FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy

by Mercedes Lackey

  She’d already proven that assessment. And gotten her Honor Guard in trouble for not having the man-rocks to climb up after her and pull her back down.

  Shanti spotted Sanders immediately. He stood in the middle of a group of men around Shanti’s age, showing some sort of knife throw. It was a move only large, strong men could do with other large, strong men, because it was clunky and easy to slip out of if you were in any way nimble.

  The far corner had a wall set up with targets. Men of all ages loitered around, throwing knives like they might throw a ball. While most had great aim, they applied terrible technique. Such an easy thing to master, and yet it was an anomaly on these training grounds. Ridiculous.

  “Can I help you?”

  Shanti turned to a man in his early thirties with a dirty, sweat-stained shirt and loose pants. His honeyed skin provided a natural block against the intense heat. His face was broad but features delicate, barely on the masculine side of pretty. His eyes, though…

  Shanti felt a pang of longing as she gazed into those eyes. Warm brown, like the earth, almost exactly the same color and shape as Romie’s had been.

  Shanti smiled, her stomach fluttering. Remembering. “Oh no, you and yours are providing plenty of distraction, thank you.”

  “I don’t believe you’re supposed to be here.” His beautiful eyes started to twinkle. She wanted to fall in immediately and never come out.

  “Actually, Commander Sanders gave me these knives.“ Shanti produced the stolen blades from the belt of her stolen pants. “He said I should try to throw them.”

  The man laughed, a pleasing sound that tickled her below her stolen belt line. “I doubt that.”

  “Are you calling your commanding officer a liar?” Her voice took on a sharp edge. If he didn’t go for that, she had a strictly feminine purr at the ready. She had about fifteen more minutes before her Honor Guard found her, and less than that before Sanders did. She wanted to throw her knives and make all the boys squeal.

  But then, she also had a half a mind to make this boy squeal. Decisions.

  His eyes rounded and he shook his head. “No, ma’am. Let me take you to Commander Sanders.”

  “I see him. Why don’t you take me to the Pit instead? He said he’d meet me there…”

  Knowing what they called the area to throw knives obviously gave her credibility. As they headed over, thankfully not in clear view of Sanders, Shanti said, “So what is your name?”

  “Jerrol, ma’am. And you are the foreign woman.”

  “Shanti, yes. Tell me, Jerrol, does your city have a ban on pre-mating intercourse?”

  “Mating?”

  “Um…you know…” Shanti searched for the word, “what you call wife and husband?”

  “Married, you mean. Uh…” With an embarrassed smile he looked around, trying to make sure no one overheard their conversation. Talking about sex was apparently restricted. Pity.

  “Lovers are taboo in this culture, then, is that correct?” she pushed.

  “Lovers?”

  She wasn’t making him squeal so much as squeak.

  It was just her luck that she landed, half dead, into a prudish culture where women wore entire rolls of fabric on their person, each gender was afraid of seeing the other naked, sex was quiet of all things, and only the men protected their people. She couldn’t have been more out of place if she’d dreamed up a joke for herself.

  “Forget I said anything. Until the ban ceases, of course.”

  They arrived at the Pit, Jerrol now walking slightly closer than he had before their conversation. Shanti watched the proceedings for a scant two seconds before a lifetime of duty and leadership had her marching over to a man her senior by probably ten years. His form was decent, but it only needed a slight tweak to be much more effective.

  “What is your rank, solider?” she asked gruffly, emulating Sanders. It made her feel stupid, not speaking to him like a human being, but it was the way they did things here. These men liked to keep things in routine. Much like toddlers.

  The man hesitated. He knew he was talking to a woman, knew he should escort her out of harm’s way, but probably figured he’d get a thump for it. He was right on two counts.

  “Staff Officer...” he responded.

  “Name?”

  “Derek.”

  “Staff Officer Derek, you are holding that knife all kinds of wrong. Here let me…”

  “WHAT IS SHE DOING IN THE PIT?”

  Alas, Sanders was more observant than she had given him credit for.

  The man in front of her tried not to shrivel out of the way. He was the only one.

  Shanti turned to face the oncoming rage of the most vicious man in their military—if the rumors were to be believed. She was rather curious what he would do. Then bored, because instead of kicking her in the head, he immediately reached for her arm to drag her away. She evaded easily.

  “Temper, temper,” she taunted with a playful smirk. “Everyone will think you don’t have a sense of humor.”

  “What are you doing in my clothes?” Sanders barked. “And where is your protection? And-why are-you-in-the-middle-of-fifty-dangerous-men-who-are-half-mad-with-adrenaline? Do you have a death wish? Or do you want me killed, because if the Captain found out you were here I would be cleaning the latrines!“

  “Shoot. My Honor Guard arrives.” Xavier was running at her in a full sprint. “I’ll leave you to it. But first…”

  She grabbed Derek’s knife by the blade, spun, and threw with barely a glance at the target. It was easy and effortless and her aim was true. There was a resounded thunk as the knife hit the middle of the bull’s-eye.

  Thank the grace of the Elders! Muscle memory was a wonderful thing. She would have made a real ass of herself if she’d missed.

  She walked away to an entire training ground of dead silence. That was, until Rachie showed up.

  “Oh thank fuck, we found her! I thought for sure she was hiding in the men’s bathroom again!”

  As she let them lead her away, Sanders frothing in her wake, she said, “Fuck? It seems you’ve been tight-lipped about a very important swear word. Explain.”

  Chapter X

  SANDERS WALKED INTO THE CAPTAIN’S office with a brisk pace and lead in his chest. The Captain sat behind his desk, completely composed, but a man just never knew where they stood when called out of the blue. His punishment was nearly up, so that was probably it, but he hadn’t kept a very close eye on his charge, so he could be getting reamed out for that.

  Or possibly his men were the problem. They wouldn’t stop trying to intercept the foreigner and engage her in some way. Half of them already proposed. They loved hearing the ways they were rebuked. A bunch of young, horny fools was what they were.

  Then there were her band of boys. They’d do whatever she said over whatever anyone else said, no matter if Sanders slapped them around or not. It was her way or silence. He didn’t know how she did it, but it was making a right mess of things in the practice yard.

  Especially since they were starting to use a strange fighting style. And winning.

  “Captain, you wanted to see me?” Sanders asked, coming to stand in front of the desk.

  Eerie blue eyes looked up from crisp white papers. The Captain’s shoulder length hair was back, tied at the nape of his neck. It meant he had battle in mind, which had Sanders immediately on point.

  “Mugdock are gathering en masse,” the Captain started, sticking Sanders with those eyes and drilling him into the floor. “Something is brewing, but right now they have no clear target in mind. At least, they don’t seem to. They’re huddled outside of our lands, but not heading to our farming areas or mining operations. I’m debating sending a large party to break them up.”

  Break them up was code for kill them all. Only way to do it with the Mugdock. “Is it just that one group?”

  “So far, yes. It is probably half of their battalion. I have scouts looking for the other half.”

  “
Do you think they intend to raid?”

  The Captain leaned back and closed his eyes. “I don’t know. It is fierce bad timing. I have a delegation coming through day after tomorrow to meet me and the council. They want to open trade lines between here and farther east. In addition, I planned on asking them about our foreigner. I don’t want to advertise our problems with the Mugdock.”

  “Think they’ll know of one stray female traveler?”

  Sanders wasn’t trying to be funny, or even grouchy, so he had no idea why the captain, eyes still closed, had a smile creeping up his face. Possibly laughing at a joke he’d told silently to himself. Possibly the young bugger was going mad. And if he was going mad, Sanders wasn’t planning on telling anybody because then it would be his problem. To that end, he stood right where he was, not daring to utter a single sound.

  The Captain finally said, “She’s eclectic. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.”

  Eclectic wouldn’t have been Sanders’ word of choice. More along the lines of royal pain in the ass. “Should I send a party to disband the Mugdock?”

  The Captain went reflective, then shook his head. “No, not yet. That’ll cause a grotesque scene. Get men ready, though. If anything happens, I want our reaction swift and complete.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I hear the girl made her way to the Pit?”

  Sanders’s balls tightened up. He knew that tone. “She escaped her Honor Guard, sir.”

  The Captain’s eyes, made of steel, honed in on Sanders. The air pressurized, causing fear to creep through Sanders’ now hollow veins.

  The rough voice was quiet as it said, “You will take her in hand, Commander. Put an experienced man on her. If she so much as sneezes, I want to know about it. There is more to that woman than mere traveling. Ordinary people don’t have swords like that. She’s hiding something, and I will not let my people come to harm due to ignorance.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How is it going with you and Junice?”

  “Wh—fine, sir. Thank you for your concern.”

  “The foreign girl isn’t coming between you? There isn’t jealousy there?”

  Sanders’ eyes widened momentarily. “No, sir. Not that I am aware. The gir—Shanti leaves every evening to the park—followed by members of her Guard. She comes back just after our bedtime. I rarely see her.”

  “I see. I’m thinking of moving her location. Junice has developed a sort of loyalty to her. I would rather not have you compromised.”

  The Captain was losing faith in Sanders’ ability to follow orders. It stung. Sanders had always been a career man, loyal to a fault. This foreign woman was starting to be a cancer to his life, disruptive in every way. And it was true—Junice was constantly singing her praises, though the foreign woman did nothing to help around the house.

  Sanders nodded grudgingly.

  “I’ll arrange the move tomorrow at noon,” the Captain said with finality. “Get her that experienced guard, and let him know that if he starts to feel even the smallest bit of loyalty toward her, he will be answering directly to me.”

  “How long do you plan to keep her here?”

  The Captain glanced up at his timepiece and looked back down at his papers. “Until she tells me who she is, and how I can help or hinder her progress, depending on her story.”

  Oh good, the Captain was in a pissing contest with a strange girl from God-knew-where. Madness. Definitely madness setting in.

  Sanders turned on his heel and headed out without another word.

  Chapter XI

  “THEY ARE COMING.”

  SHANTI LOOKED around, confused.

  Where was she?

  In the wood. Not her home wood, though. Not the wood—

  “Chosen, they are coming. We must get ready.”

  Shanti turned to the man on her left. Tall, strong, and steady, he was safety with a staff. He would protect her at all costs. He had absolutely no equal, save herself. But he had not heard how many came their way. Their best strategic minds, their best planners, and the best ground moving crew they had, would not stop the horde coming. They were but one nation, fighting many. She was on the losing end of a blood bath, and she knew it. All the Head Staff did.

  With the confidence born of her role, and the loyalty born of inspiring and leading by example, Shanti followed her Chance to the lookout cusp. She was the Chosen. She needed to survive this day. She needed to distract this horde long enough to get an already selected group of their people to a safe location. There they would remain until Shanti came back with her people’s long separated blood relations. She would reunite the tribes, declaring war on the nation threatening to bend the knee of the entire land.

  “They are coming,” he said again.

  As they moved into position, it echoed.

  They are coming…

  In a cold sweat, Shanti sat straight up in bed, her hair plastered to the side of her head. She’d had that nightmare a great many times since it had been a reality, but never had it stopped before blood was spilt. Never had she woken up with that lingering warning.

  She registered the still night. The calm of the wood, so close, breathed fresh air through her cracked window. As the breeze tickled her face, drying her sweat, a force tickled her barriers, asking to be let in.

  Memories of her youth assaulted her. Screaming. A child tottering down the lane covered in blood …

  Flashes of imagery wrestled with her self-control. Dowsed her in fear. Dragged her under the surface of panic.

  She scrambled up and raced into Sanders’ room, desperately trying to get ahold of herself. Something was coming, and she was as vulnerable as a child without her weapons.

  “Sanders!” she bellowed, then braced for defense. You never surprised fighting men out of a dead sleep unless you were prepared, or did not value your life. Thankfully his reaction was to jump onto the bed, and crouch over his wife with short-sword in hand. His teeth were bared, his muscles taxed.

  “Something is coming!” Shanti whispered fiercely.

  Sanders was down off the bed and in her face surprisingly quickly. “What do you mean? What is? How do you know?”

  “Someone… I don’t know. I don’t know what it is, Sanders, I am a foreigner here. Something bad is focused this way. Someone with malice. Someone filthy—a lot of someone’s, actually.”

  Sanders relaxed slightly. “You had a dream, Shanti. Go to bed.”

  “What’s going on?” Junice said with a thick voice. She sat up slowly, eyes puffy with sleep. “Avery, is that a sword? What’s going on?”

  “Sanders, I need my weapons. Now,” Shanti exclaimed. “I will not face whatever is coming without my sword.”

  “Nothing is coming…” Sanders’ voice dropped an octave. “Why are you so sure something is coming?”

  “I feel it, Sanders. Now, as I stand here, I feel it. FLAK!” Shanti shook her head impatiently. This was getting her nowhere. Sanders didn’t trust her, he couldn’t sense what she could, and he was too stubborn to listen to reason. She needed her Honor Guard.

  She made it one step before she felt his intention. She whirled to her right, narrowly missing Sanders’ grab.

  “Don’t do this, Sanders. We are not having this fight right here.”

  He repositioned himself in front of the door. “You are not leaving this house, Shanti. I don’t like the way you’re talking. The Captain is right; there is something off with you.”

  “The Captain thinks there is something off with me, does he?” She huffed, glancing at the window. She was faster than him—she didn’t need to go through if she could go around. “Doesn’t like looking in a mirror, perhaps? Doesn’t matter. I am not going to stay in this town and get killed.”

  He lunged for her with his empty hand, his sword brought wide and out of the way. Mistrust was one thing, but killing another. Sanders was not about to kill a woman. Great news.

  Shanti peeled to the side while grabbing his wrist and tugging,
knocking him off balance. She pummeled two punches to his small ribs, gave a chop to his inner leg near his balls, and then stepped back. He gave one hobble before pausing, his brain distracted by that kick near his vulnerable area. She used it to give him a hard kick to his kidney, hoping he’d go down.

  He didn’t. He staggered, his eyes flaring with battle rage. It was about to get interesting.

  He punched, fast as lightning, ready to tackle her to the ground after the punch landed. It didn’t.

  She wiped his hand away, pivoted, and kicked him in the face. Her foot slapped off his chin. His head whipped back, his body staggering with it.

  Junice started screaming.

  Shanti braced for a follow-up kick to Sanders, trying to finally down the stubborn jackass, when her eyes caught movement to the side. Something was barreling toward her.

  Not something, someone.

  It was a tall man with shoulders getting bigger by the minute. The impact knocked the breath out of her. They tumbled to the ground, rolling to a stop against the bed frame. Junice’s screams intensified.

  Shanti used her legs to buck him off, hopping up while he tried to get his limbs organized. She threw another kick at Sanders, to keep him put, before spinning back toward Sanders’ hero. He was up now, too, his reaction time as quick as Sanders’, unfortunately. Barely swiveling, she threw an elbow into his face. He staggered backward, his leg catching on the dresser and sending him to his butt.

  The hero was scrambling up yet again, bloody determined. So was Sanders.

  These guys were starting to get on her nerves. They took a helluva beating and kept on coming.

  Shanti threw a roundhouse kick, knocked Sanders back onto furniture, and turned to the attacking hero. She met him head on, barreling punches into his chest and stomach, then swiping his eyes and getting him in position for a mighty throw. When he responded, she grabbed, pivoted, turned, and used his momentum to throw his body over her shoulder, straight through the window. Breaking glass competed with Junice’s shrieks.

  Shanti was out after him the next second, feeling Sanders’ fingers slip along her sweaty leg.