by Auryn Hadley
"Real bad. Sounds like it's a caravan filled with metal," LT said.
"What's the orders, sir?" Llyr asked.
General Albin sighed, sounding weary. "We'll send scouts up to get some intel. I figure you'll need two units of heavy, maybe three. The Black Blades are at your command, as well. Secure the metal, bring it back. Should be pretty cut and dry, just make sure you get the damned ore."
Llyr looked over to LT. "The Black Blades are under my command?"
Blaec smiled up at him cruelly. "As much as we ever are, Captain."
The men stared at each other, tensions rising.
"General," Llyr said finally, turning his head. "Pretty sure the Heavy Cav can handle this without the elites."
"Sorry, Captain," Albin told him. "The Blades got the intelligence. They get to assist on this one."
"Understood, sir."
"Now get your initial preparations underway. When we get more, I'll pass it to you. Make sure you keep the Blades updated. Dismissed."
The Lieutenant and Llyr both saluted and turned for the door. Blaec waited, allowing Llyr to exit first, then walked through. Once outside, Llyr turned to him.
"You know this means I'm the one giving commands this time?"
Blaec chuckled wryly. "Yeah, I got that. Maybe that means you won't fuck it up."
"Kiss my ass, Doll. You still blaming me for that shit in Unav?"
"Your unit didn't hold the line. I lost a good man because of it, so yeah, I still blame you. Learn how to win this time and I'll listen."
"You're this pissed about losing a damned scrubber?" Llyr sneered. "Fuck. That damned beast didn't know when to retreat. You can't blame me because your unit's more animal than man!"
"He saved your ass, so don't give me that shit. And we still have a better combat rating than you." Blaec turned to leave, aware that his control was slipping.
"Heard ya got a new one," Llyr called after him. "Little bitch this time. I know how much you like your iliri. Does that mean you're fucking her?"
Blaec paused. "Jealous?"
"Shit." Llyr laughed. "Wouldn't surprise me if you were. I know Valcor Zepyr has a fondness for 'em. He's not even ashamed of it. Maybe it's starting to rub off?"
"If you're so interested, maybe you should give her a try," Blaec said. "I should warn you, though, Cyno said she bites."
"Maybe I will," Llyr taunted. "And then we'll see how you feel with her sneaking into my tent each night."
Blaec grinned at Llyr and raised an eyebrow. "You hear what her specialty is?"
"Fucking?"
"Nah, she's my best assassin."
Llyr looked at Blaec for a long moment. "What happened to Cyno? He's the best in the CFC."
"Not anymore. She also doesn't really like humans. Try it, Llyr. I'd love to see what happens when you try to tame that beast."
"You're starting to act like them, Doll. You need to keep the leash a bit shorter on your pets or the CFC might take them away."
Blaec shrugged. "Not if we keep winning. Just try to keep up, ok? If your damned cavalry is so impressive, try to keep up with the Black Blades. Think you can manage that for once?"
Chapter 33
Sal stepped into Blaec's tent, clean. She tossed her towel on the ground and grabbed his shirt from the back of his chair, slipping her arms into the sleeves. Moving across the room, she rummaged in her pack for a pair of pants. At least Blaec was back. Since she'd returned, he'd been called to at least three meetings.
He watched her dress. "You going to be ready for a room full of Blades any time soon?"
"Am I not ready now?"
"I just wanted to check," he said before opening up his mind and sending a thought to his men. Meeting in my pavilion. We got orders.
She saw Blaec's face go distant while he listened to the replies. Quickly enough, he raised his eyes back to hers, "You got about five minutes, and you're in my shirt."
"Find another, I'm keeping this one."
He laughed and went to do just that, calling to her through the canvas walls of the other room. "You realize that means you're out of uniform, right soldier?"
"It's ok," she called back. "My commander loves me."
She heard his shuffling pause and he walked back into the room, his face serious, a clean shirt in his hand. "You know that's true, right, Sal?" He looked into her eyes. "I do love you."
Unexpectedly, she felt her throat close, tight with emotion, and nodded. "I know," she whispered, reaching for him. "I do know. And I don't know why."
"I don't need a reason, little one," he said before kissing her. "I know it hasn't been long, and things have been crazy, but I can't help it."
"And I do love you, Blaec. I do. It's why I keep coming back." She watched the corners of his lips slide up into a soft smile.
"I'm glad you can say it, Sal." He kissed her deeply, lifting her off her feet.
Behind them, a man cleared his throat. They broke their embrace, looking over sheepishly. Risk stood inside the door, a smirk on his face.
"I'd say get a room, but we're about to converge on it."
One by one, the Blades slipped into the tent, all present except Shift. When they settled themselves and got comfortable, LT addressed them as a group.
"Ok, Blades, our orders came in. Shift's being embedded with a group of specialists, assisting them with infiltration. They found a supply train headed out of the capital of Escea. It's surrounded by guards in black and purple, so the General assumes it's the bribe from the Emperor. We're hoping this is the metal we've been warned about by Sal and Cyno. If it is, we will not be securing it."
Around the room the men grumbled, but knew the reason would become clear.
"Our job is to support the heavy cav. We'll be playing skirmishers this time. Once the enemy is cleared, the cavalry will secure the train and redirect it here. This is a simple smash and grab, boys – and Sal. Nothing fancy, nothing special, the General just needs some men that can handle skirmishing on uneven terrain."
"And Sal," Razor mumbled, causing the Blades to chuckle at LT.
"Yes, I'm well aware she's not one of the boys."
"It was her little feet that tipped me off. How'd you figure it out, LT?" Arctic asked, grinning.
The Lieutenant threw his shirt at the First Officer. "I'll teach you about the difference between boys and girls when you grow up."
Sal found herself laughing with the rest, even as the butt of the jokes. The meeting descended into chaos and laughter but she gave as good as she got. A few more questions were asked about their role, and answered, before LT released them, giving them thirty-six hours of free time before they were expected in the saddle. One by one the Blades slipped out of the tent, Arctic waiting until the others were gone.
"We report to Llyr?" he asked, standing by the door.
"Yeah," Blaec said softly. "In theory."
"So long as it's theory only," Arctic told him. "I trust you, LT. I got your back, no matter how this plays out."
"Thanks, man," he said as Arctic left.
Blaec sighed deeply and threw himself into the chair behind his desk. He rubbed at his head then began to shuffle through the papers before him, pulling a map to the front. Chewing on the end of his pen, he stared at it for a long moment, his finger tracing a line across its surface. Suddenly he threw the pen to the desk and buried his head in his hands.
"Blaec?" Sal asked.
"Circ died because of that man, Sal. He couldn't follow orders, and Circ died. Now I'm supposed to follow his orders?"
"In theory," Sal reminded him.
"He threw it in my face, today, that all of you are iliri."
"And you."
Blaec seemed to ignore that. "He doesn't understand why I'm upset that an iliri died. He said I'm acting like an iliri, and he asked if I was fucking you."
Sal sank into a chair across the room, and curled her feet under her. "You are."
"This is going to cause problems."
"Ignore it, B
laec. What can he do?"
He huffed and glared at her. "You don't understand, do you? If rumors get out about us, I'll be court martialed. A human will be put in charge of the Blades."
"And I'm sleeping with Cyno. I'm your trusted assassin. Where's the proof of anything unprofessional, sir?"
Blaec nodded. She knew she was right.
"You don't smell human, though," Sal added. "I know you need to play the human to them, but I wish you'd start thinking of yourself as one of us."
"Sal." Blaec sighed, pausing for the right words. "You know as well as I do what iliri are treated like. You know that only if they think of us as humans can we achieve what we hope."
"And if we aren't trying to prove we're as good as them, what exactly is it we're hoping for?"
He caught her eyes, his gaze challenging. "We're trying to win the damned war. What do you think we're doing?"
"I thought we were trying to prove we're as good, if not better than them." She tilted her head to the side, refusing to break the gaze.
"You don't even know your own history. What does it matter to you? You're more human than half the men here."
"No," Sal said, "I'm not. I may not speak Iliran, I may not understand why I have the instincts I do, but until I became a Black Blade, I also didn't understand what pride was either. Just because I didn't grow up in the culture doesn't mean I'm a human, Blaec. I'm nothing like them and I no longer want to be. I'll put on a show in public if that's what you want, but that doesn't mean I'm human."
"Then why are you with me, Sal?"
"Because you're not human," she said. "You taught me to be proud of who I am. You told me there was nothing wrong with being iliri, and now you're ashamed that we're all iliri?"
"It's not like that." Their eyes were still locked. Blaec was reacting to the dominance in her gaze.
"Then what is it like?" she demanded.
"We have to bend with the rules of the world, Sal! We can't just stand up and say we're better so they should like us. It doesn't work like that!"
"How does it work, then? If we can't make them accept us, why are we willing to die for them?"
Blaec growled softly and leaned over his desk. "You regret joining the Blades now, Corporal?"
"You regret taking me, Lieutenant?" she snapped back, pulling her ears tight. "Don't make this about me, Blaec. I'd be just as iliran sitting behind a desk in an office."
"So what do you want me to do? Tell the world I'm half iliri?"
She smiled, her sharp teeth peeking above her lip. "That would be a good start. You're the most decorated officer I know. The Black Blades are the most respected unit in the Conglomerate. Not even General Sturmgren has as much name recognition as you! If you're not willing to use that for your own people, what good is it?"
His growl faded to silence, but neither looked away.
She went on. "I applied to the Black Blades because I wanted to matter. A part of me also hoped I'd die young." She blinked and looked away. "When I started to get to know the men, I felt so at home, like I found something I'd been missing all my life. Less than an hour ago, you told me you love me. Blaec?" Sal looked up at him, the question in her eyes. "How can you love me and be so ashamed of who we are?"
"I'm not, sweetness." He ran his hands through his short hair, walking to her side. "Sal, I'm not ashamed of you or the iliri. I'm not. I'm still half human, though. I also know that the world doesn't understand us." He caressed her face, his anger fading. "I don't want to see any of my men treated like you were. If that means we need to keep a few Conglomerate habits, then that's what we'll do. I won't let them think of you as less just because you're pale, ok?"
She nodded and caught his eyes again. "So why are we doing this? Why are you accepting only iliri into the Blades?"
Her gaze demanded an answer and Blaec's instincts wouldn't let him avoid it. "Because we're better than them. We are," he said, "but don't ever challenge me, Sal. You'll lose"
She grinned and looked away. "I know," she said proudly. "And I'd never lose to a human."
Chapter 34
They sat on their horses quietly. The black resin of their matched armor soaked up the light around them. The breath from the horses steamed in the dawn light. The heavy cavalry kept their distance from the Black Blades, made uncomfortable by the silence they worked in and their synchronized movements. Even now, with the supply train rolling slowly into the valley, the messenger approached them fearfully, unable to determine the leader.
"Sir?" he asked timidly.
"Report, soldier." The man on the black horse spoke, never turning his head away from the train below.
"Sir, you're to cover our flank and pick off anyone that tries to escape to get word back."
"Boy, tell Llyr he can shove his orders up his ass. My men will be where they're needed and we'll make sure this shit gets done." The Lieutenant stared at what would become the battleground. "He wanted my damned Blades out here. He's got 'em. Now he has to deal with what that means."
The trembling soldier nodded, too intimidated to speak to the Black Blades again.
"And boy?" LT growled, turning to the messenger. His pale eyes glared through the slit in his helm, pausing the kid before he could even turn his mount. "Tell the cav to stay the fuck out of our way."
"Yes, sir," the young man said, spurring his horse, retreating as fast as he could.
Sal sat to Blaec's left, Cyno flanking her other side. Two crossbows were strapped across her mare's flanks, a pair of sabers strapped to her back, her knives in sheaths at her waist, and a halberd in her hand. She was not the most heavily armed soldier in the group, either. They were ready.
Open us up, Arctic, LT ordered, and the Blades felt their minds spread apart, their thoughts combining with those of each man in the link.
Arctic's tactical reason, Razor's strength, Shift's adaptability and Zep's physical control flowed to enhance Cyno's speed, Sal's agility, Risk's calm logic, and the Lieutenant's rage. Every man could feel the others. All of them became a part of the whole, until the Black Blades were one: a single organism, with a single purpose. The anger simmered from them, the anticipation and intensity coursing through all of them, each one ready, each one a killer.
The heavy cavalry milled in the trees, their discipline failing in the close quarters. The Empire's supply train creaked through the narrow path, surrounded by pikemen and heavily armored soldiers. There were six wagons total, each pulled by four oxen struggling against their yokes. The weight of the load was enough to be steel or iron. The wagons had been traveling for hundreds of kilometers. The soldiers guarding it should be fatigued and travel weary, the weeks of inactivity lulling them into a false sense of security. The Blades knew better.
A horn sounded and the Conglomerate Calvary spilled out of the trees in waves.
Wait for it.
Ceramic rang against resin below them and horses screamed when they ran onto the waiting pikes.
Wait for it.
Blood splattered the grass and rocks, Sal's heart began to beat faster and she could feel Cyno's matching it. Men in purple were slaughtered by the dozens, outnumbered and unprepared for the cerulean soldiers cutting them down so easily.
Wait for it.
The sight of destruction called to her, and Sal felt seven hearts fall into rhythm with her own, each one feeding on the frenzy she and Cyno poured into the link. Each one straining for the desire she controlled.
Wait for it.
Below them, a sea of purple poured from the other side of the mountain. The Imperial cavalry surged forward, slicing into the unprotected back of the Conglomerate army, splitting the line and pushing toward the train.
Kill them all.
The Lieutenant released them and the Black Blades shot forward, their horses lunging over the precipice, hips tucked under them, sliding and pulling toward the targets their riders chose. Ears pinned, teeth bared, they raced. Sal held her weight back, freeing Arden's shoulders, giving the mare her h
ead, her eyes locked on a pikeman who had spotted them.
As her horse's feet found the base of the hill, Sal lowered her weapon, the resin hook and spike aimed for the man's heart. He grounded his pike, pointed at Arden's chest, and she pushed her heel into the mare's side, feeling her horse bend and shift. With a twist, Sal snagged the enemy weapon with hers and wrenched the pole from the soldier's grip before directing her mare to swing around. Arden obeyed like an extension of Sal's own body. The pair surged forward and the halberd pierced through the man, his eyes widening in pain as he died. Her excitement peaked, and she turned for the next target.
Across the link, she felt Cyno cut down a soldier, slicing his head clean from his body, and the Blades drank in their need for more blood. When Shift drove his lance through a Terran horseman's breastplate, the bloodlust crossed the mental bridge. Each Blade drew it into himself, each Blade added to the pull for more death. Splitting into separate directions, they slaughtered easily, the mingling of their iliri minds giving speed and hyper-awareness to each of them. Behind them, they left a sea of purple and black corpses, nothing more than obstacles to steer their mounts around.
Sal spun Arden, seeking another life to destroy, and saw Cessa's dark hide shining in the morning sun. Zep engaged an enemy horseman, their blades swinging, their horses turning. Another Terran charged them, his pike lowered, the Blade in his sights. Calmly, she reached behind her, grabbed a crossbow, and loosed it in one smooth motion. The bolt sailed across the distance and lodged itself securely in the opening of his helm. The man slumped in his saddle even as his horse charged on. A surge of appreciation flowed like water into her mind and Zep's blade sliced through the arm of the man before him.
The crossbow still in her hand, now nearly useless as a weapon, she pushed Arden forward. Riding past Razor and his opponent, she swung it like a club, catching a teamster in the head, his body leaving the ground before falling in a crumpled heap, broken. She responded to the need in her mind, a second swordsman here, an archer there. Each of the Black Blades knew the threats the others faced, and they cut them down one by one.