Mythica, book 1, Chapter 1.

Chapter 1.

“Sabine, I don’t care what you think. I run the Crescent Blade and my word is final,” Commander Elerby growled.

“It will be final if we get attacked tonight, it’ll be the final foolish command you ever give,” Sabine said, stomping her way out of the commander’s tent before he dismissed her.

“You can consider yourself no longer an officer in this company, and don’t think that your demotion absolves you of your duties!” Elerby shouted after her. It wasn’t the first time she’d be demoted, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. At least this time, they were too short-handed for Elerby to just dismiss her completely from service.

The war was sucking up every available man or woman who could wield a blade or cast a spell. It made things difficult for the Crescent Blade and the other mercenary bands. While it hurt recruitment, it was also a godsend, allowing the mercenaries to extract ruinous fees from the desperate refugees seeking some protection as they fled the conflict. Elerby was likely pocketing a small fortune for guarding this caravan of pitiful souls trying out run away from Deira faster than the Vitalion army could conquer it.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, Sabine walked along the caravan perimeter to check on the guards. She needed to clear her head and was a bit angry at herself for losing her cool once again. Tact was never her strong suit and Sabine had always been the type to call it as she saw it. Her family had told her it was both her best and worst quality at times, but it was part of who she was, and Sabine wasn’t going to change that just to make other people happy.

The caravan was a bustle of activity as everyone tried to attend to their wagons, prepare a meal, and care for their animals before the last of the late afternoon light was gone. Around the perimeter, a few pairs of guards were walking on patrol, seeking out any dangers in the area before night fell. One pair of guards caught Sabine’s eye as they sat by their watch fire tossing dice.

“Just what do you two think you’re doing? I’m pretty sure that whatever it is, it isn’t keeping watch,” Sabine growled. One of the men stepped back, muttering some incoherent apology. The other guard was new, one of the rabble they picked up on their way out of Deira.

“What do you care, we’re all just riding along and collecting some easy coin. You know what I think, I think nobody’s going to bother with this lot. Elerby’s already fleeced them for all their worth and nobody’s going to face armed guards to attack a caravan full of broke refugees,” the guard, she thought his name was Rollac, said.

He stood up to his full height, which was a good foot taller than Sabine, but she wasn’t intimidated by such displays. She’d been in too many battles and had beat and been beaten by far better than this fool. She met his gaze and give him a hard stare. They stood this way for several moments before the guard next to Rollac nudged him and whispered for the man to stand down.

They couldn’t have known that she had just been demoted, but despite thinking she was still his superior officer, the little rat felt he could mouth off. Demoted or not, she wasn’t going to let that slide. Even as a simple guard, she was still responsible for the safety of the caravan, and she took her job seriously.

It wasn’t lost on Sabine that she was getting angry at the defiant guard for the same thing that Elerby had just demoted her for. Both had expressed insubordination, but in her mind, there was a difference between the two incidents. She was right, and Elerby was an idiot who could get them all killed. Besides, whoever said that she had to be consistent in her anger, it was her anger after all. Sabine didn’t care if that made her a hypocrite at times.

“I think I remember you, you’re from that last batch of fresh meat we hired at that cesspool of a tavern near the border. You don’t know how things work here, so I’ll give you a break and leave you with just a warning. Before you say anything else, consider that it might be in your best interest to stop mouthing off and start doing your job. Even if you were gifted with visions from the gods proclaiming their divine protection on this caravan, you’ll still perform your duties in the manner you were paid for. Do your job or leave the caravan. Make your choice fresh meat,” Sabine growled.

She could tell that the punch was coming long before it was thrown. Rollac wasn’t a trained warrior or a deadly pit fighter, no, he was simply a tavern thug, bully, and likely a thief. He was trying to drop and humiliate her in one powerful blow. Sabine was already moving as Rollac started to strike. Instead of backing away, Sabine stepped into the punch, blocking the wide right hook with her left arm, and sending three sharp punches into his gut with her right hand.

Sabine wasn’t very large, but she made up for her lack of size with a life dedicated to training for battle. One of her first unarmed combat lessons still stuck with her today. The lesson was to only hit the squishy parts with your fist. Hitting someone’s skull with bare knuckles was a great way to break your hand, so she focused her attacks on his body. It would hopefully end the fight quickly before she was forced to do some permanent damage to the idiot.

Sabine had to give Rollac credit, the big oaf was strong, and even though she blocked his punches easily enough, the effort of blocking them forced her back and left the side of her arm numb. Rollac tried to change things up after seeing that his powerful strikes were ineffective. He reached toward her throat with his meaty paws, trying to turn their fight into a grappling session where his size and strength could be used to their fullest extent.

Long hours of training made her actions second nature, and before Rollac could grab her, Sabine dropped down and swept his legs out from under him. Rollac hit the ground hard, grunting as the impact knocked the air from him. Sabine jumped on top of the fallen man and began to work on his body, pummeling the idiot with a lightning-fast series of punches.

“Don’t kill him, Sabine, we might need him,” a familiar voice called as several sets of hands pulled her off the nearly unconscious Rollac.

“Captain Galavan, just a bit of corrective physical training, no real harm done,” she muttered. Supposedly, Galavan had been a real officer in Deira’s army and had been forced to retire after some scandal. Working at a bottom-of-the-barrel mercenary unit like the Crescent Blades was about his only option for gainful employment. Until her demotion, they had held the same rank, but Sabine had always felt that Galavan was too lax and spent most of his day trying to pawn off as much work as he could on Sabine.

“I’ll accept your word on that, Sabine, but if Rollac isn’t able to perform his duties, your pay will be docked and with your new demotion, I’m not sure you can afford it,” Galavan said.

So, he already knew about Commander Elerby’s decision to demote her. Most likely, Elerby had given the man a heads-up to assure Galavan, who was now the last officer in the company, that he wouldn’t have to pick up any extra work because of the situation. Sabine would still have to do all the heaving lifting for the day-to-day needs of running the company, but now, she’d have to do it on an enlisted mercs pay.  Maybe it was good that she gave Rollac a beating, it should cut down on those refusing to listen to her since she wasn’t officially a captain anymore.

“Captain Galavan, it’s like Sabine said, we were just training,” Rollac said, stumbling to his feet and hobbling off to at least pretend to walk a patrol. The man was a scumbag, but even most scumbags knew not to snitch to an officer.

“You need to lighten up, not every dispute has to come to blows. A real officer would know how to motivate her underlings without resorting to violence,” Galavan said, shaking his head with disgust as he walked away.

Sabine dusted herself off and continued her tour of the perimeter, feeling a bit better after having beaten Rollac. Some may find it shocking, but Sabine enjoyed a good fight to blow off steam and she always felt better afterward, even if she was a bit scuffed up from the activity. A tavern brawl or a soldier’s dispute settled with fists were quick ways to deal with a problem before it began to fester.

The sights that greeted her patrol weren’t very reassuring. Even the greenest recruit could see that the caravan was sloppier than an orc’s dinner. Instead of a neat circle or grid formation to help ward off any attacks this night, the wagons had just clumped together, with no rhyme or reason to their formation. The caravan master had no idea what he was doing, instead of a professional, he was just one of the refugees that had somehow fallen into the role when it turned out there was nobody with any more experience in the group. Sabine resisted the urge to go straighten him out, it wasn’t her responsibility, and the caravan master would just complain to Elerby, which might give him a good reason to dock her pay.

So, they had a botched formation, an understrength unit with inexperienced guards, and a leader who was lazy and greedy. It was going to be a wonderful trip. When, and if, they finally got to Brevertine Harbor, she was going to have to find a new employer. Maybe her reputation hadn’t gotten that far yet and she could command an officer’s pay again.

If all else failed, she could return to her sister’s farm. Her parents had died a few years back, but her sister, Adrienne, had married a nice enough man from their village. He treated her well and they had two young children that Sabine adored. They were ages eight and nine, a boy named Charles, and a pig-tailed girl with far too many freckles named Isabel. As much as she liked her sister and her family, Sabine never quite felt comfortable around them.

Unlike her sister, Sabine wasn’t exactly a beauty, and wasn’t even average looking, either. No, she had come to grips with her looks long ago, and the comments from others no longer bothered her. In the past, the mocking might have been enough for her to administer a beat down, but now, they were no more effective than an enemy insulting her in the heat of battle. It was something to ignore since there were always more important things to get worked up about.

She never desired to get married or even be in a relationship. Sabine didn’t like other people that much and was more than content to live a single life. In her estimation, love and attraction nearly always ended up poorly for the fools involved. Her sister had done well enough, but she was the exception and Sabine had seen enough of the world to know that the odds of her finding happiness in a relationship were too low to even consider the possibility of trying to get involved in one.

Finishing her tour of the perimeter, Sabine verified that all thirty-seven wagons were still there. She didn’t bother trying to count the refugees, they weren’t her responsibility, and there was no way she was going to even attempt to count the gaggle of livestock they had brought along for the journey. Sure, she felt bad for these people, but she also despised their weakness to some degree. They were fleeing battle when they might have turned the tide against the invaders if they had all stood together.

While she wasn’t responsible for keeping track of the refugees, she did have a responsibility to the twenty-six mercenaries of the Crescent Blade. All of them had been accounted for on her tour of the camp, though few were doing anything useful. There were supposed to be ten on watch at this time of day, but only six had shown up to their posts, and most of those were busy doing anything other than watching for threats.

Dusk and the few hours before dawn were the most likely times for a smart enemy to attack, and the guards should have been keeping a sharp eye out. It was amateur hour in the Crescent Blades, and Sabine couldn’t wait to jump ship for a better opportunity once their journey was complete. With the perimeter walk complete, she headed toward the location of the listening post they had set up. It would hopefully give them some warning of an attack. There should have been at least two of the posts, each manned by a pair of mercs, but they only had enough bodies to keep one active with a single merc through the night.

“Captain Sabine, well, uh, Sabine?” A young merc asked as she approached the listening post.

“Out with it Kaban, it’s just Sabine now. I have to admit, news travels fast in this outfit,” she answered the recruit, more than a bit annoyed that the listening post, well past the edge of the camp, had already heard of her demotion. Kaban was a good enough kid. He was a bit squirrely, and green as the forest, but he had a good head on his shoulders and tried to do his job. He was one of the few that listened to her and was willing to show up for the daily training sessions she organized. Kaban would make a competent, if not exceptional, warrior if given enough time.

“Well, I wanted to say that I was sorry about the demotion, you’re a good officer and didn’t deserve that,” Kaban said.

“How did you hear about it already?” Sabine asked.

“Oh, Rollac said that you had ordered me to man the listening post all night and told me about what happened before I came out to relieve the current watch,” Kaban replied.

“I’m sure that’s not all he told you,” Sabine said with a sigh, already weary of the whole ordeal.

“No, he said some other things, but, well, you know,” Kaban stuttered out.

“Just tell me, Kaban, I can guarantee I’ve heard worse. Let it be part of your training, you’ll have to deliver bad news to officers at times, don’t be afraid to do so, and don’t try to cover it in honey,” Sabine said.

“Sure, he said that I better follow your orders. Well, he also may have mentioned that he thought you were as strong as a mule and had a face that was only half as pretty as one. Given the way he was moving, I’d wager that you had a scuffle with the man earlier?” Kaban said.

“You’d be right, but it looks like Rollac didn’t exactly change his ways after the corrective physical training I dished out earlier. No, you aren’t assigned to the listening post all night. In three hours, you’ll wake Rollac to relieve you for the rest of the night. If he gives you any trouble, find me and I’ll sort him out,” Sabine ordered.

“Aye ma’am, I’ll take care of it,” Kaban replied. She gave it even odds that Rollac would intimidate Kaban into staying at the listening post all night, but she could only do so much. Eventually, the young man would have to learn to stand up for himself. She could teach a lot of things, but courage was something that you either had or you didn’t. An example could be set, but it was up to the individual to finally decide that they were going to stand their ground despite the odds.

It was going to be a long night and an even longer journey. They were making slow progress and now that they were outside of civilized lands, just about anything could happen.