The Bathrobe Knight (39 page)

Ku had actually been more active as a fighter back then, often taking part in the raids and battles. For the last year or so, however, she had chosen to take on the responsibility of being the Guild's primary crafter. The two of them, along with several others in the Guild, had been gaming together for years across a plethora of different games. That was part of the reason they were able to be so successful even though they remained much smaller than most of the other Guilds they often found themselves up against. They had played together so long that they were often able to anticipate the others’ moves without ever having to be given an actual order.   

Ku smiled and shrugged in response, turning back towards the ocean, "We'll see."

She raised her arms above her head in a large circle and then abruptly dropped them to her sides before crossing them back over her chest. The water immediately before her in a large radius grew incredibly still. It was as if an unseen force were stopping the movement of the waves by creating an invisible barrier that they were unable to cross over. At the center of the circle, a small point of yellow light blossomed, quickly growing larger and larger. As it did so, the water around it was pushed outwards and beyond the radius of the invisible barrier, creating a crater within the water that was quickly filled by the growing light. The sound of wooden timbers groaning as if they were under a heavy weight filled the air followed by a thundering ripple which Maddock imagined a giant canvas sheet would sound like if a thousand hands were to grab its edges and give it a heavy wave. Then, quite suddenly, the light collapsed in upon itself with a vacuum of wind accompanying it. Occupying the space instead was the pinnace resting in the water at the end of the dock, rocking back and forth upon the waves.

A cheer went up from the members of the guild assembled on the dock as they rushed forward towards the newly summoned vessel.

"About time!" Maddock laughed. "That was certainly quite the wait for only a little show.  You women, always the tease."

"I think you have it backwards, honey. It's always you men rushing into things and finishing too quickly," she jabbed back. "You really should try and savor the build up."  

Maddock just smiled and rolled his eyes in response.  

Chapter 9: Cry Havoc – Let Slip the Turtle-Wolves of War

Qasin
:

Qasin waded slowly into the ocean until the gentle tide rolled over his knees and pulled at his feet. He looked at the water surging toward and then away from him and grinned.
A fitting place for men to die that the currents will pull them out and bury them before they have time to even be forgotten.

“Smiling before a battle, dear? How unbecoming of a King,” Eve said from behind him. “You should be giving a rousing speech or something of that sort. Inspiring the men, letting them know of the glory they will earn at the battle today.”

“Let the monsters in their minds and the beer in their guts tell them the words they need to find courage,” the King said, not bothering to turn around. “I don’t have what they are looking for.”

“Aren’t you supposed to though? You’re their King. You’re their leader,” Eve said, resting her arm on his shoulder.

“That is why I am here; that is why I will deliver them victory.”

“It isn’t just about giving them victory. You have to give them hope.”

“You have made it abundantly clear since we started traveling together that I am not cut out to be a King,” Qasin said, frowning as he looked behind him at Eve. “Now is not the time to try and affect imaginary regal properties when the tangible and real properties I do have will keep many of these people from dying.”

“Qasin, look behind you,” she said, using his shoulders to turn him around. “What do you see?”

He looked at the sight before him. Behind him were thousands and thousands of men lined up across the beaches. The sand on the flat shores crept inland from the water for almost a hundred feet, but none of it could be seen. Instead, the only thing visible on the beach were the feet and bodies of the densely packed soldiers who blocked his view of the shore completely. The soldiers, a mix of White-Horns and Humans were all armed and armored in their native battle attire. Above them the Black-Wings soared through the sky with Bows, Arrows and Knives. They moved in the sky like it was their home, causing sporadic shadows to dance over the Minotaurs, Satyrs and Humans below them.

What am I supposed to be seeing?
he thought, not sure which detail stood out. All he saw was troops. All he saw was men waiting to die and praying to live.
What does she want me to see this time?

“Qasin, this isn’t exactly arithmetic. What do you see?” she said softly, pressing again. Her voice, like always, crawled through his ears and wrapped around his mind.  

“I . . . I see fear,” he said, not sure if it was the right answer.

“And what do you think will kill the most men on the battlefield today?” she whispered again.

“Fear,” he responded. “Fear kills the weak and thins the cowards from the fight. It keeps a man alive before the battle, but it is the first thing to kill them once the blade is drawn.”

“That’s right. There are thousands of these men, serving you, the King, who are afraid. My brother will come, as I promised he would, and he will protect your people from death . . . but until he does, you must protect them from fear,” she said. He was half focused on her words and half focused on the feel of her hands on his shoulder and the hint that her cheek my brush against him. “You must keep them from dying of cowardice before the fight has a chance to turn in their favor.”

“What do I say though?” he asked, turning around to face her again.

“Qasin, they are scores deep. You only need to tell the front few the obvious then assure them that they will be safe,” she said, taking his arm like she had so many times before in order for him to escort her to within earshot of the men. “They will cheer, and then the ones behind will cheer, and then the ones behind them will cheer. None will know what you said, but they will all be filled with borrowed bravery.”

Why do I trust her so much?
Qasin asked himself as he walked to the front of the line of soldiers on the beach.
Why do I get the feeling when I am around her that I am more of a puppet than a man.

“First, you will tell them that they might die. It’s a rather terrible fate, but it’s unavoidable for some of them,” she continued to doll out instructions as they walked. “Then, you will tell them that they will live forever in the things they fight here today to protect.”

“I see,” he said, mentally taking notes. Whether he wanted to believe he was a puppet or just a King listening to an adviser, he could feel that what she was saying was the best counsel for him at this moment.

“After that, it’s important to make the opponent seem like the devil himself, my dear, which isn’t hard at all given how no one here knows anything about them. So all you have to do is explain that they won’t just convert people; they will burn their homes, rape their wives and enslave their children. The more wicked and intolerable the outcome of a loss, the more vigorously a loser will fight to prevent it.”

“What do I say after that?” Qasin said, turning to her. He had spent years listening to Councilmen and Chancellors give him advice, but none had been so insightful about how to manipulate people. None of their wisdom on how to conduct himself had felt so right.

“Then, my dear, you just tell them the truth: that they can win,” she said, standing still and motioning with an arm for him to go ahead of her.

Why does everything in life as a King always go back to speeches and talking,
he thought to himself as he walked up to the line.
Why must I give yet another public speech? When have I ever been good at this? A few years of public speeches made men want to kill me, and now I have to give another?
he bemoaned himself, but his feet carried him to position, paces away from the giant Minotaurs and armored Humans who stood in front of him.

Then he saw him, a true coward sitting on the front line. It was a Minotaur, so his face was hard to read, but the eyes were a giveaway. He was shaking as he held his Axe, and his erratic breathing did nothing to hide his wavering nerves.

“Are you scared?” Qasin asked.

“No, Sir,” the White-Horn denied. As a Human it was odd for Qasin to imagine that these bull-like beasts could feel fear, and he might have believed the foul beast had he not seen the quivering creature himself.

“Really? Because you should be,” he said, sticking to Eve’s script and fighting his instincts to tell the soldier everything was going to be okay. “I mean, just over the water there are far more men than even we have here that want nothing more than to kill you, and they are moments away from being in range to make that deSire a reality, so you should be afraid because you very well might die here today.”

The other White-Horns and Humans turned their head to follow his movements as he started to pace a little in front of the Minotaur. It wasn’t so far for the Minotaur to ever be out of earshot of him, but he decided he didn’t want to just stand still. Many of the Black-Wings had even come out of the air to hover close enough to listen in.

“In fact, no matter how well you fight today, there is a real chance that a stray Arrow or bad footing will get you killed, and there simply isn’t anything I can do to stop that from happening,” he said, seeing the faces before him flatten and frown.

I’m doing what you said, woman, and it isn’t working,
he wanted to say to Eve as he saw their despair. This was not the rousing burst of enthusiasm he had expected from following Eve’s formula.

“However, it’s okay,” he said, stopping his pacing a moment.

“It is?” The Minotaur asked, his face wide-eyed to show he was a little unsure of why.

“It is okay because it’s something we have to do if we want to live,” he began, trying to find the words he needed. “Even if we die here today, we won’t be gone. Our families will carry our name, our friends and lovers will carry our memory, and our people will carry our culture. Every aspect of who you are will live on for generations by those telling stories of the sacrifices we make here today. You, my tall friend, will live in the hearts and minds of the people you save here today long after you fall in battle.”

The Minotaur’s hands stopped shaking a little bit. His eyes were still wide, but, like the Humans, Satyrs and other Minotaurs around him, he looked like he was actually listening intently to what Qasin had to say, a response Qasin wasn’t used to when giving a speech, although this didn’t even feel like a speech.

“On the other hand . . . if you run, all that you are will be gone tomorrow. These foul fowl beasts--they don’t just want to kill you. They want to kill everything that made you who you are. If you turn around today and try to live your life free from danger, their wings will carry them across the sky faster than you can run, and they will have no mercy upon everything you love. They will murder your fathers and mothers. They will use and discard your women, sisters and daughters like worn out clothes. They will even butcher your sons and infants, and do you know why they will do it?”

“No, Sir,” the Minotaur said, his snout having turned red as Qasin talked. “Why?”

“Because a giant ball of fire in the sky told them it was okay,” Qasin answered. The rattled words hadn’t flowed out like he had planned, but he could feel animosity towards the birds growing. “Because they wanted to, and their imaginary friend said it was fine.”

“What?” A Human next to the Minotaur originally addressed yelled angrily.

“I kid you not: they come here to kill you in the name of a false god, and they will slay and torture everything you love because their Priests tell them to do it.”

“No!” a Black-Wing who was listening closely called down at him from the sky. “No they won’t. I’ll kill them first!”

“Will you? You know every person here will have to kill at least two of them to stop them from taking what they want?” Qasin asked the flying Incubus.

“Forget two! I’ll kill ten of the bird brains!” the Incubus yelled back.