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Viktoriya Serebryakov’s sea-blue eyes shone with the threat of tears as her trembling fingers brushed over the stain spreading on the dark-green cloth covering her abdomen.
“N-No … not like this …”
She pushed herself higher up, propped against the taut canvas of a tent’s exterior, and fumbled with clasps to pull open her jacket. What she saw made her stiffen and let out a strained squeak.
“Damn it. There’s no coming back from this …”
A conscript sitting nearby frowned as he looked up from cleaning the sand out of his dismantled rifle. “Ah, with all due respect, that’s not really a surprise, Ma’am,” he said. “You can’t expect chocolate to survive in these temperatures.”
Viktoriya cradled the sagging, dripping wrapper like it was a dying baby bird. Rich, dark, velvety Empire chocolate. Ruined beyond salvaging, and hundreds of miles from any replacement. Alas. “You’re right. I was a fool to hope.” She heaved a mournful sigh and then tossed the sloppy confection into a waste barrel. She took off her jacket to better survey the stain soaked into one pocket. “Uhgh. I need to rinse this out before it sets in.”
The soldier-mage made her way through the oasis-base toward the well to fetch some water for washing up. There was a small lineup, of course. Even with a steady supply available, water was always at a premium in the sun-blasted, dusty climate. She briefly considered pulling rank, but instead opted for patience and listened in on the soothing, familiar banality of the chatter of enlisted men.
“I can’t believe she’s really here,” said one of the men — a dusky-skinned local.
“All this way, yeah!” agreed his similarly swarthy comrade. “And she looks exactly like he said she would! Golden hair, pale skin, sapphire eyes, and that big jewel around her neck …”
Viktoriya raised an eyebrow and moved half a step closer to the men ahead of her.
“Gawd, do you think there’s more girls where she’s from as hot as that doll?” mused the first man. “I’d LOVE to just peel off those classy clothes and-”
“All right, that’s enough!” Viktoriya barked. “You’re talking about a superior officer! A-And a minor! If the Lieutenant Colonel heard you talking about her like that, she’d put you on mine-sweeping detail!”
Both men turned and snapped to saluting attention, but they looked more confused than ashamed.
“Ma’am! I’m not sure I understand, Ma’am!” said the first.
“We were DEFINITELY not talking about The Devil of - … about Lieutenant Colonel Von Degurechaff that way, Ma’am!” said the second.
“Definitely!” his friend agreed. “I want to live!”
Viktoriya folded her arms around her chocolate-stained jacket. “Then who WERE you talking about?”
╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬
“Private Nestor Aloysia — if it is your wish, I will travel anywhere to meet you.” The pale blonde’s high-heeled boots carved a perfect curve into the sand as she gripped her dark blue dress with gloved hands and performed a graceful, sweeping curtsey. The move made the large emerald cabochon at her throat catch the sunlight. “Auto Memories Doll at your service: Violet Evergarden.”
The young soldier in the tent’s open flap stared for a long moment before remembering himself and snapping to attention. “Ah! Y-Yes! Of course! Thank you for coming so far for this. I wasn’t sure if my request would even arrive, to be honest.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Sorry …”
“There is no reason to apologize,” Violet replied flatly. “The front is currently several miles from here. I have travelled to more unstable regions on missions before, and-” She paused. “And ... I would never turn down a soldier’s request for help sharing his feelings with those he cares about.” She bent slightly to pick up a wooden briefcase and a pale blue parasol by her side. “If you have an enclosed space out of the dust and wind, and a supply of paper, we can begin immediately.”
“Yes! Thank you! Yes, right here, Ma’am!” Nestor gestured for Violet to follow as he led the way back inside his tent.
Violet entered, and then set about preparing to ply her trade. She set down the case and opened it, revealing a compact mechanical typewriter. She took the thin sheaf of blank pages the man offered, and fed one sheet into the top of the machine.
“I’m … I’m really not sure where to start,” the man mused. He ran a hand over his cropped light-brown hair. “Leaving home was a rash decision. I didn’t really have a plan. I ended up enlisted with the Empire almost by accident, too. I just drifted far and wide, wherever the wind took me. But now … the fighting gets more intense every day, and I’ve seen incredible, terrible things. The way these people make war, it’s …” He pushed down a shudder. “Suddenly, everything seems like it’s locked on rails. I’ve stopped drifting, and instead I’m on a runaway train heading right for a cliff!”
“You are worried you will die in battle.” Violet’s tone made it a statement, not a question.
Nestor nodded, unable to give voice to the grim reality. “I didn’t leave on good terms with my family. My parents. My sister. In case I don’t … make it back home, I wanted to clear the air. I wanted to do this right, even if it costs me half a year’s pay. If you can bring back my letters, you-” He froze in silence, wide-eyed.
In preparation to start typing, Violet had tugged off her thin leather gloves with her teeth, exposing hands made of gleaming, intricately articulated metal.
“Just like I heard,” Nestor whispered. “You really …” He caught himself yet again, and shook his head to clear it. “Sorry!”
Violet touched her metal fingers to the typewriter keys with a barely perceptible clack. “There is no reason to apologize. Please … if you are ready, simply tell me what you wish to say.”
╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬
Desert heat or no desert heat, come Hell or high water, Tanya Von Degurechaff would not go without her coffee. Seated in the cool, shady confines of her command tent, she inhaled the dark, rich, earthy aroma, untouched by cream or sugar, slowly took a sip …
And then violently spat the stuff out all over her desk blotter.
“Yuck!” The child soldier-mage leaped to her feet and turned to bend over a wastebasket, spitting several more times. But the rancid taste didn’t go away — it merely shifted around her senses. It became a rotting stench that made her eyes water. Then, a keening wail that set her teeth on edge. And then, icy prickles all over her skin. And finally, a vile, cancerous glow staining her eyesight like a blotch of flash-blindness. There. Perhaps a hundred yards across the camp.
Mana.
Foreign, unfamiliar mana, splattering across her awareness like a swarm of crawling insects. A massive spike of hostile magical energy, right in her own camp.
Tanya put one hand to the crimson computation jewel at her throat, and reached out with the other. A rifle gleamed with magic and then leaped to her waiting grasp.
“What am I even planning all these scouting patrols for?” she said to herself as she checked the weapon and then stalked forth toward the offending energy signature. “I’ve NEVER sensed a signature like this. Somehow those idiots managed to miss an ace-level mage sneaking right into our camp! One well-placed explosion spell, and we could lose our supplies, our flight gear, our troops — everything! I didn’t make it this far just to end up dying of THIRST! Rrrgh!” She gritted her teeth as her wide, pale eyes darted to and fro, alert for any non-mage accomplices of the infiltrator.
She came to a stop near the cluster of enlisted men’s tents, and raised her rifle with the sights centred on the repulsive, alien mana field. Closer, now, she saw its shape — a tall, slender, female silhouette.
“One low-yield detonation should breach any passive shield and blow her to bits,” Tanya muttered to herself as her eyes, jewel and rifle started dimly glowing with the chaotic sheen of magic. “That tent will be ruined, and the occupant will catch some shrapnel, but I blame that on my worthless scouts.” Her finger started squeezing the trigger. “His blood will be on their-”
A weaker but warmer and far more familiar mana signature washed into Tanya’s senses. The scent of chamomile. The taste of dark Empire chocolate. The bracing chill of icy mountain winds. The signature resolved into a silhouette standing right next to the invader. So close the two fields overlapped, like some sweet-and-bitter yin-yang. Tanya’s finger jerked away from the trigger.
“V-Viktoriya…!” she gasped. Her shock soon eased into a wide, toothy grin, however. “That’s my right-hand woman. You must have sensed this disgusting wretch as well, but it looks like you opted to break her shield up close with an enchanted knife, instead! Bold decision!” She squinted at the wavering phantoms, watching the mage draw closer to her prey. Closer. Closer. “That’s it,” Tanya whispered. Her eyes gleamed. “Nice and easy. Now, just slip it between her ribs, and …”
The two shapes parted, but neither one fell. They stood facing one another, arms at their sides. No weapons raised, nor any alarm. No surge in the mana signatures. Nothing.
“What the hell is she doing?” Tanya snarled. “Am I the only person in this damn camp without a death wish?” She raced toward the tent.
╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬
Viktoriya cracked a bittersweet smile as she read over the freshly typed letter. She handed it back to the private when she finished, and heaved a shaky sigh.
“That’s … it’s beautiful,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for prying, but we have security concerns to consider. We can’t let anyone share information that could compromise-”
The typist, Violet, snapped to attention with such stiff precision that Viktoriya found herself mirroring the motion by reflex.
“There is no chance of that, Ma’am,” the blonde said. “I would never endanger my client’s life, or those of his comrades.”
“I’m just glad you’re letting me do this, Ma’am,” the private piped up. “It must seem strange, but where I’m from letter-writing is very important. And if we’re … ah, I just want my family to …”
Viktoriya wiped away a single tear. “It’s fine. I’m sure everyone here understands those feelings.”
The faint but unmistakable click and creak of a ready rifle rang out like a church bell. By the time the private had even recognized the sound, Viktoriya and Violet had leaped back, turned, and assumed ready stances facing the open tent-flap.
Viktoriya’s eyes widened. “Ma’am? What’s going on?”
╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬
Tanya’s eyes gleamed like polished gold coins as she stared down the iron sights squarely focused on the crude, oddly designed computation jewel at the enemy mage’s throat.
“Stand aside. I’ve got the situation under control.” Tanya’s shining gaze flicked up to meet the invader’s for a split second. “And you — drop your weapons and step out of the tent, slowly.”
“I will come outside, but I am not armed,” the enemy lied.
The woman’s hideous mana felt like a rain of bedbugs sprinkling all over Tanya. The urgency of the crisis gave her tunnel vision, but acting at frantic speed in three-dimensional combat had given her excellent peripheral awareness, even with her focus narrowed. She saw the gleam of metal in the woman’s hands. Twin pistols? Paired daggers? No mistaking that for a peacekeeper’s holdout. This maniac was here to do damage, up close and personal.
Tanya hopped back and sharpened up her aim as the mage stepped toward her. “I said drop it!” Her pulse pounded in her ears; she’d never faced such a powerful enemy while grounded. She’d always had the benefit of her extreme altitude tolerance and maneuverability, always had options for evasion and ambush. Down in the dust, she was acutely aware of her still-growing body’s frailty.
Viktoriya followed the blonde outside. She looked anxious. Afraid. She reached out toward her superior and inhaled to cry out. A warning?
Time slowed down. Viktoriya was so close to the enemy — too close. But that disgusting blonde was raising her metal-laden hands. Readying a strike!
Adrenaline washed Tanya’s veins with ice-water. She channeled the smallest blasting spell she could, and squeezed the trigger.
Time all but froze. The blonde burst into action, opulent uniform snapping and whipping as she lashed out a shining metal hand to foolishly parry the explosive bullet. There was a deafening clang, a flash of sparks, and then …
Viktoriya’s cry was cut short as the ricochet caught her in the head. She reeled backward and fell.
Time raced with merciless speed. Droplets of blood stained the tent’s wall. Viktoriya sprawled on the dust. The air rang with the echoes of the bullet’s deflection, but the blast had never come.
Tanya’s wide, golden eyes jerked from her fallen right-hand woman to the invader’s shining prosthetic limbs. That deep, milky grey alloy, catching the faintest light. That atonal ring, like a bell on a becalmed sea.
Hexensilber.
The enemy ace had replaced her hands with magic-ablating alloy! Explosive or penetration rounds would lose their charge, and standard munitions would never pierce a shield. Tanya had no choice.
She shifted her grip on her rifle, and pumped a flow of magic into her bayonet. “You bitch … I’ll GUT YOU!” Her eyes glowed like molten bronze as she lunged.
╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬
Violet gasped as her reflex led to a bystander taking a shot meant for her. She moved to offer aid, but still more combat reflexes wouldn’t allow it. Instead she wheeled back around and raised her arms to block a furious bayonet slash from the child-soldier who’d fired the shot.
They both staggered back, and then tumbled over the dusty ground. The child hadn’t even landed when she snarled in rage and made another swing.
Every parry left glowing scratches on Violet’s hands and forearms. She could feel the heat radiating off the marks. “Please, stop! I mean you no harm!”
“That makes ONE of us!” The child speared forward with her rifle, aiming low to open Violet’s stomach.
Violet blocked again, and leapt backward. Her high-heeled boots skidded furrows into the sandy soil. She stared at the mad child, taking in her fearsome stare. Her coiled-cobra menace. The perfection of her endlessly trained combat moves. Every ringing parry sent flashes of dark, ugly memories welling up in Violet’s mind.
“I am not here to fight!” Violet pleaded. “Please! I was called to write a letter, that is all!”
The child was beyond reason. Implacable. A fearsome wellspring of primal bloodlust. A murderous war maiden.
All around, soldiers were emerging from tents. The area was filling up with potential collateral damage. If the fight went on much longer, someone else was sure to get hurt. Violet had no choice.
╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬
At last, the enemy ace showed Tanya her true colours.
The knife-hand swings and chops were phenomenal. Swift, deadly circles cut into the air with clockwork precision. It was all Tanya could do to throw out shell-spells to block, and each ward only lasted a hit or two at most before those Witch-Silver hands shattered it. Tanya’s unique jewel was getting hotter and hotter as she pushed her limits. She tried to block with her rifle and bayonet when she could, but the woman was boosting her strength with magic. She had to be. The first block had skidded Tanya back a full yard, and nearly knocked her off her feet. There was no other way out, though. A monster like that would never show quarter. Tanya was fighting for her life.
“I’ll send your head back the way you came!” she roared as she pushed the offensive. Yes, that was the key. The best defence. Don’t let her bring those warded hands to bear. Keep her on the back foot. Stay close, so her height becomes a hindrance.
Tanya shifted her grip and smoothly unhooked the bayonet to wield as a dagger. She threw the rifle aside.
“You don’t have to do this!” the enemy taunted as the two of them clinched and struggled for control of the glowing, searing-hot blade. “I wish you could see … this doesn’t have to be your fate! You may not feel it now, but you’re burning-”
“I’m trying NOT to burn!” Tanya roared. “That’s been the plan all along!” She channeled raw mana into her off hand and loosed a shockwave punch into her foe’s solar plexus. The unfiltered energy flow dislocated a knuckle, but Tanya barely felt it. When the enemy coughed out her breath, Tanya pounced to knock her onto her back. “I’m just trying to make it out of this stupid farce! But HE keeps sending you worthless morons after me! Maybe he just likes to watch me put you down!”
She stabbed and slashed again and again, and the fiend beneath her was less and less able to parry. The air smelled like a foundry from the white-hot gouges she cut into the magic-warded metal. Normally, one slice of that bayonet would open a battle tank like a can of beans.
“P-Please…” the enemy said through crocodile tears. “Don’t do this. You can’t live like this! You can’t … nngh … live WITH this! When you feel the flames, you will wish for the relief of death with all your heart! BELIEVE me!”
“SHUT UP!” Mocking the very real threat of Hell was just too much. Tanya swung a downward stab toward the monster’s beautiful face. The enemy grabbed Tanya’s forearm with one hand, and the other whipped out to seize her slender throat. Tanya counter-grabbed, but the metal arm was like an industrial vise. She was out of time. No choice...
Tanya’s eyes glowed brighter gold as she called forth the full power of the Elinium Type 97 jewel with a wheezed, raspy prayer: “O God Almighty, grant Your humble servant the power to smite this wicked soul with Your divine judgment …”
Wriggling in the dirt, the ace reacted with a sudden stiffness, and then her wide eyes glowed vibrant blue-green. She spoke some bizarre pagan prayer in response, biting off the words with vacant focus:
“O Maiden of the Garnet Spear, O Slayer of Dragons, wield me as Your righteous weapon and pierce the heart of evil …”
Clashing energies, green and gold, washed over the pair and pushed out rings of stirred-up dust. The ace squeezed Tanya’s throat tighter. Tanya bore down with the blade, now barely an inch from her enemy’s glowing right eye. Once again, time slowed to a crawl as certain death wavered uncertainly between the two. And then, as the tension neared a volcanic peak —
“T-Tanya … STOP!”
The cry snapped Tanya out of her zealous fugue in the blink of an eye. Her raging magical aura and the glow in her eyes vanished, and the ace’s disappeared with them. When she drew back and raised her blade, the woman’s grip on her throat slackened. Tanya turned to see her most trusted subordinate lifting herself up on her elbows, bloodied but still very much alive.
Viktoriya blinked through the curtain of crimson on her face and sniffled back tears. “Ma’am … Lieutenant Colonel, please …” She struggled her way up onto all fours and then reached out a hand. “I’m all right.” She wiped her face with a forearm, streaking it with blood. “It’s just a graze. Knocked me silly…”
Tanya stepped back and climbed off of her opponent. She took a shaky breath. “I thought you …” She shook her head, turning back to the blonde lying in the dust. "You. You’re not with the enemy. But I sensed danger, anyway. It made me sick. Like just looking at you was twisted and wrong-” She froze. Religious education rose up in her memory. Divine laws. Divine commandments. Her blue eyes widened.
“What is it …?” The woman asked as she slowly got to her feet.
Tanya touched the Type 97. Her eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t me disgusted by you. It was him! You’re like me, but some OTHER being is meddling with your life, and he didn't like the competition! A Being Y to my Being X! You’re just another messed-up plaything!” Tanya ran a hand over her mussed hair and let out a laugh that soon grew into hysterical cackling.
╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬
Violet frowned. “I am sorry, but I don’t understand …” She held up her hands and looked at the still dimly glowing slashes marking the palms, fingers and forearms. “No one is meddling with my life. I am living as I choose to.” She flexed her fingers. Her damaged right ring finger closed slower than the others, and creaked as it did so.
“Oh?” the child soldier replied as she fought to push down her mad laughter. “Did you choose to speak that heathen prayer just now?”
Violet’s hands squeezed tight. A rosy blush coloured her cheeks. “I … am not sure what transpired during our struggle. That has never happened to me before.”
The child, Tanya, smirked. “Knock it off. You’re not fooling anyone. I know a trained soldier-mage when I fight one. I may be small, but you’re no bodybuilder, either. And yet, you hit like a sledgehammer. You obviously channeled magic into your muscles, and let the Hexensilber soak up the backlash.” She swung a fist in a quick jab for emphasis, and then finally seemed to notice her impacted knuckle. She hissed in a breath and squeezed her reddened, swelling hand. “Nngh … unless Being Y only just came to you now, you’ve invoked it before.”
“Magic?” Violet’s frown deepened. “I was to understand that magic was purely mythical.”
The girl smirked. “Ah. I get it. You’ve got the same accent as that new private. You’re from some backwater country lacking in thaumaturgical education. I guess I can’t blame you for your nation’s ignorance.” She raised an eyebrow. “Of course ... that still doesn’t explain why a secretary here to take dictation has Hexensilber hands and fights like a trained assassin.”
Violet’s pale face paled further. She bit her bottom lip before answering. “My hands are simply prosthetics, made from a strong and flexible alloy that does not tarnish. That is all. My training …comes from a life I led before this one. That life is over now, and I can never return to it.” She raised a hand to touch her lifeless fingertips to the jewel at her throat. “I have changed too much.”
╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬
It was Tanya’s turn to pale, now.
It had seemed ridiculous to her that such a deadly combatant would have a civilian job — no military would toss aside a resource like that, and only a maniac would trade the privileges of rank for the powerless and helpless existence of a non-combatant. The woman’s confession made it all fall into place.
“You really ARE like me, aren’t you?” she said softly. For a moment, childish homesickness boiled up inside her stomach like nausea. In that instant, for all her ruthless pragmatism, the thought of a kindred spirit made her ache to talk about websites and hybrid cars and bullet trains and blockbuster superhero movies and all the other fading, distant, pointless modern touchstones Being X had taken from her.
But no. She knew where witless sentimentality led. She knew what waited for her back in that world.
Tanya took a slow, shaky breath, and then let it out in a silent sigh. “I’m satisfied you aren’t an enemy combatant, but I won’t tolerate the disruption you’ve caused. I want you gone, immediately.”
The secretary didn’t argue. She snapped to attention and gave a prim and proper bow. “Understood, Ma’am. My business here is concluded. I will gather my belongings and leave at once.” She paused before acting on the decision, however. “I will … consider what you have told me. I beg of you, please think over my words, as well.”
With the chaos subsided, a pair of young medics had cautiously approached. One, a freckled redheaded girl with pale skin reddened by the brutal sun, saw to Viktoriya’s head wound. The other, a slender black-haired lad only two heads taller than Tanya herself, took a look at the injured hand.
Tanya ignored him, instead focusing on the visiting blonde’s precise, measured movements as the woman gathered up the tools of her trade and headed for the perimeter where a cargo convoy waited.
Even after that intense clash, there were no signs of stress, no adrenaline-shakes, not the slightest quiver in those shining metal fingers. The assassin-turned-secretary walked like a wind-up doll. Just another plaything in the twisted toybox of those damned otherworldly Beings.
Tanya frowned, and then grimaced and winced as the medic wrenched her finger-joint back into alignment. She let out a low grunt, and tears stung at the corners of her eyes.
“Ma’am…?” Viktoriya approached, now sporting a fresh bandage wrapping one side of her forehead. “Are you all right?”
“Hmm?” Tanya sharply sniffed in a breath. Her gaze hardened back to its usual cut-sapphire edge. “I’m fine.” After a pause, she added: “ … You didn’t happen to bring any chocolate with you on the campaign, did you?”
THE END