Savage Bounty

by Matt Wallace

  They were the largest lanterns Lexi had ever seen, if lanterns they were. The pods were almost as long as she was tall from the look of them, and wide enough to birth a calf.

  She had approached them slowly, studying them with genuine fascination, until Lexi was standing directly beneath the gargantuan bulbs.

  At first Lexi thought the giant pod was simply swaying in the wind until she realized the air was still. She further realized the pod shifting over the top of her head was without question moving on its own.

  Then those papery folds peeled back and Lexi was suddenly staring into what was undeniably a mouth. There was no fruit inside, unlike the lanterns in the rest of the garden—only a wet recess filled with dripping glands and a dark hollow resembling the entrance to a throat.

  The sound from within began as a chorus of rattles. Then the pod trembled violently and Lexi was blasted with air and a terrible, ear-splitting shriek was unleashed from within that hideous mouth. Her blood turned cold, and stinging bumps were raised over what felt like every inch of her skin.

  Lexi turned to flee back into the garden, but in her panic, she tripped over her own feet and fell forward onto the sandy path.

  Above her, the pod dipped toward the ground, its vines uncoiling around the beam to allow and support its descent. Lexi felt an unpleasant wetness around her ankles and calves, and she glanced back just in time to watch the bulb effortlessly suck her up into its mouth. She screamed, but the plant possessed nothing resembling ears. That, or her terror didn’t bother it. Once it held her securely, the pod raised itself back into the air and she found herself staring down at the outline of her body in the sand.

  In its maw, she has remained. Thankfully the monstrous plant has no thorny teeth, but the pressure of its folds around her is almost unbearable.

  “Magnificent, is it not?”

  Lexi cranes her neck as much as she’s able in order to locate the source of the voice, though she immediately recognizes it.

  Burr is serenely watching Lexi being eaten alive from a few feet away, Daian at her side.

  His arms are folded across his chest, the hilt of his Crachian dagger filling one hand. The renegade Aegin looks positively delighted by the current proceedings.

  Burr is again draped in her ornate and frill-covered garb from a largely forgotten age, a far cry from the simple and drab tunics worn by members of the Gen Franchise Council and the rest of Crachian government.

  “What… is this thing?!”

  “The height of Crachian engineering, my lady. They were originally bred to protect the entrances to homes of Gen members. It was thought to be a much more elegant and aesthetically pleasing solution to security than armed guards or trained beasts. The Planning Cadre’s brightest minds crossed lanterns with several species of meat-eating plants. They spent the better part of a century attempting to perfect them.”

  “Perfection is not the word I would employ!” Lexi manages through gritted teeth.

  Burr turns to her loyal killer.

  “Daian, if you would…”

  Daian bows his head dutifully, and walks away from them.

  As Lexi watches, Burr steps beneath another one of the giant pods.

  As it did when Lexi approached the one currently sucking on her like a candied nut, the bulb above Burr sways and lowers itself to meet her.

  This twisted plant does not open its maw or shriek, however—it simply hovers passively around the Ignoble’s head.

  “You see there?” Burr asks her brightly.

  Lexi would find it all quite fascinating were she not currently trapped in the slimy maw of a similar mutated plant.

  “The Planning Cadre abandoned the pursuit. The pods were deemed too volatile, and also they did not want to create the perception that Gen homes needed such security measures. It would send the wrong message to the people. Crache is a nation free of such concerns, after all. Most of the pods were destroyed, but I managed to reroute a few to my estate and have them planted in the garden. Walls of stone and wrought iron gates are so unsightly, don’t you agree? Hardly in keeping with the aesthetic.”

  Lexi watches the pod as it appears to nuzzle Burr like an obedient pet. The implied intelligence is a disturbing sight to behold.

  “It’s my blood,” Burr explains. “The pod is drawn to it. That is how it knows me and recognizes my authority, and that I belong here. It’s also how it recognizes that you do not.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “It is not unlike training a dog to know your scent. The pod is given your blood as a sapling. Any living thing that does not carry your blood is seen as a threat, and… well, you are currently reviewing the consequences. That was the truly difficult part, as I understand it. Cultivating the pods to recognize the blood without attempting to absorb it. The trick is to feed it a bit every few weeks or so. Arduous, yes, but how can I reject perhaps the only creatures in all of Crache who recognize the quality and purity of the right blood?”

  A stinging sensation begins to spread through several parts of Lexi’s body.

  “It burns!” she cries.

  “Yes,” Burr confirms, calmly. “It is beginning to preemptively digest you. Breaking down your body enough to slide easily past its gullet.”

  Fortunately, Daian returns, holding the end of a long, lit torch in one hand while the other swings a bucket filled with what appears to be water.

  Lexi instinctively turns her head away and shuts tight her eyes as he approaches her with it.

  “You wound me, Lexi,” he says, his tone full of mocking hurt. “I live only to protect you.”

  “Forcing mind-altering chemicals down my throat and trying to turn me against everyone I love is a funny way to express that,” Lexi spits back.

  “Growth is a difficult process, often in need of outside aid.”

  Daian holds aloft the fiery head of the torch and very gently presses the edges of the flame to the papery skin of the pod.

  Lexi’s burning skin crawls as the rattling shriek of the pod causes every fleshy bit of its interior to vibrate around her. The pressure eases and Lexi is slopped forth from inside the pod’s maw. She lands awkwardly on the ground in front of them.

  Daian dumps the bucket of water over her. The burning sensation roasting her flesh subsides almost immediately.

  It takes several moments for Lexi to catch her breath and regain her faculties. She looks up at Burr, towering above her like a school matron, beatific smile pasted to her face, hands folded delicately in front of her body.

  She cocks her head and regards Lexi. “It is not unlike being born again, no?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I don’t recall being born.”

  Daian shoves the head of the torch into the bucket, where the damp remnants of the water extinguish the flame. He sets both aside and bends down to haul Lexi to her feet by her arm.

  Lexi begins to voice a protest, but it comes out as garbled noise rather than actual words.

  Standing shakily, she attempts in vain to brush away the remaining pod slime with her hands, tugging at her nearly destroyed wrap to straighten it.

  “You’ll want to bathe thoroughly and replace those clothes,” Burr advises her.

  Lexi gazes at her with open hostility. “How have you managed to keep this sprawling garden of horrors concealed from the state for so long?”

  “We Ignobles, as your history so disdainfully calls us, have learned not only to navigate Crachian bureaucracy, but to wield it as one of our most effective and lethal weapons.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The Capitol is well aware of this estate’s existence. However, on parchment at least, all of this land is a rice farm. Gen Hsu is tasked with overseeing rice production in this part of Crache. The member who oversees this place is well compensated to never make the journey.”

  “What about the rice you’re meant to be sending to the Capitol coffers?”

  “It also exists. Again, on parchment. As do the stores it is m
eant to replenish, and the invisible Skrain battalion it is meant to feed.”

  “How is it possible no one in the Spectrum notices these things are not real?”

  “Because no one in the Spectrum looks. If it exists on parchment, and every middling bureaucrat involved receives their copy stamped with an official seal, then it is real.”

  Lexi cannot accept it.

  Burr seems to enjoy her bewilderment. “How do you imagine the Savage Legion remains concealed from both public knowledge and the knowledge of most in the Spectrum?”

  It’s true. Brio only managed to suss it out because he sorted through the endless reams of parchment to which Burr is referring and took the time to investigate the reality behind their words.

  “Bureaucracy is truly magic made flesh. Your ancestors meant it to replace the rule of nobility and royalty over the people. Which it did, for a long time. But nobility is not as easily fooled as the people are.”

  “I’m certain you’re only fooled by yourselves.”

  Burr’s smile never wavers. “Truly sharp wit for a woman who was just regurgitated by foliage.”

  Though she seethes, Lexi has no answer to that.

  “Daian, please escort our guest back to her quarters.”

  Lexi levels a finger at Daian. “Do not touch me!”

  Daian responds with a smile and a grand gesture of his arms, motioning for her to start back down the garden path toward the castle.

  They leave Burr to marvel over her pet pods. Lexi is silent as they walk together.

  “You’re unusually quiet,” Daian observes.

  Lexi barely hears him. She is still turning Burr’s words over in her head.

  “You might at least threaten or insult me.”

  “I find your torment very boring, Daian.”

  He grins. “That’s more like it.”

  Lexi says nothing in response.

  “You’re beginning to see it, aren’t you?” he asks her.

  “See what?”

  “How truly dangerous that bitch is.”

  Lexi stops walking. She stares up at Daian.

  “I thought she was insane,” she says, measuring her words carefully. “I still think she’s insane. But I didn’t understand how deeply the Ignobles have rooted themselves in the Spectrum, in all of Crache.”

  “Obsession is the most powerful force in nature, next to water. Burr and her friends have been plotting and scheming for far longer than either of us have been alive.”

  “I still don’t understand why you’re helping her. You’re not an Ignoble yourself. You will always be her servant.”

  “We all serve.”

  “But why her?”

  “She’s going to give me what I want.”

  “What is that? You don’t strike me as a man who craves power or riches. What is it that you truly want, Daian?”

  He shrugs. “Chaos, I suppose. Very little else seems to satisfy me. I get bored so easily.”

  Lexi studies him, and she quickly realizes he’s serious.

  “You do know you’re mad, don’t you?”

  Daian laughs disturbingly. “My dear, it is my favorite thing about being me.”

  GENERAL DECISIONS

  EVIE SPENDS THE MORNING OF the siege vomiting repeatedly into a chamber pot.

  Mother Manai lovingly and dutifully holds Evie’s hair back as the young general empties her stomach of the last remnants of the breakfast they shared together not an hour before.

  “There you go, dear,” the older woman says as Evie begins dry heaving. “I think that should do it.”

  Evie sits upright on the floor of her commandeered quarters and Mother Manai dabs at the corners of her mouth with a damp cloth.

  “How’s my color?” Evie asks.

  “Once you have your helm on, no one’ll notice. Trust me.”

  Evie laughs weakly. “The mighty Sparrow General.”

  Mother waves the cloth, dismissive. “I still begin the morning of a battle by taking a nervous shit. Which end it comes out of is not a judgment on our character.”

  Evie laughs again, stronger and heartier this time.

  She stares up at her battle-hardened elder with genuine affection and admiration in her eyes.

  “I really don’t know what I would do without you, Mother.”

  “You’ll find out one day.”

  There is no malice in her words. They are spoken gently, and Mother Manai never stops smiling.

  Evie nods, understanding that, as in all things, her friend is trying to prepare her for the inevitable.

  “I hope you’ve taught me enough, then.”

  Mother Manai grins wryly. “Not nearly as much as you’ve taught me, General.”

  She helps Evie to her feet. Surprisingly, Evie no longer feels sick. Slightly hollowed out, perhaps, but she feels lighter, less burdened, her stomach tighter and relieved of its recent chaos.

  “Are you ready?” Mother asks her.

  Evie takes a deep, cleansing breath. “Was I ever?”

  Mother Manai assists Evie in strapping on her armor, beginning with her breastplate. The leather has been dyed as black as pitch. The shape of a sparrow has been painted over the chest in bloody red. The wings drip down the abdomen in ominous, waxy trails.

  “This leather was trained for a bosom a might bigger than yours,” Mother says as she clasps the straps over Evie’s shoulders, “which is a good thing. It’s not enough to get in the way, but you’ll have an extra half-inch or so if the chest is pierced by an enemy blade or takes an arrow.”

  “Then why aren’t they all trained like this?” Evie asks.

  The question gives Mother Manai pause. “Good question. Maybe they are. I’ve never been one for armor. Slows me down, and I’m slow enough as it is.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I hide it well.”

  “You’re fast enough to still be alive, anyway.”

  “That is true.”

  Thin steel pauldrons, the metal coated with blackened metallic powder, protect her shoulders and upper arms, but are light enough not to inhibit her movement.

  Evie fits a pair of matched leather gauntlets around her forearms. Flaps shield the backs of her hands while giving her fingers total freedom.

  As she cinches the gauntlets’ straps, Mother Manai sets about tying a belt around Evie’s waist. The belt supports two scabbards, one for a short, curved sword and another for a dagger, and a large ring meant to cradle the haft of a single-handed ax, a tool Evie came to favor in her brief career as a Savage.

  The steel that calls those scabbards home is laid out on the edge of the bed beside them. Evie holds the sword aloft and quickly examines the freshly honed edges. The Sicclunan smiths have fashioned the round hand guard of the sword into the shape of two sparrows chasing each other.

  Evie sighs. “This has really gone too far.”

  “It needs to go further if any of us wants to continue aging at length.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Evie says as she sheathes the sword.

  “I know that’s not what you meant, dear.”

  Evie takes up her dagger. Its blade is flared, winding like the trail left by a snake. The design ensures that once the blade penetrates an enemy, the wound won’t easily close. Evie fits it into the other scabbard on her belt and gives it a testing tug to check that it is secure.

  Finally, she picks up her short ax, its hooked beard meant to snatch the tops of enemy shields or trap their blades, and slides its haft through the ring on her belt.

  “Don’t forget your little friend here,” Mother Manai says, presenting Evie with a simple push dagger.

  Evie smiles. It’s the same weapon she took from Sirach the night they met, after she stopped Sirach from poisoning the Savage Legion and the two of them came within inches of murdering each other. It’s also the push dagger she used to kill Laython, the brutal head wrangler of the Savages.

  Evie takes the weapon and tucks it carefully inside her right b
oot.

  “It saved my life a few times already,” she says.

  “You saved your life.”

  The final item of her battle dress is laid out on the bed. Mother Manai begins gathering it up to affix to Evie.

  “I’m not wearing the cape,” Evie insists.

  “You’re wearing the cape!”

  “I will not. That is a ridiculous thing to fight in. Why not just put me in a gown?”

  “You’re meant to inspire those who’ve risked everything to fight alongside us. This is exactly what Crache doesn’t want.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A symbol. A hero. A legend, even.”

  “I am none of those things.”

  “No one is. It’s just a story, dear. But you’re meant to inspire that story. We were Savages, nameless, unknown. You need to be known by all. The people will take it from there. They’ll spread the tale of your great deeds across the ten cities.”

  “You mean lies.”

  “Stories, I said!”

  “Lies!”

  “Wear the damn cape,” Mother Manai orders her, fixing Evie with a hard stare.

  “Fine! I’ll wear it while we ride to the line, but I’m taking it off before we storm the city!”

  “As you like, General.” Mother is placating her as she latches the edges of the cape to her breastplate straps. “Do you want me to row your hair?” the battle matron asks.

  Evie shakes her head. “Just tie it back. My nerves won’t hold for sitting right now.”

  Mother Manai purses her lips. “Fine, but I’m going to bind it tight. Hopefully your brain won’t need too much blood flow for the siege.”

  “I’m just the general. My brain is purely decorative.”

  Mother Manai produces a length of catgut from inside her belt. She holds it between her teeth as she gathers up Evie’s hair, which has grown out considerably since she was conscripted into the Savage Legion. Mother pulls it tightly, until Evie feels it tugging at her eyelids, and begins tying it off at the roots.

  A fist that could only belong to Bam pounds on the chamber door from the other side.

  “Come, Bam!” Evie calls to him.