Warlord's Flame (Krystile Warriors Book 2)

by Owner

  The problem of energy was the most urgent now. He directed his attention to the five Energy Czars who were waiting entry to his office.

  Denties buzzed his receptionist and the men filed in lining up in front of his desk.

  “Well?” Denties raised a painted-on eyebrow.

  “Your Lordship,” the lead EC began, “we have a contact within the barbarian society that controls the krystiles. He is the uncle of their leader. Unfortunately, they have had a falling out and it will be some time before he can provide the krystiles he agreed to sell us.”

  “Then I appoint the uncle as the new leader of the barbarians.” Denties waved his hand. It seemed obvious to him. Why hadn’t his brilliant Energy Czars come to that conclusion?

  A second EC spoke up. “Yes, your Lordship, that is what we sought to do, but this barbarian leader is unusually crafty.”

  Denties leaned forward, “Crafty? A crafty barbarian you say. Are you telling me that a sub-human barbarian has out-smarted the Conglomerate?”

  “No! No your Lordship, of course not. He has merely slowed his inevitable demise.”

  “Get out of my sight, all of you.” Denties looked down and shook his head. “I want results. The next time we meet, I want to hear that we hold the power of the krystiles. That would begin with where they are mined, how they are used, and every other detail about them.”

  The Energy Czars backed out of the room and bowed at the door, almost bumping into each other in their haste to leave.

  Denties leaned back in his chair. He ruled the Conglomerate. The previous administration failed in every way. They failed to supply his citizens with power. He killed many with the yellow exhaust of his new energy ore, but that worked to his benefit, since they ran short on provisions.

  Food shortages caused a great deal of unrest. And that was a problem.

  Still, fewer people to feed meant fewer to govern and fewer to rise up against him.

  The Conglomerate had lost many of their farmers during the Great Food Uprising after the farmers insisted the Conglomerate provide them with energy to run their equipment. When the Conglomerate ran short of energy, they forced the farmers to use slave labor on their farms. Even with the slave labor, the farmers complained that the money paid to them by the Conglomerate put them in a bad situation and they finally united and rebelled. As a result, many of the people who knew how and where to plant crops and harvest them had been killed.

  Soon the Conglomerate would not be able to feed and care for the citizens who depended on them.

  That a barbarian warlord dared to defy the Conglomerate was a bitter pill to swallow. Denties had approved them sending their strongest empath to the barbarian, as a ruse to get control of the krystiles. That plan backfired when the barbarian decided to keep the MX. Rutting animals is what they were, with no higher brain function. And they called themselves warlords. It was almost funny.

  Denties’ plan to lure the barbarian warlord to the Trade Center and settle a valid trade agreement with him had failed miserably. The warlord did go to the Trade Center, but shortly after that many of the Trade officials were killed. There were rumors. Rumors he did not like. Some said the empath had been taken to an arena to die. At least one had been killed in the arena. The Special Threat Squads found a way to make even more money, charging people to watch the empaths die.

  His empire was being destroyed by the greed and ignorance of the incompetents who worked for him.

  He’d been enraged that he had not thought of it himself. The truth was, the Conglomerate needed danon, money. They also needed an energy source that would not kill their citizens, and an unpolluted food supply. Another by-product of the yellow ore was that the rain that fell through it was poisoned. Half their crops had been destroyed by the toxic yellow rain.

  The Conglomerate would have to start raiding the non-participating societies for food, and increase the capture of slaves for the mines.

  Denties had thought that sending a powerful empath to the barbarian leader would soften him up so the Conglomerate could negotiate a trade with him for the krystiles. Those pompous idiots at the Trade Center had somehow messed up his plan. Imbeciles! He was surrounded by imbeciles.

  There were no witnesses. All he knew was that they had lost an empath, and the leader of the barbarians had not been persuaded by the Trade Center officials. The Trade Center was in shambles after the barbarian was there. That was not a good sign. Would he be able to trick the leader out of the krystiles?

  Denties had thought hairy barbarians would be easily bent to his wishes. Not only had the barbarian leader destroyed the Trade Center, the Trade Council members were nowhere to be found. Denties had more problems than he could deal with right now. The Trade Center, their primary cash register, was no longer functioning.

  The Conglomerate had to have those krystiles. Now their survival as well as their dominance of the other societies depended on it.

  The barbarian leader’s uncle had taken to hiding.

  Denties had greedy fools and incompetents in his employ. They wanted what was best for them, instead of what was best for the Conglomerate.

  He needed a new tactic. When he’d asked his generals about invading and taking the krystiles, they’d assured him they could not do that. Something about not knowing where or how they were mined or found or dug up or whatever they did to get krystiles. They must get their hands on those krystiles, and on someone who knew how to use them. It should not have been this difficult. He just needed the right people to do the job.

  Right now, though, he had to select a new Council for the Trade Center. Denties sighed and sat back awaiting the next group of idiots he would have to deal with today.

  Denties pressed a button on his desk comm. “Call the Minister of War. It seems we may need Cowls to resolve the empath problem.”

  “Yes Sir.” The crisp, clean voice of his receptionist answered.

  Chapter 13

  Bess was desperately fighting the urge to throw up. Being on her hands and knees in the freezing water helped, but this carnage was threatening to inundate her. She tried to feel Var. Reaching. Yes, she still felt him. Still -- alive, at least. Betrayer that he was, why did she care?

  She forced her eyes open just as Var knocked another STS rider off his horse. The metal of his sword flashed before she felt it sink into the man’s back. Var moved on to the others, the last two tumbled to the ground with the Warlord. The air was filled with the grunts and groans of men in pain and dying. Two of them lay face down in the shallow river.

  Bess panted as she frantically tried to shield herself from their emotions but, there was too much pain, too much death. The swords were swinging through the air in a dark symphony of butchery and blood. Their song of pain and death was haunting. She watched. Her only option was to pull back from the darkness that came for the dying.

  Var leaned back to avoid the swing of a sword, then ducked and pushed his own sword through the attacker’s middle. He turned toward two who approached him on foot. Jumping high into the air, he pierced one man’s neck. Blood sprayed out. Var leapt backwards to avoid the thrusting sword of the other man who lowered his head and charged. The warlord drove his fist down on the back of the man’s head and pulled his knee up in a brutal move that rammed his knee into the man’s face and ultimately left the unfortunate STS rider face down in the river, ribbons of his blood running into the cold water.

  Var glanced at the oncoming riders, and plunged his sword into the back of the drowning man’s neck.

  Bess knew she had to restrain her emotions. If she lost control now, she would certainly harm Var. Somehow, even though he was her enemy, the idea of hurting him filled her with a sick, empty feeling and she could not bear to do it. She loathed her weakness. Bess had become a silly woman who lost her sense of self-preservation over a beautiful man. The shame of it made her face hot.

  Var walked up to the last man kneeling in the river and swung his sword. The man’s head fell, followed by his body
, as if in slow motion.

  She closed her eyes. Bess fought the nausea again. The bitter taste of bile rose in the back of her throat. She heaved and almost emptied the contents of her stomach, but finally managed to maintain her fragile equilibrium. Bess chanted to herself in an effort to rein in her gift as she fought against the weight of the soaked net and the current that pulled her ever closer to the water.

  Var mounted and passing her, lifted the net up with the end of his sword and sliced through part of it before going on to meet the STS from the other side of the river. Bess gasped at how close they were.

  “Hide with the other women,” he said as he rode by.

  She managed to claw her way through the hole made by Var’s sword and stand up. Turning to run, she tripped over the rocks and realized the net was still tangled around her feet. It didn’t matter. The women had run away from their laundry leaving only the pot and the fire beneath it.

  Bess’s legs were stiff from riding and being in the frigid water. She struggled to rid herself of the net and get up again. The men’s deaths and the effort to hold onto her emotions drained her. She was barely able to pull back from the dying men before they were gone. So much violence left her open, completely unshielded, all their emotions and thoughts assailed her.

  Mercenary. Var was a mercenary barbarian. He was working for the Conglomerate. The STS felt betrayed. He was violating the deal they had with all the mercenary warlords. Bess wondered why he fought with them.

  Curse Var for riding into a trap anyway. Her anger flew out in a small projection. She felt it hit him and didn’t care. Bess was pitifully helpless against him, against the STS, against the heavy net. She couldn’t untangle herself from it and she was now sitting up to her waist in the icy water.

  Her fingers were numb and it took all her effort to get to her knees and scream her frustration at Var. If they killed him, she would be alone with the most hated men in the entire Conglomerate. They wanted to capture her and deliver her to a horrific death. She felt that from them. Their malice and hate were so vicious it hurt her. Because she was different, they would kill her and all of her kind.

  Her anger sparked and almost crossed over into unbridled rage. Bitterness filled her. She wanted Var to protect her, to save her, even though he would betray her later. Mercenary barbarian! Even so, she could not hate Var enough to hurt him and she wondered why.

  The four riders were pressing hard from the other side of the river.

  Var stood waiting.

  Bess felt his control. Deeper, she felt the warlord’s fury. He held it tight inside. She realized he held everything like that. Tightly bound, deep within himself he had a knot of pain and hate. That was why he’d been so difficult for her to read. Well, that and the fact that he was not human. She felt the difference between whatever he was and the STS whose toxic emotions were next to impossible for her to shut out.

  The riders were here now, their horses splashing closer in the river. She turned her face away, but heard the blows landing and the bodies crashing against other bodies and rocks. Again, the song of the swords filled her with the sound of death as they sliced the air in search of life’s blood, followed by a splash. Would these sounds ever stop? She squeezed her eyes shut, rocking and whispering the chants she hoped would help to calm her.

  Quiet. It was quiet now. The only sound was the water rushing over the rocks. Her hands were too cold to untangle her feet. She rolled to her knees in the river. How long had she been here? Bess opened her eyes and saw blood in the water. It was obscene, blood in this beautiful, clear water. The blood of -- Var was still alive. She felt him before she looked up and saw him walking toward her.

  He had won. Relief flooded her. What had he won -- the right to keep her so he would have the reward money all to himself? She was a prize awarded to the one most able to hold her until she was turned over for the bounty on her head. Danon. That’s all she was worth. Something to be sold for money, a thing to be given to the Conglomerate. Shame flooded her. He was helping to deliver her kind to their end and he was a liar and she was -- relieved that he still lived.

  Once again, she shot out her fury and frustration at the big barbarian. He barely flinched, but it hit him. She knew it had.

  Var pulled her to her feet. When her legs did not hold her, he caught her with one arm and pressed her to him.

  She saw his knife and fought, but he held her tightly against his hard chest while he bent to cut the net from around her feet. She realized how heavy the net was after he freed her from it.

  Physically exhausted after the struggle in the river and still reeling from the trauma of the dying, she did not trust herself to think rationally. Though she had blocked most of their emotions, so many had hit her so fast, she had absorbed the ugliness of too many of them. The death of so many people, and her fight to control her emotions, caught up with her and left her drained. Weak as a kitten, or maybe just weak with relief, but she was still alive. If Var had given her to them like they had planned...

  Bess was physically and emotionally exhausted. He set her on the horse, mounted behind her, and guided the horse downriver. She heard distant thunder then and wondered at how fast it approached. Var crossed back to the other side of the river when they were around the bend.

  She couldn’t think. He pressed a piece of fruit in her mouth. Bess bit down. This was becoming a habit. The sweet cleared her mind but, she was still shaking.

  Being abducted by warlords was dangerous. Compared to the boring monotony of the slave line, these last few days had been chaotic. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since those days.

  Somber clouds in the sky rolled over each other, energy mounted as the clouds became darker and angrier. The ominous sound of the approaching storm set her on edge. The thunder’s low growl and promise of fury grew louder as if a hungry beast prowled closer while hunting her soul.

  A blast of cold air hit them when they re-entered the forest. Bess shivered, her wet clothes weighing her down the same way the battle and Var’s betrayal weighed on her soul.

  Var rode smoothly through the forest. The dense canopy of trees and black clouds made it look like dusk even though it was still afternoon. The wind sang at first and then howled through the branches of the tall trees. Bess squealed and jumped at a lightning strike followed by crashing thunder. The first large raindrops fell. Soon they were enveloped in a cold, hard rain.

  He held her close on the wild ride through the forest. Bess had trouble registering the blood on his arm when she looked down. Was the warmth oozing onto her shoulder his blood? She wanted to turn and cling to him for warmth as they were both soaked by the violent thunderstorm. He leaned over her, pushing her closer to the horse’s neck to protect her from the worst of the weather.

  The temperature dropped as the storm raged. Violent wind whipped the trees. A large tree fell right in front of them and the horse barely had time to gather itself and clear the fallen trunk. She swallowed her scream.

  There was a sound as if something was coming through the woods toward them. It was something monstrous. Behind her, Var leaned forward, pushing her further down to cover more of her body with his own. The sound was louder now as if it were frantic to catch them. Leaves began hitting the ground driven down by -- what? Something hard hit the horse’s neck and drew blood. A missile grazed her arm. She saw ice on the ground. Large chunks of ice. It was pelting down on the leaves and small branches of the trees, tearing them off and pummeling them to the earth with an efficiency the wind could never match.

  Bess tried to sit up to see better, but Var held her down with his hard body. Ice struck her again and another gash appeared, running down her leg. The heat of Var’s blood on her skin was sucked away by the freezing rain and ice.

  The horse’s head was shielded by leather armor, but she felt its pain as the ice stones bombarded them. Var turned the horse into a rock formation and when they stopped, Bess inspected the rock overhang that protected them from the hail. She tri
ed to speak to Var, but gave up after the first three tries. The hail stones bounced off the rock and became hateful missiles that could still hurt them. Her teeth chattered so hard she could not form words.

  When the hail stopped, he guided the horse out from under the protection of the rock and back into the cold rain. Var sat up a little and pulled her against his chest. There was no need to try to keep the rain off of her, she was completely soaked. The near-freezing water stung her face.

  Var slowed the horse to a walk. It was difficult to know the time, since everything was so dark. They’d been riding hard since they left the river. He reined the horse to a stop and whistled before turning her face to check on her. Her breath coming fast, Bess strained to hear. The warlord must have heard something, because he moved forward through a thicket. Briers tore at her clothing. Var kept most of them from tearing her skin. After passing through what she would have sworn was impenetrable brush, he stopped the horse and helped Bess down.

  She finally got a look at him. He was bleeding from several cuts, but wasted no time grasping her hand and pulling her toward a rock formation that towered almost as high as the trees.

  Bess slipped on the wet rocks more than once, but Var held her tight so she did not fall. Weaving through rocks that were taller than the big warlord, they made their way to an opening. It was an old stone structure overgrown with vines and even small trees. Bess looked up just before they entered and saw the tall trees that surrounded the rock formation twisting and bending in the violent wind. Another bright flash of light followed by deep thunder drew a sharp cry from her throat. Even the horse spooked at the thunder that went on and on, as if the sky itself were angry at them.

  Mack was waiting for them under a rock overhang at the entrance. “The Conglomerate wants this one,” he said around his matchstick, with a wink in her direction.