Although the current display of salutes was irritating, there was little she could do to stop it, and the rest of her inspection she manged to finish without incident, or meeting anyone else she had trained with. Jamara’s attitude was entirely understandable but could be troublesome. If she could get Pajaran out, she would have! At least she was safe inside the ice, but there didn’t seem to be anyway to get her out for a while yet.

The place wasn’t big enough to have a proper stable, but a sloping roof had been erected to give cover to the small number of horses needed. They were properly cared for, with saddles and tack close at hand. She rubbed one down, checking it over. Something wet and sticky flopped against the back of her head, slicking her hair, a weight butting against her. She staggered, turning to find Mavrosa pushing against her, almost shoving her over.

She twisted and patted the horse on the head, the ruby-red eyes unnervingly bright against the jet-black skin. ‘Easy there! No need to be quite so friendly.’ The horse ignored her, trying to get close and nuzzle her, tickling her face and neck with it’s tongue, making her giggle. ‘Stop that! Go bother Janaxia. Where is she, anyway?’ The horse whickered, probably not understanding her. ‘Let’s get you some food. I assume you can eat?’

From the speed it ate the oats, the answer was “yes”. Stathis patted her on the rump, dancing away as Mavrosa tried to nuzzle her again. ‘You really are very friendly, aren’t you? I’m surprised you’re not spikier or on fire or something. Enjoy the oats, and don’t get too friendly with the other horses, I don’t think Janaxia’s ready for you having foals just yet. If you can even do that.’

She wasn’t able to avoid another friendly nuzzle before backing away, Mavrosa happily chomping through the oats. She hadn’t heard any scandalised screams, explosions or unholy chanting, so Janaxia probably wasn’t in any trouble, yet at least. Jamara probably wasn’t scanning for unholy or profane auras, so wouldn’t pick up on Janaxia’s strangeness, and if the other specialists were mostly combat casters, then they wouldn’t be checking for such things. Janaxia really did make things complicated! Her knowledge might come in handy for once though, if she had any insight into the necromancers, that would be useful.

She felt a sudden blossoming, pricking chill, her skin shivering as something utterly wrong happened somewhere nearby. There was a commotion up on the walls, the guards crowding around to look down, somewhere just outside the gates. Stathis went to have a look.

Outside, she could saw a large dome of impenetrable darkness on the empty ground around the castle. Janaxia was stood close by, posing rather dramatically, fingers waggling excessively as Hakara paced out the edge of the dome, measuring it off. Guards on the wall were looking on with interest, glad of anything to break the tedium.

‘Is that as large as you can make it, Miss Janaxia?’

‘Yes.’

Hakara scribbled some notes. ’20 paces in radius. And it takes focus to maintain?’

‘Yes, sadly I am unable to summon up multiple such forces. However, I can maintain it for quite some time.’

Stathis walked closer, unnoticed. A soldier thrust a spear into the darkness – when it was pulled back out, the tip was rimed with ice and damaged from acid. Stathis reached out and pinched Janaxia on the back of the neck, making her squeak in surprise, the dome of darkness vanishing. Stathis let go as Janaxia turned around. ‘You getting some precise measurements for your spells? That’ll be useful, we need to know how far you can blast and how much of an area you can block.’

Janaxia rubbed where she had been pinched. ‘I would appreciate you not interfering with our very important magical research? It takes great focus to maintain such a complicated effect, and I would rather not have it interrupted by your clumsy fumbling.’

‘Sorry Janaxia, couldn’t resist.’ The grass had been frozen by cold and burnt by acid, marking the spell effect clearly, an eerily neat circle on the grass. ‘If you can drop one of those on the necromancers, that should keep them distracted, or from blasting us with anything back.’

Stathis turned around to look at the castle from the outside – there was a team of soldiers patching up one wall, sliding stones into place to fill the gap. It would still be a weak point, but far better than a hole.

‘How far can you cast it?’

Janaxia cast again, the impression of crushing cold and hatred welling up before another dome of darkness appeared, at the far end of the field. ‘I believe that is the limit of my range.’

Hakara eyed up the distance. ‘About half the distance I can summon an ice storm. That provides a useful marker.’

‘Well, an ice storm is a simple elemental conjuration, for less complex than…’

Stathis cut her off. ‘It’s not a competition. Against a living army, that would be a useful way to control them; drop darkness over the obvious path, use ice storms to steer attackers away from specific points. Against undead, we’ll just have to smash and destroy them, they won’t stop otherwise. Armies with perfect morale are a nightmare to fight against.’

She felt darkness wash over her, shivering again as fell power teased out drying horse spittle from her air, casting it to the side. ‘You really should take more care over your appearance, Stathis. You may not be here in an entirely formal capacity, but you are still somewhat a representative of your family, and should try and style yourself to reflect that. Spittle-slicked hair is not a look worthy of a command position.’

‘Sorry, Mavrosa was being friendly again. Although that’s a change of style for you, isn’t it?’

Janaxia’s robes were fuller and looser now, dark crimson, but with a deep blue-and-gold trim, and even with what seemed to be pockets. She posed, twisting slightly to show herself off. ‘I believe this is appropriate? It is unfortunate that Hakara has nothing quite so complementary.’

‘She doesn’t need to dress up.’ The cleaning magic brushed smuts of dirt off Stathis’ armour, doing what it could to make the armour gleam. ‘And I mean it about the armour; I’d rather not have you skewered, and it’s better if you use your magic on attacking rather than protecting yourself.’

‘While I appreciate your concern, I note that you aren’t making Hakara wear such things.’

Stathis called Hakara over, taking a gauntlet off and passing it over. ‘Put this on and try casting a spell. See if you can put an ice storm down over there.’ She pointed at a rock formation, at the far end of the valley.

Hakara began casting, energy flaring around her. It was noticeably stuttering and malformed, a chill air emanating from the glyphs that formed around her. When she eventually managed to cast the spell, it was a strange shape and off-target, only just clipping the designated target. She took the gauntlet off, frozen patterns forming on the metal, her hand pale with cold.

‘Now you try, Janaxia.’

Janaxia winced as she put the gauntlet on, the metal bitingly cold. She waved her fingers through the air, swiftly conjuring up darkness.

‘See? Hakara needs precision in her hands and upper body to cast properly. It does something to the etheric flows or whatever as well, so wizards find it really hard to cast in armour. But it doesn’t really make any difference to you. And before you ask, Semari doesn’t wear armour because she’s stupidly fast and it just slows her down. So get some chain, or I’ll see if there’s a full suit of plate that would fit and strap you into that.’

‘Well, I suppose it is nice of you to show that you care. But your caution is noted – I will enquire of the armourer if a suit happens to be available. Although I expect it will require thorough cleansing before I deem it acceptable. And possibly some re-sizing to appropriately flattering.’

‘I’ll come with you and make sure. And don’t just make a magical one, I know that stuff doesn’t actually protect you.’ She reached out and grabbed at Janaxia, pinching her hip through the robes she wore. ‘Get some actual metal, not fake magical stuff. Any attack is going to go straight through this. It won’t look as good, but it’ll keep you alive. This place is stretched for healers, and the less resources have to be used keeping you alive, the better.’

‘I appreciate the thought, but it is decidedly uncomfortable to wear. Is there not perhaps anything more comfortable?’

‘It’s armour. It’s a heavy, lumpy metal thing, that’s the point. Unless Parth has a spare suit of elven chain somewhere, you’re going to have to get used to it. Oh, and if it rains, it will smell bad. Just as advance warning. But it’s better than getting a zombie’s claw through the belly.’

‘Oh, very well then. I suppose I can endure a temporary sacrifice. Although I would like to register a complaint about the quarters, as I suppose they should be called – considering your position, are we not entitled to something a little less ragged? I’m sure Carissia would have an opinion on the matter, and demand something better.’

‘I’m only here as a knight. And it’s still better than camping, right?’

Janaxia grumbled, returning her attention to grooming Stathis. ‘You really are making this something more of a trial. I do hope that when we return in triumph, there will be an appropriate parade of some kind, in our honour?’

‘It’s only some undead, nothing that major. We might get medals, maybe? We can get the black seal of honour against undead forces, that’s awarded for destroying a lot of undead. And not dying in the process.’

‘Well, I suppose that’s something. I do hope that it is at least an impressive medal.’

Stathis didn’t have the heart to tell her it was only a small button, black and trimmed with silver. ‘Let’s get you some armour. Hakara, do you need anything? There’s going to be a stock of standard reagents and components if you do.’

‘If you could show me the way.’ Hakara finished scribbling down some notes. ‘And it may be useful to see what other supplies are on hand. I am unfamiliar with military practices, so please do let me know if I may be causing offence.’

‘This place probably isn’t that strict, but I’ll run through the ranks with you later. Basically, if someone with lots of knots shouts at you to do something, do it. But you should mostly be here, trying to target the largest groups of enemies or the leaders, if you’re on the front lines, then something’s gone wrong.’

They headed back to the castle, Stathis leading them through another torrent of salutes until the armoury was located. The soldier on duty saluted her, nervously enough that his hand smacked against his helmet, opening the door for her without even asking what she needed. She’d have to have a word with Herith about that – she should at least be asked what she was doing!

Inside was the usual stack of stuff no-one else wanted, or had managed to shove back to the stores and claim something better. Stathis picked up some chainmail, holding it in front of Janaxia – it fell to her knees, covering everything vital.

‘Right then, arms up.’ Wrangling the thing over the horns was something of a challenge, but Janaxia’s arms fumbled towards the armholes, elegant sleeves clashing with the battered armour. When it was over her properly, Stathis let go, dropping the full weight of it onto Janaxia. She staggered under the weight, shoulders sagging. The finery was suffering beneath the chain, everything pushed into strange shapes from the pressure.

Janaxia tried to bear up, squaring her shoulders, obviously unused to moving when wrapped in metal. Stathis pulled it around slightly, then buckled a belt around her waist, trying to distribute the weight better.

‘There you go.’ She gave a light backhanded slap against Janaxia’s chest, the metal ringing. ‘Much better if you get attacked. You’ll have to get used to wearing that all the time. And be able to put it on in the dark, as soon as the alarm rings.’

Janaxia managed to hold herself steady, just about. She tried pulling her shoulders up, only managing it for a brief period before sinking back down under the weight. ‘This really is most undignified, I must say.’ Her clothing began to shift, the silks changing to more durable leathers. ‘Is all armour this heavy?’

‘You should wear plate sometime, if you want heavy! This is pretty decently-made stuff, I’ve worn worse. You want a shield as well?’

Stathis picked one up and thrust it into Janaxia’s arms, quickly strapping it over her arm before she could resist. Her arm sagged under the additional weight. ‘Now raise that to block a strike.’

Janaxia just barely managed to react in time as Stathis mimicked a slow blow at her with one of the spare swords. The block knocked the shield aside, blowing open Janaxia’s defence. Another strike rattled the chainmail, and would have injured Janaxia if it had been a real attack. Janaxia shook her arm, trying to get the shield off before unbuckling the straps. ‘I think I would rather have my hands free. And that thing seems far too heavy for practical use.’

Stathis grabbed Janaxia’s arm. ‘You’ve gotten far too used to standing at the back. You really need to try and get a bit stronger. Maybe get a wooden stick or something again?’ She handed over a wooden training sword. As soon as Janaxia took it, she spoke an un-word, and the thing burnt with crimson light, casting unsettling shadows over the weapons and armour. The effect was somewhat undercut by Janaxia’s slow, staggering movement, clearly unused to the weight of the armour.

More dark energy broiled out, the worn and dirty chain changing to be darker metal, some of the rings turning crimson to create a swirling, looping pattern that mimicked her tattoo, but larger. Stathis tapped it again with her sword, the metal clinking.

‘At least it’s still armour, I guess. Although could you maybe make it a little brighter? You might get mistaken for someone from the other side.’ Janaxia sighed, but the chain brightened to a silvery sheen, the tattoo-swirl changing to blue, and the chain somehow becoming tighter, managing to emphasise Janaxia’s curves. Another strike proved it was still functioning as armour, doing something to keep her safe despite the change of appearence.

‘Would you please stop hitting me! Is it not enough that I have to wear this thing, you don’t need to test it quite so much. A single strike would suffice, I’m sure.’

‘Sorry, just want to check it’s still doing what it should and you’ve not transformed it to be useless.’ The choker was somehow now integrated with the armour, golden chains weaving into the mail at the neck. ‘Can you actually move in it?’

That stung Janaxia’s pride enough that she squared her shoulders, managing to walk across the room in a pained, stiff-necked stride, before reaching the other side, discarding the shield. ‘I do hope this won’t be a permanent thing, it is rather wearisome.’

‘Try running a few miles in it.’

Worry flittered across Janaxia’s face. ‘I do hope you won’t make me undertake such a thing! It sounds positively horrendous. I am intended for the finer things in life, not such barbaric tasks.’

‘Keep on hoping. Some stamina training would do you good – sieges are long periods of terrifying boredom and short periods of even more terrifying action. If you’re needed on the opposite wall, then you need to get over there as quickly as possible, and you can’t fly or anything, so you’ll have to run. Uh, you can’t fly, can you?’

‘Sadly not.’ Janaxia twisted, clearly still uncomfortable, Stathis walking over and trying to pull it into place, twisting it over her hips.

‘It’s armour, it’s not meant to look good, you could make it a little less tight? Although I’m glad you’ve not put any gaps in it, that does sort of defeat the point. If you could try and keep it on most of the time – there’s probably going to be surprise attacks and the like, so there won’t be much time to gear up.’

‘Your concern is noted, although I would rather have magical items than this.’ She shifted uncomfortably. While some may be able to manage a certain gravitas when sheathed in metal, I would rather have fine silks and the like.’ She tapped Stathis’ breastplate. ‘You wear it well, but I think we have rather different styles. While I am prepared to make this sacrifice as a precaution, I do sincerely hope you are not expecting this to be a permanent change?’ She plucked at the armour, her crimson nails tugging at the links as she grimaced. ‘Dreadfully inelegant and uncomfortable.’

‘Just keep it on. Although can you even take it off?’

Janaxia flailed, reaching her arms up and pulling on the armour, without managing to shift it much. She tugged and twisted, shaking around before Stathis gave her a hand, pulling it up and over her head, leaving her clothing dishevelled beneath.

‘Just like that, yeah. Now on again.’ Stathis wasn’t gentle, dropping the chain back down, taking a certain pleasure in Janaxia’s grunt as it fell over her shoulders again. ‘I guess if you do ever get possessed we can just put you in armour to keep you under control. Maybe get something that straps your arms as well.’

‘I think you should perhaps limit yourself to the battlefield, rather than attempts at sartorial design?’ She was still shifting her shoulders, looking uncomfortable. ‘I really do fail to see the appeal.’

‘Not getting stabbed, mostly. Getting to stay alive is a reward all by itself. Anyway, are you OK for the dinner tonight?’

‘Oh yes, that is very much more my metier, I shall be sure to press your cause as much as possible.’

‘Thanks, but I don’t have a cause – we’re here to help. I don’t want you undermining Herith – she’s a good leader, a better large-scale tactician than I am, knows the soldiers and the ground and has been here already for a while. So we follow her orders unless she does something stupid, which is unlikely. So no political shenanigans or anything.’

‘You sound almost fond of her. Is she another one of your past conquests?’

‘What? No! Why would you think that? She’s pretty firm on not mixing business and pleasure, and I don’t think she would be interested anyway. Plus the whole “chain of command” thing is confusing enough without mixing personal relationships in as well.’

Janaxia pushed against her, still pulling chainmail into position. ‘Oh, so the dislike is purely personal, rather than anything more… intimate?’

‘She’s just had the daughter of her commander show up, entirely unannounced, without any formal rank or position, but the soldiers are going to find anything I say hard to ignore, and if I die, then everyone is in a lot of shit, but I’ll be on the frontline. So she’s going through something of a hard time; don’t do anything to make her life harder, please?’ Janaxia pouted, apparently having had some delusions of political scheming. ‘Behave like a soldier – follow orders, be polite, give advice about dark magic, don’t distract people. Just blast things on command, and try not to cause problems.’

‘Very well, if you insist. I will try not to be excessively dazzling or distracting.’ Her hair rippled, re-styling itself into a high ponytail, making it appear somewhat less fashionable and more martial.

‘And no holes in the armour!’

Janaxia pouted. ‘You really do seem to enjoy taking all the fun out of these things. Very well, I will endeavour to be practical, tiresome though it may be. And I will follow the “chain of command”, even though I am quite sure that such things are not meant to be so universally applied, to myself in particular.’

‘It’s the army, it’s how it works. And don’t shorten the armour so much!’ The lower hem of the chain had risen, up past Janaxia’s knees to mid-thigh, showing the tops of thigh-high boots.

Janaxia made a vaguely disgusted noise before letting it revert to its proper length. Then she took Stathis’ arm. ‘Now, shall we ready ourselves for dinner? I believe it is considered rude to be late for the captain’s table.’

‘That’s boats, but yes, it’s generally rude to be late for someone that can have you whipped. Please be polite and don’t cause any problems. And let me know if you sense anything strange. This place is supposed to be clean of old and eldritch stuff, but you have a knack for finding things like that.’

Janaxia was still trying to adjust to the armour as Stathis helped her out of it, making Stathis look away while she rearranged her clothing and hair again.