Sajani Tails

      This wasn’t how Sajani originally planned to ask the platoon assigned her to stay, but the incident at the armor shop inspired her and, she hated to admit, working with Simon’s side show brought out some of her hidden craving for the spotlight. She realized her mother could’ve just asked for volunteers but did a little more. Perhaps she was born to be dramatic.

      She’d borrowed Sergeant Tess’s longsword. It was a surprisingly beautiful weapon and much more ornate than the one she’d lost on the Wisp. Tess was wearing Simon’s old rapier and managed to seem somewhat proud of it, though Sajani couldn’t imagine why. The sergeant was standing behind the four rows of eight soldiers each, and the platoon leader, Lieutenant Marshel, was at the front. The room was silent. Ambassador Ghenis had requested to be present and Sajani reluctantly agreed. A local spark, a vykati named Ginger with a metal cat on his shoulder, was standing near the back doorway with Simon and Doc Cutter. He’d arrived just as they were about to start and Sajani didn’t want to wait.

      There weren’t many things she feared and while public speaking wasn’t one of them, rejection was.

      Taking a deep breath, with every eye in the room upon her, she drew the sword at her side and set it on the floor before her. She noticed Simon was beaming. Yes, she had to admit, her love of the dramatic was, at least in a small way, a result of her respect for him. She’d been forced since that horrible day twenty years ago to walk in the foot treads of the giant who was her mother. Despite that, she felt she’d measured up and part of her knew she’d continue to measure up.

      “Friends,” she began “from time immemorial, the vykati have fought against a world that has attempted to destroy us—a world which has allowed itself to be ruled by its own fear and superstition. Time and again, we’ve been tread upon and time and again we’ve risen wiser and more powerful.” She took a few steps to her left and continued, “We could have, as a people, allowed others to dictate our destiny or allowed ourselves to wallow in despair and be overrun, but instead we’ve eschewed a martyr’s mentality, and risen over and over again to meet our challenges.

      “And now that world which has so often attempted to destroy us stands threatened by forces from without. We could stand haughtily and arrogantly away from the conflict and allow what the lesser of us might call divine justice to happen to those who may or may not have risen to our defense if our roles had been reversed. But I, for one, won’t stoop to that level.

      “We could allow that terrible force to overcome the rest of the world and hope by the time it comes to our lands, by the time it threatens our people, it’ll have been worn down enough and ceased to be a threat. But I, for one, won’t stand idly by and allow that to happen. I won’t leave the fate of the people of Terah, vykati or otherwise, to such chance.” She walked back to where she’d originally stood and tried to catch the platoon leader’s eye, but he looked away.

      “We could leave our former enemies to their fate and live only to protect ourselves. We could leave the world to its new conquerors and try to make peace with them as the enemy of our former enemies. But I, for one, will stand on the side of right. I won’t allow evil to trample across the globe. I refuse to call that evil by the name of divine justice. I’ll call it what it is: pestilence, famine, destruction.” She looked out over the platoon. Every eye, except the lieutenant’s, was on her. Was this how her mother felt that day? Had she also been unsure how many, if any, would dare follow her? Were they looking in her eyes out of respect: a respect they could not or would not match in courage?

      “Today you must decide where you stand. Today I ask you: resign the post that asks you to stand idly and sign on with those that’ll bring the fight for Terah’s freedom to the forefront.” Then she repeated the words of her mother which she’d memorized as a young lady, “‛There’s no cowardice in refusing to face such odds as we now face. There’s no hope for us, only hope we can slow the advance long enough to protect our people. Here I stand. This I will defend. Cross by my sword and add yours to the line only if you’re willing to die for your country.’”

      There was silence for a few long seconds and then, a snap could be heard as Sergeant Tess faced left and began marching around the formation. She continued to march until she stood directly before Sajani. The sergeant drew Simon’s sword from its scabbard and raised it in a salute, then briefly broke her military demeanor, smiled and set the sword down next to her own on the ground. “My lady,” she said sincerely, “I can still hear the cannons.” Then she stepped behind Sajani and fell silent.

      One at a time, starting with the first soldier of the first row of the formation and in orderly single file from there, they approached her, tossed their swords upon the quickly growing pile and as they did so, they smiled at her and said, “My lady, I can still hear the cannons.” It was the most glorious and dramatic moment of her life. Simon was obviously very proud. He followed the soldiers and while he had no blade to add, he bowed deeply before her and said, “You are your mother’s daughter to be sure, my lady. I can still hear the cannons.”

      Simon was followed by Ginger and Doc Cutter. Then, to the shock of all present, Ambassador Ghenis rose and walked before her. He bowed deeply, drawing a hidden sword from his cane, and dropping it between them. She didn’t know that the old wolf could balance himself so well without support. His voice showed he was concentrating heavily to stay on his feet. “The Lady General of my people, you’ll always be. I too can still hear the cannons, and in the name of all that is good in this world, I pray they’ll never be silent to my people’s ears.” He rose and took a few steps, proudly upright, to stand behind her.

      That left only the forlorn platoon leader, who’d been unable to meet her eye.

      “My lady,” he said without lifting his eyes to hers, “I’ll not resign my commission.”

      “And I won’t think less of you for it,” she responded. “Return to your post lieutenant. There’s no shame in serving in the Vharkylia Army.”

      And with that, he left.

            She turned to face the rest. “Thank you,” she said. She didn’t feel she needed to say any more than that. “I’m overwhelmed in the face of your courage. I’ll have your assignments by tomorrow morning, and we’ll move out shortly after that.”