Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9)

by Mark Wandrey

  The edge of his nose twitched, parsing the pull of waves from the sour tang of ocean life baked into the sand, and he could barely keep his ears still as he parked his ATV and leapt into the rough sand of the pull-out. Unfastening his board, he allowed himself a moment to close his eyes, release the pull of Silent Night and all its unending administrative tasks, and listen to the ocean. He filtered out Human voices with the ease of long practice, so thoroughly that by the time he reached the curve of the isolated beach, he was almost surprised to see the small cluster of Humans lounging in their wetsuits. He took a longer way around, focusing on the patterns of the water to block out any change in their sounds. Rarely did Humans shout anything of value for him to hear, and less so when it was a group of unfamiliar young males.

  They may have called things to him while he carefully waxed his board, but the meditative strokes took all his concentration, and he didn’t so much as flick an ear in their direction.

  He paused in the coolness of the water, floating the board in front of him and holding its leash. After young male Humans like these had once found many clever things to say about leashes and dogs surfing, he’d refused to latch himself to his board for months. A great deal of excess swimming, and ultimately one lost board, had eventually changed his mind back, but he still didn’t like fastening the leash to his ankle when Humans were around.

  Humans were too often around.

  Shrugging, he hooked himself to his board and slid on top of it, paddling out past the break to the deceptively smooth stretch of ocean, forgetting the presence of the Human pack again.

  Small swells hinted but offered nothing he wanted, and while he kept focus on the water in front of him, he let his limbs dangle off the board. Finally a swell curled promisingly, and he paddled forward, coordinated and focused.

  This was his second-favorite moment, moving into the building wave, judging the right time to stop paddling and push up—too early, and he’d flop back off before doing anything of value; too late, and he’d be in position to watch the wave crash toward shore.

  The more he thought about it, the worse he did, so he simply watched, stilling his mind…and then in a set of sharp, quick movements he swung his board around, facing back to shore, pulled his arms in, pushed against the board, and leapt to his feet, right foot forward. It took bare seconds, enough for the adrenaline to flash through him with hyper-clarity.

  Now was his favorite moment, both entirely in control and entirely not—at the mercy of the ocean, but finding his balance against its unpredictable power. The wave built, and he angled his board, mist coating his fur as speed and momentum built around him.

  As the wave curled, he angled his head enough to judge which way it would break and shot through the tube of it, and for that handful of moments his power merged with the water’s, his heartbeat inseparable from the roar of waves—speed and mist—and the scent of his triumph.

  He softened his stance as the wave broke, just before the world fell down on top of him. The board yanked his ankle upward as the force of the water shoved him down, and he let the spin take him, relaxing into the tumble as best he could. It took time to orient, habit never making this part easier, but he resurfaced before his lungs so much as twinged.

  Drake snagged the board before it hit him in the face—that lesson had taken him longer to learn than any other, and he had the muzzle-scars to show for it—rolling back up onto the board to do it again.

  The wave had taken him back toward the Humans, but he kept his focus on the endless stretch of water ahead of them, and they did the same. He let a few promising waves go, letting the Humans take them in the hopes they’d be pushed further away. They’d all accumulated where the waves were best, so eventually he gave up hope of separation and lost himself in the pull and balance of gauging which wave was right for a run.

  As the sun set, fingers of orange and red stretched through the ripples in the water around him, and the growl of his stomach reminded him of shore. The water curled invitingly, and he decided one more wouldn’t hurt.

  Paddle, judge, slew around, jump. The rhythm of it kept his mind still, until a sudden intrusion broke his focus. One of the Humans had doubled down to drop in on his wave, too close for the safety of either.

  What in every damn Human hell?

  He pushed forward on his right foot, trying to angle away, but the other surfer followed his moves, skill nearly matching Drake’s superior strength and balance. Damn Humans, breaking their own rules whenever it damn well pleased—

  The wave built, higher than the two and three meters they’d been riding most of the afternoon, stretching four to five. Best wave of the day, and this idiot Human had to ruin it.

  They raced through the tube as the wave curled around them, nothing existing beyond them and the water, the Human’s board coming perilously close several times as Drake angled away.

  As the shape of it crumbled, Drake grimly held on, determined to ride as close to the shore as possible. Surfers didn’t drop in on each other’s waves, and the other Humans would head to the sand upon seeing this one’s move.

  Fury replaced the purity of adrenaline, his fur prickling and his lip lifting even as he tried to navigate the rapidly shifting water. He made it nearly to shore before tumbling off the board, finding his angle faster than ever and shooting back to the surface. Unhooking the leash from his ankle, he kept the cord pulled tight in one hand and dragged it, and himself, to shore.

  Clear of the pull of the waves, he slammed his board into the sand and whirled back, hunching slightly to refrain from hurling himself back into the water and dragging the Human—any of the Humans—back out to answer for the shit behavior.

  “Aw, don’t get all snarly.” The first Human to emerge, shaking floppy hair back, moved with exaggerated ease. Older than Drake, but not bigger, moving just slowly enough that the other Humans were closing in before he got out of the water.

  “You dropped in my wave.”

  “It was a good one.” He shrugged, pushing his own board into the sand and making a point to flex as he did so. As though his Human muscles had anything on the ones Drake had developed over the last few years. Drake didn’t have Rex’s build, but he was enough to give many Humans pause.

  “You dropped. In my wave.”

  “I heard ya, pup. You can’t have all the good ones.” He turned his head slightly back toward the water. “Hear that boys? Doggo here got his feelings mashed.”

  “No one taught you to share?” Another Human, bigger than the first, closer to Drake’s size.

  “Nah, don’t you have dogs? One’s always gotta take all the toys and hide them from the others.” A third, louder and smaller. Reminded him of Tye.

  “C’mon boys. Zeke dropped in. Dick move.” An older Human, a full adult or nearly so. There were a few others straggling behind him, chorusing a vague series of agreements, but Drake’s attention pulled back to dick-move-Zeke, still grinning next to his board.

  “Wouldn’ta dropped in if you didn’t hog em, pup. Like Crew said, you gotta learn to share.”

  “You get the wave, or you wait your turn.” Drake’s voice muddied with a snarl.

  “Wait my turn? It’s my planet, doggo. Maybe you should try your own?” Zeke stepped away from his board as his two friends crowded closer, braver with his pack.

  “Maybe you should learn to swim. Less talking, more speed.”

  “You goofy-stance motherfucker, you want some speed?” The biggest of them launched himself forward, and Drake let go, shoving off the sand to meet him.

  Drake got in the first blow, all the air coming out of the large Human in a whoosh, and Drake hooked his leg behind the man’s to shove him the rest of the way down. The other two were on him by then, a blur of kicks and punches and attempted grapples in uncertain footing. Drake’s balance—and training—were better than theirs, but even he couldn’t make shifting sand steady.

  The big one got his breath back and returned to the fray and, frustrated
, Drake snapped, sinking his teeth into the salt and skin and blood of whatever arm was closest.

  One of the Humans yelped, one got in a solid kick that numbed half his leg, and he punched the last of them hard enough in the face that the Human froze for a full second before toppling over.

  Panting, Drake straightened, putting his weight on his good leg, and returned to guard, glaring.

  “He bit me!”

  “It was three on one, Zeke. You dropped in his wave. Call it a day.” The other Humans had waited throughout, bearing witness to the fracas, and the older one seemed satisfied by the outcome.

  “Lucky it was three on one, dude’s a beast.”

  Drake ignored it, like he’d ignored the videos Humans always tried to show him of Earth dogs surfing, like he tried to ignore all of these idiot bareskins with their fragility and their comments and their endless need to talk.

  “We done here?” He asked, his hands still up, his narrow eyes on Zeke.

  The Human spat to the side, holding his arm close. There was enough blood to keep him out of the water for the rest of the evening, but not enough for anyone to panic. Belatedly, Drake realized that was a call home he didn’t need. After a long moment, Zeke nodded, and Drake snapped his head to the side, keeping his ears angled back.

  “Anyone else?”

  “We’re done.” The older one again. He smelled more like the ocean than a Human, which maybe was why Drake didn’t immediately hate him. “You going back out?” When Drake shook his head, he added, “Rather see you out there than these kids with their shit manners. Maybe next time.”

  The Human didn’t wait for an answer, which made Drake almost like him, and the group dispersed.

  Salt and blood mixed heavy in his nose, but he grabbed his board and hiked back to his ATV without wiping at it, powering through the ache of his leg and side. Let them think they couldn’t do damage to him, idiot Humans. Maybe it would make them more cautious next time.

  Except there would be different idiots next time. The planet was too full of them.

  * * *

  “Why do you always try to sneak by me?” Dana asked, holding his face still with one hand as she dabbed antiseptic on his lip with the other.

  “How do you always smell me out?” he replied as he usually did. His ears relaxed, even as the medicine stung its way through the vestiges of sand and salt they’d missed.

  “I guess I picked some things up from my kids.” She sat back and studied his face, losing the brisk professionalism of logistics officer for both the gentler and sharper visage of mother. “You going to talk about it?” With a hint of a smile, she continued and matched his words perfectly, “Do I ever?”

  His mouth dropped in a bit of a smile, and he shook his head slightly.

  “There’s food done.” She smoothed a hand over his furred cheek briefly, and he pressed his head slightly against it. “I have to go back to the office and finish up—we had a lot of traffic today.”

  “Thanks, Captain Porter.”

  “Don’t ‘Captain Porter’ me at home. I’ll put you right back to work.” Dana stood, smiled at him, then leaned back in to touch her forehead to his. “And stop beating up the local boys. We’re going to need recruits eventually.”

  “These ones aren’t worth it,” Drake said automatically, thought of the one seemingly decent one, then shrugged the thought away.

  “Noted.” She straightened, smiled at him, and gestured toward the kitchen. “Go eat so you don’t pick a fight with your siblings when they get home. I’ll make you scrub all the floors if you get any more blood on it.”

  “Noted, Mother.” He saluted, and her laugh followed him out of the room.

  * * *

  “You keep beating up the shark biscuits, one will pull a gun on you,” Ripley said. She’d been lounging on the couch in their apartments, brushing out her tail, when Drake came in smelling of blood and anger.

  “Rack off, sis,” Drake said and went by to the dunny. She smiled after him and went back to her slate. There was a sizeable pile of her blonde hairs on the couch she’d have to vacuum up later. Dana was liable to chuck a wobbly if the cleaning robot crapped out again because it was chock full of Zuul hair.

  The slate displayed a typical Bravo-class dropship preflight checklist. Anything that flew simply fascinated her, but interface craft were the most interesting. She was hoping with the war finally over it would mean resumption of studies, and a trip off world!

  Her sister Sonya went by, an earplug in and talking constantly. The two females were close allies—you needed to be when you were outnumbered by boys 3 to 2. Sonya lived for technology, computers and electronics in general. Though they’d been educated by the Porters on base, they’d begun attending advanced classes in town twice a week, just before the Mercenary Guild invaded.

  With a swirl of reddish tail, Sonya was out of sight, heading toward the bathroom Ripley shared with her. She knew Sonya wasn’t ignoring her; she was just catching up with news on the city campus. In almost all cases, Sonya followed Ripley’s lead, which was fine with her.

  Her slate pinged with an inbound message from Dana, their mom.

  “Ripley, we’ve cut a contract to service shuttles to bring in some more credits. I know you’re off duty, but do you want to meet it on the ramp?”

  “Do I?” Ripley laughed and quickly used her claws to tap out a reply. “You bet, no problem.” In less than a minute she had a uniform vest, tool belt, and equipment satchel slung over her shoulder and was running out of their quarters toward the ramp.

  * * *

  Shadow knew he was late. Late by like two days, sure, but things like that happened. He’d been thousands of kilometers away, out past Alice Springs, meeting with an Aboriginal shaman group during their walkabout. He’d spent a day with them, talking and learning.

  Like all his previous encounters with the Humans native to Australia, they were more accepting of him as a Zuul—and an alien—than many in the community near their home. On the bush plane back from Alice Springs, he’d spent the hours making notes in his slate and marveling at the seemingly primitive Humans’ spirituality.

  He parked his bike in the carpool and got off, making a beeline for a side entrance. He didn’t make it 10 steps.

  “Welcome back, Shadow.”

  He stopped and hung his head. “Father.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you would let me know before you appropriate company funds to go all woop woop.” Shadow looked down even further, his ears folding back in apology. “Can you tell me why you felt it so important to do this?”

  “It was a shaman I’ve been trying to meet for a year,” Shadow said, trying to see if his excitement would rub off. “He’s danced in the stars, had a vision of being in space, and I wanted to learn—”

  “Wanted to learn how he did it,” Alan Porter finished for him. Shadow gave a single nod. “You can’t keep doing this. Twice during the war, you disappeared. There were occupation forces in Darwin and Melbourne. They could have come here at any time. What do you think they’d do if they caught a Zuul living with Humans?”

  “I don’t know,” Shadow admitted. “I was just curious.”

  “I get that; I really do. But the answers to whatever questions you have aren’t out there in the desert. Your people are up there, in the stars.”

  “I belong here with you, Father.”

  Alan gave a slight smile and put out a hand to pat his adopted son on his sloped, furred shoulder. Shadow was smaller than his four siblings. If he were a dog, like he resembled more than anything, he’d be called the runt of the litter. He was also the least physical of them, the least interested in worldly things. He was always fascinated by ghost stories, various religions, and, lately, the faith of the Aboriginals.

  “Professor Delridge is going to be here next week. He wasn’t going to stop, but I cashed in a favor.”

  Shadow looked up at him, eyes wide. “Fuck me dead!”

  Alan laughed and ruffled the
fur. “You’ve left your chores undone, and you owe me 125 credits now.”

  “But the flight was only 15 credits!”

  “I’m including what you already owed with the total.”

  “Does that mean I can’t see Delridge?” Shadow’s ears dropped, and his eyes grew huge.

  “Don’t be an idiot, boy,” Alan said and took pity on him. “Can you help get the renovations of the cafeteria done by next week?”

  “Piece of piss,” Shadow said. “Easy!”

  “Then get cleaned up and go to work.”

  Shadow grinned, tongue lolling as he trotted out of the motor pool and toward the quarters.

  * * *

  Sonya outwaited the fog on the bathroom mirror, staring as her reflection resolved in front of her. Her red-brown fur, still drying, lay sleek against her face, the darkness of it making her golden eyes glow. Her ears, larger than her siblings’, twitched until she exerted an effort to hold them still.

  Muzzle, long gleaming teeth…she snarled at herself and snapped her head away, unsure what she was even looking for. She couldn’t make herself Human, though she’d asked about that when she was a tiny potato with legs. She couldn’t make the Humans around her into Zuul, even if their smell lingered when they left the room, or—she growled, low in her throat. Nothing she could do would stop the sidelong glances whenever she left the compound.

  Everything felt off today, and she grumbled to herself as she got dressed, annoyed as much with herself as the world around her. So some American tourist had shrilled about how cute she was out in town today; what did it matter? She’d heard worse from Humans she thought better of, and it wasn’t the first time seeing her had made someone realize how much they miss their dogs. Most Humans were idiots. She had more important things to occupy her brain.