…
The pleasant buzz late into the evening is shared by all of Second Squad, minus our newly intermingled Drift. Our table is by far the loudest as we swap stories and laugh, and when Ridoc hops up to stand on the bench and sets his foot on the table in a champion's pose, we join him in the new war chant we learned this afternoon. I of course know it in Tyrrish, but once I translated it for the others, they all fell in love with the words and rhythm.
We sing along, cheeks red and minds pleasantly fuddled, our fists on the wood table keeping the beat. At the end, he tips his head back and downs the ale, and we cheer.
"Get your damn foot off the table, Ridoc."
He nearly falls at the sharp demand of Mira's voice, but once I slip a fresh mug of ale into her hand as she settles next to us, winks and ruffles his hair.
"Never thought I'd see Navarrians chant the battle songs of our enemy." The voice is low, guttural, cowardly. Just loud enough for us to hear, but not brave enough to stand behind it.
Still, I'm facing in their direction, the table full of men glaring our way, with Rhi seated beside me. I fire off a glare at the five men, all of which are dressed in blue infantry tunics.
We focus back on our group, the four of us listening as Sawyer asks Mira to share a, quote, "gnarly war story".
Overselling and full of hyperbole, which I only know because of my reading of the scribe battle reports, I keep all of that in my head and cheer, gasp, and clap as she recounts various battles with the Southern Wing.
One of the infantry laughs heartily, lifting his mug as the others join with cackles. "To the Hero of Strythmore becoming a traitor to her own country!"
"You know what- " I slam the tankard down on the table, the amber ale splashing a bit, but Mira's hand on my arm keeps me from fully rising.
"Who fucking cares, don't let him get to you, Vi. He's not getting to me." My sister backing out of a fight turns every head at our table, but she just grins and takes a drink. "Like I haven't dealt with limp-dick infantry that get too big for their boots after some ale?"
They laugh in response and I'm pissed.
"Your sister speaks the truth, Silver One. Do not take the bait."
Great. Now Tairn is listening in. His power crackles through my system, but I take a deep breath and ground, rebuilding my shields.
"Listen to your big sister, baby girl." Another hollers, their table falling into drunken giggles.
It's not me that fires back this time. A simultaneous chorus from my squadmates holler across the tavern.
"Fuck off!" "Who do you -" "You'd better watch it."
Mira throws her arms wide to try and calm Second Squad down before we leave the table. "Knock it off! Taffer, can we get another round for these…gentlemen? It's on me."
We all stare daggers but sit, and I watch as the lanky one of them whispers into the ear of the mouthiest one and his eyes go wide before landing on me.
"No," he says in audible surprise. "That one?" The gesture of his hand coming flat to the height of the tabletop pulses a new wave of ire into my chest from my stomach.
"Ground. I'll not have you set the building on fire."
Now I'm extra mad having let my shields slip, but I do what I'm told. The drinks are delivered, and the men just stare at them, leaving them where they sit.
"You know what I just learned?" Mouthy looks directly at me, a cruel smile behind his facial hair.
"Prove you can learn first," Ridoc interrupts, and I don't stop the corner of my mouth from crooking up while Rhi choke snorts into her mug.
The cruelness slips a bit, but he still thinks he has the upper hand. "That little spit of a thing is the reason I'm stuck in this godsforsaken place."
"Am I?" I see Mira's glare for me to not engage, but after two tankards, I'm in fuck it territory.
"What did it take for the General's daughter to fuck the traitorous son of the Great Betrayer."
The room goes nearly silent save for his chuckling companions. Even the round and balding tavernkeep is glaring at the man, his hands frozen while cleaning a used tankard.
"Don't -" Tairn is interrupted as a blaze of blue streaks across my archives, bursting through my shields almost as easily as my own dragon does.
"I take offense for my Scarred One. Spill his blood on the floor, Silver One, and then bring me his tongue."
All eyes at my table turn my way, but I'm weirdly calm. Sure, it's a 'calm before the storm' kind of calm, but hey.
I am the storm.
I glance to my sister, and she simply gestures in their direction. I rise and move to stand between our table and theirs.
"What did you just say?"
I'm viciously aware of every dagger on my body, but instead of calling attention to them, I cross my arms over my chest and cock my hip so that right and not my sore left knee is planted, just in case I need to throw a punch.
Because I really feel like throwing a punch.
He makes the mistake of standing to join me, his chubby friend turning in his chair so he's just one springing jump up and into the fight if one breaks out. When one breaks out seems more likely.
"Oooh, the tiny traitor has a spine."
My voice is calm, collected malice. "What did you say about him?"
He takes a step closer, but I don't change my stance. Closer works for me.
"His father was a fucking traitor, he's a fucking traitor, you're a fucking traitor. Is it true that killing you can take him out? He can't be too bright if he put all his dicks in this one fragile little basket."
They all laugh until my fist knocks his front tooth down the back of his throat and my knuckles split both his upper and lower lip when I channel Tairn's energy into my lesser magic to hit him harder and faster than normal. His back hits the floor and he looks legitimately stunned, moreso when I follow up to straddle his waist and bring my fist down again, this time into his nose.
Hands roughly grab the back of my leathers and I'm airborne, my breath leaving in a whoosh as I slam into the hardwood of their table. Drinks fly and I dimly feel my kicking boot hit one of them in the stomach until a ringing punch lands across my cheek, skimming the bone and driving into the side of my nose. Blood spurts against my lips with the effort, and I know the damn thing is broken.
As soon as the guy has me, he doesn't. Rhiannon is a blur as she spear tackles him into his buddy who is just now drunkenly climbing out of his chair. The three of them hit the floor, and the two infantrymen roll in opposite directions, Rhi choosing to hold her ground with a snap of her legs bringing her upright.
"Are you okay?" Mira's face comes in front of mine, her hands pulling at the front of my leathers to haul me up and off the table.
I've decided that nicknames are the best way for me to keep track of everything in this fight, and Mouthy is being helped up by Chubby. My sister sets me back on my feet and lets go, her fists up as she turns to face down one of them at my back.
"I'm good," I say through the dripping blood that's leaking from my throbbing nose.
"Slit his throat," Sgaeyl suggests.
"If you reach for a dagger, I'll drop you off in the mountains and make you walk home the next time we fly." Tairn's counter is a solid one. Fists it is.
The juxtaposition in my head doesn't help as I was already buzzed from the alcohol and then took a shot to the face, but I'm glad that both Mom and Dad dragon are on my side in their own ways.
Mouthy is mine - Mira can have Chubby, and it looks like Ridoc and Sawyer are working on Lanky and…fuck I don't know. Butt Chin. It's all I have time to notice about him as Mouthy steps up, hands raised and death in his eyes.
"I'm going to rip your little fucking head off, Sorrengail." The pronunciation of my last name brings a wicked smile to my mouth as he tries to speak past his missing tooth.
I let out a little giggle, "Thorrengail."
I clock his every move, though I'm slower than I would be on the mat. However, he's had as much if not more than me to drink, so I think I still have the upper hand. I know the hand to hand training that infantry gets. It isn't nothing, but it's never as deadly as training in the Rider's Quadrant.
By Dunne, nothing is.
His first swing is easy to duck. It's like he forgot I'm five feet tall. He relies too much on muscle memory and not enough actual brain power to be reactive. That's unfortunate for him. I slam both feet into my Archives and see Tairn and Sgaeyl's bonds still shimmering bright, though my power only stems from one of them. Cracking the door a bit more, I pull from Tairn and jam my left hand so far into his lower stomach that I swear I can feel his spine, my right coming in as a follow up to his ribs, and I feel at least one of them snap along with one of my knuckles.
He falls to his knees, his head at the perfect height of my chest for my next hit, and he realizes it far too late. I wind up and -
The air leaves my lungs as I'm hit by a barrel of a man, and I feel a twinge in my left knee as it and my left shoulder crash into the hard floor. He didn't follow through, however, it was a shoulder charge, and I took the brunt of it landing a good four feet away with a groan. Chubby leans down with a wince and I see that both his left eyebrow and his left cheekbone are split, probably courtesy of my sister, and the way he holds his side likely means he's taken some rib damage as well.
It's. Fucking. Mayhem.
Sawyer has Lanky by the collar of his blue tunic, Lanky holding him by the unbuttoned top of his leathers, and the two are trading blows with their free hands. Definitely not the smartest way to fight, but definitely the drunkest way to fight. Ridoc just kicked Butt Chin in the thigh sending him crashing into another table, drinks flying everywhere. Rhiannon is helping Mira off the ground, a split in my sister's lower lip immediately swelling as blood trickles down her chin.
Lumbering behind them is a bull of a man, finally out of his chair and trying to shake off the alcohol-induced double vision. We'll just call him Late to the Party.
"Mira! Behind you!" I manage to call it out as Mouthy stalks toward me, blocking my view.
"You're dead, little girl,"
"Fucking try it," I warn, filling with Tairn's power in response and holding up my fists.
Mouthy's response is to slowly reach for the sheathed dagger at his side, the dim overhead mage lights dancing across the blade.
"You don't want to do that," I warn.
He spits blood toward me, a glob landing on the floor at my feet. "Oh, I think I do."
Reaching low I yank the dagger from the sheath at my boot while my off hand goes for the one at my hip, and I face him down. "You don't want to bring a knife into this fight. Trust me."
He dashes forward, his steps clumsy with drink, but he has enough awareness and trained memory to know not to swing wildly with his knife. He does swing, however, but it's telegraphed from a mile away. The beefy hand comes diagonally toward my neck and I duck below it while slicing the edge of my honed blade along his forearm, keeping my eyes on the knife. Unfortunately, his left hand clocks me in the jaw and I stagger. A slammed pierce against the dragonscale armor tells me that he lunged with the dagger and would have probably speared me without the layer of protection. Instead, it knocks me in the opposite direction from his fist and I crash into the bar taking the impact on my already sore right shoulder.
I feel it slip, but thank Amari, it doesn't dislocate. I can't help but cry out though, and his hands clutching my jacket are the only thing that keeps me from falling to the floor. He lifts me up with what I assume is intent to throw me like a ragdoll across the tavern, and I'm definitely not going to let that happen. I wrap my legs around his waist and hook my ankles to push up with my thighs and bring the sharp point of my elbow down onto his forearm to get him to let go.
With my other hand, I fish around behind me on the counter for something - anything. Cool metal of a tankard lands in my palm, handle first, and I know the barkeep is getting his revenge against the man that so insulted Aretia's heir apparent. The clanging sound of iron on skull rings and I can't help but wince.
While I've saved myself from being thrown, I do get dropped. I half catch myself by untangling quickly and stumbling to his left as he crumples to the floor before me. A table breaks my fall and I sprawl across it before getting my feet under me and looking down at the unconscious man I've just given a massive concussion.
"Do not feel sorry for a sheep that threatens a wolf," Sgaeyl sounds downright proud, and I don't stop the smile from hitting my lips.
Shouts and rattles of armor come from the main entrance as half a dozen city guards pour into the tavern, and I know the fight's over.
I also know that we're in deep trouble.
They drag us out one by one to the street, forcing us down to the cobblestones on either side of the road to glare menacingly at one another. Well, those of us and them with unswollen eyes do the glaring. Chubby and Lanky only have one good one, as does Sawyer and Rhiannon, and I feel the hit to my cheek swelling, though it's too low to affect my eye.
A familiar voice snarls from up the road, and we all turn to see my brother walking with angry strides toward us. "What the hell is going on?"
The captain of the guard, Jarret I believe is his name, steps forward and gives a brief report.
"It looks like a brawl broke out between Riders and Infantry. There isn't much damage, sir, a few broken chairs and knocked over tables."
"Not much damage?!" Brennan points down to Mouthy where he lays next to his friends who look honestly no better, just conscious.
The moment his eyes swivel to ours, taking in our squad and finally looking back and forth between Mira and mine, "are you fucking kidding me? Really? You two of all people should know better!"
Ridoc groans behind a fat lip as he holds his ribs. "I don't want to be that guy, but…they started it."
Turning to the Captain, "get these infantry back to their barracks, I'll come to mend them when I'm done with these idiots."
"Sir," he salutes, he and his men turning to obey.
Spinning back to us, "straight to the Assembly Hall. Now!"
I'm not sure if I've ever seen Brennan this angry.
Sure, we made him look bad.
Yes, we made the Quadrant look bad.
Maybe we could have walked away without a fight?
Perhaps I didn't have to go full Sgaeyl and knock his damn teeth down his damn throat.
"You did what was necessary." She rallies my spirit.
Tairn heaves a heavy sigh, "please stop encouraging her. It's bad enough that Andarna imitates that side of you. Thank all the gods of dragons and men that she is sleeping through all of this."
She would have been on my side, I'm fairly sure. The walk back up to Riorson house is miserable. Adrenaline wears off for all of us and the pain is written on each and every one of our bruised and bloody faces. Mira's arm slips around my waist as she catches my limp, and the weight she takes off of my knee makes all the difference in getting up this damn hill.
There isn't one of us that doesn't help the other until we find ourselves in the hallway outside the Assembly chamber. Brennan waits with his foot tapping and his arms crossed across his black tunic.
"Get in there and stand at attention."
What I hadn't planned for was the entire Assembly being seated around the table in the middle of a meeting, eyes flaring in surprise as our rag-tag group of savages are pushed into the room.
I feel Xaden's look immediately, his path knocking hard against my shields that I immediately drop.
"What the fuck happened? Are you okay?"
Meeting his concerned stare, I wink with my good eye, the left far too sore. "You should see the other guys."
Brennan follows, "apologies to the Assembly, but I have to cut our meeting short for an impromptu disciplinary session for Second Squad." They rise awkwardly, though I catch a grin on Felix's face. Xaden stands but merely moves to the massive chair at the middle top of the dais.
"You too, Riorson," Brennan demands, but the way Xaden flops like a lazy cat into the seat and folds his hands behind his head watching with laughing onyx eyes, my brother gives up and slams the door behind the last of the members as they exit.
"You call this standing at attention?"
We're a little worse for wear, but we all snap as upright as possible when he barks the command.
"We're sorry, Lieutenant Colonel." It's Rhiannon that speaks first, definitely not a surprise as she's our Squad Leader.
"Shut up, Matthias," my brother growls as he pace stalks back and forth. He's choosing his words carefully because what he really wants to do is throttle his sisters but he can't do that and remain professional in front of the others in my squad.
"What the hell happened?"
My eyes flicker to Xaden's, and a tiny kink of my lips puts a full-on grin to his mouth. "I may have started a bar fight." Surprise flares the gold flecks in his eyes.
"What. Happened." Brennan's demand is sharp and specific.
Mira chimes in first, her words muffled behind the split and the swell of her lower lip. "Infantry ran their mouths."
He's on her in a second, but she doesn't flinch. Neither do I, I realize, surprised and proud of myself.
Tairn, as always, is there to reign in my hubris. "It's likely because you're still tipsy and took at least three blows to the head."
"And you thought it was your job to correct that, Captain Sorrengail?"
She goes silent, though the huff that comes from her nose lets me know that it was very difficult for her to drop it.
"I started the fight," I announce, Brennan's head whipping to face me. "I got in too deep and my squad had no choice but to back me up. Whatever punishment you have, you can aim it right here. I earned it. Trust me."
"You, Violet? You started a fight? At a tavern?"
I'm slightly surprised he doesn't believe me, but only slightly. He's still getting used to the new me.
"Well I did nickname her Violence," Xaden says from his chair.
"You're definitely not helping, Riorson."
"I fucking love you," he laughs into my mind.
I do my best to hold my smile back, but can't.
Mira jumps in. "Please, you know Violet didn't start shit. I threw the first punch."
Rhiannon takes a small step forward, "I won't let my best friend cover for me. Infantry talked shit about Violet and I put them in their place."
"So you all started the fight?" Brennan clarifies, and four pairs of eyes defiantly meet his, or in Sawyer and Rhiannon's case a pair between the two of them as their opposite eyes were well and truly swollen shut.
Mine are the only ones trying to tell the truth, and Brennan knows it.
"While I love that you all are willing to take one for the team," Ridoc joins in, and we all turn to face him. A purpling bruise on his brown skin is already showing at the edge of his jaw, and his nose is probably just as broken as mine, blood dried over his upper lip. "They started the fight."
Turning to look at us, he shakes his head as if he expected better from us all, "idiots."
I guess we didn't have to take the onus, it definitely would have been easier to blame the infantry.
Xaden's smooth voice is back in my head. "Did you really start it?"
"Technically, they started a verbal argument. I threw the first and last punch."
The groan of excitement and approval he sends through my mind sinks immediately into my lower stomach and I feel heat rise to flush my cheeks.
We all feel the weight of Brennan's sigh.
"You all have kitchen clean-up duties for the month, breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
We groan.
"And you," he turns on me, a wagging finger pointing at my bloody nose. "Since I know when you tell the truth and when you don't, you're in your barracks room with Rhiannon for the night."
Xaden grumbles, "why am I being punished? I wasn't even there."
"Because you're a menace," Brennan answers without looking his way.
One by one he mends the worst of our wounds away and I'm thankful as I hadn't realized how damn sore my face and ribs were until it was all gone. He glares down into my hazel eyes, his hands warming with tingling magic on my cheeks, but I see a tiny bit of pride in his eyes that I know he'll never admit.
"You're a little proud," Mira calls out.
"No I'm not. I'm furious and…ten other adjectives just like furious."
"Our baby sister started and won a bar fight, Brennan," she says before heading out the door. "You're just as proud as I am."
…