Raider

by Justine Davis

  And now, three years after they began, they were established, practiced, and effective. Including Kye, who made his life both easier—her staunch support and sheer nerve were irreplaceable—and harder. Every time he saw those rare, turquoise eyes fastened on him, he had to remind himself there was no place in this life or this time for the kind of things she made him think.

  He shook himself out of the reverie. He rarely had time for dwelling on the past, and supposed it a sign of his weariness that he had done so now. He brought his attention back to the note he held. It was short, with the feather taking up as much space as the words.

  You have become much more than a mere nuisance to them, and an inspiration beyond price to your people. Well done.

  He swallowed against the sudden tightness of his throat. He wondered at how he could feel pride at words from someone he did not even know. And yet he did.

  He had never set out to be a legend. Had wanted it even less. But he had come to realize that it would take a legend to keep this fight going. And so he had accepted that burden along with the others.

  Do not think too small. You have power and momentum now; use it.

  That had been the Spirit’s advice as well, and had spurred him to make the rover raid. And their success buoyed him. He knew he might not see victory in his lifetime, especially as their forays became bigger, bolder. He had accepted that.

  His job, as he saw it, was to make sure the battle continued after he fell.

  “YOU’RE CERTAIN IT was him?” Major Caze Paledan, the new commander of outpost Ziem, asked.

  He hadn’t even unpacked yet, and he was already in the midst of an apparent crisis. Things appeared worse here than he had been led to believe. The reports he’d read in transit had been short on details and long on excuses. And his briefing had been sketchy, filled more with speculation and rumor and exaggeration than could be credited. They were building the man into a legend, for surely no one on such a backwater planet could be so fearsome.

  Or so he had thought.

  “Yes, sir,” the young trooper said. “I saw the silver helmet, and those scars are as nasty as everyone says.” He swallowed visibly. “And they found that calling card he always leaves, didn’t they?”

  “Yes,” Paledan answered. It was in his pocket right now. That image of a Ziem saber, like the ones crossed on his office wall, and the slogan, “Without Warning.”

  This had certainly been without warning.

  But it had been openly claimed afterward.

  So total secrecy was not the Raider’s goal. The opposite in fact. And it had been exquisitely planned, timed, and carried out.

  So was he a tactical genius who wanted everyone to know it?

  Paledan pondered this as he made his way back to his quarters to finish his unpacking. And he couldn’t reconcile what his instincts were telling him with the image of a man who wanted notoriety. The use of a simple device Sorkost called primitive, but which had clearly been very effective. And the fact that the men caught in that sticky, heavy net had not been slaughtered outright as they helplessly struggled. He would have killed them when he had the chance, while they were helpless, as per Coalition policy. Any chance to lessen the numbers of your opponent should be taken.

  And yet the Raider had not done it. He had used no more force than was necessary to accomplish his goal.

  Was he soft? His heart not in this battle?

  That did not fit, either. Only someone completely dedicated would have kept going this long. And a half-hearted leader could not keep this ragged band together, could not inspire them to raids like this, so audacious in the face of Coalition might that it was difficult to believe.

  And yet Paledan sensed no ego here, for there had been opportunity enough to take the steps that would assure the man even more fame, and he had not done so.

  So not glory-seeking, and a true leader.

  Which left him only with the option that what his instincts were telling him was true, despite the fact that he had only just arrived. He had learned to trust his instincts. He’d honed them in too many fights to count and across the entire sector.

  The Raider did not let himself be seen, that silver helmet gleaming amid the black, matte armor of his band, the scars clearly visible, and the calling card left to both announce and taunt, because he wanted fame and glory.

  He did it to keep the attention on himself. Not because of ego, but because if the focus was on him, then no one was looking for the others. They barely noticed the others.

  A true leader. The most dangerous kind of opponent.

  Admiration sparked in him.

  He smiled inwardly. It had been a long time since he had had such a truly formidable adversary. It was simple to outnumber your opponent, or out-think those who had never fought for anything in their lives and shrank at the very idea, like the few Ziemites he had met thus far.

  It was an entirely different matter to deal with someone like this. Whoever this man was, whoever he had been before, he was a warrior now. Even though this remote, mist-shrouded planet had apparently never seen war, it had spawned a fighter worthy of the appellation.

  And worthy of his own skills.

  He had no doubt what the end would be. The Raider might be a great thinker, brilliant leader, and courageous fighter, but Paledan was better. He’d been proving that since he’d put on a Coalition uniform.

  He laughed at himself, for having all the ego the Raider apparently lacked. He allowed himself that, for he also had the wisdom to understand that no man was infallible, and to appreciate that his enemy was clever, quick, and fearless.

  It would take no less of a warrior than himself to take this one down. And take him down he would.

  And in the process, he would enjoy the fight. No true warrior passed up the chance to sharpen his skills on a worthy opponent. He would test this raider’s mettle before he ended it.

  This backwater planet was turning into quite the interesting assignment.

  Chapter 13

  “WHAT IS THIS?”

  Kye grinned. Whatever it was, he thought, she was excited about it. That alone warmed him, even as it made him wary.

  Also excited was the boy with her, although he wasn’t grinning quite so widely as he stole sideways glances, as if he expected to be slapped down by the Raider at any moment.

  “Dek,” he said, and saw a shift in the young man—barely more than a child, and one of the newest arrivals—as he called him by name, “what have you two come up with?”

  Encouraged, as he’d intended, the boy held up a paint-stained shape. “This.”

  “Picture it,” Kye said excitedly, “showing up on every still-standing wall in Zelos. Imagine the town waking up after longnight, and seeing this everywhere. Better, imagine the bedamned Coalition waking up to find this image painted on their own walls!”

  The Raider stared at what she held, trying to see it as she did. Finally, he shook his head; all he could see was a vague shape cut out of a piece of what had been the thin metal siding of one of the crates they’d liberated in the last raid. He’d doubted the contents would be of any use, but Kye had eagerly seized the supply of paint.

  “You have the artist’s eye, not me. You will have to explain.”

  Her grin widened. “We’ll do better. We’ll show you.”

  She looked around. Nodded at Dek, who gathered up what they’d brought in and walked to the far, back wall.

  “A smoother wall would be better, but this will do,” she said.

  Dek held up the thin sheet of metal, placing it flat against the wall. Kye grabbed up the other items she had brought in. He recognized one of the cans of paint, and what was apparently a nozzle of some sort. She deftly attached the device to the can, then turned to the wall. In mere seconds she was done and the boy was carefully lifting
the metal sheet away.

  He stood there for a moment, staring. And more than a little amazed at what she’d done in just a few lines and shapes. For there on the wall was the Raider. In a stylized form, but unmistakable. She’d even managed, by some clever outlining, to give the impression of the helmet and the scars. And with the rippling dark shape of his coat billowing behind him as he strode forward, toward the viewer, even he could see the power in the image.

  “Give me three teams of two, and we can blanket the city. If we can spare more, hit the outskirts, and it’ll be on every fence, every cottage wall, even a few trees. You saw how quick it was to do. And how silent. We know how the mist flows through Zelos on longnight; we can follow it, use it. They’ll never know until daylight, when it will be too late; everyone will have seen it.”

  He could not argue with one facet of her impassioned plea. And her energy, her drive was contagious. Even Dek was grinning at him now.

  “You see, sir? That we do it under their noses is almost as good as what it is.”

  “Exactly,” Kye agreed.

  For a moment, all he could think about was the risk she would be taking. And that he thought of her risk before he thought of those who would accompany her warned him he’d once more let his guard down too far.

  “I see the value,” he began, keeping his gaze on the image, not daring to look at her face when he already knew, despite his efforts, that his voice had softened for her.

  “Of course. Think what it will do for the morale of the people of Zelos. If only because they will see the Coalition flummoxed.”

  “And angry,” he warned.

  “But they will find no one who knows anything, for we won’t be seen.”

  “I see the value,” he said again, well aware that the power of the Raider went far beyond the actual man, and building the legend was nearly as important as the raids themselves. “but ordering six people—”

  “Eight,” Dek corrected, with a glance at Kye. “I mean, we’re going, right?”

  “Absolutely,” she said with a grin. “It was your idea, after all.”

  The boy grinned back. Kye turned back to the Raider. “And you won’t have to order anyone.”

  He raised a brow at her beneath the helmet.

  “We already have double that in volunteers.”

  Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who saw the value, even if it was only in blatant defiance. And they would have cover, he thought. On longnight, that protracted night of the Ziem year, the mist grew deeper, thicker, more concealing, until your hand would vanish in front of you before you fully extended your arm. Only those with the vision for the glowmist would be able to stay together, see each other or anything else moving.

  “All right,” he finally said, “but with the warning that should something more crucial arise—”

  “Of course,” Kye said. “This is merely spirit-lifting. A chance at, say, a cargo of rail guns would take precedence.”

  “I don’t underestimate the power of lifting the spirits of Ziem,” he said softly, looking at her at last. The smile she gave him then warmed him far beyond what was wise to allow. She was affecting him too much. He was afraid one day he might hesitate to give a necessary order, because it would put her at risk. Or someone else would die because he was trying to keep her safe. He could not let that happen. This fight was bigger than all of them. But he was having to remind himself of that more and more.

  “Let’s get started,” Dek said, excitement clear in his young voice. “We’ve got to make more of these stencils by tomorrow night.”

  “With you,” Kye said, sounding nearly as excited—and almost as young—as the boy had.

  “The Spirit is with us,” the boy exclaimed as he ran out.

  In the doorway, Kye turned back to look at him. “Oh, I forgot. Fair warning. We had to test it a few times until I got it right.”

  He drew back slightly. “And?”

  “You’re sort of all over the walls out there,” she said gesturing toward the main room.

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or groan, and ended up simply closing his eyes and giving a rueful shake of his head. When he looked again, she and the boy were gone.

  “IT’S QUITE DELIGHTFUL down in Zelos these days,” Brander observed with a grin. “All those dramatic posters of the Raider painted everywhere.”

  The subject of those dramatic silhouettes didn’t turn as he answered. “I’m still not certain it was worth the risk.”

  “If you’d seen the Coalition racing around like maddened brollets trying to paint over them all, and then running out of paint because we stole it and used it to make the very things they’re trying to wipe out, you’d think differently, my friend.”

  The Raider did turn then. “I never said it wasn’t a good idea.”

  “And,” Brander added, “you won’t have any skin left if you keep that up.”

  Brander slouched in the makeshift chair in the corner of the Raider’s private quarters, watching him as he stood before the fire, sleeves rolled up and head bare, as he did only in this room. One hand was at his face, worrying at the mass of scar tissue, the part of his disguise Brander knew he disliked most, but also agreed was the most crucial.

  “It itches,” the man muttered, but he stopped.

  “Better than hurting,” Brander said. “Speaking of which, how’s the wound?”

  “Fine. Healed. For the most part. Did I not prove that?”

  “You moved well enough on the raid,” Brander agreed. “But do not forget I saw you after, when you could barely stand after the strain. Jakel’s laser pistol is brutal.”

  He heard the long breath the man let out. “It was as well I did not have to run in our escape.”

  Brander grinned. “Riding is much better,” he agreed.

  He got a rare smile in return.

  “I’m just thankful that blessed ringtail made it safely home to Eirlys.”

  “Your idea worked well.”

  Pleased, Brander said, “The flock will be happy with this success for some time. Time enough for you to get some rest.”

  “I—”

  “I know. You would prefer to hit them again, now, while they’re still reeling and cursing your name.”

  “Yes. It would double the blow.”

  “And make them doubly angry. Perhaps enough to start purging again.”

  That hit home. Brander knew neither of them would ever forget the horror of people being pulled off the streets and out of their homes, to be slaughtered in front of them all. As both warning and demonstration of the Coalition’s intent and ruthlessness, it had been beyond effective. Not many had the steel to resist them after that.

  Until the rise of the Raider.

  He made a suggestion. “They know we have those air rovers now; they have to be wondering when and how we will use them.”

  The Raider studied him for a moment. “You mean it might pay to let them steep in it for a while?”

  Brander nodded. “They’ll be strung up, at high alert. And even the Coalition can only maintain that for so long. They’ll get tired, sloppy.”

  “It is a good point.”

  “You yourself have said you do not wish to force them to call in aid from Legion Command, to crush Ziem totally. “

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t sound convinced. Brander understood; his blood was up, they’d succeeded on this raid beyond anyone’s hopes, and he wanted to strike a maiming, if not killing blow.

  “You have also said unpredictability is a large part of our success.”

  “I talk too much,” he muttered, and Brander knew he’d won.

  “Rest. You need sleep, and you’ve sure as hades earned it. Time enough to strike again when they have relaxed.”

  “The weapons t
hat were in the rovers—”

  “There is no way they can find them. They are safely cached, in the places you ordered.” A grin flashed across his face. “Well, except for those,” he added, gesturing toward the table against the far wall, where lay a brand-new blaster that looked as if it had never been fired, a laser pistol even bigger than the one that had caused the injury that had taken the man out of action for so long, and the other two long guns Brander himself had separated out of the haul.

  Only three of them knew the prized weapons well enough to use them, and now they would have the chance to hone those skills with new ones rather than the battered relics they’d been using. He had been grinning when he’d grabbed his own. His commander had said nothing about the extra one, which suggested to Brander that he knew what it was intended for. Even now, he was staring at it, his brow furrowed.

  “You know she must have it,” Brander said quietly. “She is the best shot of us all.”

  “I know.”

  How could he not, given she had outshot them all in testing, including that unbelievable dead center hit from the west wall to the bell tower, at an impossible angle and distance. After that, and her reckless but stunning success in sending an entire caravan of Coalition mining carts over the side on the steep road to the mines, no one had questioned her swift rise in the ranks to become the Raider’s number three. They all knew that after the death of her father she had the fire in her blood, and the faith of the Raider, and they accepted her wholeheartedly.

  “She would not stand for you curbing her because she is female.”