That wasn’t what Braden and his companions were. Being bunched up was the worst thing this group could have done. A man carrying his sword walked to the side of the formation and started barking orders.
‘Gray Strider, he’s on your side. You take him and we’ll deal with the rest.’ Instantly, a lightning bolt leapt from the end of her spear, striking the man fully in his chest. The blasters opened up, followed by Bounder’s lightning. The first ranks of the men were decimated. Dead men littered the road from one side to the other, the stench of their burning flesh making their eyes water. Small black clouds billowed into the air from the impromptu funeral pyres.
Braden, Micah, Bounder, and Gray Strider fired another volley into the surviving ranks. The destruction was horrible to witness. Zyena showed them her view as the men in the back broke and ran for their lives. More and more joined them until only the dead remained. Skirill watched the approaches to the open area for his friends, making sure that no one came in behind them. The streets were unsurprisingly empty as the two forces battled for supremacy.
In the end, Braden and his companions were the last ones standing. He hated killing all those men, but as he’d rationalized with the others they’d killed, these men were fighting for the wrong side.
Braden looked down to see G-War sitting at his side, patiently waiting. Patrice and Delavigne had been waiting to the side of the clearing until the firing stopped. Now that it was over, they brought Nerise to the others.
The humans were still breathing hard. Zeller felt the exhilaration of battle, even though she had yet to prove herself in her mind. The Wolfoids seemed at ease, while the Rabbits were upset by the smell. Nerise didn’t seem to mind. She’d carefully watched everything Micah had done, studying.
“It’s time to end this,” Braden told the others taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Shall we?” he asked. They turned from the open area and started walking toward the Governor’s Mansion.
“Here we come, Governor Anderle, and there’s no one left to protect you,” Braden snarled.
The Story of Jocelyn
She stood, looking from the second story window. Jefferson City lay before her, smoke tendrils from the many cook fires drifting skyward. The air smelled stale. A new cloud of dark smoke appeared not far away, but it drifted away quickly.
She wore her long sleeping gown as she was uninterested in getting dressed. What was the point?
Her silken hair, the color of crow feathers, so black that it looked blue when the sun shined on it, trailed down her lean figure, ending just above her waist. She combed it absently as she watched from one window of the mansion that her husband, Governor Anderle had claimed as his own when he stormed to power.
She had known him before that, when he seemed carefree and was wildly romantic. They married quickly, and after their oldest son was born, her husband decided that he wanted something better for his children, so he sought power. Always charismatic, he convinced others to support him. He moved up quickly to lead a village, then a town, and finally the city. He had changed the police force into a military and consolidated most of the north tightly in his iron fist. All the trade went through his hands first. He took what he wanted, then parceled out the rest as if it was his to give.
She didn’t know him at all now.
It was too late. Even if she wanted, Jocelyn expected that she couldn’t leave. She hadn’t tried and she wouldn’t. Her children needed her. The two older boys were falling more and more under their father’s influence. The youngest, her daughter, was born in Jocelyn’s image, a beauty to behold. The little girl, Leah, collected animals, loving them unconditionally as they loved her. She and her mother were of pure-heart, so it came natural for them to love easily and be loved.
It pained Jocelyn to see the direction her boys were headed, but she held out hope that she could remain an influence in their lives.
Her husband yelled from another room. She couldn’t understand what he said, but expected the servants were running for their lives. No good ever came from a tone such as that.
The sky paled. It would be another dank day. She probably would stay inside.
Again.
A commotion in the street caught her eye. She leaned through the window, not sure of what she was seeing. People were diving out of the way as a man and two women unerringly walked toward her home. They were accompanied by two of the largest dogs she’d ever seen, along with a couple Rabbits, also disproportionately huge, with a small child between them. A large cat appeared to be following them. The rough-looking orange creature lifted its head and looked right at her. For a moment in time, he seemed to be in her head, caressing her mind, telling her that everything would be okay. They’d be there shortly.
She welcomed the intrusion.
The Governor
“What do you mean the army has broken?” Governor Anderle bellowed. He pounded his fists on the arms of the great chair. His boys stood by his side, anxiously fidgeting as their father’s anger shook every corner of the room.
“But, Governor, I’m only reporting what we’ve seen. The strangers have great weapons from which gouts of flame destroy everything in their path. And the mutant creatures! They also have incredible weapons. We cannot stand before them. You must flee!”
“NEVER!” he shouted. He waved over a man in uniform, his Sergeant-at-Arms.
“Governor,” the man said in an even tone as he fingered the well-worn hilt of his sword.
“It’s up to you and your guard to stop these fanatics. Are you up to it?”
“Of course, Governor. We’ve trained our whole lives for this,” the man sneered. He half-bowed and strode off, shouting as he left the room where the Governor conducted most of his business.
“Get our weapons,” he told his oldest son. The boy, about fifteen cycles old, smiled and ran through a back door, returning shortly with a longsword and two shortswords. He handed them out and each hefted their own weapon, checking its edge, getting comfortable with the weight in their hands.
The Sergeant-at-Arms called his men together. They’d been ready since they heard someone was challenging the Governor’s authority. All they needed was the word to go forth and fight. They didn’t care for who, they only wanted to ply their real trade. These men were former criminals who the Governor had taken under his wing and allowed them to brutally put down designated enemies. They enjoyed what they did, too much, and longed to do more of it. They relished a battle with an experienced enemy.
The Sergeant-at-Arms led his eight men out the front door, where they positioned themselves in a semi-circle. The Sergeant stood at the door while his men surrounded him, but he was no coward. He would direct the battle until a more personal engagement was called for.
The companions walked into the square facing the Governor’s Mansion. Seeing the men arrayed before them, they spread out. The companions were outnumbered and worse than that, these men looked to be seasoned fighters. They weren’t the least intimidated by the companions. Micah saw the look in their eyes, it was the same that she had in hers–a person confident in their ability to kill.
Braden stood in the center, Micah to his left and Zeller to his right. Bounder stood at Zeller’s side and Gray Strider to Micah’s left. G-War crouched next to Braden while Patrice and Delavigne protected the little girl in the back. Skirill perched on a nearby building while Zyena flew top cover, making sure no other enemy approached.
“There’s no need for any of you to die,” Braden started. The men snickered and cat-called. Egos. Pride. The men were undoubtedly dangerous, but they acted as if Braden and the companions were not.
Zyena floated toward the east. Arnie and Brandt were on their way and she would guide them. They refused to be left out of the final battle.
“That’s right. You will all die right where you are if you stand against us,” Braden taunted. He and Micah pulled their bows, and as quick as they could, fired arrows at the men. The warrior in front of the door, clearly the l
eader, slashed the arrow away with his sword. The other man wasn’t so quick. Micah’s arrow embedded deep into his chest and he collapsed.
“Inside!” the Sergeant-at-Arms shouted, leading the way and then holding the door for the others. Braden and Micah each got off one more shot before the men disappeared. Two more fell. That fast, the numbers evened out. Six on five.
“We can’t go through that door,” Micah said. “Skirill?”
He flew a tight circle around the building and showed them two more entrances. “Split up?” Braden asked, hating the sound of it as he heard it out loud.
Micah shook her head and Braden breathed a sigh of relief. “Pick one,” he said. She pointed right and they ran for it. The sound of Arnie’s and Brandt’s hooves echoed behind them. They could help protect Nerise, but the final battle would be inside the wooden mansion where they couldn’t use their Old Tech firepower.
Braden didn’t bother trying the door to see if it was open. He hit it at a dead run, tightening his shoulder muscles as he impacted with the heavy door. The deadbolt tore out of the old frame and the door flew open. Braden staggered through, followed closely by his partner and the rest of the companions.
They were in a closed back room. Braden tried the next door. Pulling it open, he saw two of the guards they’d seen out front rushing toward him. He had no time to shut the door so he jumped back, fumbling to get his shortsword in hand.
Micah and Zeller were there. Their blades crossed in front of the door as the first man lunged, trying to catch Braden unaware. He countered quickly as if expecting the fight. Blades flashed in the poorly lit room. Micah pressed her attack, but couldn’t expose herself by going through the door where the second man waited. The first was trying to draw her out. Zeller prodded the first man and he was challenged fighting both women, his best defense being the narrow confines of the doorway and the corridor beyond.
‘We must hurry before the others come,’ G-War urged.
‘Step aside, Zeller,’ Delavigne insisted in his dainty thought voice. She moved back and with a well-placed shot from his laser, Delavigne caught the man unaware, burning a tiny hole in his chest. The man hesitated, looking dumbly at the wound. Micah thrust her blade through his mid-section, ripping it out an instant later. As he started to fall, she was already out the door and engaged with the second man in a vicious exchange. It became readily apparent that the two were equally matched, well trained and experienced in the use of the sword.
Micah had never been challenged like that before and it frightened her, but not so much that she lost her edge.. She rose to meet the warrior, thrust, parry, slash, block, counterattack. The swords rang as the battle raged. Braden worked his way into the corridor behind her and readied his bow.
When you’re fighting for your life, everything is fair. The man dumped a decorative vase of flowers on the floor in front of Micah and stepped back, trying to draw her into the water, to make her slip. But she’d been thinking the same thing. She stepped back and waved him toward her, seeing if he’d take the bait. It also gave her a much needed break, she gasped for air, but to her credit, he was also winded.
G-War couldn’t wait any longer he bolted into the hallway and darted past the two, disappearing around the corner.
‘Micah, lean left and I have a shot,’ Braden told her using his thought voice. She didn’t want to for the sake of honor, but they couldn’t get trapped. They needed to move.
She lunged low, distracting her opponent and forcing him backwards, clearing a small space between the two and eliminating the chance of a return thrust. He loosed his arrow the instant the target was clear.
The arrow hit metal somewhere beneath the man’s shirt, staggering him, but not penetrating. Delavigne’s laser burned a hole in the man’s face. He screamed as he dropped his sword and grabbed at the hole. Braden’s second arrow disappeared between the man’s forearms, tearing through his exposed throat.
‘Follow me!’ G-War encouraged and without further hesitation, they ran headlong down the corridor and around the corner. Open rooms were on the left and right, but they ignored those and ran straight into a receiving room at the front of the house, the place where the main door opened into. Two men stood there waiting, using their swords to hold G-War at bay. Micah and Zeller never hesitated as they took the battle to them. Swords clanged as the battle started to take shape.
Micah was tired and the man, clearly her equal with a sword, was fresh. He beat her sword back and with a vicious slash across her chest, she went down. Braden fired an arrow from point blank range. It drove through whatever metal armor was beneath the man’s shirt, embedding firmly. The swordsman held his sword up while he struggled with his left hand to pull on the arrow, attempting to free it. Laser beams lashed out, striking him repeatedly. Patrice and Delavigne stood upright, noses twitching and ears forward as they watched the man collapse.
Zeller was being driven back, but the other swordsman had seen what happened and angled to keep Zeller between him and the companions. It seemed like he was playing with her, nicking her arms, a shoulder, and drawing a line across one cheek. She started to fear him, the biggest step toward losing a fight.
‘He’s stalling until the others get here,’ G-War announced to no one’s surprise.
With Nerise behind him, the Rabbits angled along the wall toward the front door. Their laser pistols hovered between the fight and an upper balcony where someone could appear and wreak havoc on those below. Braden drew his bow, aiming his arrow past Zeller, but the other swordsman was too wily. He bobbed and weaved, refusing to make himself a target.
Braden wanted to end it. He knew Micah was still alive, but she was hurt. His neural implant flashed incessantly but he couldn’t open it. He needed to see everything before and around him.
‘Zeller, jump backwards and fall to the floor,’ Braden insisted. She hesitated, earning herself another nick on her arm. She threw her sword at the man’s face as she jumped backward, rolling into Braden’s leg. He was releasing his arrow as she hit and it pulled his aim far to the left.
They were close enough together that the arrow hit the man in his forearm. He winced and his arm quivered, but he didn’t drop his sword. He shook his arm as if that would make the arrow fall out. The Rabbits’ laser beams danced along his body as they fired repeated short bursts. He looked confused as he fell, the last thoughts of a hard man that was killed by a Rabbit.
Braden threw his recurve bow to the floor as he pulled his partner to him. She wore the light Old Tech shirt. It wasn’t full armor, but provided some protection. Blood ran freely from the wound. Micah was out cold and Braden didn’t know why. He fumbled for his numbweed while the others arrayed themselves around the two humans, protecting them with their bodies.
Bounder and Gray Strider hadn’t been able to engage the enemy and that put them on edge. They felt ready for the next fight, eager to end the battle and finish the war.
Braden spread the numbweed across Micah’s wound before seeing that she bled profusely from the back of her head. She had to have hit it on the floor when she fell. He added a little numbweed there as he cradled her in his lap, rocking as a small child would. He hugged her tightly to him.
“So,” a voice intruded on their thoughts from the balcony, “this is what we’re fighting against? A bunch of mutants armed with Old Tech. It disgusts me. Your days are over, muties,” the Sergeant-at-Arms taunted. His sword was in his scabbard as he leaned on the railing looking down. His man, the last swordsman, stood with steel bared, at the ready.
‘G?’ Braden asked as he let anger flow into him, replacing his grief.
‘He wants to kill you and Micah. He doesn’t think he can win the battle, unless he can get your blasters or the laser pistols from our Rabbit friends,’ G-War enlightened the companions over the mindlink. Braden picked up his bow as he stood, nocking an arrow and pulling the back while still behind Bounder’s shaggy hide. Bounder stepped aside at the last instant and Braden fired, taking t
he swordsman through his eye. He dropped instantly.
The Sergeant-at-Arms flinched as the arrow raced past him and into his fellow.
“Looks like you’re all alone and your words ring hollow. I know you want some of this Old Tech for yourself, but that’s not going to happen, so if you would be so kind as to lay on the floor so we can be about our business, we’d appreciate it,” Braden offered.
“We both know that I can’t do that. I’m sworn to protect the man behind these doors. Come on, now, let’s see what you’ve got.” The man smoothly drew his sword, checked its edge and slashed it through the air as he stepped away from the railing and out of sight. Bounder jumped toward the curving staircase landing in the middle. With one more bound, he landed on the top step, spear held firmly in his front hands/paws. He crouched, waving the point in a figure eight before him.
The master swordsman assessed the Wolfoid before stepping forward, feinting and parrying. Bounder didn’t take the bait. He kept the point of his spear moving, waiting to get on better footing. The man stepped back and swung his sword in a wide and heavy arc. It hit Bounder’s spear right behind the tip. Instead of shearing off the point as he’d intended, it clanged off the metal beneath the wood exterior of the Wolfoid’s spear.
“What the hell?” the man exclaimed, having been stymied in his attack.
Bounder moved forward stabbing rapidly high, low, and back again. The man parried the furious attack. He snarled as he pulled a small knife and prepared to attack the Wolfoid with both weapons. Bounder realized that he probably could not beat this man in a straight fight as that attack was the best he had and all it did was make the Sergeant-at-Arms angry.
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