That made Kinnese freeze in his tracks, albeit momentarily.
“Yeah, that’s right you idiot. It’s empty. As soon as those two gave me the box I opened it.”
“Bullshit,” Kinnese said, but doubt was in his voice. “You can’t!”
“Of course I can. I’m the gods damned Praetorian Militant. You have no idea what I can or can’t do.” Hauge suddenly changed his voice. When he spoke, it was a deep, menacing voice, octaves lower than his true voice. He uttered a string of unintelligible syllables, and there was a soft click as the small lock on the box opened and fell to the ground. Kinnese stared at the fallen lock in disbelief. Hauge’s voice returned to normal, and Johan noticed that his coughing and wheezing had stopped as well.
“And obviously you ignored one other fact. Namely you never try and take a Praetorian hostage!”
There was a loud thump, and a dazzling red light shone on the wall in front of Johan and Ryker. Spinning around, they saw Kinnese laying on his back a few yards from the Praetorian, who had his sword drawn. The blade of his sword was giving off such bright red light that it was hard to look at him. Hauge threw the empty box at Kinnese, and it hit the prone man in the head.
“Draygos?” Hauge asked. “Please find out where in the Hells my soldiers are. Else? Help me get Atrarch to his feet.”
Ryker saluted and, after stooping to retrieve his longsword, ran out of the room. Johan helped Hauge, each of them lifting Atrarch up by one arm and supporting him. He yelped in pain a little when Hauge lifted him on his wounded side, but other than that, he appeared to be fine.
“Gods, I’m getting old,” he mumbled, looking at Johan and Hauge guiltily. “Sorry I wasn’t more help.”
Hauge looked over at Kinnese’s prone body.
“Don’t feel bad, Ken. Our traitorous friend over there was a professional hitter. I think we’d have been in trouble if he already didn’t have a run-in with our loyal sons.”
Hauge walked over to his desk and sat down, absentmindedly pouring himself a drink from one of the desk drawers. Johan looked from Kinnese to Hauge, his brow furrowed.
“Sir, I believe you owe me some answers.”
Hauge took a sip from his glass.
“Yes, I think I do.”
A blade impact hit his shoulder guard. Another hit his helmet. The armor held, but now Garm knew he was surrounded. It was just a matter of time before the daggers found soft spots in his armor. And he loved every minute of it. As he spun, his longsword scything through the air, he felt almost giddy. It had been months since his last pitched battle. Months since he was able to let go. Glancing at the mounted figure, faceless monsters rising up around him, Garm bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. This was as good a place as any to go down fighting, he decided. No moral ambiguity. Just a lone man, a hero, fighting against the tide.
“Garm!” a voice called.
Momentarily brought out of his reverie, Garm quickly looked over, and saw his comrades. The Legion training that had been drilled into Toma and Vegard showed, as they had pulled Edda and Nerthus with them into a modified orbis, the back to back formation of last resort. Dead bodies were littered around them, and they all bore wounds. Past them he saw Aleksander, battling six armed assassins with nothing but his fists and rage. He was battered and bleeding. Looking down at himself, Garm noticed he was unscathed. No blade had yet marked his flesh, yet almost a dozen dead opponents lay at his feet. The rush of pride and exhilaration that washed through him was almost sensual in nature, and he started laughing. Vegard, the one who called his name, waved him over.
“Get over here Garm!” he shouted, pointed at the mounted figure within the blue light. “We don’t have much time left before the next wave hits! We’re gonna need you!”
A dozen more faceless ones appeared on the ground within the glowing rune. They slowly got to their feet and then ran towards the Outriders. Roaring a challenge, Garm instead raised his longsword high and charged the rider. He never slowed down, killing two of the faceless ones that stood between him and the circle. Gripping his sword with both hands, he hurled it at the rider. But he never stopped running, punching his two enchanted gauntlets together, letting their own coral-colored energy crackle over the knuckles. As he did so, the blue lightning arced out of the figures hands and swatted his hurled sword to the ground. Garm leapt over the boundary of the rune, his fists upraised like a prize fighter. Another arc of blue lightning snaked out at him, and the gauntlets caught the blast. There was a tremendous sizzling sound as the blue and coral-colored lightning swirled together along Garm’s gauntlets, and then a loud explosion, throwing Garm backwards. The impact of the blast was so great that the rider was also knocked off its horse, which immediately disappeared without its rider. Both Garm and the rider rolled along the ground, and both of them disrupted the blue lines of the rune. Its light flickered and then gently faded away.
The faceless ones froze in their tracks. Whatever position they were in was their final one. Without the guiding force of the rider, they were apparently powerless. Edda, wasting no time, began jabbing them furiously with her daggers. Toma did the same, decapitating them all, afraid that the lull wouldn’t last.
Nerthus ran past Garm, who Vegard was tending to, and brought her metal fist down on the knee of the fallen rider. A shrill female voice cried out in pain.
“Gods damn you, bitch!” the rider hissed. The rider, now identifiable as a woman at least, was still hooded. Nerthus saw that the hood was stitched closed, so the woman’s face was hidden. Nerthus held her sword blade to the woman’s chest, and readied the last bolt in her mech-arm.
“I’m set to shoot based on motion. Knock me away, move me, or in any other way piss me off, and a silver needle is going to impale itself somewhere in your face, you understand?”
The head beneath the hood nodded once.
“Good. Now do some talking.”
“You know I won’t,” the woman spat.
Edda, confident that all of the faceless ones were dealt with, joined Nerthus. She put a hand on the agent’s shoulder and sat on her haunches.
“She won’t give anything up. She’s Crimson Fang. Probably the cell leader too, most likely.”
The hooded head snapped to Edda instantly, but said nothing. Nerthus also watched Edda intently.
“The man who was with you, the one my friend over there killed,” she pointed to Aleksander, who was rolling his neck around and checking for teeth. “I’m guessing he was your client. Well, he’s dead now. The contract you had with him is now void. Leave us be. You were, and are, outmatched by these people. You most likely wasted your entire stable on this contract, am I right? You can’t have much else left to throw at us. But you can still leave here with your life and honor intact. But more important than honor, it’s good business sense.”
Nerthus glared at Edda. The Umbra was about to say something when the hooded woman spoke.
“You…” the hooded woman hissed. “I recognize you. You were one of mine. But how? How are you here, free?”
Edda shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure myself. Friends in high places, I suppose. But you know I’m right. Whatever’s left of what you put into my head tells me I’m right. Leave us be and it’s over. The conclave will not punish you for a voided contract.”
The hooded woman shook her head. The shock of Edda being there seemed to make her quite talkative.
“Samnusen wasn’t the one my contract was with. He was simply my client’s representative. It is still on. The contract. And if you kill or imprison me, it will pass to the next cell.”
“Hells,” Edda swore. She stood up and rubbed her eyes.
Nerthus stood up also, her eyes never leaving Edda.
“Wait,” Toma said, walking over. “So these monsters were hired to kill us? And this is just going to keep happening?”
“It will stop if you surrender the Melcaran package,” the hooded woman said simply. “My contract was to intercept you and recover the package, that i
s all. If we could have done so without bloodshed, we would have.” She was struggling to rise to her feet. Her right knee was bent at a wrong angle, thanks to Nerthus. As she rose, the bodies of the faceless began to melt into the ground, steam rising from their bodies. Whatever it was that held them together was gone, and they were falling apart.
“That’s it!?” Toma blurted out, his voice cracking. “You’re after that piking box?? We don’t even have it you dumb bitch!”
“It’s true,” Edda said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “The Outriders surrendered it to their superiors hours ago.”
The hooded woman’s shoulders slumped slightly.
“A pity,” she said. “Well then, I suppose our business together is concluded. My target has changed. Know this, you will be bothered by me and mine no longer. We don’t give in to grudges. It’s bad business, you could say. But you,” she said, addressing Edda, “with you we may have business with yet.”
“Hey,” said Nerthus, “just what do you think is going to happen, that we are going to let-“
Nerthus’s words died in her mouth as the hooded woman’s robe fell in on itself, landing in a pile on the ground.
“Damn it!” Nerthus shouted, and kicked the robes. She turned to talk to Edda, but she had joined Aleksander and the Outriders as they watched their barracks burn.
“Ach,” cried Alek. “I just gotten it the way I liked it!”
Toma patted him on the shoulder.
“Cheer up, big guy. At least you got to sleep on a bed in there.” He stole a quick glance at Edda before lowering his voice. “Among other things,” he said with a grin. That at least brought a smile to Alek’s face
“Yeah, I find that I’m not too bent out of shape about this,” Vegard said. “I mean, it probably won’t look good on our records, burning down our first posting in two weeks of being assigned there. But I never got that attached to it.”
“At least the fire isn’t green anymore,” Edda said, trying to be cheerful.
“Yeah,” said Toma. “That certainly makes this less shitty. My piking pants were in there. My good ones!”
“Oh good,” said Garm, “here comes help.”
A commotion was brewing on the far side of the Square. The absent golem, with a platoon of Watchmen, was marching in with members of the fire brigade. A rather young looking girl in Weaver robes was with them to provide additional support against the fire. They slowly made their way across the Square, apparently in no really hurry.
“My tax coins at work,” mumbled Alek.
“I’m pretty sure you haven’t paid taxes. Like ever,” Nerthus said.
The large golem stopped in the center of the square, right where Samnusen and the Crimson Fang leader had initially stopped their horses. It made eye contact with Aleksander and nodded its upper torso in some sort of greeting, and then resumed its vigil of the square.
It was all Alek could do not to bash it to pieces.
“Well son,” Hauge said, pouring a drink for Johan, “ask away. I’ll answer what I can.”
Johan sat down in a chair across from Hauge at his desk. Atrarch took the other, favoring his shoulder as he sat.
“There are a lot of things that aren’t making sense to me, sir. And I suppose I never really thought about them until after all this.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for starters, why are we stationed in the city? In Newcomb Square of all places? It doesn’t really lend itself to recon and courier missions, sir. You need to send a messenger to us, so we come to you, and then we have to leave the city. It isn’t efficient for couriers. And what recon are we supposed to be performing within the city? We aren’t Umbra, it isn’t our job to be watching our own people like that. So why here?”
“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, there are occasions where Outriders go rogue. It is kind of an inherent risk, I suppose. The freedom that goes with the role Outriders play is considerable, and it is hard for some to readjust to any type of command structure. And part of that is that they are easier to…isolate, I suppose, from the rest of the Legions. A maniple of Legionnaires from any other Legion simply cannot turn against their brothers. The opportunity, the motive, none of it is really possible. But with the Outriders, you are never dealing with their full strength. Usually five to nine men at a time. Such a small group can sometimes be…bought.”
“Kinnese and Samnusen,” Johan said.
Hauge nodded.
“Atrarch had informed me that they were under suspicion when I told him about the mission. But they had been afield for so long, it was hard to determine the truth of the matter. So I decided to resolve it with you.”
Johan shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing.
“You sent us there to kill the other two units?”
“I thought that conflict between you all would be inevitable, yes. One way or another, we would have known who had gone rogue. But I gave you an extra advantage that they wouldn’t be able to counter.”
“Leonid.”
“That’s right. And he proved me right on that account. He made the difference.”
“He basically told us so himself but I didn’t want to believe it,” Johan admitted. “He admitted it wasn’t the first time you’ve sent him out like that.” He took long sip from the liquor Hauge had poured and was quiet for a few minutes. “Why did you make us your executioners? We were outnumbered and would have been killed if not for Leonid. Why didn’t you send the Lancers? Their Legion had something like a hundred men in Oberon at any given time?”
“Would you really have wanted one Legion hunting and killing another?” Atrarch asked. “Think of the damage it would do to the image of the Outrider Legion. There are almost forty other Outrider units, Johan. They are loyal and brave, and risk their lives every day for the Dominion. Are we to make them suffer for the actions of a few?”
“If the Lancers or any other Legion were told about this, we wouldn’t be able to contain the spread of rumor,” Hauge added. “It had to be dealt with within the Legion itself.”
“But why us?” Johan demanded. “And why didn’t you tell me the true nature of the mission?”
“Expediency,” Hauge said simply. “You were a fresh unit, your loyalty was assured, and you were here. That’s really it. No grand conspiracy about you, or Draygos, or any of your other men. You were here, and we used you.”
Johan sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Sirs, if you don’t mind, I’m requesting you give us a few days off before our next assignment.”
Atrarch nodded.
“And I hope that we can be reassigned to the field soon,” he added. “Keeping us here feels wrong…like we are more secret police than soldiers.”
“I believe that can be arranged,” Hauge said. “But for now, rest up with your men.”
Ryker walked back into the room, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Jonvar was behind him, a worried look on his face.
“Well Captain, why were my men not here when they were needed?”
“Because of this, sir,” Jonvar said, handing the paper to Hauge. “It is an order sheet. Every shift leader received one a few hours ago. I was handed one before I brought my brother and his second to the Akvan. It called for every soldier in the Citadel to report, in parade formation at the royal grounds. You were supposedly to inspect them all personally. We’ve been there waiting for you for some time.”
Hauge read the orders himself, an incredulous look on his face.
“Signed by me, with my own seal affixed,” he said quietly. His signet ring was on his finger as he held the paper. He looked up at Johan and Ryker, his face suddenly very weary.
“You two can go. Ken, same with you. Go get checked out by a medico before you leave in the morning. Captain? Find me another bottle of this, and then wait for further orders. Dismissed.”
Johan and Atrarch stood up together and, with Jonvar and Ryker, walked out. When they were standing outside Hauge’s chambers, Atrarch looked at
the two Outriders.
“It’s small consolation to you, I know, but I am very proud of you. All of you. Now, I’m going to go get drunk off of medicinal tonic, find a female medico that isn’t a hag, and depart in the morning for OHQ. In a week or so, I’ll send for you. I had no idea this would have gotten so bad. You were right, Else. This was Umbra work, not Legion.”
He offered his hand, first to Johan and then to Ryker.
“You’ll make the Tenth yet,” he said to them, a weary smile on his face. Captain,” he added, saluting Jonvar, before he turned on his heel, a little unsteadily, and walked away.
“Pike me,” Ryker said, exhaling a deep breath. “He’s got a good plan. I need some serious inebriation. There are some things I’d like to forget.”
Johan ran a hand through his hair, and for the first time in a week, felt completely exhausted.
“That…isn’t a bad idea. Come on, Ryk, let’s get out of here. Jon, join us later if you can. We’ll probably be at the Gladiatrix.”
Jon embraced his brother, and clasped Ryker’s shoulder.
“Have fun. But most importantly, take a bath.”
It was almost eleven at night when Johan and Ryker arrived home, aching and tired. As they approached, the glow from their burning barracks illuminated the entire Square. Seeing the rest of their group watching the building burn, they walked in silence until they were standing amongst their friends.
For a few moments, no one spoke. The only sounds coming from the commotion of the fire brigade in action. Eventually, Johan spoke, his voice muted.
“So, ummm, everyone okay?”
There was a series of nods and grunts of assent. No one took their eyes off of the barracks.
“It’s…kind of hypnotic,” Ryker said out loud.
Again, another round of grunts and nods.
“Gladiatrix?” Johan offered.
A third round of grunts and nods. In bemused, exhausted silence the Outriders, with Nerthus, Alek, and Edda, walked out of the Square, past the fire brigade and Watchmen who stood around the blaze, and through the gathering onlookers. The only thing any of them said as they walked to the Keg was Alek, who mumbled something about a “rusty piece of junk” as they passed the golem in the Square.
The Outrider Legion: Book One Page 24