Life Goes On

  By James McCree

  Chapter One

  For the Blades

  Many people believed magic to be an all-purpose fix to all of life’s problems. These people were nothing more than uneducated fools who wanted quick, convenient solutions to their woes without putting in the work to do it themselves. The yield of your crop fields are at a record low? Use magic to enrich the soil so that said crops grow better. The woodland creatures are being too elusive? Use a spell to call them within range of our arrows and rifles. The ocean tide has risen and rough waves have flooded the homes we placed at its shores? Simply have a magician remove the water. Many people would call these proper solutions.

  ‘Many people are inflicted with a terminal case of idiocy.’ Kalos thought, carefully keeping his eyes forward and his mouth clamped shut. ‘Or they used to be, as it were.’

  Use magic to enrich the soil? Enrich it with what? Where do you expect these nutrients to come from, thin air? The reason your crops are failing is because you overstimulate your fields with the same crop over and over again without doing anything to restore them. One discussion with a simple farmhand in the kingdom proper would tell you that. Use a spell to lure animals? There are calling and lure spells, this is true, however they do not work on animals that do not exist. The animals are not in hiding, they have moved to safer pastures because of your overzealous hunting. Even a common elk has enough sense to leave an area where predators are skilled and perpetually ravenous. Have a magician remove the water? Where do you expect the water to go? It is the ocean, it is far more vast than the eye can perceive. Even if a magician were somehow able to siphon off enough water to lower the tide, where are they supposed to put that water? It has to go somewhere. The better solution is to either not place your homes directly next to the water or elevate them so that the waves and tide pass harmlessly underneath them.

  ‘Some people must truly love the sound of their own voice.’ Kalos thought, watching the slightly well-dressed man rant at him that the magician should help them because it was his peoples fault for the state of the world. ‘This one certainly seems delusional enough.’

  In truth there was no one point that led to the worlds current state. It was series of failures on both sides of the equation. One side wishing for immediate solutions to valid, if self-inflicted, problems and the other too absorbed in their pride over these ‘uneducated slights’. One side not knowledgeable enough on proper magic to know its limitations and the other unwilling to offer a path to understanding. If there had been enough good will on both sides, and cooler heads had been allowed to prevail, The Fates may have seen fit to grant us a kinder future.

  Instead, this lack of understanding and good will led to animosity and violence, eventually blooming into full warfare. Understandably the Magicians had the upper hand with their spells, but never let it be said that the ingenuity of the Industrialists was anything but effective. While the Magicians were able to dominate open combat, the Industrialists adapted beautifully, developing methods of fighting from a distance and from the shadows. The War of Desolation redefined the term ‘conventional combat’ for both sides.

  Kalos grunted, in both surprise and pain, as a hard fist drove the air from his lungs. Soon after he sucked in a new lungful of air and promptly started choking on it.

  “My apologizes, Magician. Do my words bore you so much that you feel the urge to doze off?”

  The former Industrialist glared at Kalos as he attempted to regain his breath, which he did so swiftly that it was clear his recovery was aided by magic, causing the bastards glare to deepen. “Well, you have been raving for quite some time.” Kalos chuckled. “So long that I can’t quite recall the original point, to be honest.”

  The young Magician subtly flexed his bound wrists. A small bit of magic flooding his arms should been enough to allow him to break them, but the timing would have to be just right. A distraction would have been quite welcome, but Kalos wouldn’t be holding his breath. His team were either dead or dying in a nearby field and any survivors would have enough sense to know not to follow.

  “Is that so?” The bastard spoke in a hush, a quiet rage taking over the heated anger from before. He quickly strode forward, a pistol appearing in his hand from one of his guard. A pair of mechanical clicks could be heard as a round was chambered, before he placed its tip to Kalos’s temple. “If it wouldn’t be a waste of your talents I’d paint the bare contents of that head of yours across these walls. However, if you don’t follow every one of my orders to the fucking letter, that is the fate that awaits you. Do you understand me, you magic fuck?”

  ‘This might be the best chance I’m going to get.’ Kalos thought. He began channeling power into his arms as slowly as he dared, looking the arrogant bastard in the eye. He was so close that Kalos could almost count the stress wrinkles round his eyes. “I understand perfectly. That doesn’t mean I plan on listening to a dead man.”

  BANG

  Eyes going wide, Kalos and the soldiers in the room stared as the bastard pitched to the side, streaks of his life blood already moving to coat the floor and wall. A beat later and the bastards guard were already taking cover and checking the makeshift window of the cobbled together shelter. And though Kalos had given up hope of a distraction, he certainly had no intention of wasting one.

  He snapped his restraints quickly and shouldered open the door as a second crack split the air. The Industrialists outside, though not terribly numerous, would certainly cause grief if they spotted him. Kalos sprinted away from his mysterious savior, hoping that any resistance would be mounted on that side of the hastily made camp, aiming for the forest beyond.

  Unfortunately, The Fates weren’t entirely on his side as bullets began being pelted in his direction. A hasty diversion ward at his back kept his relatively safe, but Kalos knew it wouldn’t last long enough. Sliding to a stop, the Magician turned around and slammed one hand to the ground while the other was held ready behind him. The earth in front of him scattered into the air before rapidly condensing into large, dense spheres. Kalos thrust his hand forward and the newly formed projectiles sped towards his four pursuers at high speed, causing three of them to fall and the fourth to dive forward.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  A quick gesture caused a spike of earth to pierce the body of the recovering fourth, giving Kalos the opportunity to continue his escape. The loud cracks of his savior had stopped so he knew he wouldn’t have much time before he was discovered again.

  Being within the dense forest provided a level of comfort to the young man. There wouldn’t be many willing to pursue a Magician in such a place, lest they be caught up in any number of quickly lain, yet effective, traps left in their wake.

  Kalos half stooped, one hand against a tree, as he stopped to catch his breath. ‘Breathing seems to a bit of a luxury these days.’ He thought with a humorless chuckle. He had spent the last three days with his team evading those damn loyalists before they caught up. Remembering his fallen comrades, a quick prayer to The Gods of Old was said quietly.

  As Kalos finished his quiet prayer he felt solid steel press against his back.

  ‘And that’s what I get for underestimating zealous bastards.’ Kalos thought bitterly. On one hand, the young Magician was tired. Days of evasion and hours of battle with little rest was not good for ones constitution, unsurprisingly. One the other hand, the Magicians companions would likely skin him alive in the next life if he simply gave up. So, he prepared for what was quite possibly his final battle when a chuckle broke the silence.

  “Sloppy. You must be as out of it as I am.”

  Kalos nearly stopped breathing at the familiar voice. Laughter, a mixture of shock and relief, tore from his chest as the tension left him. He likely would have dropped to the forest floor had a hand not reached out for his arm, the barrel of what Kalos knew was long rifle having already left his back. “You Gods be damned bastard, Quill!” He breathed, the other man having joined him in his humor. “I should probably be pissed at you for taking such a stupid risk, you know that?”

  Getting some strength back into his legs, Kalos turned and took in the sight of his fellow Blade. He had slung his rifle over his shoulder and was looking at him with a crooked grin, yet one filled with as much relief as the Magician’s own. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” Quill laughed. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  oOooOo

  The battle had been a resounding defeat. It could be argued that their group was exhausted even before the chase began, let alone before the fight, but it didn’t make it any more painful for the surviving Blade. He crept upon the fringes of a makeshift Industrial camp, noting the enemy’s positions and searching for his missing friend and brother in arms.

  As the two Kingdoms warred, two groups from each side saw the situation for what it was: waste. A waste of time, lives and resources. It was a war born of pride, greed, desperation and arrogance. The group of Industrialists and the group of Magicians met on neutral ground and formed the Broken Blades, a third faction determined to end the war with as little loss of life as was possible. Unfortunately, there were few who shared their views, making recruitment nearly impossible. Unwilling to let this become a setback, they set forth on attacking and defending key people and locations, rather than meeting their former brothers in arms in conventional warfare.

  Though in the end it amounted to nothing but futility. As though in response to destruction the war brought onto the world, the world began to fight back. All manner of beasts began to assault soldiers indiscriminately, natural disasters appearing with unprecedented strength and frequency, whole swaths of land becoming infested with cursed bogs becoming known as the Blight. These forces of nature and magic left both Kingdoms in complete disarray, neither side knowing how to counteract them.

  Quinton ‘Quill’ Willsone awoke after the battle to find naught but death and destruction. The last that he remembered was a large blast knocking him off of his feet and into the trees. From his pounding and slightly ringing head, he assumed that the blast and an improper landing had knocked him out, coincidently saving his life. The former Industrialist Commander still wasn’t sure if the Fates had been kind to him or not.

  As he had been mournfully gathering the bodies of his allies he had noticed one missing, his counterpart from the Magician’s Black Court. Quill had swiftly checked their camp, searching for a sign of what direction they had headed. A patch of footprints on the camps easter edge had given him that direction, one he traversed with severe determination. If they had captured Kalos then he was most likely still alive. The surviving Industrialists had take to capturing surviving Magicians in order to force them to help them to rebuild their cities, what few they were able to find of course.

  Quill moved swiftly and quietly through the brush around the clearing, using the scope of his long rifle to peer through gaps and windows when able, when he finally spotted his comrade. He was bound and a bit worse for ware, but he was alive and on his feet. Quill was relieved and amused to see Kalos staring into space during the leaders rant, but scowled as a fist was rammed into his stomach. ‘Bastard.’ He thought.

  Slowly pulling the bolt of his rifle back, chambering his first round, Quill took careful aim and nearly stopped breathing as the Industrialist officer aimed a pistol at Kalos’s head. He steadily released his breath and squeezed the trigger.

  BANG

  The officer pitched to the side and all of the small rooms occupants stood still in shock before diving for cover. Kalos quickly snapped his restraints and bolted from the room as Quill chambered another round and removed another threat from the room. A third round was chambered as he moved to follow Kalos’s progress to the forest. Seeing the Magician take out a group of pursuers, Quill took a final shot at a group running in his direction, causing them to scatter for cover as one fell.

  A fourth round was chambered. The Blade quickly began relocating, staying as close to the ground as possible to avoid detection. He circled around the camp in search of his freed companion, keeping an eye out for potential pursuers, but none appeared. He eventually found the Magician leaning against a tree in the forest on the opposite side of the camp.

  His smile of relief quickly turned mischievous as he slowly crept up behind the man and placed the barrel of his rifle to his back, ensuring that his finger was well away from the trigger. Kalos stiffened quickly and was clearly steeling himself for some final encounter. “Sloppy.” Quill said, having had his fun. “You must be as out of it as I am.”

  There was a brief pause before Kalos began laughing hard and deep, Quill joining him as he removed his rifle. “You Gods be damned bastard, Quill!” He breathed, his relief clear for both to hear. “I should probably be pissed at you for taking such a stupid risk, you know that?”

  Quill slung his rifle over his shoulder as Kalos managed to get his feet under him properly. The Magician turned and Quill was able to see the relief on his face that his tone suggested, one that no doubt was reflected in his own. “I’ll take that as a thank you.” Quill quipped. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  Kalos playfully shoved his shoulder. “Ok, fine. Thank you and kindly piss off.” He laughed, though his grin quickly grew somber. “The others?”

  Quill shook his head, his own mood taking a swift dive. “Just us. I gave them as proper a service as I was able.”

  The dour mood enveloped the duo for a time, both young men reflecting on the stressful blitz the last few days had been. Time, unfortunately, waited for none and they knew it. They needed to move or many opportunities would be lost to them. “Right then. We’ve got work to do plans to plan. After we’re done here we can swing by and pay our respects before moving on.”

  Quill frowned. “What work and what plans? There’s only the two of us left and the odds of us recruiting more at this point are laughable at best. As much as I hate to say it, the Blades are done, man.”

  Kalos’s glare hardened quickly. “Exactly. We’re it. All because of them.” He growled, pointing sharply at the nearby camp. “You really think I’m going to let them walk out of that camp alive after what they did? No, they’re going to experience exactly what we did, what our team went through. No mercy, no quarter. Only then will I move out.”

  Quill stared at his friend. He couldn’t exactly fault his feelings on the matter. The Blades were all any of them had for quite some time. For all of them to suddenly be gone with little warning? It was hard, hard for the both of them. And the former Industrialist would be lying if he said he didn’t feel similar to the Magician. A part of him did indeed call for blood, for retribution for his fallen brothers and sisters in all but blood. And in truth he didn’t try to fight it that much.

  “Alright.” He relented quietly. “Let’s take ‘em out. For the Blades.”

  Kalos nodded grimly. “For the Blades.”