Invasion (The Warrior Chronicles, 4)

by K. F. Breene

  “And by now, I’m sure everyone is laying low.” Daniels rubbed the growth on his chin. “They’ll be complacent. Troublemakers would’ve been subdued or killed by now…”

  “Do you dig up graves with that dispassion, too, Daniels?” Sanders growled. “That is your city you’re talking about.”

  Cayan swung a foot over his mount and gracefully jumped to the ground. He came around the horse with burning eyes directed at Shanti. “I don’t like this.”

  “This is the only way, Cayan,” she said. “You must see that.”

  “I do. Doesn’t mean I like it.” His big hand gripped her upper arm. He pulled her to the other side of his horse, mostly out of view of everyone else. Once there, his gaze roamed her face before settling on her eyes. “This is the only way, mesasha,” he said quietly. “But you will come back to me, do you hear me? You will not go in there and give yourself to the Hunter to protect my people. That is not the best way. Sacrificing yourself will just mean all of our deaths in the long run.”

  “I know, Cayan,” she whispered, falling into that blue oasis. “That is the last resort.”

  His jaw clenched. He shook her a little. Pain bled through his gaze. “No. You get eyes in there, and you come back. I will accept no other plan.” He shook her harder, his emotion threatening to break free. “I will not lose you, Shanti, do you understand me?”

  As he stared down at her, Shanti felt his fire and rage and war. Muscles flexed down his body, raw strength tempered with a terrible grace. His Gift swirled around them, crouched and ready, currently emulating a Warring Gift ready to unleash destructive force with only one result. Death.

  The Hunter had no idea of what he’d called up by taking Cayan’s city. Maybe none of them did.

  “I love you, mesasha. And I will marry you. This is the city where we will join our peoples and raise our children. So you will come back to me safe, and we will destroy the Hunter while keeping our home intact. Together.”

  Yet another terrible time to tell him the truth about her duty. He wasn’t making honesty easy.

  “Okay,” she said. Then, feeling like that was maybe an anticlimax when on the precipice of perhaps saying goodbye forever, she threw it all on the table. “I love you. Don’t make me regret it.”

  A ghost of a smile brushed his lips as his thumb ran over her chin. “I told you I’d get my way in the end.”

  “You are ruining this moment.”

  His lips quirked, threatening to unleash his dimples. He gave her a hard, bruising kiss. A kiss of war, and triumph. A kiss of returning.

  She really hoped the kiss wasn’t out of place.

  As the light retreated from the ground, allowing darkness to consume the day, Shanti waited in the shelter of a cluster of trees. Leilius, Ruisa, and Gracas squatted just behind her. Leilius was as still as death, waiting. Ruisa was fidgeting madly as worry poured from her. Gracas had a crooked grin. They’d all be going behind enemy lines to see what could be done from inside the city.

  The trees rustled. Rohnan crawled through. His hair had been pulled back and dirt smeared on his head and face.

  “You look terrible,” Shanti said, turning back to the silent night.

  “I wanted to look more your level.” Rohnan stopped just beside her, peering out through the branches as she was. “Are we bird watching?”

  Shanti rolled her eyes and sat back on her haunches. “Just because we can’t see anything at present, doesn’t mean there is nothing to see.”

  “Whatever eases your mind.” Rohnan sat back, too. “The Captain is almost ready.”

  Shanti looked at the others. Only Gracas was excited, but that was because he was too young and full of energy to realize he should be scared. “My asking you to go is just that, asking. If you don’t think you are ready for this, you should stay behind. You’ll be safer left here.”

  “And ridiculed? No way!” Gracas said in exuberance.

  “I chose to go on this journey with you because I wanted to defend my home,” Ruisa said in a somber tone. “And now my home is under attack. So I will defend it.”

  Gracas’ face screwed up. “That makes no sense. Do you want to stay or go?”

  “Stay, idiot.” Ruisa elbowed him. Gracas’ mouth snapped shut. He rubbed the offending spot.

  “Leilius?” Shanti asked, ignoring the other two.

  His eyes darted to her. “I’m terrified, S’am. But I’m the best trained for this. You know, besides you and Romon.”

  “Romon?” Rohnan asked in confusion.

  “You can tell how wound up he is by how badly he chews up titles and names.” Shanti put her hand on Leilius’ shoulder, hating to put him in this position.

  “I don’t need that slip-up to tell,” Rohnan said softly, his eyes on the younger man. “But he looks calm and sure. You found a great thing in him that is now starting to bud.”

  “I’m sitting right here, you know.” Leilius frowned, his eyes darting away.

  “I can give you three the gift of courage,” Shanti said, sensing Cayan’s readiness. It was about time. “But this is not a battle, and if you have no fear, you might do something stupid. Something stupid might not just get you killed, it might get all of us found out, and your whole city killed. So I leave the choice up to you.”

  “The gift of courage?” Ruisa asked, her hands shaking as she fidgeted.

  “Give it to her,” Rohnan said, gesturing at Ruisa. “She’s not like the boys. Fear will make her hesitate.”

  “I don’t need it, S’am,” Gracas’ said, his eyes widening for no reason Shanti could fathom. “I know what I’m up against. I can do it.”

  “I’m okay. Fear is good sometimes.” Leilius slowly wiped a bug off his face. Rohnan was right—if Shanti couldn’t read his extreme apprehension, she’d think Leilius had done this a million times.

  Focusing on Ruisa, Shanti envisioned stripping her of all her fear, then she injected a shot of courage into the girl. Almost immediately, Ruisa’s body straightened up and the lines of worry were erased from her face.

  She looked down at her steady hands with wide eyes. “Wow.”

  “It’s cool, huh?” Gracas grinned again. “You can run right at ten guys with swords when you feel like that.”

  “Hopefully not.” Shanti turned back, looking out at nothing. She could feel Cayan gearing up for something, readying his men. He didn’t need the Gift to inspire courage, he just needed a few moments of speech.

  “Ready?” Shanti asked.

  Horses sounded away to the left, hooves beating the ground as they charged. A roll of thunder rumbled along the ground, Cayan unleashing his substantial Gift. Screams filled the air a moment later.

  “Let’s go!” Shanti took off at a jog. She led the others around the perimeter of the closest Inkna’s range, waiting for the signal from Cayan. In another dozen footsteps, a blast of urgency pushed through her head. Here we go.

  She turned toward the city, speeding up. They wouldn’t have long. As soon as the Inkna had any relief from Cayan’s barrage, they’d scan the sides. Shanti had to be through their net and to the city by then.

  “Hurry,” she urged, putting on a burst of speed. The others kept up easily, younger and harder to tire. Thank the Elders for giving her young people to train.

  They passed within sight of one of the Inkna’s perches. The man was leaning over his wooden crow’s nest, looking away from them. No doubt trying to catch a glimpse of Cayan.

  She shut down her shields, just in case, and ran as quietly as she was able. They cut through some branches, using the trees as cover, passing another perch. Then another. Rumbles of Gift still blanketed the area. Based on the rigidity of the Inkna she passed, they were working together to fight it. Cayan wouldn’t have long. He was mighty, but he was up against too many who were pretty damn good.

  “Almost there,” she said, panting, her words lost to the sound of their breathing and footsteps. The city’s side gates loomed ahead of them. Closed, as expected.
There was a lone guard at the top, facing toward Cayan’s assault. It was a Graygual, thank the Elders.

  Pain from Cayan trickled down her sternum. The Inkna were getting through his defenses.

  “Cut it off, Cayan!” she mumbled, passing the gate behind thick growth. She stopped at a stretch of forbidding stone wall, taller than two men standing one on top of each other. Focusing on feeling relieved so Cayan would know she had made it, she pushed the others into cover.

  “How are we supposed to get over that?” Gracas said, his head tilted up to see the top of the wall.

  “Walk right through.” Leilius rolled his eyes. He panted for a moment to catch his breath before saying, “In all seriousness, though, S’tam. S’am, I mean. I’m not very good at climbing these walls. I mean, I’ve done it a few times because you made me, and then a few times to practice when you were gone, but I skidded down the other side really often. It hurt. I sprained my ankle once.”

  “There are compost piles on the other side,” Ruisa whispered, looking at the wall. “It’ll be a soft landing. Mostly.”

  “How do you know?” Gracas demanded.

  “I’ve snuck out a time or two.”

  “Quiet now,” Shanti said, inching her Gift over the wall. If she met an Inkna, all this would be for nothing.

  She felt a female mind, determined, scurrying past, but nothing else. Pushing a little further, slowly, she felt nothing but emptiness, just as she expected. “Okay, into enemy territory we go.”

  Chapter Nine

  Qadir sat beside the open window in the comfortably furnished and spacious room. A chill breeze blew in, smelling of greenery and nature. He hadn’t spent much time in this part of the world, being too northern and warm for his taste, but he could see its benefits.

  “Sir. They’ve been pushed back.”

  His second in command stood with a straight back and blank expression. His eyes were tight; little lines gave away his inner turmoil. Something had not gone as planned.

  “Are they stationary?” Qadir asked.

  “Yes. They wait just outside of our reach.”

  “Have you sent someone to engage?”

  “Not yet, sir. They took out three of our Inkna.”

  Numbers flitted through Qadir’s head. Plans shifted. A kernel of frustration lodged, already chafing. He didn’t have an endless supply of resources anymore. When he’d lost the old man, he’d lost the Being Supreme’s favor. What he had under him now were the remnants of his command before the hiccup. If he kept losing these high-powered Inkna, the violet-eyed girl and this Captain these people loved so much would easily shove him aside. He needed to be more careful.

  “Send someone out. Deliver the terms.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Qadir took a deep breath of the fresh-smelling air. So cleansing.

  One thing he knew about these people—they hated to see innocent people killed. Especially their own.

  Chapter Ten

  Sonson felt the urgency as the ship was being unloaded. The black cats raced by him and up the bank, excited to stretch their legs and play. After them lumbered the larger beasts, having already traveled further than anyone in their party. Townspeople and traders alike eyed the animals nervously before skittering away, clearing the area with grunts and wide eyes. They gave Sonson and his people fleeting glances before doing double takes and stuttering in their steps.

  The warriors of the Shadow people were coming to the mainland. They weren’t trading, or buying supplies—they were going to war. Change had come, and fear would spread out before them and through the land, heralding the myth born into blood.

  When people realized that the Shadow didn’t cook people in giant pots and then eat them with their fingers, or plague the night with death and destruction, the anxiety would dissipate. For the innocent, anyway. The Graygual would see the nightmare come to life.

  “Should I get us rooms?” Punston asked as he stopped beside Sonson at the end of the dock.

  “No. We need to keep moving. We’ll go into town for supplies, but then we’ll get going. We have half a day of light left, plus a strong moon for tonight. We can make good ground.”

  Punston sighed softly. It was no secret that he liked to visit a certain woman that lived in the area.

  Sonson glanced behind him, seeing packs for the horses being unloaded. It had been a calm voyage, as far as the seas were concerned, but they’d had a large amount of livestock. The trip had been draining.

  “Do we need any supplies?” Sonson asked, feeling for the man.

  “No, we’ve…” Punston hesitated for a moment. “There are a few bits we could pick up while the rest is being unloaded. And it’s always good to get the news from the town…”

  Sonson nodded once. “Get Salange and Denessa. We can make a quick trip.”

  A few moments later they were walking up the hill to the bustling port town. Sonson had been in and out of this place his whole life. Most of the Shadow had. But the change this time was obvious.

  “What do you feel, Salange?” Sonson couldn’t help his voice dropping.

  Townspeople looked their way with tight eyes and wary glances. Traders in their stalls had rigid backs and most of their wares still out for sale. They’d had a slow day. That suggested fewer travelers.

  “Unease,” Salange said in a hush as they walked past the merchants. “Some are afraid.”

  “Of us?” Sonson asked.

  “No. For us, I think.”

  They continued onto the main thoroughfare through the town, the strip where most of the inns stood. Denessa stiffened before loosening again, her hand drifting down to her sword hilt.

  Graygual loitered in front of shops and outside the drinking houses, watching people pass with hard eyes. Many had three and four stripes. One had five.

  “Duck into this inn,” Sonson said, veering slightly to his right.

  Three Graygual spotted them. Their bodies snapped erect. Their balance shifted into a ready stance. They were preparing to fight.

  “We should go back,” Punston said as Salange opened the inn door. “We need to stick together.”

  “Salange?” Sonson said in a hush.

  “I can’t feel them from here, but those passing are gearing up. Tension is starting to boil. The Graygual are not loved in this town.”

  “Are they anywhere?” Sonson went inside and sought out the innkeeper immediately. He was at his desk, looking over a ledger.

  “Boris.” Sonson leaned against the wall as his eyes traveled the main room beyond. Mostly bare; the few patrons he could see sat quietly over their pint or food. Barely a whisper drifted out through the door. “What’s happening in this town?”

  Boris glanced up and then eyed the door. “The Graygual are moving in in numbers.”

  “I didn’t see any sign of a scuffle at the docks. Did you witness the Chosen making it through?”

  Boris licked his lips. “Without a problem. It’s been the damndest thing to watch. After the battle, the Graygual came back here in droves. They made a right mess of things, trying to take control, telling us how to run businesses—but they didn’t hassle any folks. There was no death, no fighting…we counted ourselves lucky. Then most of them left. Evaporated. It was a strange hollowness, I’ll tell you. Relieving, but strange after all the pandemonium. We didn’t know what to think.”

  “How long before the Chosen?”

  Boris raised his eyes to the ceiling, thinking. “The city was completely empty of Graygual…probably a month before. Three weeks. Not a single one was here.”

  “And now? Why are they back?”

  Boris’ stare held a warning. “They were never really gone. A host stayed behind the others. They left the city, but they didn’t leave the area. They stayed deep in the trees. Out of sight. Oh, one or more would come in dressed as common folk for supplies or whatnot, but out they went again. You can tell one of their officers by the way they carry themselves. It was them, all right.”

  Sa
lange shifted, her expression troubled. “They could easily have waited at the docks and taken the Chosen’s party when they were disembarking. Hiding doesn’t make sense.”

  “They moved back in the day the Chosen left. That very day.” Boris licked his lips again. Nervous.

  “They are trying to cut us off from this land.” Sonson felt the urgency returning. “We need to get going before they organize. They’ll try to block us from the Chosen. Sorry, Punston. You’ll have to see her another time.”

  “One thing, sir.” Boris reached out to Sonson. His expression was grave. “I didn’t get to see the violet-eyed girl, but I have a message.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “The Wanderer’s network is ready. We’re set up and waiting. All we need is a sign.”

  Sonson stood in confusion for a moment. “What sign?”

  Boris straightened back up. “That’s for her to decide. But we’re ready. We’re watching. We just need the sign. We will know it when we see it.”

  “Time to go,” Denessa said, drawing her sword.

  “Are there Inkna?” Sonson asked Boris in a hasty release of breath.

  “Yes, but not many. You’ll have no problem there. For now. You’d best get more Shadow in this city, though. Someone will be claiming it—it had best be you.”

  The door to the inn burst open. In poured three Graygual, all armed. Salange melted to the outsides of the group, knife in hand. She wasn’t the best fighter but she’d run cleanup if she had to.

  “Get a message to Portolmous!” Sonson yelled to Boris. “He’s run out of time.”

  The first Graygual advanced without regard to the interior of the inn. He kicked a plant at Denessa before he swung his sword. She blocked and struck, her mental power slashing through his mind. He gritted his teeth and wobbled, but his sword came up again, fighting through the mental pain. Those behind him pushed closer, throwing the first Graygual’s body toward Denessa. Her sword found purchase in his gut.