An idea I had. Still open to title suggestions.
Stella sat up after pulling on her leather boots and studied her expression in the mirror. Looking back at her appeared to be a pale young man with close cropped brown hair and ocean blue eyes, but what stood out about this young man was the set of deep red robes he wore, distinguishing him as a mage of the highest caliber. Stella was extremely glad for having a small chest, making it easier to hide her sex under the baggy robes. She attached a scabbard to her belt, and slid her short sword into it with barely a whisper of steel on leather.
A heavy knock came at the door, nearly making her yelp in surprise. She took a calming a coming breath and walked the two steps to the door and opened it. A soldier, a boy not quite in his second decade of life stood there with his fist raised to knock again. “What do you need?” Stella asked the boy, using her magic to make her voice sound more like a man’s.
“Capt’n sent me to tell you we’re ready to move out,’ the young man squeaked out, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground. “He also wishes to convey his wishes that you hurry up so we may begin the day’s march.” Stella rolled her eyes, knowing that the boy probably gave a much nicer version of what Captain Ferrous said, for fear of bringing her wraith on his head.
“You can tell the Captain I will be out there shortly after I finished packing,” Stella said before shutting the door in the face of the boy. She waiting till she heard his boots move down the hall and out of hearing before grabbing her already packed bag, and throwing her hood over her head. With a small gesture of her hand, all the candles in the room flickered out and the door opened for her on its own.
“About bloody time, mage!” Captain Ferrous yelled, as Stella walked out of the inn, thanking the owners for their hospitality. The sun was barely beginning to peak over the tall trees of the Terran Forest. Captain Ferrous stood at the front of the column, sitting on his black horse. He was the perfect image for any military captain: clean shaven, closely cropped hair, the steel plates on his leather armor shining in the morning light, and the physique of a man who could take on a bear. “When I say we are to move out at dawn, you better be fucking packed and ready an hour before.”
“And if you wish for me to remain in the service of your unit, I would suggest you keep your tone down with me,” Stella retorted coldly. She could see a muscle twitch in his cheek at her insubordination, but knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. “I need my sleep, and if I don’t get it, I’m sure if I returned to Lord Jorphin and tell him I wish to change units to one that would allow me more sleep, he would be more than happy to.” She knew it was true too, because Jorphin, Leader of the Torshens, was the only one who knew of her disguised gender, and would be glad to allow his “experiment” to switch units. Stella looked over at the rising sun and said, “I believe it’s time we move out, Captain.”
Stella gave a sharp whistle, and a pure white horse wears an equally white saddle trotted up to her and nuzzled her gently. “Hey there, Blanche,” she said, rubbing the horses nose and handing him a sugar cube. With a quick practiced motion, she climbed into the saddle. She glanced over at Captain Ferrous who only answered with a glare before giving the order to march.
Grishka crouched on his haunches behind a large oak, waiting for the Torshen unit who should’ve been marching past them by now. He looked up at the sky, the sun already at its full height. They should’ve been here at only half that, he thought to himself. He looked up to see one of his watchers come run up to him. He barely made a sound on his padded feet as he came to a stop in front of Grishka.
“They come, Sharqiken,” the wolf said, tilting his head to the side so as to expose his neck, as sign of respect to his betters.
“Did you manage to see how many?” Grishka growled.
“Nearly fifty of them,” the wolf replied.
Grishka simply nodded then silently summoned the rest of his wolves. The Sharqis, emerged from the surrounding forest like ghosts. One minute Grishka was alone except for his watcher, and the next he was surrounded by twenty of the best wolves the Doshiko’ja had to offer. Every single one of them either had brown fur or black fur, carried a short sword, and wore nothing but woodland green cloaks.
Without making a single noise, Grishka told them that the enemy was coming and everyone should get into position. Soon, every single one of his Sharqens hid behind a tree next to the only path that ran through the forest.
Grishka smelled and heard them before he ever saw them. First came the strong scent of sweating man and animals on a strong breeze, then the rhythmic stomping of the marching soldiers, and lastly he saw as nearly fifty Torshen soldiers marched their way down the forest path. At the lead was a man who was obviously the captain riding a black horse, and another man who was a mage judging by the red clothing he wore and riding a white horse.
As the Torshen unit came closer, he could feel his pack tensing up, preparing for the expected fight. All of them gripping their sword tightly in their paws, tongues lolled out in silent panting. It wasn’t until the unit had made it halfway past before Grishka signaled the attack. As one his entire pack moved forward silently, and before the Torshens could react twenty of their men lay dead.
Most of the men began to panic, drawing their swords and swinging it wildly to defend themselves, but were quickly taken down. Few of the more trained soldiers managed to get their sword out in time to defend themselves from the onslaught, but as their comrades quickly dwindled and they were overrun by pure numbers.
The fight was short, but bloody. Fifty Torshen corpses piled on the ground. At the front, the captain of the unit lay under his horse, still alive, screaming obscenities at the Sharqis, but they only feel on deaf ears. Next to the captain lay the unconscious mage, his white horse lay slain a few feet away, now stained red in its own blood.
Without mercy, Grishka walked over to the captain and open his throat with a single slash of the sword. Even until the man’s dying breath, Grishka managed to catch a few curse words in the Torshen language bubble through the man’s mouth.
“Casualty reports?” Grishka asked, wiping his blood on the dead mans clothes.
“We have lost none of our number, sir,” the watcher said, walking out of the tree line.
“Good, handcuff the mage and bring him with us.”
Stella woke with a start. At first she thought she was still back in the inn and that entire fight was a bad dream until she saw that she was surrounded by trees and that she was handcuffed. She rolled her eyes at the simplicity of the device they used to restrain her and began summoning the magic that would release her. With a small effort of will, she let the magic loose at the handcuffs, but to her surprise they remained still.
She heard a light growl in front of her and looked up to see a Doshiko’jan standing in front of her. He looked similar to the wolves that roamed the Torshen homeland, except he stood on his hind legs, and his hands were made for holding stuff. His entire fur was completely black except for a small patch of white between his eyes, and besides a belt that carried a short sword at his hip and a forest green cloak, he was completely naked.
With a silent effort, Stella raised her hand and pointed it at the enemy of her people, and released a magic that would leave him a pile of ashes. The wolf let out his light growl again when nothing happened, and Stella realized that he was laughing at her.
“Cashka consume magic,” he said in horrible Torshen, pointing to the handcuffs on her wrist. “You no cast your death magic with those on.”
Stella cursed to herself; she knew what a Cashka was. It was a special stone found in the Doshiko’ja homeland. It was infamous for having the ability to consume all magic around it, and being able to be stored so that the Doshiko’ja, who had no magic abilities themselves, could tap into it’s powers and perform magic that even Stella had trouble with.
The wolf walked up to Stella, just out of reach for her to hit him, and stared curiously at her. He breathed in, smelling the air around the woman, and asked, “You are female, not male?” Stella didn’t answer him, but from the expression on his face, she could tell he someone got the answer to his question. “You are on your moon bleed. Strong smell.”
Stella blushed in anger and in embarrassment, but knew he was correct. Normally she used magic to suppress her monthly bleeding, but guessed now that her magic was being blocked, it was happening for the first time in a while. Even now, she could feel the cramps burn in her lower abdomen in answer to the realization.
The wolf stood up and turned his back to her. “You now prisoner of the Doshiko’ja. Try to escape and we kill.” With that he walked away, only stopping to talk in a growling voice to brown furred wolf she didn’t see before. The brown furred wolf nodded in reply to whatever he was asked and turned to Stella.
The black wolf who talked to her, continued walking away, but the brown wolf turned towards her. She started kicking, the handcuffs prevented her from using her hands, but the wolf merely batted her feet away, and grabbed her around the waist. Without showing any visible signs of effort, he threw her over his shoulder and followed the black wolf.
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