by K. F. Breene
And splintered on a block.
The Captain’s eyes had cleared. She hadn’t noticed. She was clutching to her strength as weakly as a leaf clutching to a branch in Fall.
He had been hanging on to try and figure out how she constantly blocked him. She’d been doing it since he came into the room. He would never know how close he came, because she could have done it. With contact, she would have ended him and probably taken Sanders with him. At full strength she could shatter that block and the mind behind it. She was far, far from full strength.
“You would’ve regretted it,” he said softly, his voice all kinds of strain, his face showing none of it. “You would have regretted killing me.”
Oh. So he did know how close. Which meant he had picked up another little trick. Which also meant he was capable to using that trick. It was not a pleasant discovery, though it wasn’t exactly a surprise, either.
She was out of options. “No, I wouldn’t have. I would have been close behind you when your people found out. If they didn’t kill me right away, Commander Daniels would’ve traded me in a heartbeat. My people, however, would have regretted it.”
The Captain removed his hand and Shanti fell. He scooped her up before she hit the ground and laid her on the bed. She didn’t bother trying to hide her trembling. Her body and mind both were spent.
“That was fucked up,” Sanders shouted from the corner.
The Captain regained his chair. “Hasnias?”
“A divine gift given to us by the Elders—your gods. An immortal weapon or tool in the hands of mortals. In my language, it is Hasneas, which means Gift.”
A hunger flashed into the Captain’s eyes, and then wariness. After a moment, he changed the subject.
“Your Honor Guard disobeyed my orders.” His tone was smug. He’d felt like he won that battle, blast him.
Shanti didn’t bother answering.
“They were responsible for killing over a dozen men,” he continued.
“Good. Who got the most?”
“Leilius. Apparently he has a knack for sneaking around. His father said he got in trouble a lot for picking on his little sister and hid to try and escape trouble.”
“Good trait. Take him hunting, let him define those attributes.”
The Captain studied her.
“If you want to, obviously.” She was probably supposed to go through the chain of command for that suggestion.
“The men they killed did not look like Mugdock,” the Captain volunteered.
“Is that right? Were they women? If so, check for missing soldiers. They’ll kill anything they can’t screw, and take anything they can. They are great with nets, ropes, and knives. They also like strap-ons a great deal, so beware.”
“They were slight men with fair skin, like yours.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. All.”
Shanti felt a jab of fear. Again. It was getting irritating. “What type of weapons did they carry?”
“Large swords with a wide tip, or wicked looking knives.”
“Yarn or string on the hilts?”
“Yes.”
Shanti sighed in relief. “Not Graygual. Thank the Elders their mercy. The Graygual do not know I’m here. Not yet.”
Sanders staggered into view, his hair mussed and his eyes wild. “Why the fuck am I in this room with this perversion? What the fuck is going on? Sir. Let’s give her over and be done with it!”
“None of that was aimed at you, Sanders.” Shanti closed her eyes. “It was aimed at your Captain. You only got the backlash. He got the full blast. And he wasn’t witching.”
“Bitching, I think you mean,” the Captain helped.
“Bitching? Female mongrel?”
“Female dog, yes. Also slang—a derogatory word for a female. Also slang for whining.”
“For all your culture says you love women, you certainly have a lot of nasty terms to describe them.”
“I now know why,” Sanders said viciously.
“Who are the men we found? Where are they from and what do they want?” the Captain asked, easily ignoring the man foaming at the mouth in the corner.
“Inkna,” Shanti said weakly, also ignoring Sanders. “They are the financial minds behind the Graygual. They are extremely loyal because the Graygual keeps them in wealth. They are checking your city—analyzing your worth. They are realizing how very rich you are. And how good at defense. They probably now know they cannot take you by force. Not without heavy losses. They are good fighters, but you, as a whole, are better.
“They’ll establish trade. Let them. Start very small. Say you are trying to establish commerce, establishing trust and credit. Make something up. Let the trade trickle increase. Dazzle them with some of your best wares, but keep them constantly trading those that are worst. They know you have much, but they probably don’t know quality. Keep them thinking your quantity is in something not worth as much, and the quality items are sparse.”
“That will hurt our income,” Sanders said, working on breathing to calm himself. His fists were still white-knuckled.
“When they know you have quantity in quality wares, the Graygual will want to run this operation themselves. Your city is small and rich. All your people benefit. It is not how their system works. With them, their cities are giant. Everything is for sale, including sex. Including…um, mind changing devices. I don’t know the word—“
“Drugs,” the Captain supplied.
“Yes, that’s right.” Her eyes drooped. She was so tired. “The rich are about ten percent, mostly nestled in the folds of military. The mid-tier is about twenty. The rest are under the boot. You have too many profiting. If you divide up the wealth in smaller shares, a few get much more. That is how the Graygual work. The few run things. The rest try to find a good place to hide.”
“And your people…”
Shanti felt her heart drop in defeat. There wasn’t much more to hide and he was too strong to kill. Besides, he now knew her value to her enemy. What was the point in hiding the rest? “The Shamas. We were a quiet people with no wealth. Not in material goods, anyway. Our choice. The Graygual were a young, power-hungry nation when they first came to us. They were starting to branch out and wanted to bring us into the fold. They needed fighters—military. They needed muscle. My people fight. It’s what we do. We fight with mind and body. We train all our lives for the conditioning of it. From the memory of a violent past. But we are a small nation. Tiny, really. We don’t procreate well.
“The Graygual didn’t like that we said no. The next time they came it was to teach us a lesson. They didn’t realize women fought right beside the men. They didn’t realize that one of us equaled five of their mercenaries. They didn’t realize that one little girl in the small, northeastern village could kill people from a distance by thinking of stabbing a knife in their brains. She hadn’t known it at the time, either—not until she was pushed to it. Not until survival instinct took over.”
Sanders took a noisy breath and sat down with a heavy plop. The Captain stared, his face blank, his eyes riveted.
“The second time they came was much later. The little girl was a woman. She’d lost her parents in the first skirmish. She then inherited the leadership. The doctrines said that when a girl is born from magic and none, who takes the role of a man, and desecrates with thought, she is the Chosen. She will connect the distant halves into a whole and lead her people to salvation. My father had the Ahna Hasneas—the Warring Gift in your language. My mother had no Gift at all. He took her as his mate anyway, love trumping all, expecting not to have children. They had me. I inherited his leadership when he died in the first battle. I am the Chosen. Apparently.
“Anyway, false labels aside, I had to learn to lead from age five. I had to hone my Gift. I had to be the best fighter anyone had ever seen. I was trained for it mercilessly. I grew into it painfully. The next time they came I was ready, but it was not to be. The Graygual had grown into their leadership, to
o. They had consumed all nations along the coast and a great many inland. We were their only failure.
“They showed up early one morning, not unlike the Mugdock did the other day. We were long since ready. We had a Seer. She foresaw them coming. Also their numbers. We could not win. I lost the rest of my people two days later. I was ferreted out by my Chance. He was also my Sacrifice when they caught our trail. He stayed behind.”
“How long ago was this?” the Captain asked, leaning forward in his chair with his forearms resting against his thighs.
“A little over a year.”
“You were never captured?”
“You are the first.”
“And they want to finish their task? To wipe out the last of you? You being the last?”
Shanti met his gaze. “No. They want to breed me. They want to build an army out of me. Xandre, their leader, the Being Supreme, wants me for his own. He wants the next generation of super fighter to be of his seed. I thought that threat had ended with me gone. But now there is you. And you have learned to block me. You are also easier to breed. You make semen constantly. You can be drugged to give it willingly. They can impregnate a whole city with you and hope a few babies pop out with your Gift. Or, they can mix our bodies and have a better probability of success, though I am not sure if they know that.”
“What do you mean, better probability of success?” the Captain asked gruffly.
“My people did not procreate well because like talent has a better chance of producing offspring with like talent. Two Warring Gifts would have about a fifty percent easier time producing an offspring than a Warring Gift and a…Sadna Hasneas. Um…Empathic, I think is your word. Empathic Gift. A Gifted and non-Gifted would have an even worse chance still. The offspring might have some Gift, but not always. Until now I knew nobody with a like Gift. Now, together we are extremely dangerous, both to current military and future military. We should both be killed. But there might be others. Now I’m not sure. Maybe the Graygual already have some? Maybe there are stronger Gifts than mine, or yours. Maybe the breeding is already taking place? Who’s to say?”
“Well, I guess that means war is coming, and we’ll be on the side with a hard road,” Sanders said with his head in his hands. “I wish I stayed in bed today.”
“Did they take any of your people?” the Captain asked quietly.
“Yes. A few. Twenty or so.”
“To…breed?”
“Disgusting,” Sanders spat, pacing.
“I believe so,” Shanti replied with a straight face.
“So there is a chance another you—us…another one of us is already created.”
“No. They expired.”
“What’s that?”
Shanti rubbed her temples. “They were taken. They would have been raped repeatedly. Because they were unable to do it themselves, I killed them. I would rather not go over the specifics right now. I need to sleep.”
“You killed your own people?” Sanders stopped and stared with a gaping mouth.
“You didn’t try to save them, first?” Cayan asked in a sympathetic voice, but with an edge.
Hot tears rolled down her face. “Yes, and yes. The enemy had a city of fighters larger than your city of civilians. I got close, but I couldn’t get them out. So I killed them. They begged it of me, and I complied. Please leave. I don’t have the strength to make you.”
The Captain stood and nodded for Sanders to leave. “Wait for me.”
Sanders wasted no time. He was through the door as if the room were on fire.
In the silence the Captain neared. He approached her slowly, reading her face. “What of the children? You still have people waiting for you, don’t you? Hoping you will succeed? Where are you going? Let me help.”
Tears were still rolling. She felt the brush of his mind on hers, trying to reestablish that link they’d shared in his bedroom. Trying to get in and form a deeper connection. She closed up tight, locking herself in.
He put his hand on her bare arm. His power seeped into her skin, lighting her on fire. So much power. It was flash boiling her blood. He poked at her barriers gently, seeking a way in, searching for a chink in the armor. His eyes glowed as they looked down on her, blue like the sky. Dark rimmed like thunderclouds rolling through.
“There is no one else. They are all gone,” Shanti whispered.
“Then how can you reunite them?”
Good question. He was too smart for his own good.
“What of the children?” he asked again.
“Why do you care?”
“Because I am of the Old Blood. Like you. Procreation was always hard with my family, too, on my mother’s side. The gifts, as you call them, are carried with the mother. I know the history. You know the use. Together we are more powerful than each of us alone. We stand a better chance.”
“I am at war with the Graygual. You are not. If I were you, I would hide. They are… you stand no chance. For your people’s sake, hide.”
“I think we both know it is too late for that. As you say, we have wealth—we have extremely fertile lands and are well managed. This Inkna was behind the Mugdock attack. They were dressed as Mugdock. They have been poking around our mines, our leather factories—they were getting a good look. War is coming, and I do not bend my knee. We are on your side.”
“You are on your side. I am alone.”
The Captain withdrew his hand, his mind lingering. “As I said, I do not bend my knee. Not even to visually arresting outcasts. You will see it my way in the end. You will eventually need a friend, and then you will realize I am that friend.”
“I need a bed buddy and you don’t fit that role, so I’m good without you. Except, uh…for that other thing. Thank you. For that.”
“For what, exactly?” His eyes were twinkling so hard they belonged on a dance floor as a sparkly ball. Or in Rachie’s room, where she’d seen it. Cayan definitely knew what for.
Shanti cleared her throat. She hated saying she was wrong, she hated saying she was sorry, and she hated having to tell this egotistical ass that she was thankful he saved her life against overwhelming odds. Still, honor dictated that it be done. “For, uh, coming for me. On the battlefield. I would not have made it out without you. So, thanks.”
He looked at her with gravity, his eyes still sparkling, but grounded. “You’re welcome.”
She nodded. He continued to try and lock eyes.
“Okay,” she said, too tired to play at holding the intense gaze—she’d hoped that would get easier. “Now get out.”
“I like it better when you’re vulnerable.” The Captain took a step back.
“Liar. It makes you nervous. You aren’t as good at blocking as you think you are.”
A grin ghosted Cayan’s lips, his dimples making a brief appearance. When he got to the door he stopped for a brief second, his hand on the shiny knob. “Who was this man that turned you down?”
“Why? Going to give him a pat on the back?”
The Captain turned his face to her, his eyes burning into her for a second. He did the equivalent of flicking her in the head. It was a weird sensation, bouncing off her block and tingling her skin. A second later, with a half-smile this time, he was out the door and gone.
***
The Captain strode past Sanders, not slowing to let the other man catch up. “Do you know why I needed you in there?”
Sanders had no fucking idea, but he wished he’d left that girl by the tree where he found her.
“You have never balked at the fact that she can fight,” the Captain went on. “You have always taken her at face value. You see a dangerous person, while the others see a woman playing with knives. I need the other two commanders on board with this—I need a unified front—and we all need what is in Shanti’s head, me most of all. I need you to help me turn them to my way of thinking.”
“You’ve never had a problem with that before.”
“We’ve never had a situation that confronts our prej
udices. All our problems have been within the realm of war. They don’t see that this is, too.”
“She has been nothing but disruptive to my life,” Sanders growled.
“Just think what war will be when we meet it unprepared.”
Sanders blew out a breath. That was true. He hated when the Captain used logic.
They walked a while in silence before the Captain said, “Sorry about the… other thing. That was meant for me, I believe. I am not telling you your business, but there is no need to relay that to…anyone else. I would prefer that stayed under the hat.”
“The other thing? You mean the invisible hand on my bells and whistle? Yeah, I don’t need anyone knowing that shit. Sir.”
The Captain nodded once.
They continued out the door and back to business. Sanders couldn’t help wondering how much this strange woman was going to mess up their way of life.
Chapter 23
Shanti was on a bluff above the tent on the edge of the fighting camp. They had taken Simon and left his twin sister Simone in the holding cell. Now they marched him toward a tent at the edge of the huge camp, to one of the higher-level battle commanders who waited outside to receive him.
Simon had his hands tied in front of him and four guards surrounded him. His mind-power was weak and his fighting only decent. It was why they had been able to take him. It was also why only four men could hold him.
“The man you requested, Battle Lord.”
“Yes, thank you. Pass it down that the women aren’t to be touched. The Supreme Being doesn’t want any man’s seed in them but those appointed. Anyone who breaks that rule will be killed slowly and painfully on full display.”
“Yes, Battle Lord.”
The filth gestured to Simon. “Tie him to the bed inside. Make sure he cannot inflict harm. The rest can be distributed. I only require this one.”
“Yes, Battle Lord.”
Shanti closed her eyes as Simon was led out of her sight, into the tent.
Shanti could free him. She could kill the man about to do this thing and take Simon right now. Maybe Simone, too. But she couldn’t get to the rest. They were within the clusters of fighters, spread around. The men would be used like Simon. The girls were being herded to a tent with guards, keeping the others away. She would reveal herself, cause a giant manhunt, and probably eventually get captured herself. She could kill herself, though. She could free herself from a life of rape and torture. She would also kill the hope of all of her people with her, leaving these few to the same existence they faced right now without her help.