So one more man had lost his life. Sanders wondered what he’d said. He wondered how important it was. He wondered whose family had just lost a loved one. And most of all, he wondered how long it would be before Junice lost one, too.
Chapter XXXIV
THE MORNING AFTER SHANTI’S TRAINING with Cayan, she and the Guard were gathered in the park for their daily training. She felt refreshed and alive, having had a deep sleep and a better overall grasp on this new well of power. She was still wary of the power she shared with Cayan, but working with him made her feel more secure with it.
“S’ally, something is going on.” Leilius danced in front of her, hopping from foot to foot. Apparently her title was about to change again—which happened whenever Leilius’ brain short-circuited in fear or excitement. When she got used to rarely knowing if he was addressing her, or someone else, it became quite funny. Even now everyone was smirking.
It apparently pissed Sanders off to no end, however, prompting more fear in Leilius. And then prompting weirder titles. And then prompting Leilius airborne as Sanders lost his patience… Apparently that was normal when dealing with Sanders, though Shanti had never seen it.
Shanti nodded for him to go on. The rest of the boys stopped what they were doing and watched. She could feel Sterling winding his way toward them. Just another day of training.
“I was in the bush waiting for Commandant Sterling when two of the Captain’s men went rushing by. They were the guys on the gate. They were hurrying and flustered. Said something about one of them telling the Captain, the other getting aid. Medical aid. I heard Commodore Sanders’ name.”
Shanti’s mind was already spread wide—keeping her feelers out was so easy now, it seemed silly not to—but now she honed in, looking for the emotions that would be associated with the news. Most of the city was as it usually was, but by the gate, just as Leilius had said, there was anxiety. Worry, fear, anger, denial—they were shifting and changing like a color changing fabric.
“Sanders wasn’t with them? Coming along behind?” Shanti demanded of Leilius.
“No, s’am.”
Shanti searched, looking for the bundle of intents and emotions she’d come to recognize as Sanders. It was hard not to—pulses and flares of impatience and anger were always prominent, hiding a soft, tranquil bay of deep emotion and honor. The man played at being gruff, dominating, and callous, but you would find no man more loyal and ready to help.
That mind path was absent. He hadn’t returned. He was probably captured, and the Inkna were an especially gruesome people with a fondness for torture. Based on what she had learned from the little mouse, they were also exceptionally good at it.
“Lucius, go find out what’s going on,” Shanti commanded. “Leilius, you go sneak closer. Spy. Find out whatever Lucius can’t. Marc, go huddle near the doctor. If you find out it is Sanders, let your sorrow sink into you. I will find you, then.”
“What about the rest of us?” Xavier was looking at her with a hard face. He wanted to be in the middle of the action, like a warrior should. So did Rachie and Gracas, judging by their equally intense looks. Unfortunately, they were far from ready.
“Continue with your day. I’ll fill you in when I know more.”
Sterling burst through the trees with sparkling eyes and a winning smile, which were short lived. As the men ignored him and ran from the trees, he looked around in confusion. “What is it?”
Shanti started toward the prison. No more stalling. No more questioning. Shanti wasn’t good at torture, but she was great at pain. It might not last a long time, but it would last long enough to get what she needed to find Sanders. The Elders would not turn away for this, not when the innocent were at stake. Not when it was her duty to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.
“What is it?” Sterling asked.
As she passed, she said, “Someone has come into the city injured. The Captain will probably want you—“
A blast of power rocked the city. Shanti slammed down her shields as the rest of the men froze with wide eyes. They didn’t know what it was—just that something had made the air freeze around them.
“—now,” Shanti finished, not stopping in her stride.
Sterling fell in beside her. “How do you know?”
“Leilius was hiding from you and heard a conversation as gate guards rushed past. I don’t know if it is Sanders, but I can think of no other thing.”
Sterling immediately pivoted and headed off north. Cayan had picked his officers well.
When Shanti finally got to the Captain’s office, all the first and second tier commanding officers were there. Leilius had managed to sneak in and was hiding in the back like an unwanted rodent. It was a testimony to how distracted Cayan was that he didn’t notice.
The door had been locked.
Now it was broken.
She took unhurried steps toward the desk as Cayan stood up, flexed from head to toe. “Get out!” he bellowed.
A blast of emotion rocked her shields. Embarrassingly, her body’s first impulse was to flee. She smiled it away. “Sanders is caught. I am going to break him free.”
His blue gaze blazed into her. Wrath and turmoil slapped against her shields. “You are going to stay here and stay alive. End of discussion.”
“Let me take this opportunity to remind you that I am not under your command. He saved my life. I will save his. I am going.”
“Get her out of here,” the Captain yelled, looking down at his desk.
Oh, really?
Two gruff men peeled away from the others, marching toward her with grim faces. She squeezed them, dropping each to his knees. Shaking hands grabbed their heads with terrified eyes.
Cayan’s head jerked upward. War lit up his features.
Shanti stood her ground. “What are you going to do if they come at you with mental warfare?” she asked before he exploded. “You can block it, yes, but what about your men? I used barely a fraction of power just now, and they sank to the ground, ready for slaughter. I am one person. They’ll have many.”
Cayan stared at her, his hands braced on the desk, his men itchy to move away from the battle in front of them.
“You cannot retaliate,” she went on. “You can search, yes, but so what? You’ll point out that men are coming…and then what? How will you disband them when they are a hundred paces away and your archers are crumpled at your feet?”
“With respect, my Lord,” Daniels cut in. “She can fight, but outside that she is unimportant. Let her run to her death, if she wishes.”
A vein in the Captain’s clenched jaw started to throb.
Daniels didn’t realize he was mostly ignorant concerning Shanti. He wasn’t helping.
Cayan’s eyes flickered. He’d just made a decision he didn’t like. “If I allow you to go, you are under my command. You will do as I say. You are not a leader anymore—you no longer have an army. You will remember that.”
Ouch. “Okay.”
“You will follow orders or you will be outcast.”
I’ll be outcast anyway. “Yes.”
She felt his mind brush hers, then linger. He wanted more confirmation than her verbal acknowledgement. Smart. He thought mind touch couldn’t be fooled. Naïve.
Getting what he was after, he nodded and looked down at his desk, his shoulders tight with stress. “We have the trade location. Based on what the survivors said…“ Cayan’s words hitched imperceptibly, causing him to roll his massive shoulders, fighting down the rage. Shanti’s stomach wiggled—she was interested to see him in battle. “They didn’t make it that far. So then, based on their description, I would imagine they were taken somewhere along here…” He traced a groove in the map with his finger. Daniels leaned in to note the coordinates. “But we can only speculate where they were taken after capture.”
“I have the exact location, should you need it,” Shanti noted quietly, trying not to further ruffle his razor-like feathers.
All eye
s found her. Lucius smirked.
“How?” Daniels asked with a pompous air, his voice as hard as his eyes. He still didn’t trust her.
“I asked the prisoner. Unfortunately, even though I said ‘pretty please,’ he tried to keep it a secret. I had to pry the knowledge from him. He’s no longer…much use.”
“Point to it on the map,” Cayan commanded.
She produced a hand drawn sketch made with a shaky hand. A boxy picture of a house or castle—not much was to scale—was on a bluff along a large river. Sterling took it and laid it in front of the Captain. He traced the areas that seemed to line up on both maps and put a big “X” to indicate the goal. They would have found it, but it would have taken a day or so. That one day could’ve made the difference in Sanders’ life.
Because it was Sanders who had been taken. Him and a few others. The half-dead man who made it back had said that in Leilius’ earshot. And if Sanders had even a glimmer of a chance at being alive, he would be. Shanti had to believe that.
“We leave at dusk. Assemble the troops.” Cayan straightened up.
“I would like to take Leilius,” Shanti said quietly with bowed head. Now was not the time to poke at the Captain, so she kept her tone light and small. “And you probably want to take Marc.” She cleared her throat into the thick silence.
Of all the incredulous staring, Cayan’s blue stare was easily the hardest. “No.”
“I think Leilius can be of great value. He can get to places where not many others can. He has a gift for it.”
“He’s too young. He’s not ready.”
“Well, he’s sitting ten feet from you, and since no one has noticed, I would say he might be close to ready…”
Everyone looked toward the nearest window.
“Stand up Leilius,” Shanti instructed, trying not to lounge in any way. Everyone else had such straight posture when the Captain was around, she thought it best to try and follow suit. At least until they were on the road.
The rustle behind Daniels had the older man jumping and whirling around, grabbing a big eyed Leilius. Cayan was still staring at Shanti.
“And Marc?” Cayan asked calmly, like an executioner sharpening his axe. All the men in the room stiffened.
“He is the most talented of all the medic trainees by far, and has been training for combat. He isn’t great with weapons, but he knows to stay out of the way, and he doesn’t balk when he is needed. Assuming the doctor is too old to go, of course. Obviously experience is better.”
“And the others?”
“Are too young and not ready. Except for Lucius, who is under your command. So that’s…uh, your choice. Obviously.” She cleared her throat again, hoping to dislodge a stare or two. This was starting to get awkward.
Cayan nodded his head slightly, his eyes on fire. “Dusk. Meet at the front gate. Daniels, I’ll hear your plan then, but you will be staying behind. If this goes sour someone has to take over, and Sterling stayed last time.”
“Yes, sir,” Daniels responded. The disappointment in his mind didn’t convey in his tone. His warning look at Shanti wasn’t missed, either.
Shanti stayed out of the arrangements as the day wore on. She wasn’t even allowed to sit in to hear the strategy, which was actually fine because she’d always had people to do that for her anyway. She was a decision-maker, not a planner. And now she was a follower and nameless fighter. Chosen, indeed.
When dusk finally came, she and the two Guard members waited at the back of a long line, mostly overlooked or ignored.
“Why me, S’am?” Leilius asked in a tiny voice as he and Marc huddled close.
Since they learned they’d be going to rescue Sanders, the two boys had been following her around with wide, fear-crusted eyes.
“Because you are excellent at your craft,” Shanti replied distractedly as she monitored Lucius. Her Chance was checking men in line, saying a few words, then nodding with responses. Though he wasn’t a commander, he was the Captain’s right-hand man. It twisted her stomach painfully, worry eating away like acid. She hoped he would be there for her if she needed him, but knew that if his Captain needed him more, his decision might leave her vulnerable.
“But why not Xavier? He actually wanted to go…”
“Don’t whine, Leilius. It will be harder to fit in.”
“We’re the youngest here, hanging out with a woman wearing men’s clothes. There isn’t much hope of us fitting in,” Marc reflected.
Shanti had to agree there.
A huge man with a ragged scar across his forehead stopped in front of Shanti. “You, woman—to the front.”
Leilius jumped and clutched onto her, his wide eyes staring at the experienced fighter in front of them. She gently shrugged off the kid and stepped out of the line, sparing a wink for the boys.
“Kind of rude,” Marc mumbled as he crossed his arms in front of his scrawny chest.
The grim warrior walked up the line at a measured pace, giving Shanti plenty of time to check out her comrades. Men waited by twos, swords on their belts and arrows on their backs. Hard, expectant eyes adorned eager faces. Their metal gleamed and their crisp blue uniforms identified their ranks.
Shanti couldn’t help looking down at herself. She had a pair of faded brown pants of Marc’s with three patched up holes. Her shirt hung loosely, wrinkled and stained with dirt. And while her weapon did gleam with a high shine, the leather work looked poor and uncared for compared to their expertise.
Oh yeah, and she was a woman. There wasn’t a chance in all Death’s Playground that she would fit into this crowd.
As they reached the horses she inwardly sighed. She didn’t have a great love of horses. They didn’t have their own mind, and just when you thought you had a nice rapport, they freaked out and tried to run away. Granted, the only time she rode horses was right after she killed the owner and stole them, but none of her experiences had been good. Except she had never ridden one like she saw before her. Fierce eyed and large hoofed, these beasts had about as much gloss as her sword. As she walked around them, skittish and not afraid to show it, more than one stamped its foot.
“They are reacting to your fear,” Lucius said from the second row of horses. His brown beast scowled down at her.
“It’s not fear. I’ve just heard the horses in this land bite. I’m not in a hurry to lose my shoulder.” Shanti continued following her guide past Sterling on a deep brown animal.
“Only the war horses with a bad attitude,” Lucius responded.
“So, all of these, then…”
A crowd of people waited to see the heroes off, the beautiful women giving doe eyes at Cayan. And there he sat, atop the largest horse in the horde. Black as night and mean as Time, the beast stared at Shanti like he might her for dinner. Cayan was only slightly more agreeable as his cold blue gaze tracked her progress.
“Well? How do they look?” he asked. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck, ready for battle. His shoulders strained his uniform and his powerful legs gripped the moody beast below him.
“Like their bites would hurt,” Shanti replied.
Cayan’s brow furrowed. “The men, I meant.”
“Oh.” Shanti glanced back the way she’d come. “Ready. Eager. Vengeance walking. Keep them busy or the less experienced will pick fights because they don’t know what to do with the anticipation of violence.”
“Walk with me,” he said. “I have some questions. Come here, you can ride with me for a while.” He reached down a large palm.
Sterling’s horse side-pranced, giving her room and making her uncomfortably jittery. Shanti had been on the receiving end of a couple of hooves. That had hurt more than a little.
“I’m okay. I’ll walk. It hurts falling off of those things.”
Cayan’s laugh was loud and throaty. It hadn’t been a joke.
With no discernible movement, suddenly the large black warhorse was in action. It stepped forward, shaking its head proudly. Shanti jogged farther ahead,
wanting to stay out of the way. Thankfully, Sterling fell behind so she wouldn’t be trampled. The crowd started yelling and waving, seeing their men off to the battle. It wasn’t until the roar of the crowd diminished that Cayan spoke again.
“Do you know how they fight?” he asked, looking down at her.
Shanti drifted a little closer so they didn’t have to yell. Unfortunately, Sterling and the others had the same idea. Before she knew it, she was walking among spindly legs and sharp chompers.
“This is not the safest of places for a walker,” Shanti acknowledged as she pushed Sterling’s horse with an outstretched hand. Its head bent around, eyeing her. She jerked her hand back into her chest as Cayan’s tree trunk arm reached down and snatched her. Before she could shake him off, she was being hoisted up the side of the shiny black animal, dangling until she was lobbed on the back, forcing her to scrabble up behind him.
“That wasn’t the solution I was going for,” Shanti huffed, clutching onto Cayan’s broad back.
“Would you rather be in front?” The way Cayan said it sounded like on top.
She ignored him. “Their fighters are small and quick, but not excellent. They aren’t ones for head-on combat. They’ll come from the sides, or descend in a horde over a hill. As you saw, they’ll sneak over walls or come in the back way, content to let some other nation get chopped down.”
“Do they all have the Gift? The ability for mental warfare?”
Shanti shook her head, clutching onto Cayan so she didn’t slip off the saddle. She had no idea how to properly ride one of these—a gaping hole in her education. “From what I’ve heard, one in forty has some sort of Gift, but not usually with any real strength. They are working on it, though. They push arranged marriages, which is usual with the top tier of a class system, but from what I’ve heard, they peel their eyes for any new talent, then work them into the arrangement system. Still, they are lacking as a whole, I believe.”
“In comparison to who?” Sterling asked.
That gave Shanti pause. She was used to thinking in terms of large quantities of excellent fighters with strong Gifts. She looked behind her at the sea of solemn faces. She still traveled with excellent fighters, but none had the Gift save Cayan. Every one of them would be vulnerable to an attack, no matter the strength of the Gift used.
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 48