,” Elias said, handing the half-emptied bottle back to Eladrine.

“I’m glad to hear that,” the captain said before taking a swig. “That reminds me. Noticed you were missing a jacket, so I went ahead and requisitioned one for you.” Captain Eladrine picked up the garment and handed it over to Elias. “Squad Sergeants need to be recognizable.”