by Alma Boykin
“I couldn’t ask, because there were rifles pointed at my head, but I assume they will be pointed at you and your families next,” she stated. That got their attention and the growls subsided. “If you take the main road from the manor house to Blue Hills, you may find a sixt’s worth of rations cached by the way. They were misplaced during the winter and if you find them, they are yours. Can’t let them waste even if they are stale.” Manor personnel were bagging the last of the daimyo’s Tenth as she spoke, to be “misplaced.”
“And,” Ni Drako made eye contact with as many of the refugees as she could, “Only ‘workers’ must return.” She stressed the word, hoping they would catch her meaning. Several did and they started whispering to their fellows.
She turned to go, then paused and said something to Libo. He nodded, backing away and bowing lower than was strictly proper. Rada walked back to her plane and flew up to where the largest concentration of refugees was at Burnt Mountain and repeated her message. As she left, a rhythmic thumping started behind her and she hesitated. Rada turned to find the males and females pounding their tails on the ground in the ancient Azdhag acclamation normally reserved only for the highest of the Great Lords. She shook her head, “No, stop. I don’t deserve this and if anyone hears of it, very bad things will happen,” she cautioned.
The next few days settled into a tense routine. The Lord Defender took up her palace duties, except for overseeing the Imperial personal guard. She also drilled the Palace Guard in techniques for fighting smaller, more nimble opponents. Great Lords Kirlin and Kan-sii requested her advice on improving their own blade work and she assisted as she could, although they preferred techniques quite different from the styles she knew best. The King-Emperor gave her no orders and she stayed in her barracks quarters, falling easily back into the habits of active command. The rumor tree claimed that Lan-zhe and Lord Blee were furious with her for her last remarks in the audience chamber and were trying to find a way to eliminate either the position or person of the Lord Defender. Rada ignored the hearsay but kept her blast pistol with her at all times.
She was finishing up a private blade practice a sixt after her return to the palace when sounds and scuffing warned that she had a mammalian audience. Rada pretended that she didn’t hear them and finished the last drill, ending in an extended lunge and holding the pose until her muscles screamed. Then she drew upright, saluted, and sheathed her weapon before turning to see who stood watching.
It was the mercenary captain and three of his men. One of them leered at her, licking his lips and nudging his partner while the captain studied her intently. “Do I know you?” he asked in badly accented Azdhag.
Rada shook her head, answering in Trader. “No. I’m Commander Rada Ni Drako, Lord Defender of Drakon IV, formerly commanding officer of the Mustang’s Marauders, also served with Krather’s Komets and the Adamantine Division’s Scouts. You’re too young to have fought them.” As she said this, she noticed that the men very casually, and deliberately, blocked the main doorway. Four on one and all I have is a practice blade. They think.
The smarter one of the quartet’s eyes got a bit wide. “Ni Drako of the Marauders? Ho shit Cap’n. Everyone’s heard of them!”
Rada smiled sweetly and bowed a little. “Glad our reputation is standing the test of time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to.” She began walking out the door and the trooper who had leered at her grabbed her wrist. “Let go of me,” she ordered, ice cold. He grinned and pulled her closer.
Then he yelped as she broke his grip and his thumb and continued on her way. Their captain called after her, “Hope you have retirement plans, frigid bitch.”
She turned and smiled very slightly, replying in Azdhag, “Always do, Captain. A merc without an escape route is a fool. And the term is ‘felara,’ not bitch. No point in insulting your mother by comparing her with me.” Rada rounded two corners before his curses told her that he’d sorted out what she’d called him.
The Great Lords asked her to meet with them that evening for supper, in order to discuss off-world blade techniques. She considered long and hard before accepting the invitation, even though she’d heard enough about the King-Emperor’s activities to start having very grave doubts about Drakon IV’s security. The mercenary bodyguards concerned her, as did his reduction of the defense budget. Lan-zhe’s support for Lord Blee had already inspired at least one minor lord to try reinstituting the old forms of the Azdhag feudal system, with predictably bloody results and a notable lack of success. Rada remembered the last partial revolution on Drakon IV, which had also begun with an invasion by human mercenaries, and shuddered at the cost the Azdhagi had paid to regain control and order. A number of nobles had lost their heads after that episode and the rest of the Empire had suffered attacks launched by those hoping to profit from the chaos on the home world. All of which came directly under her purview, per her oaths to the Empire.
Why wasn’t the Pack acting? Rada worried that thought as she walked through the palaces corridors to the meeting. The lords represented the greater Azdhag Pack, the final check on any individual’s power. She’d seen the Pack act before, and she crossed herself at the memory of how close she’d come to dying the last time. This shouldn’t have gone so far, and I certainly shouldn’t be the one dealing with it. He’s endangering everyone, so why hasn’t the Pack stepped in?
It was with a heavy heart that the Lord Defender met Lords Kirlin and Zhi-king that night. Lord, I don’t want to go through this a second time. Why can’t you smite them with lightning so I don’t have to? Her deity failed to answer by the time she knocked on Lord Zhi-king’s door.
As stated in the invitation, the warriors discussed blade techniques. The males also briefed her on the larger state of affairs on Drakon IV. The situation was, in short, not good. The King-Emperor’s behavior had encouraged others to imitate him, and not just among the nobility. At the same time, his treatment of the Lord Defender the previous autumn had forced a number of the nobles and middle class to recognize just how corrupt he had become in the fifteen years since his accession. And the rot seemed to be spreading off world, tempting the Empire’s enemies to test and probe.
“Great Lord, why has the Pack not moved?” she asked Kirlin at last.
The sturdy brown noble shifted on his bench, his tail tip wiggling a fraction of a centimeter. “Because until now there has not been agreement on the nature of the problem. And even now . . .” He looked to Zhi-king.
The older noble rumpled his tail. “He does not yet threaten the Pack. Individuals and orders, but not the Pack itself,” he amended before Rada could protest. “That is the sense we gather from our inquiries.”
After an hour, Rada excused herself to get up and walk around, staring into the garden attached to Lord Zhi-king’s lavish quarters. She prayed for wisdom, but deep down she knew that her decision was already made. It had been made the day Lan-zhe ripped her face open, licking her blood off his talon and relishing her agony.
She returned to her place, sat and closed her eye in concentration as she reached into the two male’s minds. <
Any plots or plans that might have been brewing came to an abrupt
halt two afternoons later. The Lord Defender had been studying an account of an early battle in the vicinity of Burnt Mountain; curious to learn how the king had made use of the rugged terrain as he rooted out an entrenched defense. Defender Trong burst into her office, eyes wide and almost out of breath. “Lord Defender, the mammals are threatening the King-Emperor, demanding that he remove you and a number of the nobles. Some of the Guard have joined them!”
She leapt to her feet and brushed past Trong, snapping orders. “Collect the Guard and meet me outside my official quarters. You,” she pointed to one of the orderlies on messenger duty, “send my regards to Lords Zhi-king and Kirlin, and let them know where we are mustering.” As the reptiles hurried on their way, she changed into her old uniform from when she first became Lord Defender and adding heavier body armor to her usual weaponry.
Fifty of the Palace Guard met her at the door to the Lord Defenders’ quarters, along with five of the Great Lords and their personal guards. “Captain Ling, take ten males and secure the Imperial Quarters. Nothing is to happen to the Prince Imperial and his Lady-mother, no capture, no threats.” The men nodded. “Lt. Ahkii, take another ten and secure the landing field. Use the field guard as well and if Bakto balks, put him in irons.
“Lords Zhi-king and Ro-diit, do you know how to reach the Imperial entrance to the Audience Chamber from here?”
Ro-diit’s green head nodded affirmative, “Yes, Lord Defender.”
She hesitated, then cast her die. “Take your bodymen and go. We’ll meet in the audience chamber in five minutes and use no guns once you get into the chamber.”
They bowed to her, “Yes, Lord Defender” and ran off down the corridor.
“The rest of you, come with me. No heavy guns—the audience chamber is too small and our job is to keep the King-Emperor safe. Is that understood?” She made eye contact with everyone, including the Great Lords. At this moment, she outranked them all and they knew it and obeyed.
The party moved quietly and quickly, reaching the audience chamber and killing the two humans and a turncoat Azdhag on guard outside before they could raise the alarm. She curled her lip, growling something rude, and Lord Kirlin and the soldiers chuckled. “What?” she snapped.
“You just called the traitor a ‘stinking mammal’, Lord Defender,” Trong pointed out.
Even she could see the irony and grinned a little. “Right. No traitor comes out alive, humans treat as you will, but we keep his Imperial Majesty safe. Is that absolutely clear?” She glared at the company.
“Yes Lord Defender,” they murmured.
“God be with us all,” she said, “and send those bastards to Hell!”
“Azdhagia!” The Lord Defender slammed the doors open and charged, followed by the loyal Guard and three senior nobles. She aimed for the largest of the human hirelings guarding the King-Emperor, the mercenaries’ captain. He grinned and met her with a crash of steel that sent both of them staggering. She snarled and swung for his legs. He blocked low and threw her back as he countered with a lunging stab. She ducked and wove, watching for his weaknesses; hers were obvious. A yelp of pain and denial warned her to drop as a shot sailed over where her head would have been. “No guns!” she yelled, grabbing her opponent’s distraction and ripping up in a nasty underhand cut. He managed to twist enough that she missed his privates but caught him in the inner thigh, severing the artery and muscles. He screamed and fell, ripping her blade out of her hand.
Rada dropped flat as someone rolled over top of her, then scrambled forward, reclaiming her sword from between the dying man’s legs. She rose and swung again, lopping off his hand and the pistol it had just drawn. Without a word she turned, looking for her next target.
The attack had degenerated into a melee, as the attackers expected. Rada saw Lord Kirlin backing under the assault of two of the renegade Palace Guards. She headed that way, hamstringing one of the mercenaries as she passed another fight. Kirlin tripped and Rada launched herself onto one of the lord’s attackers, blade and claws in motion. The renegade staggered slightly and she ripped into the gap between his upper armor and leg protector, leaving Kirlin with only one opponent. The guard shook her off, then smiled and lunged for her with his steel-tipped talons. She blocked with the sword, then tumbled as his tail slammed into her legs. He was on her before she could get her weapon up, pinning her sword hand to the floor, hind feet and claws immobilizing her legs. The renegade smiled and laid a talon across her neck “Yield and I spare you.”
“Fuck you,” she spat. He raised his forefoot and started to swing across her throat. Before he could connect, his back arched and he collapsed onto the Lord Defender as someone else’s blow struck home. She felt both the razor-sharp talon lying against her jugular and the agony of not being able to breath because of the mass crushing her chest. Yelling continued around her, although it sounded as if fewer and fewer of the enemy remained alive to resist. Rada moved her head just enough to ease the pressure of the talon and tried to shift the dead weight one handed. No luck. Her vision grew dim and she heard a call of “Here! Help me!” The weight eased, then crashed back down, and everything faded to black. Then the pressure lifted completely and scaled forefeet were dragging her out from under two Azdhag bodies. Rada gasped for air, then rolled to her belly, and scrambled onto her feet, light-headed.
The audience chamber looked like Hell’s own waiting room. Dead Azdhagi and dead and wounded humans lay like broken toys. Brown and red blood and other things splashed the walls and puddled on the floor. Lords Kirlin and Ro-diit flanked Lan-zhe, who was throwing up in the corner of the dais where he had taken refuge. The Lord Defender looked around and found Defender Trong. Blade still bare, she approached him and he bowed. “Report, Defender,” she ordered, fighting to keep her voice steady and clear.
“We have secured his Imperial Majesty’s person, Lord Defender, and the last of the resistance has fled and is being pursued,” he replied.
She nodded, reaching over and gripping his shoulder armor. “Very well done, Trong. Jee-zus!” She lunged past his shoulder, clamping a hand on the gaping wound in his side as he sagged. She reached in with her Gift, stopping as much of the bleeding as she could without draining what little energy she had left. A nimble Azdhag with a purple band on her shoulder dashed over, starting first aid as Rada released her own grip. “Trong, if you die I’m going to kill you,” she threatened. The Azdhag managed a weak smile before sinking to the floor.
“Lord Defender, report!” Lord Zhi-king ordered, and she drew herself up to attention and bowed to him.
“Great Lord, my troops are pursuing the few remaining renegade soldiers. The King-Emperor’s person has been secured, as have the Imperial chambers. I await your orders.”
He nodded, then turned part way, looked at the cowering King-Emperor, and turned back to her. “Find his Imperial Highness, and respectfully present my and Lords Kirlin and Ro-diit’s regards, requesting that he and his dam meet us in the lesser throne room in one hour.”
She bowed. “As you command, Great Lord.” Rada cleaned her blade on one of the turncoats’ uniforms and sheathed it, then called, “Any uninjured Palace Guard, form on me.” As she limped towards the door, five blood-streaked warriors joined her. “Come,” she ordered. The six walked out, leaving the Great Lords and their bodymen with the King-Emperor.
Lan-zhe, an arrogant, incompetent fool, lacked any redeeming values save one. He was not stupid when self-preservation was concerned. Under the hard eyes of the four surviving Great Lords, the Lord Defender, and eleven Palace Guards, he abdicated the throne in favor of his son, Crown Prince Lo-dan. The Lady-queen and Prince Lo-dan received the homage of the nobles and soldiers with remarkable calm, especially considering the boy’s age. Rada hated watching the ceremony put such a strain on a child, but she had no choice, any more than she did in ignoring her own injuries for the moment. The boy’s muddy-green eyes kept returning to stare at the bloodstains on the nobles’ robes and soldiers’ uniforms.
“That is?”
“That you pledge your honor that my son will not be harmed,” the tan female said, tail-tip patting the floor with agitation.
Rada rose to her feet, drew her sword and approached the other female, then knelt and held the weapon out on flat palms. “My life for his. On my honor, I so swear,” she affirmed, meeting the reptile’s steady gaze.
And now, as the Great Lords and priests proclaimed Lo-dan King-Emperor of the Azdhag Empire, Rada stood in the lesser throne room, aching from bruises and from cuts to her neck and legs. Face a serene mask, she mourned what had happened to Drakon IV. Years would pass before everything settled down, not counting her feud with House Blee. At last the Great Lords, King-Emperor and his Lady-mother left the throne room. Rada turned to her men. She thanked each of them for their efforts before dismissing them to the barracks. Once they were gone, she limped out of the lesser throne room, pulling the doors shut behind her. She visited the infirmary to check on her wounded before she slowly made her way towards her long-neglected official quarters. The rooms smelled stale and she opened the large bay window to let in the night wind, then sagged into the window seat.
Someone tapped on the door. “Enter,” she called, drawing her blast-pistol and holding it down beside her leg, out of sight.
“Lord Defender Reh-dakh?” a Guard orderly hesitated, peering into the darkness.
“Yes, Corporal. What is it?” she growled. Why’s he calling me Iron Fan? That’s new.
“Lord Reh-dakh, Great Lord Zhi-king wishes you to meet him in his chambers in an hour, after you have eaten and bathed,” he said, opening the door further to allow two palace servants to enter with a table and trays.