Moral Stand (Aether’s Revival Book 7)

Gregory rode with Davis at the front of his men— they needed to project that they didn’t know what was coming. They were quickly approaching the camp area, so Gregory took a slow breath, putting an annoyed expression on. “Can you believe the wagon broke a wheel?”

Davis frowned, but tried to play along. “Accidents happen, sir.”

“Glasson better be able to get the spare wheel on. I won’t be without my tent tonight, Lieutenant.”

“If need be, I’ll send one of the men back for it, sir.”

“It’s bad enough to be out here in the cold. I refuse to be without a tent and a proper meal.”

The closest men kept marching, but felt more nervous with Gregory obviously putting on an act. If he felt the need to do that, then someone was likely watching them.

“Look, sir. The last bend before camp,” Davis said. “We’ll send someone back for your tent and the best rations once we reach it.”

“Why did we leave an entire squad behind, Lieutenant?” Gregory asked.

“Protection of supplies, sir. Glasson will catch up to us soon, I’m sure. You didn’t want to wait for them to change the wheel.”

The few ambushers that’d been close enough to hear them would’ve been tense about a missing squad, but the complaints had them relax again. The unit was almost where the Buldoun mage wanted them to spring the trap.

Rounding the bend, Gregory didn’t hesitate— he booted Legacy into a run. He had to get into the thick of things so his men could have the chance to close in. Davis would be a few seconds behind him, but would be forced back, even mounted as he was. That’s what Gregory wanted. Anyone else near the mage would die.

The ambushers had plenty of warning that they were coming, so the moment Gregory rushed in, they acted. A couple dozen rushed out to cut the men away from Gregory. Davis made it past the first set, but the next had spears, so he had to swing wide or lose his mount. His sword was out and he cut at anyone who came close as he tried to loop in closer to Gregory.

Foresight and resonance came the moment Gregory kicked Legacy into a run. Naginata in hand, he took the throat out of the first man he passed before he swung off the saddle, letting Legacy bolt past the ambushers. He ducked under an arrow, swung to the side to miss the first slash from the aether-infused mage, then snapped the butt of his naginata into another man who’d charged his back.

“Magi! It’s time to die!” the mage grinned. His aether reached out to crush Gregory, pressuring him into mistakes. It was a technique he’d worked on for years to give him a greater advantage over other mages or magi.

Gregory’s resonance pushed the aether away, but he didn’t try to return it, lost in the flow of combat. Weapon spinning, he clubbed, cut, or stabbed anyone besides the mage. He did all of that while he darted, wove, and pivoted to avoid the empowered strikes of the mage who tried to close on him, swinging his giant axe with ease.

“Hold still, Magi!” the mage growled. “I’ll end it quickly, but if you persist, I’ll kill you slowly.”

Gregory didn’t banter; he was locked in on his path. The sound of combat washed over it, but he didn’t let it impinge on his resonance. He already knew what the outcome would be, the men he’d fail to save. His resonance shook slightly, but held firm once he pushed the thought of his soon-to-be-dead guards away.

The closest ambushers that didn’t die to Gregory in the first minute surged toward his men, instead. It was clear they couldn’t match the magi, but against armed men, they easily could. Besides, the mage had told them the magi was his earlier.

When the ambushers ebbed away, Gregory could give his full attention to the mage. The moment he did, he attacked the man he’d been dodging up to that point. If anyone had been able to watch them, they would’ve been awed at the savagery of the mage and Gregory’s elegance. Both used other enchantments to aid them as they clashed time and again.

The mage was shocked that he hadn’t sheared the naginata through the two times Gregory blocked with it— he’d grown used to being able to break his opponents’ weapons. The small aether shields frustrated him, as they only appeared for a half-second at a time, just long enough to stop an attack dead.

Gregory was similarly frustrated, as the mage had at least three shielding enchantments he’d been using. Every time he got a blade past the man’s defenses, an aether shield appeared to stop the strike from touching him.

With no warning, the mage sprang back, gaining distance. “You’re not an adept. No adept could keep up with me like this.”

Gregory snorted as he advanced. “Give me the letter from Chainer that hired you and I’ll let you flee back to Buldoun. You don’t need to die on this road.”

“Foolish child!” the mage sneered, suddenly holding a small crossbow in one hand. “Let’s bleed that shield off!”

Gregory shifted left, snapped his naginata up and across, then dove to the right, rolling before springing back to his feet. A single shield flashed into being to stop the last bolt, the only one that came close to him.

The mage absorbed the crossbow back into the spatial ring he wore, his face grim as he rushed back at the magi. He felt like he’d been lied to— this couldn’t possibly be an adept. Either way, he wouldn’t let this sizable payday get away from him. It was triple his normal rate for killing magi, and there was a bonus if none of the guards made it out alive, too.

Gregory spun to face the mage, a dark smile touching his lips as he did the defensive kata Egil had taught him. The future was set, and the dead man in front of him had no idea. He positioned as needed, then leapt back, letting five crossbow bolts strike the mage. The three to the chest barely pierced the breastplate he had on, but the other two forced him to use the last of his aether shields.

Growling, the mage looked to the side, his jaw tightening when all he saw were his allies being cut down by the magi’s guard unit. His minions were being systematically destroyed by men who’d trained to fight as squads instead of solo combatants.

That moment of distraction let Gregory close in, forcing the mage to focus on him again. Out of additional help now, the mage had to burn even more aether to reinforce his skin. Every time Gregory attacked, it was to his joints— which only had leather covering them— or his unprotected face. Small wounds built up on the mage while no attack of his seemed to touch the elusive magi.

Gregory was out of shields, as well, so he had to accept what was about to happen. He darted right with no warning, a single arrow sinking into his calf past his armor, but the other two hit the mage. One deflected off the man’s armor while the other cut a bloody gash across his cheek.

Gregory limped to the side. The bolt had lodged into his armor; while it hadn’t penetrated far into his skin, it was cutting the muscle up with every step. Seeing Gregory stagger and limp, the mage burned more aether to finish off the wounded magi. With a sudden leap and hack, the giant axe looked like a blue comet as it came streaking down.

Gregory took the pain and worsened his injury to duck in and down, his naginata coming up as the butt braced to the ground. Just like he had done with Stallo during the Buldoun tournament, Gregory let his opponent impale himself on his weapon. The mage went limp, then fell sideways. The naginata had cut out the side of the man’s neck, half-severing his head from the angle of the impact.

Pushing himself to his feet, Gregory turned to face the slowly dwindling fight. “Surrender or die!” he bellowed, letting his aether fuel the words.

The four remaining ambushers hesitated, but Gregory’s men hadn’t expected the offer; they only saw their openings. The four men all fell dead a heartbeat later. Cries from the wounded filled the air as everyone searched for their next opponent.

“Lieutenant, help the wounded. Offer merciful deaths to the gravely wounded,” Gregory said.

“Yes, sir,” Davis said, coming forward. His left arm was clutched to his chest, blood slowly oozing from his elbow.

“Sir, your leg,” Bunson said, hurrying toward Gregory.

“I could use some help, Sergeant. Thank you,” Gregory grimaced, then summoned alchemical supplies from his ring. “Davis, use these for our men.”

“Yes, sir,” Davis said.

~*~*~

Gregory was in his tent when Rafiq entered it a couple of hours later. “Greg, are you okay?”

“No,” Gregory said softly, setting down his pen. “Freddy Slimmer from Glasson’s squad and Travit Arnson from Townson’s squad died. Sergeant Donald also died. He had a man surrender to him and was trying to pull him out so he wouldn’t get killed by ours or theirs. I could’ve warned him… but they all agreed that having evidence against Chainer would be worth their lives before we left Coldwood.”

Rafiq came over to sit beside Gregory. “You feel guilty because you didn’t tell him?”

“If Donald hadn’t tried to protect that man, the survivor would’ve been killed during the fight. He’s a solid witness to hand over to Trida. If I told Donald, he’d have avoided his own death, but then the man dies instead.”

“The pitfalls of foresight…” Rafiq said softly. “Lighthand spoke of them in his journals.”

“Lightshield mentioned it, as well,” Gregory murmured. “…Am I weak?”

“No, Greg, not at all. You care. Some might consider it a weakness, but it is not. There’s nothing wrong with mourning the fallen. Right now, though, there are two boys who could use you. They killed today to protect themselves and their loved ones.”

Gregory rose to his feet, leaving his report on the desk. “Where are they?”

Rafiq nodded toward the flap into the front of the tent. “Waiting.”

Gregory stepped into the front room of his tent to find Basal and Hanz both sitting there with dazed expressions. He went to them and, kneeling down, pulled them both into his arms. That simple act had both of them crying as they hugged him back.

“I’m sorry…” Gregory said softly. “I forced you to do what you should never have had to do. No child should be forced to kill, and today, you were. There’s no shame in what you feel. I feel the same for the deaths I caused today. Leaving you where we did was the best I could do for you. I hope that one day, you can forgive me.”

It took time but, eventually, the boys stopped crying. When Gregory let them go, they saw he’d also been crying. Sniffling, they wiped at their faces.

“There’s never anything wrong with what you feel,” Gregory said again. “I felt the same. I’ll always be willing to talk if you want to discuss what happened.”

“I will listen, as well,” Rafiq added from where he stood. “Talking can help; it is not a weakness.”

“Sir…” Basal started, but had to clear his throat to go on. “Sir, why did you have us wait there?”

“If you’d come with us, you’d have been targets. That would’ve drawn the men to protect you, costing even more of the unit their lives. I chose the path that saw as few deaths as possible, even though it meant making you face the horrors you did today. I’m sorry to both of you that you lost some of your innocence today.”

“No, sir,” Hanz sniffled. “They were bad men who would’ve used or killed our friends.”

“They would have,” Gregory agreed. “You were both very brave. I am proud of you.”

Both of them tried to smile, but failed.

“It’s okay. I’m almost done with my report. I’ll be going out to check on the men afterward. You should both come with me; they’ll be glad to see you alive and healthy.”

“Yes, sir,” the pair said.