by K. F. Breene
“You remember Alexa?” Pahona asked.
“We’re going to need translation if you talk about anything essential,” Cayan said. “I am learning, but they speak quickly.”
“I will do it,” Rohnan said.
“I do.” Shanti nodded at the young woman. “You’ve changed.”
“I have worked hard every day, Chosen.” Alexa stepped forward, earnest. “I will not make you sorry for keeping me with the fighters.”
It hadn’t been Shanti’s choice. The prophecies had a hand in Alexa being kept from safety with the younger children. That was what the elders had said, anyway.
“She has developed Seer abilities,” Pahona said gravely.
“Ah crap, not another one,” Sanders blurted out after Rohnan translated. “Burson was bad enough.”
“The problem is, her abilities are unreliable,” Pahona continued. “They seem to result from extreme duress. After uttering the prophecy, she has no recollection of her words. If no one is there to hear her, or if her words are drowned out, they are lost.”
“That is not ideal for battle,” Shanti said. “How are her fighting skills?”
“Excellent. She has made a place for herself, despite her age. She has a strong Warring Gift that she uses gracefully with her fighting.” Pahona shifted, uncomfortable. “My worry is that she will be in the heart of battle, freeze up with an upcoming prophecy, and either be run through, or her words will never be heard. If she is the turning point in a situation, then we could have an issue on our hands.”
“Put her with Marc,” Cayan said without hesitation. “He often drags the Honor Guard to the edges of battle, and they could use someone with mental ability watching their backs. When she freezes, he’ll see it and call one of the others back to save her.”
“What is this Honor Guard?” someone asked. Shanti couldn’t make out who, but suspicion rang through his words.
“I am training them. Here…” Shanti turned, looking for them among the horses.
“I got it,” Sanders said, and stalked away.
“I’d like to try him in a fight,” Pahona muttered, watching Sanders disappear into the darkness. “He is a surly sort, is he not? Prone to temper?”
“I’d be careful there,” Shanti said, unable to prevent a smile. “He rules his temper; it does not rule him. He uses it like an effective weapon. And he has a wife. Rohnan, bring them up to speed with the Westwood Lands’ social rules. I don’t want to backslide.”
Shanti barely heard Kallon mutter, “Prudish.”
“Hurry up,” Sanders barked, shoving someone in front of him. “I’m hungry.”
“What does that have to do with us, sir?” Marc asked. “We’re not in charge of cooking.”
“What happens when you question senior officers?” Sanders growled, grabbing Gracas by the scruff of his neck and moving him along. A horse neighed as they passed.
“A kick in the hole, sir,” Rachie answered.
“That’s right, nitwit. A kick in the hole.”
“Sorry, sir,” Marc mumbled.
The ragtag crew assembled to one side, the girls in the group wisely remaining silent and on the other side of the boys, out of Sanders’ immediate reach.
“They were a distraction at first,” Shanti said, looking them over with a critical eye for the first time in a long time. Since she’d first known them, they’d filled out and owned their bodies. Mostly confident, if sometimes still clueless, they stood straight and broad, tall and thick, like the rest of their people. Most sported stacked muscle and the fluid grace of a fighter, only a few, like Marc and Xavier, looked at those assembled in front of them with assessing stares. The girls, too, had gained muscle and an awareness of their person, knowing what they were physically capable of, and used to pushing past their boundaries to survive.
They’d come a long way, this crew, and had earned their right to be in the army.
“They were a project, at first,” she continued. “They’ve been with me since I stumbled onto their doorstep. They’ve seen a lot of action, they know how to work with us, and they are still alive, which is saying something.”
“How are they going to understand each other?” Sanders asked, bracing his fists on his hips. “If she spouts off some helpful prophecies, it won’t matter if they can hear her or not; they won’t be able to understand her.”
“I can speak their language,” Marc mumbled, his face pointed at the ground. “I’ve been working hard with Rohnan.”
“He is very smart. Picks up new languages very fast.” Rohnan nodded his approval.
A strange, equine growl rent the night, followed by the sound of men yelling. Shanti sighed and shook her head. “That damn bastard of a horse. He still won’t let people see to him.”
“I’ve tried punching him, Shoo-lan,” Sanders said. “Like you do. He tries to kick me. Don’t let it be said that I shied away.”
“Yeah, you did,” Rachie said. “You ran when it tried to kick you.” As if he realized he’d just voiced his thought, his mouth audibly clicked shut.
“Cayan’s plan is a good one,” Shanti said, back on track. “We’ll put her with the Honor Guard. They are used to our way of doing things. She can protect Marc until she has a premonition, in which case he can protect her while screaming for help.”
“I said I can understand the language,” Marc murmured. “I know you’re embarrassing me.”
“Alexa.” Shanti waited for the girl’s hard eyes to hit her own. She wasn’t overjoyed about being sent to be with people her own age, Shanti bet. That would last until she saw them actually fight. “Xavier is your commanding officer, which means he gives the orders. He’s smarter and faster than he looks. Underestimate him, or any of these Westwood Lands guys, and you’ll be sorry. However, they will often underestimate you. They are not used to working with women, even now. Take advantage of it. If they will not hit you, make them sorry.”
A sly grin crept up her face. “Yes, Chosen.”
“Xavier.” Shanti shifted to include him. “This is Alexa.” She indicated whom she was speaking about. She hadn’t needed to. Xavier was staring with a slack jaw and intense eyes. In fact, a lot of the guys were. “What’s the matter?”
“If you guys don’t keep your hands to yourselves, that girl will cut off your dick and kick it around the ground, do you hear me?” Sanders barked.
“Didn’t need to be said, sir,” Xavier said, straightening awkwardly. “I was just taken aback.”
“They’ll work it out,” Cayan said, laughter in his voice. “Are you finished here? I’d like to help you with your horse, then we can discuss what we need to do over dinner.”
Shanti frowned at him. Why he wanted to help with her horse, she had no idea. She relayed what he’d said to her people and let Cayan lead her away.
His fingers entwined with hers. “You have a new fire within you,” he said into the night. Large horses loomed off to the right, tied to whatever was available, and eating. Men moved around and between them, finishing settling them for the night.
Off to the left, tents were going up and fires started.
“Are we sure we want to advertise our whereabouts in case anyone has followed us?” she asked.
“With this much mental power, it would take a large host to take us. We’ll hear them coming if that’s the case. I’m not worried.”
Shanti let it drop as she came upon a city dweller giving her horse a lot of distance.
“I couldn’t do anything with him, ma’am,” he said. He had joined them as part of the Wanderer Network, claiming to have a certain magic with animals. Joke was on him, clearly.
“I’ll take care of it.” Shanti reached her horse and slapped him. He struck out, trying to catch her with his hoof. She stuck up a finger. “Now we’re on the same footing. Behave!” He chomped at her digit.
Gritting her teeth, wondering if this would be another battle of wills, she stared at him, waiting to see if he needed another slap. Miraculously
, he bobbed his head and huffed.
She got to work, taking off his saddle while Cayan readied his feed.
“We have all the pieces now,” Shanti said to Cayan. “All the players, I should say. My people, the Shadow, you… We have a lot of power behind us.”
“We don’t have information. That is what we are still missing.” Cayan stared at the Bastard as he approached, playing tough. The Bastard stared back, not playing at being surly.
“Just put it down and let him walk to it, Cayan. Help me with the saddle.”
“What help do you need?” Cayan asked, coming up beside her.
She handed him the heavy item. “Your muscle. I’m tired.”
“We’ll hit the closest town and look for information,” Cayan said, taking the saddle without complaint. “It looks like Xandre is amassing his armies. I want to see if he keeps adding to one location, or if he is planning to section them off into a few.”
“What will the difference tell you?”
“Likely not as much as it would’ve told Daniels.” Pain radiated through Cayan. Shanti left the Bastard to eat and slid her hands up Cayan’s chest before looping them around his shoulders. He leaned into her. “That was what he had been studying before he was murdered.”
“We can’t replace Daniels,” Shanti said as his face dipped to hers. She closed her eyes as his hands ducked under her top and roamed over her skin. “But Pahona is an excellent tactician, and a few of the others work well with her. We can use his notes and see if we can piece things together. We are not lost.”
“I know,” he whispered. “We will come out of this alive, you and I. Whatever his plans, however large an army he throws at us, we will still come out alive.”
She smiled. “I know.”
4
“They’re gaining on us!” Leilius clutched the reins of his horse and leaned forward, his breathing rapid. “How did you not feel them coming? I thought people couldn’t sneak up on you.”
The city loomed in front of them, the welcoming torches on the gates twinkling. Behind them, five Graygual with drawn swords on huffing horses were in pursuit.
“I knew they were back there. I didn’t want to panic you.”
“It didn’t work. I’m panicking. I am really panicking!” He urged his horse faster. “C’mon, c’mon. Run, damn you!”
“Don’t push him too fast. This road is smooth, but you never know if he might hit a divot and break his ankle. Horses can’t see in the dark.”
Leilius chanced a look behind him. The Graygual were gaining, swords gleaming in the moonlight.
“We’re not going to make it. We have to stop and fight. Otherwise they’ll just hack us down.”
“Good plan.” Boas was too calm by half. Clearly they were outnumbered, or he would already have used his mental power and wiped them all out. In times like this he really missed the might of S’am and the captain. “Should we stop now, or would you like to run a little more?”
“Why are you so calm? We don’t stand a chance against them!”
“You should never go into battle with a frenzied head, young Leilius. It will derail your confidence, and that will kill you. Let’s fight now. Whoa!” Boas pulled the reins to stop his horse.
Leilius did the same thing, almost losing control and falling. He regained his composure and jumped from his horse, hitting the ground with a stagger and ripping out his sword.
“No, no, you must stay on your horse or you will be run down.” Boas waved him back.
“Stupid!” Swearing at himself, Leilius gritted his teeth and ran back to his horse. He had never been very good at fighting—the captain knew that. Why had he sent him with just one man?
The thunder of hooves shook the ground. Leilius’ horse neighed and reared, forcing Leilius back. A Graygual headed right for him, his sword out. Nowhere to go, nothing else to do, Leilius stepped forward and braced himself, ready to dodge left and swipe at the animal as it passed.
Bearing down on him, the horse screamed. The animal reared, lifting its front feet into the sky and kicking wildly. The Graygual flew, one arm windmilling, while his sword hand remained largely steady. Clearly this group was trained.
As the Graygual hit the ground, Leilius was there, digging his sword into the man’s ribs.
Another Graygual came right behind the first. Leilius dodged the hooves of the flailing animal in front of him and surged for the second. He slashed, slicing down the side of the horse.
“Sorry,” he muttered as the animal screamed. He hated hurting the innocent, regardless of whether they were human. It reared, but the Graygual stayed on, balanced. This one was definitely well trained.
The second the horse’s front hooves touched the ground, the Graygual struck downward, aiming for Leilius’ head.
Reacting blindly, he rolled. Something tugged at his tunic. The sword passing by!
He thrust upward, on one knee, and then the tip of his sword found a home in the animal’s belly. The horse screamed again as Leilius squeezed his eyes shut and ripped, ending the poor thing’s life a little faster—causing suffering was no fun.
The horse collapsed, but not before two feet landed with a thump right beside him. His heart pounding wildly, he jumped and slashed, with no real control. His blade miraculously stuck in soft flesh!
“Behind you!” Leilius heard.
He jumped up, spinning around, just missing a blade coming at his head. Its trajectory changed immediately, now arching down toward his shoulder. At the last second, he twisted. The blade glinted as it narrowly missed. The Graygual cried out, dropping his sword into the dirt. The man sank to the ground and began to writhe.
Leilius yanked his head upward, looking for Inkna looming in the night. Instead, as the last screams died away, silence rained down.
“What’s happening?” Leilius asked quietly, seeing that Boas stood off to the side, straight and broad, oozing confidence. The reality sank in. “Oh good, you used your power. Thanks.”
“The Chosen was right, it seems. You are adept, if a bit clumsy still. I apologize for that last strike. I did not think you’d get out of the way in time. I should’ve let you continue the fight and claim your victory.”
All Leilius could do was shake his head in frustration. He didn’t need a battle victory to feel good about himself. An ale and a warm bed afterward would be plenty. He would rather Boas had taken care of all of those Graygual and then moved along to an inn.
“As for what we are doing,” Boas continued, stalking toward his horse. Why he’d gotten off to fight by hand, Leilius did not know, but he wouldn’t be asking. “We’re taking a moment to bask in a battle won.”
“I thought we were done for.”
“You can always see what someone is made of when they are under pressure. Pity about that horse. C’mon, we’ll take the rest of the Graygual animals and sell them. They’ll fetch a fine price.”
“Can you just handle it next time this happens?” Leilius threw a leg over the saddle. “I’m much better at not being seen than fighting.”
“We shall see.”
The rest of the ride passed in silence, with Leilius’ frown firmly in place. He had no idea where those other Graygual had come from, except from behind, and didn’t trust they would be the last. He’d been challenged with his fighting prowess, and wondered how he’d be challenged once in the city. If it was anything like that last skirmish, it wouldn’t be pretty.
“City is closed at sundown,” a man yelled from the top of the wall next to the artful metal workings of the gate. A collection of crude boards covered the other side of the gate, ruining the facing and preventing visibility into the city. “You’ll have to wait until morning.”
“Do you deny the Graygual entrance?” Boas called up, his stare unwavering.
The man leaned an elbow onto the wall, peering through the darkness at them. “We ain’t got no choice in the matter. If we don’t let them in, they cause a lot of problems.”
“I see. Res
t assured, friend, we’re just honest folk that got held up by bandits. If not for that, we would’ve been here by sundown. There’s just the two of us. We just want to sell these horses and be on our way.”
The man’s gaze settled on Leilius. “He don’t talk much.”
“I just want a hot meal, a pint of ale, and a soft bed,” Leilius said, in a temper. “If you don’t let me in, I’ll abandon these horses and climb the wall where you can’t see me. I’m tired.”
Boas stiffened. The man paused for a moment, his expression lost to the night, before bursting out laughing. “Can’t begrudge a man an honest answer. Okay, then.”
The man’s head disappeared from the top of the wall. After a silent beat, metal clanged and a crank sounded. One gate drifted open wide enough to allow them through.
The flickering glow from the torches stationed on the sides of the guard station highlighted the well-worked saddles and groomed, healthy horses of the Graygual.
The guard stood atop a platform in front of a large metal crank. He whistled, his eyes trained on the excellent horse stock. “You’d be wanting to go straight to the Ha-Ra Inn with those horses. No one else will be able to afford them.”
“Thank you for the information.” Boas handed up a coin.
The man gestured Boas on impatiently. After he’d closed the gate, he turned back and pointed at the captured horses. “Those from the bandits you spoke of?”
“Yes.”
The man’s eyes roved over the animals before turning to Leilius and then Boas’ horses. “Different stock to the ones you’re riding, but similar origin…”
“They are also from Graygual, yes,” Boas said. “None of which are still alive.”
“Cat’s out of the bag now,” Leilius mumbled. A flicker of movement caught his eye. He glanced up, only to see a blur disappear behind from a rooftop. “You better have enough range for bystanders with bows, because I don’t dodge arrows as well as I do sword thrusts.”