Sajani Tails

Tempest

A Terah Short Story by Chaaya Chandra

     Lady General Sajani Adida was never comfortable in her office. Three of the walls were covered with oak paneling and the fourth was made of gray stone with a huge fireplace in the center. She never lit it. Vharkylia didn’t have fireplace weather very often, especially not in Drtithen. She was haunted by a constant desire to open the window on the opposite side, but if she did, the small chandelier over her desk would sound off like a hundred tiny bells. When she first moved in, she turned her desk to face the window, which gave her a nice view of the outside and a side view of the door. That position had the side benefit of making it so the huge picture of her mother hanging on the wall opposite the door was behind her.

     The painting was of the type that really annoyed her. She remembered her mother as being about the same height as she… back when the Minister of War was eight. The paintings always got the smile wrong, instead basing it on the wry look the lady general usually wore. The eyes were distant and detached, lacking the passion that did not fade with memory. It was more like looking at a mirror than it was looking at the mother she lost.

     The question that’d been plaguing her the last day came once again, unbidden. What would my mother do? The forces attacking Zenache were far superior to anything the copper wolf could imagine. The (technically) allied country had a military three times the size of Vharkylia, using up to 25% of their national budget. Their request for aid was desperate, not even attempting the usual decorum of prior missives.

     She activated the measures put into place early in her tenure and almost all feral communities were being called into action. That allowed her to move the three divisions near Altaza directly to the border and replace them with militia units. The Rhidayan ambassador had a meeting with her scheduled later that afternoon. They’d need permission to fly the units over that country.

     Her mother would fight and so would she. There were thirty days where she could do what she felt necessary before receiving legislative approval. She’d use all those days to the fullest.

     The door opened and in walked her aid. Lieutenant Bamalis was shorter than she, but stockier with gray fur and an impossibly well pressed uniform. “Frins,” Sajani said amiably, “did the Rhidayan ambassador happen to…”

     The first words she could see of the paper he dropped on her desk were, “unconditional surrender.”

     Balmalis’ next words summed up her fears. “Zenache has fallen.”

     She skimmed through the communique. It outlined the terms of the country’s surrender, which included the termination of their agreement with Vharkylia. Sajani had never heard of terms as absolute as these in the last few centuries. No sovereignty. No independence. Complete lockdown of all civilians. Scribbled at the bottom was a note. “Vykati are to report for ‘assessment.’”

     A quiet rage came to the lady general’s face. Whoever this enemy was, they were attempting to limit communication with her country. There was no other reason the last part would be scribbled like that: the Zenache were much too formal. This note had to be approved by the enemy and someone felt the need to let them know they needed to fight. Whoever this new enemy was, they saw her people as a threat.

     She’d been focused on the letter so missed what her aid was saying. “…scheduled press conference…”

     He didn’t get a chance to continue. The press conference was about to start and there was no way she’d leave this to her staff. It wasn’t right. True, she never addressed the press if she could help it, but this was different. “Let Tandy know I’ll cover it this time. Hurry.”

     Bamalis ran from the room and Sajani turned to face the painting of her mother. “We will fight mother,” she whispered. “Vharkylia will remain free. I know what I need to do, and I’ll do it. I’ll meet them head on, in person. This enemy will know the wrath of an Adida.”

     She turned and left the room quickly and headed to the briefing area. The room was much larger than her office and had the same stiff oak paneling she hated. Her press secretary, Tandy, was standing at the podium at the far end and Bamalis was talking to her. The tan furred wolf looked up and cleared her throat as the copper wolf entered the room. “Members of the press, the Minister of War of the dynast nation of Vharkylia.” She stepped away from the podium quickly. Lieutenant Bamalis also stepped back.

     The room became perfectly quiet. She expected whispered surprise from the reporters, since she never talked to them, but instead it was deathly quiet. Sajani placed her hands on the podium and took a deep breath, knowing the response she’d get from her next words. “Zenache has fallen to an unknown enemy.”

     Just as she expected, the room exploded with shouts of panic and disbelief. She glared at the wolf closest to her; the reporter quieted and nudged the one next to her. Sajani continued her stare as they all quieted one at a time.

     After a moment of silence, one reporter thrust his hand into the air. Sajani recognized him. He was from the Drtithen Gazette and was constantly hounding her staff to get an interview with the copper wolf. “No” said nearly a hundred or a thousand times would never be enough.

     She called on him. “Are they going to attack Rhidayar and us as well?” The minister of war glared at him. “What information I’ve received implies that they do not hold us or any other nation in high regard.”

     “And what is Vharkylia’s response?”

     The question angered her slightly, but she held her composure. How would a nation of wolf people respond to the threat of war? Was he seriously unsure, or was he just looking for something to quote for the paper?

     “I cannot speak for the nation in matters of war,” she said carefully. “I’ve readied our army and militia and have already moved some forces to the Rhidayan border. The wolf pack and our feral volunteers stand ready to protect the wolves of Vharkylia, as they have always done.”

     A few hands shot up, but she ignored them. “It is not the duty of the minister of war to make decisions beyond national defense. The rest will be worked out by the Riteyai Lords and the Drtithen Council.”

     A few tried to blurt out questions, but she ignored that as well. “Silence!” It was much more imperious than she was used to, but it worked. “Tell the people that the daughter of Malita Adida stands ready. While our military must wait for the decisions of bureaucrats, I’ll not allow the grass to grow under my paws. I will fight for the wolves of Vharkylia. A decade and a half ago, my mother gave her life for them. From that time forward I have lived for them.”

     Pencils were scribbling feverishly as she spoke. Good. She knew what her people needed to hear at this moment. They’d believe what she said, even if she couldn’t bring herself to do the same.

     “Tell the people that the daughter of Malita Adida stands between them and their enemies. Tell them that yes, we’re heading into a time of darkness and storms. Other nations might stumble and doubt, but Vharkylia will do as it has always done; we’ll not surrender to those troubles. We’ll not allow fear to govern us. We’ll face these times with our claws and teeth bared and our heads held high. What we’ve built together in this nation is worth fighting for. I will not give it up freely and expect that neither will any of you. This I will defend. Kra’la al’ark.”

     Ending with the national motto was necessary. As she turned from the podium something unexpected happened. The jaded press, the people who she strived so hard to avoid, rose and applauded. A celebratory howl was started, and she found herself answering it as she walked out the door.

     They didn’t seem to notice she’d never specifically said what she planned on doing. The truth was she didn’t know yet. All she knew was that she would fight, even if it was just her doing the fighting.

      The elven command tent didn’t need lights. The equipment running inside the plastic enclosure gave off enough glow to see and the two heavy flaps which made up the entrance made sure none of the light escaped. They’d been camped at this position for three days and his soldiers were getting nervous. They knew the basics of this war’s plan. Standing still wasn’t part of that plan, even if it did get them regular sleep and meals.

      It made General Sestus nervous too, although he didn’t show it. He studied the screen in front of him and carefully issued his orders with his usual calm precision. The soldier nodded to him that everything was complete. Perhaps it was time to sleep. It’d been more than a day for him and while lack of sleep didn’t really make him irritable, it could muddle his thinking.

      “Sir,” the operations duty officer interrupted his thoughts, “Central is on the line. They want to know why we haven’t changed position. They’re worried…”

      “How comforting, isn’t it, captain?” General Sestus interrupted. “Ah, they do care about us, their little chess pieces out on the lonely and dangerous board. Doesn’t it just warm your heart? Make you feel loved?”

      The sarcasm was lost on the poor man. Sestus was sure the soldier recognized it but was too terrified to respond. That’s a pity, General Sestus thought. It’s not much fun to play a game if no one knows the rules.

      “Tell them we’re still waiting on the squad of scouts we dropped near the Rhidayar border. Their last known position was heading towards Xahusha, but they’re still maintaining radio silence.” Aspects only know why, General Sestus thought to himself. It wasn’t like these primitives would overhear, but protocol was protocol and best to maintain in the face of doubt. “Wait,” he said slowly and ponderingly to the duty officer. Placing a hand on the shoulder of the communications soldier next to him he said, “Try their frequency one more time. It won’t hurt to have up-to-date information.”

      “Yes sir,” the soldier responded. After a moment, she told him, “They’re online.” An image appeared on her screen. It was of a ragged golden brown wolf man. His face was right up to the screen.

      “Oh, hello there,” the wolf said cheerfully in the grating language of its world, “I was wondering what that did. You must be the people who made this wonderful machine.”

      The soldier working the station translated for him. The general just stared unbelieving at the screen for a moment and then said to the communications soldier, “Tell it we didn’t make it.” He wasn’t sure why he said that, but it gave him time to think. The communications soldier translated dutifully.

      “Ah, that’s a pity,” the wolf replied. “I was really hoping I could ask some questions. It’s a marvelous machine.”

      “Ask it how it obtained our vehicles.” The message was relayed.

      “Well, I don’t mind telling you,” the wolf said cheerfully, “they aren’t your vehicles anymore. Sajani, the lady of rust, now claims them. She says she’ll use them to take the battle to you. Isn’t that exciting? She’d probably love to talk to you, come to think of it, but she’s off at the gate right now.”

      This one seemed fairly willing to chat at least. “Ask it again.” The question was repeated.

      “Sajani captured them. They tried to shoot her down, but she managed to take out all ten of your soldiers. Sir Simon started to tell me about it once, but she interrupted. Now that’s a story I wish she was more willing to tell.”

      “No doubt,” General Sestus said with sarcasm. The communications worker dutifully relayed the message sans the dark tone.

      “I know! It was just her and Sir Simon and he had a broken arm. She only had three arrows and a flare gun!”

      “Terminate the connection and give their location to the duty officer,” the general said. Anger was beginning to well up in him and he didn’t like the lack of self-control it could mean. “At least one of these wolves isn’t the stupid dog we thought she’d be.”

      It was a former Vharkylia Army private named Chass who brought the news. For now she still thought of them by their old ranks, since it helped break them down into smaller groups. He was a huge wolf, towering a good amount above her with shoulders that were broad, even for his size. His fur was gray and white. The glasses he wore made his eyes seem tiny and out of place. “Lady Sajani,” he said quickly as he poked in through the doorway. “Refugees are trying to enter the city’s north gate. Rhidayar troops are blocking them.”

      “Blocking them?” Tess asked.

      “Did you happen to hear why?” Sajani asked.

      “Something about a plague,” he answered.

      Sajani turned to Tess and said: “Have Doc Cutter meet me at the gate.” She grabbed Chass by the arm and pulled him along with her. “Let’s go.” As she was leaving, she called over her shoulder: “Make sure Ambassador Ghenis knows about this.”

      It was fairly early in the morning as they walked out the inn and into the waking city. She had to dodge a few delivery vans and ignore the street vendors who tried to accost them. It didn’t take long to get to the gate. Getting through the gate, however, would be an issue. Xahusha wasn’t a walled city. Its outermost buildings mostly faced inward and modern roads only accessed the interior through specific areas. So the city’s six gates, or main entries, were not areas where people could normally congregate.

      Today the area was flooded with people and soldiers. It was a good thing she brought Chass with her. “Step aside!” he roared to the mass before them. “Official business!” No one questioned him, even though they obviously weren’t natives. One man turned to face them with an irate look on his face, but his eyes only came to the center of the big wolf’s chest. He looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it.

      To her astonishment, Chass apologized. “Sorry sir,” he said politely, “But Lady Sajani is trying to get to the refugees.”

      The man stepped aside, and she could hear him whisper her name. The name was able to travel faster than they could and soon people were tripping over each other trying to catch a glimpse of her as she passed. At first it slowed their progress, but soon the current of bodies shifted, and they found a path opened for them all the way to where she could see soldiers standing guard.

      They walked up to the nearest one, a woman in a brown and red uniform, and Sajani asked politely, “May I pass?”

      The soldier was still elevating her gaze to look up at Chass. “I… I…” she began, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but none are allowed through.”

      “I understand,” Sajani said fairly. “Are there vykati among the refugees?”

      “A few ma’am,” the soldier said a little more firmly. She was apparently relieved Chass wasn’t there to challenge her.

      “What’s this about a plague?”

      “Not sure about that, ma’am,” she responded. “I haven’t heard anything about a plague.”

      “May I speak to your duty officer?” Sajani asked politely. “I’m here from the Vharkylia embassy.”

      “I can’t leave my post ma’am, but I’ll pass the message along.” She motioned to a man who was standing about 20 meters away. Sajani recognized the large stripes on his sleeve. He was a buck sergeant.

      He looked somewhat distracted and bored as he started to approach. When he caught sight of Chass he slowed a bit and looked more interested. Once he was closer still, he saw Sajani for the first time. He stopped for a moment and rubbed his thin mustaches twice. Apparently satisfied she was whom he thought she was, he picked up his pace, bowing deeply once he was before them. “Lady General Sajani,” he said in a courtly voice. “I hope Private Ladaher isn’t giving you any trouble.”

      “Not at all,” Sajani said offhandedly. “She’s holding her post very professionally. I was just asking to meet with your duty officer.”

      “That’d be Lieutenant Darlay, ma’am,” he said rising from his bow, “but if you’re looking to pass the line, you’ll be wanting to talk to Major Fagen. She’s the one in charge of this operation.”

      “Can you take us to see her?”

      “Of course, my lady.”

      The major wasn’t far. They were taken to a nearby command tent. The sergeant entered first followed by Chass and then Sajani. “Lady General Sajani, Minister of War of the dynast nation of Vharkylia to see you, major,” the sergeant announced. He and Chass stepped to either side of the tent’s entrance as the copper wolf stood forward.

      Most of the world’s armies used a purchased commission structure. Major Fagen was a rather obvious example of the shortcomings of that system. A short dark-skinned woman with black hair, she looked delicate enough to be knocked over if Chass decided to exhale within a meter of her—five meters if he was trying. Even the way she wore her uniform: crisp and almost too well pressed, seemed to speak of her fragileness.

      The expression she wore also spoke volumes to Sajani. The copper wolf never felt she needed to prove her courage, mental fortitude, or intelligence to anyone. In some ways, she had it a little easier, since even those who might question her rank, dared not out of respect for her mother. There were a few who felt she was just riding on her mother’s fame, but that usually abated quickly once they worked with her.

      Major Fagen, however, looked like one who felt the need to prove herself constantly. At a guess, Sajani would say the small woman commissioned in as a major and would probably retire as a major. There was a story to be told in this timid and frightened officer who tried so hard to keep up a tough appearance, but there wouldn’t be time, she was sure, to plumb the depths.

      “I told you not to disturb me!” she shouted at the sergeant.

      “Major, if you don’t want to speak to Lady General Sajani, that’s on you, ma’am,” the sergeant said in a mostly respectful tone, “but I thought it prudent to pass on the message.”

      “I can speak to her now that you’ve brought her,” the major said testily. “I’ll have words with you later, sergeant.”

      The sergeant looked nonplussed and left the tent.

      “What gives you the right to come traipsing in here?” she shouted at Sajani. “This is a Rhidayar military operation. You have no business here, wolf.” The last word was obviously intended as an insult, although even the most hot-blooded vykati wouldn’t sniff sidelong at the moniker. The tone in which it was spoken, however, was a pelt of a different color. All except those with the patience of Benayle would’ve called that a “fighting word.” Sajani wasn’t as patient as Benayle, but she could imitate it in a pinch.

      She caught the look Chass gave her. She had the impression she could say, “Sic her!” and he’d go for her throat like a well-trained Quillain hound. Instead she smiled at the major, mostly for Chass’s sake.

      “I’m here on behalf of the Vharkylia embassy,” she began.

      “Which has no jurisdiction here,” the major interrupted. “This is an internal matter. Guard!”

      Chass turned to face the soldier who just entered. The guard stopped before passing entirely into the tent and looked up at him.

      “Escort these mangy curs from my tent,” the major ordered.

      “Ma’am?” the guard said quizzically. The poor soldier obviously didn’t want any trouble.

      A slow snarl came across Chass’s face. Wolf might not be a derogatory term, but ‘cur’ certainly was pushing things and it looked like ‘mangy cur’ was far past that.

      “Chass…” Sajani started to say but was too late.

      He grabbed the guard by both arms, forcing him to drop his weapon, and lifted him up, staring him in the eyes the whole time. The terrified human said nothing. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Chass said sincerely. The soldier didn’t look convinced. “So I’m going to hit you once hard on the head and you’re going to go unconscious for a bit. Do you understand?” The guard nodded once quickly. Chass clasped the man’s uniform with one hand and slapped him once upside the head. The guard fell carefully to the ground and didn’t move.

      In the meantime, Major Fagen reached for a musket sitting on her desk. Sajani had been about to try and persuade Chass this wasn’t at all in her best interest, when she caught sight of the major raising the weapon at him. She grabbed the shorter woman’s outstretched hand just in time. “I don’t want to have to do this,” she said in her best imitation of Benayle calm, “but I’m allergic to lead and so is Chass.” Sidestepping and simultaneously grabbing under the elbow and thrusting out, she forced the major onto her back, then dropped a knee on her chest to make sure she didn’t go anywhere.

       The major didn’t move, but she did shout, “Guards! Help!”