Invasion (The Warrior Chronicles, 4)

by K. F. Breene

  Feet scratching at the trunk, looking for purchase, he managed to get his other hand on the step. A moment later he was secure, clinging to the tree with his eyes closed, breathing a sigh of relief.

  Why can’t I just doctor? That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do is just doctor. I shouldn’t be killing people. I should be saving them.

  He rose up just a little, knowing the job wasn’t done. His gaze barely reached over the ledge where the limp body in a black uniform greeted him. The Inkna was definitely dead.

  Rising up just a bit more, he snatched his knife off the ledge. He moved it to his teeth before he stopped himself. Deep crimson shone in the light. And it wasn’t his own blood.

  He threw the knife to the ground. He’d clean it and tuck it back in his holster with the others.

  Then he’d try and find the next Inkna before the Captain succumbed to the mental bombardment.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Shanti put up her hands, pushing at the net. The heavy material resisted, confining her. She bent to the ground. Finding the end, she gripped it with both hands and flung it over her. She crawled out, looking up.

  Rohnan drove his blade into a Graygual. The man fell, his body next to one of four ropes connected to the net. Another Graygual lay dead near her, an arrow through his middle.

  “You are not pulling your weight, Chulan,” Rohnan said, moving to another Graygual running at them. He bore four slashes and was the last on the street.

  “I am overseeing. I hate getting my hands dirty.” Shanti picked up her sword as Rohnan jogged into position. The Graygual slowed on balanced feet, his knees bent, his eyes wary. He thrust in a smooth, practiced movement. Rohnan, using his Gift, was already in position to block. He knocked the blade to the side and stabbed, finding a shoulder as the Graygual twisted at the last moment.

  The Graygual lunged, his movements precise. Rohnan was already stepping to the side, out of the way. He kicked out, connecting with the Graygual’s hand and knocking the sword free. Then Rohnan leaned forward, digging his blade into the other’s ribs.

  “Quit wasting time, Rohnan. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

  Rohnan danced to the side as the Graygual grunted, feeling the pain from that strike but not succumbing to it. He put out his hands, ready to grapple, knowing that if he went for his blade, Rohnan would stab him easily.

  “You could end it quickly with your Gift,” Rohnan said, rushing forward and cleaving a forearm. The Graygual jerked it toward his body, a defensive reaction that left his side open. Rohnan took advantage, and ended the fight.

  “I need to save my strength. It’s a lot against one. They are bullying me.”

  “Challenging, Chulan. There’s a difference.”

  “You’d better hope I hold out. Once they kill me, they’ll turn their Gift on you.” Shanti started jogging, stepping over the fallen bodies. Two more had arrows stuck in them, the shots well placed. It spoke of technique and practice. Alena wasn’t lying when she said she knew her way around a bow.

  “I wonder if Cayan knows these women are practicing with weapons when no one is looking.” Shanti turned the corner, her Gift sensing no one in the area. Up ahead, though, bodies dotted the way, blocking her path. If she took a right or left now, she could travel along empty streets, but once she turned toward the mansion again, Graygual would be in the way.

  “I wonder the same thing,” Rohnan said, slowing with her. There was no point in just running around the city, not when all the paths would end in the same fight. “He must. Yet he’s never mentioned it?”

  “No. No one has.” Shanti cleaned her sword in an effort to stall. She felt Ruisa and Alena moving slowly in the direction she was heading, already way in front of her. They were probably getting into position. Other women dotted the way as well, mostly staying still. They were hiding with their explosives.

  “What are we waiting for, Chulan? Are the others not in position?”

  Shanti took a deep breath and looked around, enjoying the beauty of the city. Usually it was spotless—these people took great pride in clean streets. They lived at a slower pace than other cities of this size, ambling along the street instead of hurrying. Friendlier, too. With the lush surroundings and the breeze blowing in the sweet smell of nature, this place couldn’t be beat. It was a little paradise tucked away in the north of the land. Perfection.

  “I could’ve been really happy here, Rohnan.”

  “Something you never mentioned to the Captain, I’d wager.”

  “That man loves to chase. Who am I to make things easy for him?” Shanti inhaled, taking it all in.

  “It is a lovely place, I agree.”

  Alena and Ruisa stopped near the first line of Graygual. Shanti wondered how many Inkna were in that group; how strong they were.

  “I don’t think I like the net technique.” Gracas and Leilius were moving slowly. Hardly at all. Not fighting, either. Shanti could feel their impatience and trepidation. They probably had too many blocking their way. The poison could not have taken down as many as it should have.

  “This is a fool’s errand,” Shanti said in sudden exasperation. “Fuck it. Let’s just start killing people and see what happens.”

  Shanti felt a piercing of intense pain from Cayan. It overtook her thoughts for a moment, begging her to climb the wall and toward him. He was probably overcome with Inkna, just as she was about to be.

  Definitely a fool’s errand, all of this. But what choice did they have?

  * * *

  Leilius stabbed a Graygual in the back. Right in the middle of the shoulder blades. Some people called that cowardly. Leilius didn’t care.

  He slapped his hand over the man’s mouth, muffling the “arrgh.” His stomach churned and exploded, Leilius unable to help a dry heave. Killing hadn’t gotten any easier.

  At least he’d stopped eating before battles. That helped.

  He dragged the man a few steps and then dropped him, stashing him behind a tent. A scuffle sounded to the right. A leg covered in black pants kicked out. It disappeared for a moment, kicking out a second time, this time with the other one. The legs convulsed on the ground, kicking up dust, before going still.

  Leilius looked out, through the gap in the line of tents. Prisoners sat on the ground in a cluster, herded together like cattle, looking all around them. Dirty, wild-haired, and unshaven, these guys had had a rough time of it for however long they’d been here. The ropes securing their arms had chafed, many with skin that had been rubbed raw. They were squished together, with very little room between them.

  Graygual surrounded them, more than Gracas had said there’d be. Many more. It seemed like the Hunter was trying to fortify these ranks. It was smart. Without more men, there was really no point in fighting today. Especially not with all the Inkna running around, blasting people with their mental magic.

  “What do you—”

  Leilius jumped and turned, sticking out his knife before he realized it was Gracas. He swung the knife wide as Gracas reacted, slapping his hand away.

  “You need to pay more attention,” Gracas whispered with a scowl. “If I was as slow as you, I’d probably be dying right now!”

  “Sorry. I’m jumpy.”

  They looked out through the gap again.

  “What do you think?” Gracas asked.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I think Maggie only has a few of those chemical things, but everyone is all huddled together. The Hunter knew we’d come here.”

  “Of course he knew. I’ve seen a bunch of dead Graygual in the tents, but there’s plenty out there, too.”

  Leilius gripped his knife so hard his hand hurt. “They just seem like a bunch because we have no one to fight them.”

  “Should we just charge, or should we head back to S’am and help her?”

  “I’m not the leader!” The pressure of command weighed down Leilius’ shoulders and clouded his judgment. He was used to ghosting around, listening and reporting. St
rategy and battle eluded him. He’d never been good at it. S’am knew that.

  “Boys, what are you doing?” Maggie asked from behind them. She held one of her contraptions. Blood spattered her shirt front. A few drops were on her cheek.

  For a novice, she sure learned in a hurry.

  “There are a lot of them,” Leilius admitted, feeling sheepish. He was in the army and she was a woman. He should have a plan.

  “We might just go back to S’am,” Gracas said, probably thinking the same thing.

  Maggie’s brow furrowed. She looked beyond them, through the gap. “We need those men. They’ll be stiff and weak, but Shanti didn’t seem to have much hope. I don’t think this will end well without them.”

  “Yeah, but they’re surrounded by Graygual…” Gracas said. “And Leilius can’t fight for shit. And you don’t know what you’re doing. So what does that leave us?”

  “Same as what you started—idiots.” Maggie was still staring out beyond them. “Well, we have to try. The ones at the far end are a little removed. Not much, but enough that I can set off one of these explosives. The explosion should toss them toward the prisoners without actually hurting the prisoners. Maybe a few will be a little…uncomfortable, but we don’t have much choice. Those men will make short work of any Graygual, I think. Stomp on them or something. It’ll be a distraction, at least. We’ll dash in and cut as many hands free as we can. Then, hopefully, we can work on the other Graygual together.”

  Leilius was nodding before she stopped talking. Gracas just stared.

  Her look grazed each of them, her brow furrowing a bit harder. “This is the best Shanti had to work with, huh? You might as well have drool running out of your mouth, kid. Cripes. C’mon, we’re wasting time.”

  Leilius followed her around the perimeter of the tents, moving toward the area she wanted to hit with the explosives. They passed a dead Graygual lying facedown. Then another. A few more. All of them looked like they’d been trying to go somewhere, and then died. Just…keeled over and died. There were no wounds that Leilius could see, and no blood.

  “Nasty poison, that,” Maggie whispered, pointing at one of the bodies as she jogged by it. “Someone must’ve slipped it into water or food or something. It’s a really fast-acting poison that’s clear and odorless. It could kill within an hour. The body doesn’t even have time to properly evacuate its stomach or bowels before it starts shutting down.”

  “An hour?” Leilius asked as Gracas said, “You made that?”

  “We’re not allowed to use it,” Maggie said, slowing. Her words were barely a whisper now, hard to hear. “It was a mixture passed down the Captain’s line, actually. Sonya, the Captain’s mother, put it into Eloise’s care until the Captain marries again. It is supposed to stay with that line until times of war. Thank God she had the foresight to pass it on. It’s helped.”

  “But…who used it here?” Leilius asked.

  “One of the women, I imagine. We distributed it to everyone we could for just such a situation.” She took a few more steps and then crouched down, putting her finger to her lips to signal silence.

  Leilius held up his knife and crouched beside her, watching as she mixed some powered substance with another in a clear container. She shook it, and then paused. Her forehead beaded with sweat.

  Leilius’ stomach clenched, a sign danger was near. What she was about to do made her nervous, and a woman who looked like she did, with scars all over her face, knew when something could work out badly.

  “Which one of you can throw the farthest with the most accuracy?” Maggie asked, very clear about that last part. Her eyes had the sort of intensity Sanders might, and while she might not be able to fight really well, she seemed to be able to kill just fine. Leilius was not very comfortable in her proximity.

  He pointed at Gracas. Gracas’ finger was aimed at Leilius.

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “Is there a purpose in your existence?” She took a deep breath and held the liquid over the powdered mixture with a steady hand. “If I say run, go to your left, is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.

  She poured the liquid slowly, the slightly yellowed mixture running down the small powder hill in rivulets. When done, she put a lid on the container and twisted. Rising, she cocked her hand, sighted with bent knees, and then threw.

  Leilius watched the flimsy material turn end over end. It barely cleared the top of the last tent. Maggie exhaled. “Okay. Get ready to—”

  The explosion drowned her out. The tents in the front line flapped violently. The air compressed around them, knocking them to their butts.

  Maggie was up first, a large knife in hand. “Hurry!”

  Leilius scrambled to his feet, scooping his own knife up amid a handful of dirt. He jumped over an upturned bench and burst through the tents into the open space crowded with bodies. Three Graygual were among the prisoners, fighting for their lives as the prisoners, army men all, did exactly what Maggie had said they’d do. The other Graygual didn’t bother wading in after them. They stood their ground around the outside, most facing the explosion, some still looking away, expecting an attack.

  Leilius dodged the divot in the ground from the blast and made it to the first few prisoners as the nearest Graygual ran at him. Wasting no time, he slit the ropes of three pairs of wrists and two pairs of legs. As he was reaching for the third, one of the newly freed men jumped over him, tackling the Graygual aiming a sword at Leilius’ back.

  “Do you have weapons?” one of the army men asked. He looked vaguely familiar but his name wasn’t coming to mind.

  “No. Take them off the dead men.” Leilius kept cutting, freeing as many and as fast as he could.

  The men waiting did so without moving, holding out legs or twisting around to make it more efficient for Leilius. His arms started to grow tight, and then started to burn, as he repeated the same action over and over without rest. He kept on, though—these men were vital to S’am’s survival. To all of their survival.

  “Staff Sergeant Jenkins, take a few men and go get weapons,” someone shouted.

  “Yes, sir,” Jenkins called.

  Leilius glanced up at the men they still had to free. Maggie and Gracas were both working their way through the crowd, over a hundred strong. It would take them forever to get through everyone, especially as the bodies became more condensed.

  A blast sounded in the distance.

  “Hurry!” Maggie shouted.

  “Where is the fighting?” one of the freed men asked. It was the same one who had ordered Jenkins around.

  “In Green Fields Square. Shanti is going to try and get through there,” Maggie said, out of breath.

  “Alous, get some knives and start cutting people free,” the man ordered.

  Out of the corner of Leilius’ eye, he saw a little body dart between the tents. He glanced up, about to sound the alarm, when a kid ran toward the crowd. He had a bunch of knives and dirt all over his face. Another orphan ran out between the tents, three knives held at the ready.

  “She got kids to help out?” someone asked incredulously.

  That little kid, Arsen, ran out next, holding two more knives. He passed them to the officer.

  “Where did you get these, son?” the officer asked, passing the knives to one of the other men.

  “From the bad men. Sir.” Arsen pointed out through the tents.

  More kids came out from the sea of canvas, these the larger of the orphans, holding swords and other weapons. All recovered from the Graygual dead.

  They hadn’t stayed put like Shanti had told them. And they were probably the only kids in the whole city who would rush into danger like this. It was madness.

  “Hurry up!” Maggie yelled as another explosion went off. “Shanti needs our help!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Shanti braced herself against the fire scouring her body, grimacing. She had her shields up, figuring out how to get around this pounding so she could ment
ally fight back.

  A mass of Graygual waited in front of her, weapons out, looking supremely confident. She was still half the city away from Cayan’s house. The Hunter had given himself plenty of space to work in, and he’d crowded all of his men into this city. He had planned for the worst, a scenario she wasn’t even close to delivering.

  A sword came at her, clumsy but fast. She batted it away with her own sword, stepped in, and stabbed her attacker in the throat. She kicked out, crushing a nose with the sole of her boot before swinging her hips, kicking forward to break a jaw. One tendril of fire stabbed through her body, sending her stumbling into a Graygual. His knife came down, aiming for her shoulder. She stabbed him through the gut and then head-butted him, cracking his nose. She danced away from the knife strike in time to slice a chest with her sword.

  “There…are…so…many!” she yelled at Rohnan as she cut through a cheek, slashed down a stomach, and came back to pierce the first man. He fell backward, into the men behind him, giving Shanti a little room.

  She twirled and kicked. Her foot hit someone in the solar plexus. Rohnan stabbed him through, yanking his sword free a moment later and sending him to the ground.

  “I wish I had my staff,” he said, taking on two others.

  “I wish…you did…too.” Shanti ripped her shields off and sent a wave of power at the Inkna cowering in the back. Her mind raked the minds of the Graygual in front of her, slowing them down, before reaching the Inkna. Their attack stopped for a moment, as they shielded themselves as a unit from her huge rush of power.

  Unfortunately, when they worked together, they were superior, and they had much more energy between them.

  A blast came back, punching her mind so hard she staggered back. A Graygual batted her sword away as though she were a child. His face a twisted mask of hate and rage, he lunged in for the kill shot.

  An arrow parted the air, landing in his chest.

  Shock smacked into his expression. His attack lost strength, giving her enough time to slam up her shields, to ignore the pain, and fall on her ass. His blade ruffled her hair as she fell.