Chapter 04 – First Taste of Battle

        Amber was glad that she decided to spend the night at Colonel Greenfield's home.  In the six years she had been living in this world, the dinner his wife made was easily the best she'd ever had.  Amber thought it would be proper to help with the dishes, but the colonel's wife had already taken them to the sink before she realized she should offer.

        The hosts' children had already scampered off to play outside, save the oldest who went to his room to study, so Amber had another opportunity for some adult conversation.  The topic began to steer toward magic.

        “Oh, so you're a mage?” Madia Greenfield remarked with a hint of surprise in her voice.

        Colonel Greenfield interjected “A very powerful mage, in fact.”

        Mrs. Greenfield replied with some honest curiosity.  “Really?  What is your rating at?”

        Amber responded succinctly.  “A hundred and seven over eighty-five.”

        Madia looked up at Amber for a moment, but then looked at her husband.  He nodded with a smile and her eyes widened.

        'I remember when my first car needed its first major repairs.  I blew a head gasket.  I had no idea what that meant at the time.  But I knew the severity because of the reactions everyone else gave.  I feel the same way now.

        'Just what do those numbers mean, anyway?  Just how impressive is this that everyone is always so shocked?'

        Colonel Greenfield looked over at Amber.  “Do you know where those numbers come from?”

        Amber shook her head.  'I guess my question was just written on my face.'

        The colonel leaned back in his chair and announced.  “Mazer Kazadin.  He was the most powerful mage in the world.  Have you heard of him?”

        “I've read that name before.”

        “I actually met him once.  Well, perhaps I shouldn't say 'met,' it wasn't personal, I was one of hundreds of people in an auditorium that got to see him, back when I was only a little older than you are now...”  The colonel looked as if he was about to grow wistful, but he snapped back to the current moment.  “At any rate, while they were devising the technology to measure a person's magic power, they used him as the baseline.  Effectively, he had a perfect rating of 100/100, and everybody else is measured in terms of what percent they can match his power.”

        Amber was stunned.  “Oh wow, I...  I was thinking that the numbers were based off of a percentage, but when I went above a hundred I figured I was mistaken...”  Amber looked up at the two.  “Has anyone ever had a level over a hundred before?”

        The colonel was quick to respond, “Oh yes, it happens from time to time.  But it is very rare.  I believe the highest ever recorded is a hundred and eleven.”

        “Finding someone with an efficiency over a hundred is a bit more common,” Mrs. Greenfield stated.  “That's what the second number is, you know.  It determines how well you can use mana.”

        Amber nodded.  “Yes, I read that.  The formula they use to determine it is rather complicated.”

        Mrs. Greenfield continued.  “Some believe that he was losing his touch by then.  He was getting old by that point, when they based those numbers off of his ability.  Still, it is rare.”

        “Not quite as rare as your power level, though,” the colonel stated.  “You're one of the few people with a power level more rare than my own.”

        Amber looked up.  “Oh?  I didn't know you were a mage, too.”

        “I'm not,” he continued, “I'm just two points below what is officially considered to be a mage; in a range that is curiously just as rare as finding someone over 95.”

        “Erwin likes to call himself 'the world's worst mage,'” his wife said with some playfulness in her voice.

        The colonel smiled at his wife and then looked back at Amber. “Your power level could very well be higher than you think, actually.”

        Amber looked at him curiously.  “But I read that a person's power level can never change; only the efficiency rating can.”

        Mrs. Greenfield nodded.  “True, but it's actually a matter of the equipment.”

        The colonel finished for her, “Anyone with a power level over 90 needs specialized equipment to measure it accurately; they put you in a special room that's sealed off from external mana sources.  The machine they use for a physical isn't capable of accurately measuring that high, and with how high it said your power is, it wouldn't surprise anyone to find out it's even higher.”

        Amber looked down at the table.  “...Even higher...”

        The colonel's disposition grew a bit more solemn.  “Well, you shouldn't put too much stock in your rating, though.  There's still a lot more that goes into making a powerful mage.  Skill, technique, knowledge...”

        “And let's not forget the orb,” Mrs. Greenfield said.

        “Yes, of course the orb,” the colonel continued.  “A good orb completely changes what a mage is capable of; with an advanced enough orb someone with half your power could fly circles around you all day.”

        Amber nodded.  “Of course; a person's skill is always the true determining factor.”

* * *

        General Hersch spotted General Greenfield a fair distance away from the training field, surrounded by a small entourage and holding a pair of binoculars.  He wasn't looking through the binoculars at the moment, just looking across the field, watching the soldiers marching into position.  General Hersch walked up to him.  “Erwin,” Hersch stated while nodding.

        Greenfield returned the nod.  “Marcus.  I didn't know you'd be stopping by.”

        “I wanted to see this 'world's most powerful mage' I've been hearing so much about.  So what is this little demonstration about?”

        “Training exercise;” Greenfield stated, “there's no pretense about that today.  She found she has a natural talent with a telekinesis spell.  She wants to practice some tricks she's been working on.”

        “What sort of tricks?” Hersch asked.

        “She can nudge enemy rifles so they miss their targets.  She wants to practice doing so against multiple soldiers at once, like she'd encounter in a real battle.  So we've set up a mock battle for her to train with.”

        “Ah,” Hersch said pleasingly, “so despite being so powerful, she's learned that a person's skill is the true determining factor.”

        General Greenfield looked over at General Hersch and smiled.  “Indeed.  I taught her that myself, when she was six.”  He looked back to the field, but then his face quickly darted back to Hersch, staring at the insignia on his uniform with an annoyed expression.  “Hey!  Since when did you outrank me again?!”

        General Hersch only held back about half of his smug tone.  “Ohhh, didn't I tell you?”  He gently rubbed a finger against the two stars on his shoulder.  “It was about a month or so ago.  War tends to make it easier to go up in rank.  It's quite nice actually; I don't have to sit in on those sexual misconduct interviews anymore.”

        “Hmph.  It must be nice to not have that bogging down the real work you need to do.”

        “Yes, but there's plenty of new paperwork they find to bog you down with.  There always is.  Hand me those binoculars, would you?”

        Greenfield handed over his scope to his superior officer.

        Hersch put the scope up to his eyes but then quickly pulled them down and looked at them with a dumbfounded gaze; the lenses were replaced by opaque orange jewels.  “Hey, what is this?”

        Greenfield imitated the tone Hersch had used a moment earlier.  “Ohh, didn't I tell you?  That's one of the new range-finding scopes for the mages.  You need a power level of 24 to use one.  It's quite nice actually; you can adjust your zoom and see incredibly clearly.”

        Hersch slapped the scope into Greenfield's chest with an annoyed expression.

        Greenfield took the scope back and called out to one of the subordinates.  “Lieutenant!  Go fetch a pair of binoculars for the major-general here.  And be quick about it; they're about to start.”

        Without a careful eye, the exercise wouldn't have looked particularly interesting.  That was especially true for the distance everyone watching had to be.  The training rounds the soldiers were using were not dangerous on their own, but these were mages on the field.  And when a mage charged their rifle with mana, a common bullet became a powerful explosive.  The training rounds lacked the mass they needed to be as effective as a normal round, but they were still quite dangerous.  Or at least they were to normal people.

        As the exercise began, colorful streaks of magic began shooting from the rifles, erupting into fireballs at the end of their path.  The child soldier was cleanly missed by a few shots, but a third one managed to hit her almost dead center.  A previously invisible sphere around her glowed blue as the bullet erupted into a fireball.

        A similar translucent blue sphere appeared around one of the opposing soldiers as the child fired back, but her shot only grazed the outer edge.

        A whistle blew and the faint sound of Captain Mangold's amplified voice could be heard echoing from a distance, his words indistinguishable at this range.  The soldiers began resetting their positions.

        Hersch asked “With her power level, how many real rounds do you think she could take before her shield failed?”

        Greenfield's response was prompt.  “It depends on the soldiers she faces.  The more mana someone puts into a round, the more it will weaken a shield.”

        “Yes, but I thought there was a limit; if someone puts too much mana into a round, the bullet disintegrates before it reaches the target.  I thought we trained them to put in as much power as a round can handle.”

        “It's still not quite that simple.  They can charge the rounds in different ways to create different effects.  I understand we're researching new spells in that regard; I'm sure the Norlans and the Gaullians are doing the same.  We just won't know what she can endure until its too late.”

        A whistle blew and a moment later the soldiers began firing again.  This time none of the soldiers managed to connect a round with the child, and a moment later she managed to hit one of the other soldiers.  But a second round of fire resulted in multiple contacts with Darkwood's shield.

        “Speaking of researching new spells,” General Hersch continued, “Do you know if we're researching improvements on those illusion spells?  The decoys?”

        “I'm pretty sure we're not; they just aren't effective anymore.  We train everyone on how to recognize a decoy's glow so they know not to fall for them.  Reports front he front are saying they stopped using them because they aren’t fooling anyone.”

        “But I know that spell is something a mage can get skillful with; make it harder to recognize an illusion.  And when soldiers aren't quite expecting them, especially in the heat of battle...”  General Hersch shook his head.  “There were some mages that drove us mad with those things in Hura.”

        “Well if we find anyone with a talent for illusions, I'll let you know.”

        The next round of fire came to a stop.  Darkwood fared slightly better.

        Hersch perked up again.  “So if she can move the enemy's rifles with her mind, why doesn't she just pull them right out of their hands?  Making them miss is great, but if she steals their weapons they can't shoot at all.”

        “She tried that once.  She nearly got shot.  It turns out that pulling on a gun with a finger on the trigger is a bad idea.”  He shrugged slightly.  “Still, I suppose she could in the right situation.  But every moment she spends wrestling with someone's rifle is a moment she's not spending shooting them.”

        The exercise continued.  It became less and less common to see Darkwood's shield light up from taking fire, and more common to see the shields from her opposition appear as her shots wrapped them in balls of flame.

        “She's getting better,” Hersch remarked while looking through the binoculars, “actually I'm surprised at the speed at which she's picking this up.  This child is as impressive as you said.”

        “Hmph,” Greenfield spoke in an unpleasant tone.  “Her enemies are getting wise to how to counteract her nudging; this exercise is about to become useless to compare to real battle.  I can see it on their faces.”

        Hersch lowered his binoculars and looked to Greenfield.  He spoke in a soft tone.  “You still have her adoption papers sitting in your desk drawer, don't you?”

        Greenfield lowered his scope.  “Mmn.” was his wordless reply.

        “I know, I know,” Hersch gently replied, “you were just waiting for things to settle down with the changes that came with your new rank before complicating things with a new child.  And then you were jumping around between two continents with those horse auctions.  And then...”  Hersch held his tongue, deciding not to mention the birth and subsequent death of his last child.  “...And then the war began.”

        They stood in silence for a brief moment.

        Hersch placed his hand on Greenfield's shoulder.  “Erwin, she's not your daughter.  She's a ward of the state, and right now the state needs her.”

        Greenfield looked down.  “I...  I know...  It's just...”

        Hersch lightly squeezed Greenfield's shoulder and let his hand drop to his side.  “I get it; I really do.  But there are more lives at stake here than just hers.  It's time to let her be a soldier.”

* * *

        When my flight training was completed I was assigned to duty on the borders with Norlandy.  Some top brass I never met decided that I should have a taste of real combat before getting my officer training.  Honestly that made sense to me.  I don't think that Greenfield was behind that decision, as anything that moved me forward seemed to be free from his grasp.

        This was just a couple days before the Gaullians made their push along the coastline to cut off our access to the sea, so at the time there was still a greater concern with holding back the encroaching Norlan forces.  If we could push them further back into the Tanfax isthmus we could hold our ground across a shorter front and then devote more resources to the war with Gaullia.  With the intel we had at the time, I would have made the same decision.  No one knew it was the wrong decision yet.

        My first contribution to this effort was very meager.  I was just a scout, giving calls to the artillery on where to direct their fire.  We made good progress for the first couple days and moved the line back several hetches.  It was either my third or fourth day when I was moved to the Northeastern edge where progress had been slow.  We didn't know at the time that the Norlans were coordinating with the Gaullians in preparation for the forthcoming attack along the coastline.  Don't let anyone write the history books to claim it was anyone's superior skill or leadership that got us to push the border back on the Western side; it was entirely because they had barely any defenses over there.  I scouted for three days and never once saw an enemy air mage.

        But I digress.

        It was my first day on the Northeastern Norles border that I had my first taste of real combat.

        Amber floated in the air high above the battlefield, checking some distances through her scope.  Her orb was capable of calculating the basic figures, so the math wasn't terribly complicated.  It almost felt like common busywork.  If not for the severity of the conflict below, Amber would be tempted to take it slow and enjoy the beautiful scenery.  The valley was spotted with occasional trees and lined with sharp mountains; it would be a fantastic place to go camping.  Except for all the explosions and gunfire, of course.

        Amber set her hand over the orb slung above her chest.  It wasn't visible through her flight suit; (no mage would leave such a critical component exposed to enemy hands on the battlefield,) but it was still necessary to clasp the orb when she broadcasted a message through the radio.  As she did, the jewel connected with the standard radio line, and a quick “do-biip” chirp sounded in her ear.  Amber called out her figures to the artillery gunners, “Artemis-3, send to seven-seven mark six-one, range one-seven-five.”  She released her grip on the jewel hidden in her suit and a “bi-doop” chirp sounded to signal the close of the broadcast.

In a brief moment the troops wearing dusty-gold uniforms would be stopped by the fall of explosive shells.

Apart from the orb and her flight pack, the only equipment she had used for the past few days was her scope. Even so, she was fully equipped for a battle. She kept her bayonet fixed to her rifle before she ever left the ground. In part this was because the rifle was nearly as long as she was tall, and it would be hard to affix it without revealing her telekinetic powers to enemy eyes. But also in part it was because she expected to use it. In her flight training she found her high power level allowed her to fly much faster than anyone else, and she found she could use this to get close enough to another mage to reach past their shield and fly away again. In the training exercises she brushed her comrades with her hand, but in practice she could brush them with a bayonet.

She was also equipped with two grenades. None of the other scouts bothered to carry grenades; it added weight that reduced their flight time, and they were only ever above friendly troops, so they had no need to drop bombs. But Amber's small body left her with room to carry far more weight than a few grenades. And with her telekinesis, she could actually use those grenades against an air mage.

She was also carrying two knives on her belt. Not the dagger-sized combat knives, but small utility knives. This, she admitted to herself, wasn't necessary. It was a holdover from basic training, when she used them to show off on the rifle range. With a second clip palmed in her hand and a little telekinetic trickery, she would quickly fire off ten rounds and then throw a knife at the target. The second knife was so that she could draw a smiley face on the target, using the knives for the eyes. The gawking expressions of the other recruits was worth it, and at the time it sounded like a good fallback to be trained for, but here in the sky it wasn't really worth it.

Her loadout drew suspicious gazes form the other mages, to which she would just smile and repeat the boy scout motto: “Be prepared.” Wahl was the only one who truly understood what she was doing, having been with her through all her training. He would likely go through officer training with her too, as he was one of the other officer aspirants. He was shaping up to be one of her few friends out here.

Amber called out a few more numbers for the artillery watching her section, bringing another rain of targeted shellfire on some otherwise advancing troops. They seemed more aggressive than the ones to the West, and she wondered why their officers were so much more willing to waste these lives. Watching the troops make their advances from this high up brought a certain disconnect from the battle. The soldiers were no longer individuals, but just figures moving across a board. It brought to Amber's mind memories of playing strategy games with little plastic figurines.

        “You know, using dice to determine the results of attacks is a really stupid way to go about it,” Darren said casually while spinning a space marine around between his fingers.  “I mean, mechanically it makes sense for a game, but real battles are not won or lost by a dice roll.”

        “It's about strategy, Darren.”  Garret said it with a hint of annoyance in his voice; he was probably still sore about losing the match.  “It's about devising tactics powerful enough to overcome random chance, and moreover, outmatching your opponent.  Like chess, but with more moves.”

        “Chess?” Darren scoffed.  “Man, chess is the dumbest analogy for warfare that anyone has ever conceived of.  You know why?  Because chess has rules.  Chess has limits.  Everyone can only do specific things.  Real war is nothing like that.  When I played chess as a kid, I would declare that my queen secretly had an Uzi in her purse and she'd start shooting the enemy pieces.  That's what real wars are like!  You pull out all the stops!  It's life or death!  You don't let rules or limits stand in your way!”

        “But there's always limits!” Garret protested.  “You can only move a troop so far in a given amount of time; that's not just a game rule that's real life!”

        “But what are those limits?”  Darren pointed to a squad on the game board.  “Who is to say that these guys couldn't get a rousing speech, and decide to push themselves further and faster?  The mind-game behind the battle is what is really going to determine how well the soldiers perform, not some roll of the dice!”

        “Mind-game?!  Darren, this is 40K!  You think that you could come out on top here if the mind-game was really part of this?”  Garret grabbed one of his pieces and held it up.  “This is a chaos marine, Darren!  A chaos marine!  Blood for the blood god!  Skulls for the skull throne!”

        “Yeah yeah, and milk for the Khorne flakes, I know.  But I'm talking about real-world battles, not this over-the-top space fantasy.  You know anciently a force was considered decimated when it took just ten percent losses.  Because that's all it takes; once you see that you are losing, it's all done for.  You can't escape the mind-game.”

        His former words seemed to echo through her head as she watched the soldiers moving about.  She wondered what was going on in the mind-game of the enemy troops below her.  “Artemis-1, send to thirty-five mark aught-six, range two-one-niner.”

        A few seconds later a volley of mortar shells began landing on the enemy flank.  A lone survivor in the front was soon shot down by gunfire.  A body in the rear rolled over and began to crawl its way back, but its efforts quickly slowed and then stopped.

        'The mind game isn't even working here; these guys don't know that they have lost.'

        A call came through the radio.  “Sky-Forge 2!  Enemy mages are encroaching on your position from the South-West!”

        Amber spun around.  Six mages were flying into the valley, wearing dusty-gold flight suits and riding on Norlan flying platforms, with another three cresting the mountain right behind them.  The flying crafts looked just like illustrations they showed in the training classes; round discs that the mages stood on with waist-high shields fixed to the fronts.  Amber began softly descending and fixed her scope on the group.  As they came into focus she could see that the man in the center was an officer, with dark blue hair and a birthmark around his right eyebrow.  The officer pointed directly at her.  Four of them began boosting toward her.

        'Shazbot, they see me.'

        “This is Sky-Forge 2, I'm outnumbered nine-to-one, I am withdrawing from the battlefield.”

        Vanderkaum's voice came in on the radio.  “Negative, Sky-Forge.  We have too many forces advancing on our position!  We need you to maintain your position!”

        Amber was stunned.  “Are you frelling daft?!”  She called out on the radio, “Sir I can't scout for you if I'm dead!”

        Vanderkaum called back, his voice stern and tinged with anger.  “Hold your position, that's an order!”

        Amber began speeding away from the advancing mages.  “You are insane, Vanderkaum!  I'm not throwing away my life for this!”

        Vanderkaum's voice pierced the radio once again.  “Sky-Forge 2, we are sending reinforcements to your position; you only need to hold them off for a few minutes.”

        'Reinforcements?  From where?  Sky-Forge 1 is the only one even close by, and he's just one guy!'

        Just then Amber's shield lit up and she felt the force jolt across her body.  She was hit by something, and it didn't feel like the dummy shots she took in training.  That was the real thing; that was someone trying to kill her.  She looked behind her and saw the four mages on her rear.  They fired another volley.  Four streaks of iridescent magic power shot forth like laser beams and then erupted into clouds of fire around her, one of which hit her shield again.

        Panic set in.  “Oh god oh god oh god!”  Amber veered left and tried to push more power to her flight.

        Ahead of her she saw more explosions pop up from the ground.  It was the battle she was supposed to be assisting.  They still looked like little figures in the distance.  'Why can't this be more like one of those strategy games?  Why does this have to come with such a real cost?'

        Her radio began crackling with unclear sounds; someone was trying to say something but her radio was being jammed by the forces behind her.  She couldn't even ask for help anymore.

        Somehow, Amber's own words seemed to echo in her head.  “Once you see that you are losing, it's all done for.  You can't escape the mind-game.”

        'The mind-game...  I've already lost because I'm afraid...'

        She looked back at the mages.  'Could I outrun these guys?  Maybe, but I'm already taking hits from them.  Could I hide?  Not when they already see me...'

        “You can't escape the mind-game.”

        'The mind game...'

        “You can't escape the mind-game.”

        '...But they can't escape it either...'

        Amber put on the brakes and spun around.  The mages already had their rifles up, preparing another volley.  Two of them looked up from their sights with concerned faces.  But none of them fired.

        'I'm already defying their expectations.'

        Amber's eyes glanced back at the battle below; small figurines dancing across the game board.

        'I've been in this situation before, in dozens of games.  If I can get the other players to react to my actions, then I'll take control of the game-board.'

 In a moment, a plan formed in Amber's head.

It formed quickly because it was just ideas that had crossed her mind earlier. When she was practicing her quick-shooting at the range, the shock the other recruits showed reminded her of reading about Germans reacting in fear when British soldiers began doing the “Mad Minute.” At the range, she had wondered if soldiers might react that way to her rapid shooting, which led her to practice and refine it all the more.

She also recalled her flight training, where she learned she could brush the other mages with her hand, as if it were a bayonet. They later stated how afraid they would be to fight someone who could do that.

She recalled her later practice sessions with nudging enemy rifles, once she started getting good at it. The shock her comrades showed when they found how outmatched they were; she had laughed menacingly at their reactions, and that made the other soldiers particularly unsettled.

And so in a moment, a plan had formed in Amber's head. A plan to make them afraid of her power.

She reached into her pocket and grabbed a stripper clip, ready to keep in her palm for a quick reload. But her hand was trembling; the clip jumped out from her fingers. She quickly grasped it again but in her fumble grabbed it far too tight – her small hands pulled two of the bullets right off the stripper and the rest of the clip fell down to the ground.

'I'm trembling? I'm not in the right mindset.'

She looked back toward the four enemy soldiers in the front of the group. 'They are just game pieces; nothing but plastic. I only need to take out a couple of them, and I can control the game-board.' She drew in a breath. Her hand steadied and with the two rounds in her palm she placed her finger on the trigger. 'Okay, two well-placed rounds while I'm drawing close, load these, then rapid-fire. Intimidate. Use the mind-game. The other player will crumble in fear.' She looked back toward the officer with the birthmark. He was too far away to make out, but she knew the other player was there. 'If I just take out a few of his pieces, I'll make him sweat! Turn his confidence into fear!'

Amber began speeding towards the enemy soldiers. She breathed the word out. “...Fear!”

        She reached out with her mind towards the men's rifles, but it was hard to make a solid connection from this distance.  She made a sudden jerk to the side and flew a short corkscrew.  The next round of fire erupted around her without anyone making a connection.

        “Fear...”  They were pawns, but pawns subject to realistic rules.  Beating them in the mind-game would make them crumble.

        She reached out again and began connecting with the rifles.  She began nudging them as the next round came in.  All the shots missed wildly.

        “I will show you... Fear!”

        She grinned wildly and scowled, trying to contort her face into a psychotic expression.  She aimed her gun at the soldier in the rear, but continued to nudge the rifles.  They fired again and then she focused her aim, pushed her power into her rifle, and fired.

        The shot exploded against the mage's shield with so much force that a streak ran through and cut the man into his chest.  He screamed in pain and his companions looked at him in shock.

        Amber yelled out “Blood for the Blood God!”  She pulled back her arm just as she came to the group, and leaned in to brush by the man in the front. She swiftly swiped her bayonet across his neck.  

“Skulls for the Skull Throne!”

        As soon as she passed the group she twirled around and focused on their rifles again.  They were not brought to bear on her yet, so she took aim and fired at one of the men.  His shield held firm, and she slipped her two rounds into the magazine.  She pushed her jet, but with her momentum it only slowed her.  She fired another round and flowery smoke exploded across his shield.  His rifle was already brought to bear toward her, so she began nudging it.  His shot easily missed, as did the shot from his companion.

        She could see the look of confusion on the soldier's face, but confusion wasn't enough.  Amber needed fear.  Her momentum was now bringing her back toward the group.  She fired again and again.  With the second shot she saw the man's shield shatter.  She took aim and fired a regular round without magical enhancement.  It went right through the base of his neck.

        “Blood for the Blood God!” she shouted again.  In a moment she was upon the remaining soldier.  Panic had swept across the man's face.  She charged her bayonet with her mana to enhance the blade and grabbed the man's scalp.  She swept her rifle and took the man's head off.

        Amber looked back behind her.  The squad leader wasn't far behind, and his mouth was agape.  She yelled to him, “Skulls for the Skull Throne!”  She hurled the head at the squad leader.  It was going to miss by a wide margin, but some telekinesis changed its arc into a direct path to the squad leader.  It bumped into his chest and the man stumbled with his rifle as he instinctively tried to catch the head.  Were it not for the strap still wrapping his arm, he would have dropped the rifle there.  He stared at the head with an expression of pure horror.

Amber grinned. 'It worked!'

        Two shots streaked across from the right; one connected and made Amber's shield ring, the vibration rippling through the sinews of her body.  She looked at the source of the attack; two soldiers were moving in fast, oddly not from the same direction the others had come.

        Amber held up her rifle, aimed while charging mana into it, and fired.  The shot erupted into a flower of smoke and fire.  The soldier's shield was still up, but the look of pain on the man's face suggested it wouldn't take much more to break through.  Amber rushed in to close the distance, aimed and pulled the trigger.

        Click!

        'What?!  Five already?!'  The men already had their rifles bearing on her, she quickly nudged them away, but in her haste she nudged too hard. They both looked down at their weapons, wondering what had hit them. 'Shit, they noticed that!' The one she had already shot turned his rifle to the side while looking at it. In that moment he had only one hand on the weapon.  It was too perfect of an opportunity; Amber pulled the weapon to her; it flew across the battlefield right into her hand.

        “Switching weapons is always faster than reloading!”  Amber stated, reciting the wisdom shared from a training level in Call of Duty.  'Who knew video games could be so helpful?'

        She dropped her old rifle and quickly leveled off her new one, and fired from the hip.  The shot didn't hit him, but it grazed by close enough to make his shield light up, and the force was enough to cause it to shatter through.  He held up his hand and tried to reinforce it, but his mana was too depleted.  Amber's next shot took him down.

        The soldier next to him was already firing, but a slight nudge caused the shot to miss.  Another shot streaked by from behind Amber.  The soldier in front of him scowled and pulled his rifle in tight; he seemed to be wise to what was going on.

        'Fine, we'll play a different game.'  Amber grabbed a grenade and pulled the cord.  She hurled it like a javelin and pushed it with enough telekinesis to launch it like a rocket.  Too much, in fact, because its velocity was high enough to trigger his shield.  But with another gentler attempt it went through.  Amber grabbed the grenade with her mind and pressed it firmly against the soldier's body.

        With her best Shadow Warrior impression, she called out “You better watch out; it go boom!”

        The soldier began screaming and he grabbed the grenade and tried to pull it off.  Amber darted away to make sure the remaining soldiers could get a good view.  The soldier screamed, yelling something in Norlish, but Amber kept the grenade pressed firmly in place.

        The grenade went off, and the soldier was no more.

        'Like using a sticky grenade in Halo!  Wonder if I can get these guys to scatter like the grunts?'

        Two more soldiers were closing in from the far side, but they seemed to be looking at where their comrade once was, expressions of horror on their faces.  The distance was a bit far, but maybe...

        She summoned an illusion decoy and had it fly toward the pair.  They quickly turned and fired at it.  She summoned a second one from another direction and pushed it at them.  They each fired a shot at the new decoy.  She dismissed the decoys, but as she pulled in closer she could manage to summon a third one from a far side, just out of view so they could not see it form.  She pulled up her rifle as if she were about to make a bayonet charge, and the decoy followed suit with the same motion.  She sped the decoy quickly and the soldiers turned and fired at the charging illusion.

        “He's everywhere!” Amber called out, mimicking the voice of Halo's grunts, followed by their panicked screaming.

        She began dismissing and summoning the decoys in quick succession, and the two soldiers began spinning around wildly, looking left and right for the real target. The swarm of her duplicates reminded her of the fight scene in Matrix Reloaded. She couldn't help herself from saying “It is inevitable, Mr. Anderson.”

        She kept the decoys coming from the sides to keep them from looking up, where they might have seen the real her. To the left, now to the right, to the left again! Their focus on planar movement reminded her of the starship battle in Star Trek II. In a subdued Spock-like voice Amber quoted “His pattern suggests two-dimensional thinking.”

        The squad leader yelled at the pair, and they quickly moved back-to-back so they could scan the field around them. But it was too late, because they didn't think to look directly above them, and Amber was already in position.

        “Death from above!” Amber yelled out as she began firing. Two shots was all it took to pierce the shield of the first soldier. The second one realized which direction he needed to be aiming in the same moment Amber realized she had emptied her magazine. Amber reacted as she had trained on the range, by pulling one of her knifes from her belt and hurling it with her telekinesis, just slow enough to slip through a mage's shield. The soldier managed to get a shot off at Amber, and it buzzed her shield something fierce, but Amber's knife struck right into his sternum. His hand clasped the wound and he and his flightcraft fell to the ground, the bottom of the craft breaking apart when it smashed into a large rock.

Amber held out her arms.  “Who else wants some?!” she yelled, her heart racing.

        She looked around the battlefield.  One soldier remained, the squad leader with the birthmark on his eyebrow, clutching a severed head.

        “Whoa, sick!” Amber breathed out, “that guy's holding someone's head!  Where did he get that?!”

        Amber's eyes darted around.  There were bodies laying on the ground, along with crashed flying platforms.  'Is that where the head came from?'  It was a good distance away, but there was one that looked like it might be missing a head.  There were other bodies near it, but where – did they – how – there were bodies...  Bodies on the ground where she was fighting the soldiers...  The soldiers she – but –

        Amber's hands were trembling.  She looked down, there were another two bodies directly beneath her.  But how did they – when did they – but there were bodies...

        'The bodies – they came from...'

        Amber's hands were now shaking wildly.  She couldn't keep her gun steady like this.  “This...  This isn't my rifle...”  It tumbled from her trembling hands.

        There was blood on her flight suit, it was all over her right arm and down her side.  “Was, was I shot?  This... This isn't my blood...”

        There were bodies on the ground.  People...  People were dead...

        Amber's hands could not stop shaking.  She pressed them against her head, but it wasn't just her hands, her whole body was trembling.

        “Oh god!” Amber called out, “Oh god oh god oh god!”

        She curled up her legs, hovering in the air.

        'This...  This isn't right...'  She looked around the battlefield again.

        The squad leader with the birthmark was slowly and quietly raising his rifle.

        Reflexively Amber reacted as she had practiced on the range, and her last knife flew at the soldier. Despite the practice, she hadn't made a good connection with her telekinesis, and the knife struck the man's arm just barely above his elbow pit.

        He screamed, and the rifle fell.

        Amber flew in fast and pulled the knife back to her with her mind.  She came right up to the man, grabbing his shirt with one hand and pulling her other arm back to strike.

        One final quote suddenly rang through her mind.

        'If I had a gun, I could shoot him, but I could never stab him again.'

        Where had that line come from?  All Quiet on the Western Front.  The chapter where Paul was laying in a hole with a French soldier he had stabbed.  The scene seemed to come back vividly, a scene of what real warfare was like.  'Comrade...  Comrade!'

        As Amber held the knife aloft, tears wetting her face, the Norlan soldier took advantage of Amber's indecisiveness.

        “Please,” he said.  His accent was thick, as if the only Argish he knew was from reading it in a book.  “Please...  I have a daughter, the same age as you...”

        Amber paused a moment to process what he had said.  She blinked more tears out of her eyes and then replied with a broken voice: “...Does she kill people too?”

        She clenched the man's shirt as far out as it could go, and brought the knife down into the taught fabric.  She reached into the hole she made, grabbed his orb, and yanked it out of its sling.

        A look of shock came over the man's face as magic began draining rapidly from his body.  He quickly grabbed the handles of his flying platform, desperately trying to keep it aloft.  He made a good effort of it, and the craft started to slow, but keeping it levitating was too much for even the strongest mage without an orb.  The craft crashed into the ground, and the man jostled out onto the hillside beneath Amber.

        The man looked up, and the two soldiers looked each other in the face one last time.  He scampered up to his feet, cringed once and grasped his wounded arm again, and then began running for cover in a nearby copse of trees.

* * *

        Even though Wahl had personally seen the Darkwood child defeat a whole team during training, he felt very nervous for her upon hearing that enemy forces were encroaching on her position.

        Darkwood's voice came through the radio.  “This is Sky-Forge 2, I'm outnumbered nine-to-one, I am withdrawing from the battlefield.”

        Vanderkaum replied.  “Negative, Sky-Forge.  We have too many forces advancing on our position!  We need you to maintain your position!”

        “Sir I can't scout for you if I'm dead!”

        Vanderkaum called back, his voice stern and tinged with anger.  “Hold your position, that's an order!”

        Wahl had a hard time believing what he had just heard.  'Didn't she just say she was outnumbered nine-to-one?  Vanderkaum, she needs to retreat!'

        Vanderkaum's voice pierced the radio once again.  “Sky-Forge 2, we are sending reinforcements to your position; you only need to hold them off for a few minutes.”

        Reinforcements?  But apart from himself, the nearest air mages to her position would be Lima Squadron.  If the enemy mages were coming from the Southwest, they would be a good choice; they could attack them from the rear.  But how long would it take them to get there?

        Wahl changed channels on his radio.  “Lima Squadron, this is Sky-Forge 1, please respond.”

        Silence.

        “Lima Squadron, please come in.”

        'Why aren't they responding?  They should be just behind the enemy, hell, they should have already taken them out.  How did the enemy get past them without them already noticing?'

        “Lima Squadron, respond!”

        Wahl's face froze as he suddenly realized it.  The enemy mages didn't get past Lima without being noticed.

        Wahl turned around and boosted as fast as he could toward Darkwood's position.  “This is Sky-Forge 1, I am moving to support Sky-Forge 2!”

        Vanderkaum's voice came back with great irritation.  “Negative, Sky-Forge 1!  We need you where you are!  Maintain your position!”

        Wahl responded with what he felt was all due respect.  “Vanderkaum you fool!  There are no reinforcements!  They're dead!  They're all dead!  Now get off your ass and get that girl out of there!”

        Vanderkaum responded with a profuse litany of every curse he seemed to know.  Were it a less intense situation Wahl might have commended him for having a larger vocabulary than he expected.  But Wahl didn't even bother processing the irate words being shouted incomprehensibly into his ear.  He pushed every scrap of mana he could into his flight, boosting as fast as he could.

        Could he even make it there in time?  Could he even make a difference in the battle?  He didn't know the answers to these questions, but another question pestered him even more: Could he ever live with himself if he left that little girl to die?  And that was a question he knew the answer to already.

        He began to worry about how much mana he would even have left, with how much he was boosting his speed.  But mere seconds could make all the difference.  He could see the explosions from the battle on the ground up ahead; the area Darkwood was supposed to be assisting.  But where was Darkwood?  Was he too late?  He scanned carefully and – there!  A tiny spec from a tiny person!  Now where were the enemy troops?

        He came to a quick stop by the child and pulled up his rifle, looking around the skies where she was facing.  “Darkwood!” he called out, “where are the enemy forces?”

        “...the enemy forces?”  Her voice was abnormally distant; her demeanor was passive.

        Wahl looked at her.

        She didn't even have her rifle; she only held an orb in one hand and a knife in the other.  Darkwood slowly turned to face him.  The right side of her body was splattered in blood.  She casually waved her hand.  “Oh, they're around...”

        Wahl looked where she had gestured.  More than half a dozen Norlan flying platforms were crashed onto the ground, along with the bodies of their pilots.

        Wahl's mouth gaped open.  The child stared back with a vacant and lifeless expression, her cheeks wet with tears and blood.

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