A DRINK BEFORE BATTLE (MxM)

The camp was absolutely lousy with Alchemists.

Four more Alchemists had arrived from Valesk, after Urskatha petitioned the Lord Protector, and the Brinnish Alchemists began to visit regularly. In the days since receiving that news, it became increasingly common to see the flutter of a black cloak rounding a corner between the white tents, setting all the common soldiers on edge as the camp seemed haunted by these specters of death. The Alchemists packed themselves into the map pavilion like a roost of bats to strategize, or descended upon the training grounds like a murder of crows on a battlefield, creating otherwordly lightning storms in their maneuvers.

Sevei could only watch all of this from the sidelines. The Alchemists had closed ranks, shutting out even the common soldiers of the Fourth Martial Line, let alone anyone else. Once daily, he and Yanek would be called to the map tent for a perfunctory briefing, and that was all Sevei had seen or heard from Urskatha since that day.

He could have complained. He was just as much a General of this campaign as Urskatha, with every right to full involvement. He’d promised not to push, but should that include military business? That should be separate from their personal matters.

But, Sevei could see what Urskatha was doing, surrounding himself with all these Alchemists. It might look like he was taking control of the situation, organizing, planning, preparing...

Yeresym needed to feel safe. Sevei could only make him feel overwhelmed and anxious.

He couldn’t forget Urskatha’s reaction to his blunt declaration that day. He’d sent the man, still mending himself after loss and horror and a brush with death, into a panic attack. His heart still hurt to think of it. Sevei couldn’t do anything about the fact that Urskatha’s worst nightmare might show up here any day, but if a bit of distance was needed, he could give him that.

He couldn’t bring himself to go too far away, though. He did make his promised trip to Tharlburg, but all in one day. He went alone at the crack of dawn, rode hard to the city, met with the suppliers, met with Kyrzhan, and then dashed back to camp as if he’d been on the end of a taut elastic band all day that now snapped him back, only coming to rest when he saw the light of candles in the map pavilion gleaming on that halo of pale hair bent down in conspiracy with the ravens.

The next day, he and Yanek went to pummel the frustrations out of each other on the training ground. To one side, all the common soldiers of both the Third Cavalry and the Fourth Martial Line trained together, practicing battle formations under the cooperation of both units’ troop captains. The Sekkha were nearby there, and Sergeant Kahan with them, drilling for the special operations they would run. To the other side, Alchemists of Valesk and Brinland practiced their own tactics together in a riot of blazing blue-white energy and black-clad figures disappearing from one place to reappear in another. Sevei couldn’t help but glance sharply at every sizzling arc of energy that flashed across his peripheral vision. Yanek got the best of him and sent him sprawling across the grass, abrading his jaw against the leather chin-strap of his helmet.

“You’re distracted,” Yanek said, handing him up with a perceptive sigh.

“Just tired,” Sevei answered, removing his helmet to poke at his jaw. “The trip yesterday put me through it.”

“You should have stayed overnight,” Yanek admonished.

Sevei picked his shield up from the ground – the one Urskatha had given him – and looked across the field at the battling Alchemists, his gaze distant. He shook his head.

“I know,” Yanek said in exasperation. “Well, if he’s not talking to you, at least you got a fancy new shield out of the deal.”

Sevei looked at his shield with a fond expression, then looked at the one Yanek held.

“How’s that working out?” Sevei asked. “Too heavy?”

Under the guidance of a Martial Line Alchemist, the smiths had melted down the maille tunics and inlaid the metal into the surface of the shield in a pattern of symbols – much lighter than covering the whole shield with the stuff. The Alchemist had given some explanation of how the configuration diffused the ethereal energy that all sounded like blah, blah, blah to the laymen. Production was slow, though. They only had a few craftsmen who could carve the designs and precisely lay the metal – all much finer work than military smiths were used to – and it had to be done in special protective gear in a special smithy set up downwind of the camp.

“Not heavy at all,” Yanek replied, bouncing the shield on his forearm with a satisfied smile. “It works, too. That weirdo tested them out with me and it’s almost as good as the maille.”

Sevei scowled at his utterance of ‘weirdo’. They had agreed to stop using the word. The Alchemists were trying to help them out, after all.

“Sorry,” Yanek said sheepishly. “Habit. I’m working on it.”

“It’s about wrap time,” Sevei said, nodding at the troops across the field. “Why don’t you go do dismissal over there. I need a word with Sergeant Kahan when she’s done with the Sekkha.”

When Yanek had gone, Sevei turned back to the Alchemists’ training field and leaned against the fence at its perimeter. Most of the Alchemists were dispersing now, but Urskatha was still at it, forming orbs of energy in his hands and aiming them at a series of targets.

He had been training the Martial Line hard these days, and himself along with them. After training, he would disappear into his tent for several hours, doing something Kahan called ‘contemplation’ – a spiritual practice to replenish the energy he’d used. When he emerged again, it was straight into the map pavilion with his comrades. It had become a strictly kept daily routine, leaving no time for worrying about Sevei.

Sevei was fine with that. He didn’t want to be worried about. If he was honest with himself, though, he did miss him.

“You’ve been avoiding him,” Kahan said, leaning on the fence next to him, her eyes on Urskatha as he continued his practice.

“He’s been avoiding me,” Sevei answered ruefully. “Is he shutting you out of the secret society too?”

Kahan smiled. “He tries to protect me,” she said softly. “The worst thing about being here is all the negative feelings. Fear, anger, the grief of losing friends and missing loved ones – I can feel all of that in everyone here. It can be painful for me.”

Sevei regarded her quizzically. “I never thought of that,” he said. “It must be rough. He must be an absolute bundle of pain right now.”

“Hmm...” Kahan’s eyebrows raised, but then furrowed downward. “He’ll need you.”

Sevei scoffed lightly. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Is that what he says?” She smiled sadly, then turned to him, leaning her hip against the fence. “When I go... I don’t want him to be alone.”

Sevei frowned and shook his head. “He won’t be. Even if he doesn’t want me like that... I’m not going anywhere.”

Kahan smiled at him gratefully. “You should go talk to him,” she said, nodding in Urskatha’s direction.

“I promised him I wouldn’t push.”

“Then don’t push,” she said, her warm smile reaching her voice. “Just be there.”

She patted his arm, then turned and walked away with a spring in her step.