Army |
Summary:
She was not here to lead their army, no matter what they believed of her heritage.
She was not here to lead their army, no matter what they believed of her heritage.
The camp was packed. The sea of bodies was thick around her, growing the distance between her and him. He shouted for her, shouted her name, but she ignored him, letting his call join the rest of the noise of the camp unacknowledged.
Where the sea of bodies cut him off it parted for her, clearing a path towards the commander’s tent as word spread like wildfire ahead of her.
She ignored the eyes that turned to stare at her too.
The soldiers at either side of the entrance tensed, their armor rattling as they straightened. At least two of them visibly fought the impulse to follow through with the orders she was certain they had received and she hated that all of them ignored those orders for her sake. The confrontation would have been a welcomed change to the same blind loyalty they all had for her.
No. Not her. What she was. They had no loyalty to the person she was but for the status she held because of her race.
The flap barely made a noise as she pushed the heavy fabric out of her way. An arm appeared higher on the fabric, taking the fabric’s weight off of her arm and making the opening larger. It was all she could do to not glare at the clearly jumpy soldier as their armor rattled far louder than any noise she would have made on her own.
All the eyes in the room were on her before she even fully entered the room.
“Ah, good!” one of the elderly commanders spoke up, far too cheering for her liking. “Excellent. We were just starting discussions and your input would be most welcomed.”
She mentally echoed the few looks of distaste the elderly commander received. “I am sure you have all the knowledge and experience you will need for any discussion of the coming battles already present in the room,” she countered diplomatically. “My presence is not for that discussion.”
The elderly commander waved her off. “Nonsense, Ittal. Your knowledge will be most welcomed. Come. Join us.”
“Chief Tortan,” one of the others spoke up. “I don’t think there is anything we can gain from an inexperienced soldier. Her being Ittal doesn’t change that.”
Out of all present in the room, she disliked him the least. He wasn’t overly kind to her, but he also didn’t have the same blind faith in her as the rest of them.
“Come now, Bryx,” another spoke up. “She’s Ittal. The last of the Great Race. She has the blood of legends flowing through her veins.”
“Chief-” Bryx started but Chief Tortan cut him off.
“Vorta is right, Bryx.” The elderly commander patted the man’s arm. Bryx simply gave the elder a flat look. “She is staying. Come, Ittal.” He waved her over. “By me.”
Her jaw clenched against the urge to say no. Despite her personal disgust with the whole view of her race, they had dragged her into their war and no matter how much she wanted to flee from it, there was nowhere for her to go.
She settled in between Chief Tortan and Bryx, the commanders that had been in the space settling elsewhere at the large table. Chief Tortan started talking again and she chanced a glance at Bryx. Unsurprisingly, the man was displeased as well and the look he sent her when he caught her gaze was cold. She held it for that brief second before turning her focus to the issue at hand.
Most of the conversation went on without her input. Twice Chief Vorta blatantly tried to drag her into the conversation and Chief Tortan never really stopped. Only a small scattering few - Bryx included - left her be.
“May we win these battles,” Chief Tortan concluded, “and the World support us.”
The commanders started dispersing but she didn’t move. Bryx turned towards the exit but she tugged at his wrist with a ring of air, getting him to look back at her. She met his gaze long enough to see the confusion at the edge of his annoyed expression before turning her attention towards Chief Tortan.
“I am not leading an army,” she spoke into the quieting tent. The few bodies that had lingered stilled immediately. Chief Tortan looked up at her, expression jovial and edged in curiosity. Her own expression darkened. “I have told you and the other commanders when I arrived I was not here to lead. I am here to assist you in these coming battles, nothing more.”
The elderly commander’s smile only grew. “I do not see what the problem is, Ittal. There are a many fine soldier that wouldn’t kill to be given the opportunity that has been handed to you; to go from foot soldier to commanding officer is the dream of any aspiring soldier.”
“I am not one of your soldiers,” she pointed out. “I am here at your request but I am not anyone’s soldier.”
Chief Tortan chuckled. “Quite right you are. You are our leader, our Guiding Star. You will guide us through battle and grant us victory as the last of the Great Race and where better to guide us than as a leader of the army itself.”
“Chief Tortan,” one of the others spoke up but the elderly commander waved them off.
“Unfortunately that is all the time I have for this discussion, and same for all of you.” The man beamed at all of them. “We have a battle to prepare for. Let us not be late.”
The tent emptied of all but Bryx and two others. One of the others looked to her, expression sorrowful, apologetic. “What will you do now, Ittal?”
Bryx uttered a snide comment. “Certainly not leading the army.”
“Not lead the army,” she spoke at the same time, overlapping his words. She caught him shift out of the corner of her eyes and she wondered if she had startled him or impressed him. Probably neither. The man didn’t care for her. “But I won’t walk away from the impending battles ahead. I gave my word I would assist. I am not taking that back.”
“Even with how the others are treating you,” Bryx challenged.
She met his gaze. “I have my reasons to remain of use to the army. You don’t have to worry about me deserting without warning.”
He bristled at that, almost like he was offended by the implication. “I would never...” he started but the rest of his sentence fell away as the quiet of the other two finally spoke up.
“We will speak with the other commanders, Ittal,” he assured her, his bass voice rolling through the tent despite the softness in which he spoke. “You will not have to lead if you choose not to.”
“You do not have the power to assure that, Chief Aulvrin,” Bryx countered. When the man looked at him, Bryx scoffed. “You aren’t even supposed to be present. Your injuries are still healing.”
A soft smile pulled at Chief Aulvrin’s face. “I am well enough to be here for our Ittal. And I am relying on you and Tuja to have the power that I lack. Between the two of you, there should be a strong enough network of people willing to support our Ittal’s choice to allow her to not lead when she does not want to.”
“They will still follow her blindly like sheep.”
Silence settled in the tent for a breath as the flap opened once more. She looked over, meeting his gaze as he ducked in looking like he had snuck past the guards. When he straightened, the flap falling shut behind him, she could tell he knew exactly what had happened in his absence. “Annie,” he started, voice tight with a barely contained temper.
“What are you doing here,” Bryx demanded, taking a step towards her companion. “You are not permitted inside-”
Once more the man’s movement forward stopped but instead of a simple ring of air around his wrist, it was a thick band of water that turned to ice the moment it closed around his torso. It stopped his progress not because of the weight but because of her will for the band of ice to be unmoving suspended in the air. Bryx’s head whipped around, a demand on his lips along with the glare he sent her, but even he was briefly swallowed by fear when she quelled the flames he had summoned without even moving. Defiance quickly banished the fear from his expression but she had seen it.
If they were lucky, the man’s growing hate for her wouldn’t come back to bite them.
The ice disappeared without leaving a trace behind. She looked to her companion, offering simply, “Go find your brother. We head out with the soldiers in two hours.”
He glanced from Bryx to Chief Aulvrin and the other, Tuja, verifying, “They want you to lead.”
“And I’m not here to lead,” she repeated. Some of the tension in his stance eased but she felt nothing at having brought him some relief. “Two hours. We go under Bryx’s banner.”
She stepped past the named man, leaving his reaction to be witnessed by her companion and the other two commanders.
Where the sea of bodies cut him off it parted for her, clearing a path towards the commander’s tent as word spread like wildfire ahead of her.
She ignored the eyes that turned to stare at her too.
The soldiers at either side of the entrance tensed, their armor rattling as they straightened. At least two of them visibly fought the impulse to follow through with the orders she was certain they had received and she hated that all of them ignored those orders for her sake. The confrontation would have been a welcomed change to the same blind loyalty they all had for her.
No. Not her. What she was. They had no loyalty to the person she was but for the status she held because of her race.
The flap barely made a noise as she pushed the heavy fabric out of her way. An arm appeared higher on the fabric, taking the fabric’s weight off of her arm and making the opening larger. It was all she could do to not glare at the clearly jumpy soldier as their armor rattled far louder than any noise she would have made on her own.
All the eyes in the room were on her before she even fully entered the room.
“Ah, good!” one of the elderly commanders spoke up, far too cheering for her liking. “Excellent. We were just starting discussions and your input would be most welcomed.”
She mentally echoed the few looks of distaste the elderly commander received. “I am sure you have all the knowledge and experience you will need for any discussion of the coming battles already present in the room,” she countered diplomatically. “My presence is not for that discussion.”
The elderly commander waved her off. “Nonsense, Ittal. Your knowledge will be most welcomed. Come. Join us.”
“Chief Tortan,” one of the others spoke up. “I don’t think there is anything we can gain from an inexperienced soldier. Her being Ittal doesn’t change that.”
Out of all present in the room, she disliked him the least. He wasn’t overly kind to her, but he also didn’t have the same blind faith in her as the rest of them.
“Come now, Bryx,” another spoke up. “She’s Ittal. The last of the Great Race. She has the blood of legends flowing through her veins.”
“Chief-” Bryx started but Chief Tortan cut him off.
“Vorta is right, Bryx.” The elderly commander patted the man’s arm. Bryx simply gave the elder a flat look. “She is staying. Come, Ittal.” He waved her over. “By me.”
Her jaw clenched against the urge to say no. Despite her personal disgust with the whole view of her race, they had dragged her into their war and no matter how much she wanted to flee from it, there was nowhere for her to go.
She settled in between Chief Tortan and Bryx, the commanders that had been in the space settling elsewhere at the large table. Chief Tortan started talking again and she chanced a glance at Bryx. Unsurprisingly, the man was displeased as well and the look he sent her when he caught her gaze was cold. She held it for that brief second before turning her focus to the issue at hand.
Most of the conversation went on without her input. Twice Chief Vorta blatantly tried to drag her into the conversation and Chief Tortan never really stopped. Only a small scattering few - Bryx included - left her be.
“May we win these battles,” Chief Tortan concluded, “and the World support us.”
The commanders started dispersing but she didn’t move. Bryx turned towards the exit but she tugged at his wrist with a ring of air, getting him to look back at her. She met his gaze long enough to see the confusion at the edge of his annoyed expression before turning her attention towards Chief Tortan.
“I am not leading an army,” she spoke into the quieting tent. The few bodies that had lingered stilled immediately. Chief Tortan looked up at her, expression jovial and edged in curiosity. Her own expression darkened. “I have told you and the other commanders when I arrived I was not here to lead. I am here to assist you in these coming battles, nothing more.”
The elderly commander’s smile only grew. “I do not see what the problem is, Ittal. There are a many fine soldier that wouldn’t kill to be given the opportunity that has been handed to you; to go from foot soldier to commanding officer is the dream of any aspiring soldier.”
“I am not one of your soldiers,” she pointed out. “I am here at your request but I am not anyone’s soldier.”
Chief Tortan chuckled. “Quite right you are. You are our leader, our Guiding Star. You will guide us through battle and grant us victory as the last of the Great Race and where better to guide us than as a leader of the army itself.”
“Chief Tortan,” one of the others spoke up but the elderly commander waved them off.
“Unfortunately that is all the time I have for this discussion, and same for all of you.” The man beamed at all of them. “We have a battle to prepare for. Let us not be late.”
The tent emptied of all but Bryx and two others. One of the others looked to her, expression sorrowful, apologetic. “What will you do now, Ittal?”
Bryx uttered a snide comment. “Certainly not leading the army.”
“Not lead the army,” she spoke at the same time, overlapping his words. She caught him shift out of the corner of her eyes and she wondered if she had startled him or impressed him. Probably neither. The man didn’t care for her. “But I won’t walk away from the impending battles ahead. I gave my word I would assist. I am not taking that back.”
“Even with how the others are treating you,” Bryx challenged.
She met his gaze. “I have my reasons to remain of use to the army. You don’t have to worry about me deserting without warning.”
He bristled at that, almost like he was offended by the implication. “I would never...” he started but the rest of his sentence fell away as the quiet of the other two finally spoke up.
“We will speak with the other commanders, Ittal,” he assured her, his bass voice rolling through the tent despite the softness in which he spoke. “You will not have to lead if you choose not to.”
“You do not have the power to assure that, Chief Aulvrin,” Bryx countered. When the man looked at him, Bryx scoffed. “You aren’t even supposed to be present. Your injuries are still healing.”
A soft smile pulled at Chief Aulvrin’s face. “I am well enough to be here for our Ittal. And I am relying on you and Tuja to have the power that I lack. Between the two of you, there should be a strong enough network of people willing to support our Ittal’s choice to allow her to not lead when she does not want to.”
“They will still follow her blindly like sheep.”
Silence settled in the tent for a breath as the flap opened once more. She looked over, meeting his gaze as he ducked in looking like he had snuck past the guards. When he straightened, the flap falling shut behind him, she could tell he knew exactly what had happened in his absence. “Annie,” he started, voice tight with a barely contained temper.
“What are you doing here,” Bryx demanded, taking a step towards her companion. “You are not permitted inside-”
Once more the man’s movement forward stopped but instead of a simple ring of air around his wrist, it was a thick band of water that turned to ice the moment it closed around his torso. It stopped his progress not because of the weight but because of her will for the band of ice to be unmoving suspended in the air. Bryx’s head whipped around, a demand on his lips along with the glare he sent her, but even he was briefly swallowed by fear when she quelled the flames he had summoned without even moving. Defiance quickly banished the fear from his expression but she had seen it.
If they were lucky, the man’s growing hate for her wouldn’t come back to bite them.
The ice disappeared without leaving a trace behind. She looked to her companion, offering simply, “Go find your brother. We head out with the soldiers in two hours.”
He glanced from Bryx to Chief Aulvrin and the other, Tuja, verifying, “They want you to lead.”
“And I’m not here to lead,” she repeated. Some of the tension in his stance eased but she felt nothing at having brought him some relief. “Two hours. We go under Bryx’s banner.”
She stepped past the named man, leaving his reaction to be witnessed by her companion and the other two commanders.