Siege (The Warrior Chronicles, 5)

by K. F. Breene

  Marc let the calm of his profession settle over him. She needed help, and it was his job to give it.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “I’m going to put my hand on your arm. Are you ready?”

  He wouldn’t have been able to see her nod even if she gave it. The outline of her head was lost to the darkness of the trunk behind her.

  “I’m reaching over,” Marc said, his words almost coming out like a melodic hum. He’d learned that from Rohnan. “I will touch you now.”

  Her flinch almost made him jerk away, violent as it was. She clutched her bow harder into her chest, crushing his hand.

  “We have you surrounded,” Marc said in that same melodic voice. “The Shadow and Shumas are out there, tracking these people down. And if all else fails, those cats are out there, hunting. You are safe with us. Just stick with us, and you’ll be fine.”

  He desperately wanted to believe the words he was saying.

  The ragged breathing slowed a fraction. Her arms relaxed just a little.

  “Now, I want you to drop that bow—just for now.” He winced as the wood and her skin pinched him. Dropping the bow didn’t seem to be an option. “Okay, hang on to the bow. No problem. Just don’t try to shoot it. You might hit one of our people.”

  Her body shook. Probably a nod, because he didn’t hear any sounds of crying.

  “You’re going to be fine. We’ll take care of you.”

  She shook again. Definitely a nod. Her breathing had slowed even more, now not nearly as ragged. Hopefully, she was calming down enough to at least be able to think straight.

  “I’m going to go back to the front and kill anyone that comes, okay?”

  He wanted to believe that, too.

  Another shake.

  “So just hang tight.” He took his hand back as another shout trumpeted in the night. A bright glow lit up a halo of orange to the right, drawing Marc’s eyes like a moth. Shadows danced and swayed, distorted at their distance. Yells and the ringing of metal made everyone draw in closer.

  “We need to move away from that,” Xavier said, looking in the opposite direction of the fire. “We’ll be silhouetted against that flame.”

  “But if we’re near the flame, we can see a little,” Maggie said, nocking an arrow.

  “Not if they come from the other direction,” Alena said in a shaky voice. “Xavier is right. We should—”

  “Women, Xavier is in command. This is not a debate. Shut up and do as he says.” Ruisa moved toward Xavier. That instruction worked because it came from a woman, Marc had no doubt.

  Silence rained down. Followed by a strange awareness that niggled at Marc’s senses.

  Xavier moved ahead, having everyone follow like a line of ducklings. Except for Marc. Something wasn’t right.

  Pressure pushed on his chest. His heart started to hammer.

  Something definitely wasn’t right.

  The sound of metal clashing echoed through the trees before a man cried out.

  “Why don’t they just use their mental power?” one of the women asked.

  “I don’t know,” someone answered.

  Marc felt a hand on his back. “Go.”

  “Shhhh!” Marc stuck out his elbow, pushing the woman away so he could turn. His eyes trained on a spot of black amid a sea of darkness. Something waited out there, in the night. Something dangerous. He would bet his life on it.

  Marc closed his eyes, cutting off the desire to see. He let his other senses fill in the gaps, doing exactly as S’am taught him.

  Almost immediately he felt that pulse of danger he attributed to S’am.

  A warning surge of electricity worked down his spine. She wouldn’t be using this as a training exercise. Not right before a battle.

  The cats, maybe?

  Marc spread his arms, trying to make himself bigger. Just in case.

  Footsteps approached him from the front of the line.

  “What’s—”

  Marc punched Xavier in the side, eyes still closed. Xavier grunted, but said nothing. He knew to trust Marc’s violence—it always preceded danger.

  Marc took a deep breath, trying to slow his wildly beating heart.

  A rustle sounded in front of them, blaring through the dark. Xavier’s feet scraped the dirt, pivoting. He must’ve heard.

  Marc took another deep breath. Xavier’s footsteps moved away. More soles scratched the ground, others turning toward the danger. Xavier was getting everyone in position.

  A soft crunch of a boot shocked through Marc’s senses.

  It wasn’t the cats.

  Oh shit.

  “Graygual,” Marc mumbled, trying to deaden the sound as much as possible.

  “What?” Rachie asked, almost a yell in the silence.

  “Should we run?” Marc whispered, his whole body shaking. Anything that could be that quiet through pitch black in the middle of battle had to be excellently trained. They didn’t stand a chance.

  “We wouldn’t all make it,” Xavier whispered back. He must’ve come to the same conclusion.

  Marc didn’t have the heart to say it.

  Sweat dripped down his neck. Another soft crunch, half as close as a moment ago. He or she was still moving in their direction.

  Marc swallowed a lump of acid. He really hoped he was wrong and it was S’am. He really, really hoped.

  “Run, Marc!” Words like an explosion pierced the night. S’am. She was not in front of them. And her voice was laced with panic.

  “Go!” Xavier screamed, shoving Marc with rough hands. “Go!”

  Something parted the air close to Marc’s head. A thud hit a tree behind him.

  A throwing knife. Shit!

  Marc turned and pushed the girl behind him. “Get out of here. Hurry! All of you!”

  Soft footfalls pattered against the ground. Fabric swished, barely heard. It was coming right for them.

  Adrenaline ignited in Marc’s body. He took out another knife, gripping one in each hand. Not thinking logically, knees bent, he stepped forward to intercept whatever it was that was coming right at them. Xavier was right there with him. The other Honor Guard filed in, their steps blaring in contrast to the stranger in the night.

  “Get out of—”

  A flare of light cut Xavier off. Bright orange sparked at eye height.

  A man dressed all in black with a strip of fabric over half his face was moving toward them at a half-jog, sword held out, moving as lightly as a dancer.

  “Oh no—it’s one of them?” Leilius whimpered.

  The flare left Maggie’s bow and zipped through the night, the tip of the arrow on fire.

  With movements precise and perfect, the man flicked his sword, knocking the arrow out of the way.

  Marc’s mouth dropped open.

  “I have no Gift.” S’am’s voice was calm yet elevated as she sprinted toward them.

  Another flare lit up the area, but this time, Maggie aimed at his feet. Fire licked the grass before spreading out like a hungry thing.

  The man danced to the side, his focus on S’am rushing toward him. “Get out of here, boys!” she yelled, slowing as she got within sword-striking range.

  Marc had never seen her slow when taking on an enemy.

  “What is he?” Marc asked with a quivering voice.

  “Death,” Leilius said in a breathy rasp.

  The man’s eyes crinkled in the flickering light. Words came out, musical but unintelligible. He spoke to S’am in a friendly tone.

  She lunged, her strike precise and elegant. He blocked with an effortless flick of steel. S’am didn’t immediately counterattack, or notice that the Honor Guard hadn’t departed. She stared at the man in front of her as smoke curled around her feet.

  She stepped to the left, starting to circle. He stepped diagonally, cutting her off. He brought one hand up and waggled it slowly. His words made no sense.

  S’am attacked, her style changed to deliver fast, brutal strikes. Her sword glimmered in the firelight, smas
hing down, getting blocked, and coming in again at a different angle. Fast and hard, her body worked in perfect symmetry. But for every strike, he had a counter-strike. He wasn’t blocking anymore; he was meeting her attack with one of his own.

  His body, moving in a circular style Marc hadn’t seen before, dodged. He feinted, then struck. His sword clattered against hers.

  Her attack came immediately, her steps beautiful yet deadly. He matched each movement, then counterattacked, his sword narrowly missing her. She lunged, her point snagging his shirt but missing flesh.

  They were two masters in the fight of their lives.

  “Shoot him!” Xavier yelled at Maggie. “Help her!”

  “They’re moving too fast. I might hit her!”

  A sleek black shape skirted the fire, followed by a feline cry that could only be described as frustrated. S’am and the man stepped through and jumped over the growing flames, swords still moving in that incredible dance.

  “Should we charge?” Marc heard himself ask. He licked numb lips. Quivers from his body made his teeth chatter.

  “You’ll distract her,” Gracas said in a level voice. “We can’t let anything distract her.”

  Another black cat joined the first, staying away from the flame. Eyes fixed on the man S’am was fighting.

  Feet thumped through the night. Large swinging shoulders and a powerful stride announced the Captain, followed by the lithe movements of Rohnan.

  “Over here, sir!” Xavier shouted.

  The man danced away from S’am, uttered a few garbled words, and then sprinted into the darkness. The cats launched after him, but before they could reach him, a scream rent the night, followed by a fierce feline snarl. The third cat had been waiting to ambush him as he ran.

  Shapes ran forward around Marc, shaking him out of his disbelieving stupor. Women were stamping at the ground, trying to put out the flame.

  “Help them,” Xavier said, following suit.

  Moving like a man made of sticks, Marc lurched forward, stomping through, thinking about that fight. It didn’t take long for someone else to voice his fears.

  “That guy was just as good as S’am,” Gracas said, his customary excitement at all things to do with fighting missing.

  “He was one of those guys that guard the Being Supreme,” Leilius said in barely more than a whisper, standing with a rigid body and wide eyes.

  “How do you know?” Marc asked as his body succumbed to shaking.

  “I remember seeing guys just like him. From the Shadow Lands when I went into the Trespasser Village. It might not have been the Being Supreme, but S’am thought it probably was.”

  “They’re the best.” Xavier stomped at the ground more heavily. “And he was here.”

  “Are you guys okay?” S’am jogged back into the area with Rohnan on her heels. One of the cats kept pace at her side. Wetness glistened around its mouth and down its throat.

  “Did you get him?” Xavier asked, panting.

  “The cats did.” S’am glanced down at the dying flame. Her gaze then scanned the line. “Everyone accounted for?”

  Xavier and Maggie both checked faces as Marc watched S’am. While her body moved just as fluidly as normal, there was a tightness in her shoulders, which always meant concern. Then there was Rohnan, who wore his worries on his face for the world to see.

  “What is it?” Marc asked, though he didn’t really want to know. He’d rather curl up under his bed covers and pretend danger didn’t exist.

  “They have someone with the same Gift as Burson.” S’am put her hands to her hips and glanced down at her feet. “Just one, I suspect, and his or her range doesn’t seem as large. But they have someone. There is no telling how close they’ve come or how much information they’ve gained. They could’ve been checking out Cayan’s city while we were there, for all I know.”

  “But they followed us?” Leilius asked in a tight voice. “They are here, which means they didn’t leave anyone behind.”

  “Seems like it.” S’am dropped her hands and looked behind her. “We’re sending someone back with a message, anyway. Where the Gift is blind, the eyes can still see. The Shadow are familiar with going without their Gift. They won’t even balk at the new situation.”

  “So we’re still going along as planned?” Maggie asked.

  S’am looked at her for a long moment. “Yes, but with more caution. If anything, Xandre has shown his hand. We have a better idea what we’re up against.”

  “But the number of people you felt in the city yesterday might not be accurate,” Xavier said.

  “That is why we have to be cautious.” S’am glanced behind her again as the Captain stalked into view. His gaze swept those gathered before looking off to the east. S’am turned back. “Get some rest. We’ll have a plan bright and early.”

  “But what if there are any more?” Alena asked.

  “The beasts are free,” the Captain said, taking a few steps away. “What we can’t feel with the Gift we can hear, and what we can’t hear, the animals will find. We’ll sleep close together, as planned, and we’ll be fine.”

  It was too dark again to see if the tightness in S’am’s shoulders had relaxed, but judging by the way Rohnan hovered around her, it hadn’t. They weren’t as confident as the Captain sounded. Tomorrow might not go as planned.

  9

  Shanti sat astride her horse, waiting for the final pieces to fall in place before Cayan gave the signal for all of them to move out.

  “Think we’ll run into those warriors from last night?” Sonson asked in a low tone, picking his nail with his knife.

  “No,” Shanti said softly as a soft breeze blew from the west and a pale sun was heaving itself up over the horizon. “They had not meant to be seen last night. Cayan’s man spotted him. Shadow and Shumas did not.”

  “So you think the enemy can only sense those with Therma?” Sonson glanced back as Sanders barked orders at the women. Many would be sectioned off as archers with Lucius, Maggie was being promoted, and a couple would join the Honor Guard. “Was Burson like that?”

  Shanti shrugged with a shaking head. She didn’t know.

  “These Graygual seem prepared to let their own get stomped on.” Sonson put away his knife. He adjusted the sword on his hip. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the guy last night, whoever he was, lets us kill them all and then follows us out.”

  “I wouldn’t, either.” Shanti’s stomach flipped over. “If that’s the case, and we don’t find him, Xandre will know everything we do. It will take away our largest advantage.”

  Cayan stalked into their midst with Lucius and Daniels. He stopped next to her and placed a hand on her knee. “Stay safe, mesasha.”

  She met his gorgeous blue eyes. “You too. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  He winked before his eyes hardened again and he turned toward his horse. Shanti patted the Bloody Bastard before stepping into the stirrup and throwing her leg over. As expected, before she could even get her foot in the other stirrup, he was prancing and moving, ready to get running.

  “You shouldn’t be riding him yet,” Rohnan warned, climbing onto his much calmer mount.

  “Remember what happened yesterday? Now we have two damaged horses.”

  Rohnan hefted his staff. “A few bite marks won’t prevent that horse from carrying you, but your horse’s gash might slow him down.”

  “Even slow, he’ll still be faster than the other horses.”

  “Not mine.”

  Shanti rolled her eyes.

  At Cayan’s nod and his hacked-up sense of go through the overall mental link, Shanti leaned forward slightly. The Bastard pranced sideways. “Don’t make me look a fool in front of everyone, or I will never ride you again.” She softly touched her heels to his sides.

  He lurched forward and started at a fast trot. The Shadow kicked their horses into motion directly after, following her out before the army would file in. The Shumas, who were best at mental communication with Shant
i, would take up the rear until they could spread out more.

  She directed her horse to the track that led down to the city, and noticed the wild growth on each side. If there were regular wagons coming through here bringing large amounts of supplies, wheels would’ve cut lanes and stripped away some of the vegetation. She hoped the absence made them correct in their earlier assessment of how many people were in that city.

  She pulled the reins to slow her horse as she reached the crest of the hill. The Shadow tightened up their formation, allowing the army to do the same. Slower than she would’ve liked, she rode over the hill and quickly swept the area with her gaze.

  The man at the open gate lounged, just like before. Minds in the city seemed dull, probably going about monotonous tasks. The few women were idle, spread out and in a state of boredom.

  The city would not have heard the few cries of pain in the night, and neither would they have been warned. Last night’s small but expertly trained force had a different agenda to the people in this city. Not only that, but they were instructed to keep to themselves and let this contingent of Graygual die and rot on their own.

  If that didn’t sound like Xandre, nothing did.

  Shanti picked up the pace. Cayan’s power boiled through the merge with high intensity, ready to be unleashed. Her people’s power, tranquil, simmered just below, keeping adrenaline low until the battle began. She’d trained with endurance in mind since youth. She hoped they wouldn’t need it today.

  The man at the gate looked in their direction. His body jerked upward, rigid. He ducked through the gate right before a bell started ringing.

  Shanti felt the minds, slow to start, but rapidly turning frantic. Chaos bubbled within the walls, and people ran every which way in confusion and fear. A more analytical mind sparked. That had to be the officer.

  With no time to lose, Shanti clutched at all the Inkna minds, low in power and mostly useless. She lashed out, striking with a piercing blow into their brain mass. Two shields went up, a feeble attempt to push her away. A surge of power answered them, Cayan’s Gift unfurling from containment with hard, raw force.

  Minds near the walls became focused; they were probably nocking arrows and getting ready to shoot. Shanti slashed, taking them down as she drew closer. She threw her leg over the saddle and jumped, knowing her people would do better on foot. Hard ground punched her as she hit and rolled, bouncing up a moment later. Rohnan joined her, running. The rest fell in behind.