Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9)
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Night Song
Book Nine of The Guild Wars
By
Mark Wandrey & Marisa Wolf
PUBLISHED BY: Seventh Seal Press
Copyright © 2020 Mark Wandrey & Marisa Wolf
All Rights Reserved
* * * * *
Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Gateway to Union”
and discover other titles by Mark Wandrey at:
http://worldmaker.us/
* * * * *
Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”
and discover other titles by Seventh Seal Press at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/
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Take your VOWs and join the Merc Guild on Facebook!
Meet us at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/536506813392912/
* * * * *
For a suggested reading order guide to the Four Horsemen universe, go to:
https://chriskennedypublishing.com/the-four-horsemen-books/4hu-suggested-reading-order/
* * * * *
For a listing of all the Four Horsemen books, go to:
https://chriskennedypublishing.com/the-four-horsemen-books/
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Cover Design by Brenda Mihalko
Original Art by Ricky Ryan
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License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Dedication
To all of you fans of the Four Horsemen Universe who also happen to be dog lovers, and have been wondering when we were going to get some equal time. This is our love letter to you, and our doggies, both alive and in the summer lands. They were all good boys and girls, and we miss them.
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Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part II
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Glossary
About Mark Wandrey
About Marisa Wolf
Excerpt from Book One of the Salvage Title Trilogy
Excerpt from Book One of the Singularity War
Excerpt from Devil Calls the Tune
Excerpt from Book One of the Mako Saga
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Prologue
Kumbia Plains, Gephard, Crapti Region, Jesc Arm
Crent’s muzzle wrinkled at the stench of Humans. They always smelled so…simian. Even the pair in their powered armor standing next to the command post exuded monkey stink from the armor vents. He guessed they wouldn’t smell as much if they were in space and thus forced to seal their armor. Fronth, his second in command, matched Crent’s strides a few steps behind him as was proper. He could see his long-time adjutant’s muzzle wrinkled, a sure sign he didn’t like the smell, either.
They stopped outside the command post and waited. Like everything else the Humans did, it was custom made, big, armored, and expensive. There were a hundred Union companies making mobile command posts. None of them would be good enough for the hairless monkeys. Scents of Akesh, they could be so wasteful and arrogant.
“There has to be a better way, Commander,” Fronth grumbled sotto voce.
“If there is, tell me what it might be,” Crent replied. Fronth sighed. “If Krif’Hosh is to live, this must be done.” His ears flattened, and, after a moment, Fronth echoed the gesture in submission.
The command post’s door opened, and an unarmored Human stuck his round head out. “The commander will see you now, Zuul.” Crent’s translator rendered the simian Human’s grunts and barks into the more sonorous base Zuul.
“This is commander Crent,” Fronth said, his ears back in anger. “We are not some pet for you to summon.”
Crent put a gentling hand on his second, feeling the bands of muscle in his shoulders.
“You coming or not?” the Human asked. Crent nodded, and the Human held the door.
Inside was similar to any Union-made command center; multiple workstations and a central plotting area with a three-dimensional Tri-V display showing the battlefield. Crent shook his head slightly. If it is so similar, why do they insist on making their own? A Human of at least two meters, thus several centimeters taller than most Zuul, came from the other side of the Tri-V to face them. “Commander Crent, I’m Commander Porter, CO of Silent Night.” He put his hand to his forehead in a gesture Crent remembered was a Human salute.
“Commander,” he said, and put his curled paw against his chest in the Zuul’s version of a salute. “It is good to meet you at last.”
“The briefing in space back at Jaakul station was hurried.” Porter nodded. “That was the first sign I got that something might not be as we were led to believe.”
“Indeed,” Crent said. “The Zuparti are paranoid and, more often than not, their contracts turn out to be nothing more than a pup foolishly howling at the moons.”
“I think I understand the analogy,” the Human said. “I understand you wanted to talk about an urgent matter?”
“Yes,” Crent said. “You know our position here is untenable.”
Porter’s body language instantly changed, as did that of all his various subordinates in the room. Most had looked curiously or, as Crent suspected, suspiciously as the Zuul mercs entered their command center. Now they were all looking at him after his translator spoke the words in the Human’s prime language. It was harder to read the simians than it was a Zuul. Still, Crent was rather sure his reaction was one of suspicion or anger.
“I’m sorry,” Porter said. “I don’t follow you.”
“You heard me well,” Crent said. “Six companies of Besquith landed on the Eastern Plateau four hours ago. They came in low over the hill, unnoticed by our ships because they were on the far side of the planet.”
“Jesus Christ,” one of the Human tactical crew said.
Crent cocked his head and raised his ears in curiosity. Whose name was that, another company commander, maybe?
“Janet, put those forces on the board,” Porter ordered, and a Human worked on the computer. More markers appeared, causing others to flash angry shades of red. Porter examined the new display.
“If you’re correct about these new forces—”
“I am correct,” Crent assured him, holding his tail still.
“Then your tactical assessment is also correct.” Porter glanced once more at the map. “We need to begin evacuating immediately or risk being ov
errun.”
“The Besquith are masters of high-speed strikes,” Fronth said and pointed at the Tri-V. “We’ve already intercepted and destroyed one of their spy drones.”
“That means there are dozens more that weren’t caught,” Porter said. Both Crent and Fronth nodded.
“They will attack swiftly, as soon as half of our forces are on dropships,” Crent explained. “They will know we don’t have enough dropships to get all our forces off at once.”
“We can bring our cruiser down to provide fire support,” another Human tactical person suggested.
“With all due respect,” Crent said. “Your ship is Human design. In order to reach altitude below 10 miles, and thus legally engage ground targets, it will barely be able to maintain altitude and will have minimal power left for weapons and shields.”
The officer who’d mentioned the tactic scowled, a facial expression Crent recognized. However, Porter shook his head.
“No, Commander Crent is correct. The Enterprise class hasn’t stood up well against the alien designs.” He shrugged. “It’s all irrelevant to us anyway.” He looked at Crent. “Commander, I know we’re on separate contracts for this assignment, but I believe we need to work together to evacuate successfully.”
“Zuul don’t run,” Fronth said.
“Even when you’re guaranteed to lose?” Porter asked.
“Especially when we are guaranteed to lose,” Crent agreed.
“Okay,” Porter said. “Thank you for the information, but why did you come in person? We share comms because of the contract. You could have just sent the intel in a message.”
“The Krif’Hosh are an old company among the Zuul,” Crent said. “We have a special place among our peoples.”
“Silent Night is, as well,” Porter said. “We date back to 40 years after first contact, 60 plus years now.”
Crent dropped his jaw, and his tongue lolled for a moment. “Pardon my laughter,” he said. “Sixty years may be a long time to Humans. Krif’Hosh dates to the founding of Zuul as a merc race, 3,500 years ago.”
“Wow,” Porter said. “Yeah, that’s a long time.”
“There are much older in the Mercenary Guild. The Veetanho go back to the First Republic, 20,000 years or more. However, I did not come to brag. You see, though Krif’Hosh is old, it is not immune to the winds of fate.” Or the whims of the gods, he thought. “We only have this one battalion right now. Should the light of our spirits be snuffed here, Krif’Hosh will be no more.
“Our lives are merely our own, but Krif’Hosh belongs to Zuul. We aren’t like you Humans; you cannot simply join Krif’Hosh or any of the Three Hosh. You must be born of our line, able to prove the bloodline. If we few perish, Krif’Hosh perishes with us.”
“That is unfortunate,” Porter said. “What do you propose?”
Crent was sure the Human didn’t understand. He wasn’t surprised.
“We will hold the Besquith.”
“By yourselves?” Porter’s assistant asked. “That’s suicide.”
“No, it’s dying for a purpose,” Fronth said.
“What purpose?” Commander Porter asked.
“The survival of Krif’Hosh,” Crent said.
“But if your troopers die, how will your company survive?”
Crent told him.
“All we have to do is take them with us?” Crent nodded. “Then what?”
“Coshke will see to the rest,” Crent said. Fronth’s head spun around to look at his commander, ears back and shoulders slumped.
“What is Coshke?”
“The question will answer itself.” Crent stared at the Human, his ears up in intense interest. “Your company, its name translates as Quiet Night?”
“Silent Night,” Porter corrected. “It’s part of an old religious song.”
Crent looked at Fronth, the two exchanging pointed stares. He touched his translator, pausing it and talking to Fronth. “Can you still doubt the hand of Coshke?”
“It seems there is a path to follow,” Fronth said, lowering his eyes and baring his throat in acquiescence.
“Will you take them and do as we ask?” Crent asked the Human after reactivating his translator.
Porter looked at his second in command, then at the command center full of company staff. Despite ongoing operations, they were all watching the exchange in silence.
“We’ll do it,” he said. “All units, prepare for evacuation.”
Crent touched his comm link. “Bring them in.”
Porter followed the two Zuul to the command center door, where an APC had just come to a stop. The two Human powered-armor troopers were watching it with concern as a door opened. Porter went to the APC and looked inside at the responsibility he’d just taken on.
* * *
The dropship settled with a roar of descent engines, big legs flexing to absorb its mass as power was cut. Porter waved the CASPers forward to begin loading equipment. Even with the new Mk 7 Combat Assault System, Personal, they’d been unable to hold the line. The Besquith were insane fighters and particularly tough to kill.
“Get them on the dropship, too,” he said to his XO, Captain Tucker.
“Why don’t we just leave them here?” Tucker asked. Porter narrowed his eyes. “Hey, who’ll know?”
“I will,” Porter said. He sighed. “I gave my word.” He glanced over as five of his men came out of the command center, carrying one pup each. They were howling in outrage. Just a week old, according to Crent. Their mother had been killed in a sneak attack the day after they’d been born. He scowled as the ear-splitting whine of the pups passed him, and he thought about what Tucker had said.
No, my word is my bond, he thought. “We’ll raise them as best as we can,” he said. Tucker shrugged and saw to the evacuation. “Hopefully this Coshke will come to get them, and we won’t have to worry about it for long.” Saying the words didn’t make him feel like they were real. He pushed the thought away and went to help them load.
Part I
Chapter 1
The day calls, and I see its light,
The night calls, and I sing its song.
Space opens up, and I embrace the void.
I am a child of Zuul, and I have no fear.
Prayer of the Three Songs—Unknown
14 Years Later
Brisbane Australia, Earth, Cresht Region, Tolo Arm
Drake lifted his nose, testing the wind. Bright edges of salt, the ebb of changing tide, and a tang of early morning. Perfect surfing weather. For a long moment he stared toward the ocean, eyes half-closed against the rising sun.
“Not ducking out on work?” Zech asked.
His ears flattened, but he pushed them upright and turned his head slightly, catching the scent of another of Silent Night’s youths. Tye, one of the Humans, roughly his own age in equivalent years, but unbearably young in his mannerisms.
He considered answering, but then there would be a conversation, and Zech would walk with him all the way to the main building…Drake shook his head, shrugged, and loped away, ignoring whatever sounds Tye insisted on making.
Drake managed to cross the complex, enter the main building, and check in for his day’s assignment without talking to anyone else, which improved his mood slightly.
If he couldn’t be out on the water, inventory would do. Rote, solitary, and if he handled his business, he could catch the evening high tide. Wouldn’t be as good as this morning would have been, but at least he wouldn’t have to hear about it from Tye or any of the other merc siblings.
“You’re on inventory too?”
Three hours. Three quiet hours he’d had to himself before Tye’s pitch-wavering voice intruded.
Drake grunted, the noise rumbling in his throat. The boy crossed his arms and leaned back, scowling.
“I had to run errands before I got here, doggo, so I’m not late. And I’m not trying to spend all this time with you, so—”
“So you might want to watch your words, b
oyo.” The fur down Drake’s legs lifted, though he kept his expression still with an effort.
“Aw, c’mon Drake, I call everyone doggo; you know I do.” The boy’s words rushed together, and he smelled nervous but genuine. “It’s not ‘cause you’re a—a—”
“I know I’m a Zuul, Human. I’m not the idiot in this conversation.”
That bought him another stretch of silence, but as always, Tye bounced back before too long.
“We got incoming today—the flight line’s been cleared, but none of the units are due back. You hear anything from your dad?”
“Porter?” Drake snorted, flicking an ear. “He’s not going to tell me anything the company doesn’t know.”
“Yeah. Guess you’re still a minor, too, even though…” Tye gestured at the Zuul’s height and shrugged.
“Not a member of the company, just like you.”
“You don’t want to take your VOWS?” Tye stared at his slate, noting quantities with deliberate care, even as he glanced back at Drake.
“I don’t want to talk while running inventory.” Drake scanned through another box of ammunition, keeping his lip from rising only by counting each individual pack. The faster he got through, the sooner he could get on the water. More than enough reason not to knock Tye down to shut him up.
* * *
The roar of the waves overpowered the thrum of his engine, and his fingers eased on the wheel. Salt and the pull of the tide were never out of his nose’s reach in Brisbane, but even his ears lost the ebb of the sea when he got too far.