Raider

by Justine Davis

  “I had the Sentinels behind me, and you above. I was safe enough.”

  “He could have killed you before any of us could get to you.”

  “Have you so little faith in me that you think I could not hold him off long enough for help to arrive from a hundred feet away?”

  She started to speak again, stopped, then again. And finally she let out an explosive breath. “I hate this.”

  “This is why,” he said softly.

  She looked at him then. “I know. But I find it makes little difference. Acknowledged or not, it lives within me.”

  “Kye—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Never mind. I must do . . . something. Anything.”

  “Was not running from the falls to here enough?”

  “That barely took the edge off,” she snapped.

  “Perhaps I can think of . . . something else, then.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “You might regret that, Raider. I am in a fierce mood, and it is aimed at you.”

  And back in the alcove, she truly was fierce, so fierce his body arched nearly double as she rode him, hard and hot, to a climax he thought surely would kill him, and he bit his lip bloody trying not to shout with the force of it.

  And after, when he realized she was weeping, his strong, tough, fearless Kye was weeping, he didn’t know what to say or do so he just held her, ruefully acknowledging that in this, the Raider was helpless.

  Chapter 39

  HE HAD BEEN holed up in his quarters for three days, poring over Kye’s map, the information he’d gleaned from the crashed freighter and Barcon’s safe at hand. At least he was able to do so, with Eirlys now aware and watching the twins. She’d even consented to running the taproom, which gave him pause, but Brander had offered to head down this evening to help, promised he would be with her to deal with any problems. And to help her keep the secret.

  He’d honed and fine-tuned the plan, shifting Sentinels here, moving lookouts there, allotting what weapons they had—including Brander’s acquisitions, what they now called the obliterator, and the rail gun—and deciding who was best suited for which tasks. He wasn’t completely satisfied yet, but he was close. What he’d found in the safe meant the entire timetable had been moved up, and he had only a few days to finalize everything. That there would be changes on the fly he was sure, there always were, and flexibility was the key to the kind of warfare he waged. But the basics had to be there; everybody had to know what their goal was in order for them to reach it by whatever means possible, even if it meant diverging from the original plan. This was one of their biggest advantages, the ability of his fighters to think on their own, something the Coalition did their best to crush out of their own troops.

  The door flew open. Scowling at the lack of warning, he spun around. His temper was on a blade’s edge, honed by the increasing tension as the moment grew closer when he would have to send people to likely death.

  He saw Brander standing there, holding a small, curled piece of paper. His normally insouciant second was white-faced, hollow-eyed.

  He went cold.

  “It’s Jakel,” Brander said harshly. “He’s taken Eirlys.”

  “I’LL KILL HIM. I swear to Eos I’ll kill him if he hurts her.”

  Brander was pacing as he spoke, because he had to move. He wanted to be away, to blast through any obstacle, mow down anyone in his path, to get Eirlys out of the hands of that slimy brute. The thought of that sweet, fierce girl at Jakel’s mercy drove him to the edge of madness. And she would fight him, which would only anger him and make it worse.

  “If he hurts her, he will die,” the Raider agreed. By contrast, his voice was measured, low, but even deadlier for it. He had been deadly calm since Brander had explained the message the twins had sent via one of Eirlys’s precious birds.

  “Just let me go, right now, and I’ll—”

  “It has to be me, Brander. I am her brother. I’m who he’ll expect.” He was hastily removing the scars. Haste and that process did not mix well. “I will go out the back,” the Raider said, referring to the narrow, tunnel entrance to his quarters.

  “You mean we,” Brander said sharply. “If you think—”

  “I think you will go with me to Zelos, but you will stay back and not be seen.”

  He stopped mid-stride. Whipped around to glare at his commander. “In hades I will! I—”

  “Brander. I know you would die to save her, but I need you alive, to get her to safety if I cannot. I need you to protect her.”

  His spurt of anger ebbed. “I . . . yes.”

  “Swear to me. You will see her safe,” the Raider said, and he sounded haunted. Unease stirred along with the knot in Brander’s gut.

  “I will.” He resumed his pacing. “I can’t believe Ordam would do this. I never would have thought he’d have the nerve to take a Davorin.”

  “I do not believe it.”

  Brander stopped again mid-stride. The Raider had not said that in the tone of someone expressing skepticism, but someone who knew something else to be true. When he got there, his gut knotted even more fiercely.

  “You think Jakel did this on his own?”

  “I’m saying Ordam did not order this. He is ever and always a coward, and this is too open.”

  “I have always felt Ordam’s hold on the brute tenuous, but—”

  The door burst open, cutting him off. Kye rushed into his quarters, the slam of the door behind her echoing. “Is it true?” she demanded.

  “The twins would not mistake something like this,” Brander said.

  She spun on her heel to look at the Raider, who had the scars off now and was finishing his transformation back into meek taproom keeper Drake Davorin. She frowned slightly.

  “You are going as . . . yourself?”

  “It is who Jakel will expect,” he repeated.

  Kye looked thoughtful, then nodded. “And it would give away too much for the Raider to sweep in to rescue her.”

  “That as well.”

  She studied him for a moment. “You’re going to need to rough up your other cheek a bit.”

  His brows lowered. “What?”

  She gestured at the mask now lying on the table. “You did that in a hurry. The skin is reddened. If the other side matches, it will look only as if you are flushed and nervous.”

  “An artist’s eye,” the Raider murmured. He glanced around, then quickly crossed to the table where the map lay. The sand Kye had used to dry the ink quickly, so one sector would not smear as she moved on to the next, was in a small bowl. He grabbed a handful and scrubbed his left cheek with it. Kye had followed, and when he stopped and turned to face her, she nodded.

  “By Eos, can we go now?” Brander demanded, his panic growing in step with his anger. He knew the Raider would tell him that was a very bad combination, but he was in no mood to hear fighting philosophy now.

  “I’ll get the rover from the falls—it’s closest,” Kye said, turning to go.

  “No.”

  She spun back at the Raider’s short, flat command. “You can’t think I’m staying here?”

  “You must.”

  Kye stared at him. “I love her, too. She is my sister in all but blood.”

  “I know. But you must stay clear, Kye. You are my third, and if necessary, you must lead the Sentinels.”

  “But Brander—”

  “I have my reasons, Kye. Because there is something even bigger than this,” Drake said, his voice low and quiet. “Something that must survive any or all of us. And my little sister would be the first one to tell you that.”

  Brander felt that knot in his gut grow, for he knew Drake was right. Eirlys would die before she would see the rebellion fail because of her.

  “In this, you must be Sen
tinel first,” Drake said, reaching out to brush her face with the back of his fingers. “And there is something else. You must find the twins for me. They sent the message so they are free, but you know they will do something foolish if not stopped. They will listen to you. You must keep them away from Zelos, from Jakel. Bring them here if necessary. I think my time of hiding in plain sight may be over.”

  Brander knew his cousin well, and saw the moment when she decided. Her nod was short, almost curt, but definite. And once he saw it, his anxiety burst its banks and he snapped. “Now,” he demanded.

  “Yes,” Drake agreed. “Now.”

  They were halfway down the mountain before the movement had settled Brander enough to ask, “You have a plan? Other than to blow them all to hades?”

  “And Eirlys with them?”

  “I know, I know. I just want my hands around Jakel’s greasy neck.”

  “As do I.”

  He realized belatedly he had thought only of getting there, not of what they would do when they did. “How do we do this?”

  “It depends on what we find when we arrive. Where Jakel is holding her. Whether he has taken her for strategic or personal reasons.”

  Brander stared at the man driving the rover; he’d insisted, saying Brander was wound so tightly he would pile them into a tree.

  “How can you stay so calm? It’s Eirlys!”

  “Because I must. Because rage leads to mistakes. Because panic is the quickest road to death. Because they must think I am only a concerned brother.” He drew in a deep breath. “Because I have had to learn it well these past three years.”

  Brander remembered leading his own first raid, and how he had hated the way he was always expected to have the answer, as Drake was. And then he had had to make a decision that sent a Sentinel to almost certain death while he stayed to complete the mission. That the man had survived was only due to luck, and he had never forgotten the weight of that decision. And Drake had carried it, alone and multiplied countless times, for years.

  He struggled for a moment with what to say. Realized there were no words big enough. “I do not envy you, my brother. I’m sorry.”

  Drake glanced at him. Nodded. And that easily, as it had ever been, it was behind them. They were united once more, with a single, unyielding goal.

  “We’ll save her,” Brander said. “If I have to burn Zelos to the ground.”

  “I would prefer not,” Drake muttered. “But yes, we will save her.”

  In the end, they did not have to search at all. After hiding the rover in the trees on the west side of town, they headed through the alleys toward the main street. Some hundred feet short of that, they were flagged down by Enish Eck.

  “Been looking high and low for you,” the man panted.

  Drake didn’t bother with dissembling. “Do you know where he has her?”

  Brander felt like thumping the man for the look that crossed his face, as if he were disappointed they already knew and he didn’t get to be the news bearer.

  “In the taproom,” Enish answered.

  “You’re certain?” Brander demanded.

  “That’s what he said to tell you. And that he’d be waiting for you, Drake.”

  Drake went very still. “He told you to tell me this?”

  “As soon as I saw you.” Enish grimaced. “Well, he told everybody in the taproom, when he grabbed her. Before he threw us all out.”

  Brander’s fury, simmering just under the surface ever since the twins’ message had arrived, threatened to burst free at the image that formed in his mind. It echoed in his voice when he spoke.

  “And none of you stopped him?”

  Enish drew back at the sound of it. “He had a blaster, pointed at her head. Said he’d kill her if we didn’t all clear out. What were we supposed to do?”

  Brander swore, loud and harsh.

  “She nearly cut his hand off, though,” Enish said. “Broke a bottle and went right for him when he first grabbed her.”

  “Good for her,” Drake said. He turned as if to go, then Enish spoke again.

  “I could maybe round up some help,” he offered. “I think I know some as would do it. For Eirlys,” he added pointedly, as if he wanted to be clear no one would do it for the cowardly taproom keeper himself.

  Brander wanted to punch him all over again, and only Drake’s quick shake of his head forestalled him.

  “No,” Drake said, ignoring the slur. “We don’t know what he wants yet. If it is a fight, you would all be unarmed and in danger.”

  Enish looked relieved, but also a little puzzled. As if he hadn’t expected that answer. Drake had played his part so well, even the idea of him fighting was apparently bewildering.

  They left Enish staring after them, and headed for the taproom.

  “You must stay in the back,” Drake said. Brander started to protest, but Drake kept going. “You must stay back, hidden so that you can get her out safely.”

  “And you?”

  “Will do what I must.”

  As you always do, Brander thought. “You are the strongest man I’ve ever known, Drake Davorin,” he said. “And I include your father in that number.”

  Drake looked startled. Perhaps it was the contrast of his words with Enish’s insult.

  They reached the back door of the taproom. Drake only glanced at the door to one side, that led to their home. The door was secure, as Eirlys kept it when she was there alone, and he keyed in the entrance code.

  “You should take a weapon,” Brander said for at least the third time since they’d left the ruin.

  “The cowardly tapper has nothing to do with them. And I will need to play that part long enough to assess. So . . . a blade at most, I think.”

  Brander subsided into silence as the door swung open and they slipped into the storeroom. Once inside they stopped near the entrance to the taproom, listening.

  “—will be sorry for this.”

  Eirlys. Brander felt a rush of relief. She was alive and talking, at least.

  “And who will make me sorry, sweetling?”

  The relief was quickly replaced by a resurgence of fury at the oily, ominous tone of Jakel’s voice.

  “My brother will—”

  Jakel’s laugh cut her off. “Your brother the coward?”

  “You call him coward,” Eirlys exclaimed, “when you come with two Coalition troopers just to talk to a girl?”

  Two? They could take them, easily, but to do it without Eirlys getting hurt . . .

  “And he’s not a coward,” Eirlys added fiercely. Brander sensed Drake stiffen. Felt the jolt of fear himself.

  No, Eirlys. No, no, no, don’t go there.

  But she kept going. “If you only knew—”

  She stopped abruptly. Had she realized what she’d been about to betray?

  “If I only knew what?” Jakel’s tone had turned coaxing, but at the same time the threatening note laced his words.

  “What he used to be like,” Eirlys said, sounding defeated. “Before.”

  She’d saved it, Brander thought, renewed admiration kicking through him.

  “Oh, but I do know,” Jakel said, almost crooning in a way that turned Brander’s already roiling stomach. “Do you think I’ve forgotten the glorious Drake Davorin, rising up after his father’s death to lead? I’ve always thought it suspect that he caved so completely. And you know what I think?”

  “I know you don’t,” Eirlys said, disdain clear in her voice.

  “Don’t what?” Jakel sounded disconcerted.

  “Think,” she said flatly.

  The sound of that meaty hand striking her nearly had Brander roaring into the room. Only Drake’s hand on his arm stopped him. He looked at his best friend incredulously; how could he
stop him after that? But the moment he saw Drake’s icy eyes, he knew Jakel had just sealed his own fate.

  “Foolhardy, aren’t you? As I was saying, you know what I think? I think it’s no coincidence that the nights the Raider strikes, your brother isn’t here.”

  Brander froze. There was a moment of silence before Eirlys said, “What, you think he’s helping the Raider? He’s a coward, remember? You said so yourself.”

  “Even cowards have their uses. They are . . . easily manipulated. And there is no better place to hear things than a taproom where men’s tongues are loosened by brew.”

  He had that part right.

  “I must say, though,” Jakel said, “I thought he would show up sooner once he knew you were in trouble. Perhaps he is even more craven than I thought.”

  “What makes you think he even knows what you’ve done, you blowpig?”

  To Brander’s surprise, the man seemed to ignore the insult. “You may be right. Perhaps no one cares enough to tell him. Perhaps I should make it more . . . urgent. Would the sound of your screams do the trick, do you think?”

  In the instant he began to move, he again felt Drake holding him back.

  “Stay,” he whispered. “You must be her escape. No matter what happens, you must get her away.”

  It hit him in that moment why Drake had insisted he be the one to accompany him. It wasn’t just that Brander would die to save Eirlys.

  It was that if there were absolutely no other choice, he would let Drake die to save her.

  While Kye would die herself before she’d let either of those things happen.

  Drake stepped past him and into the taproom.

  Chapter 40

  “IF WE HAD A private party scheduled, I’ve forgotten,” Drake said, his eyes scanning for others besides the two near the door. To keep people out? Or in?

  “Oh, we’re going to have a private party, Davorin,” Jakel said, and his dark tone was made even more ominous by the note of delighted anticipation that underlay it. “And you’ll be the guest of honor.”

  So it was him the beast wanted. Did he know? He could not, he was not that bright. But he might suspect . . . something.