Witch Of The Federation III (Federal Histories Book 3)

by Michael Anderle

  Stephanie flung herself forward, rolled, and shoved upward toward his gun hand as she found her feet. That deflected his next shot and she came in close and drove her fist up under his jaw.

  He wound an arm around her and she immediately sagged and slid out from under it before it could trap her. Using his armored calves as support, she lifted her feet and pushed herself through the space between his legs to come up behind him.

  Armor protected his vulnerable lower back but it stopped at his neck. She grasped his massive shoulder with one hand, swung herself up to use his legs as footholds, and boosted herself up his back.

  From there, she delivered a solid downward punch into the muscle running from neck to shoulder. The Dreth grunted but his gun arm dropped and his blaster slid from nerveless fingers. She changed hands and used her other fist to mirror the blow.

  He spun in an attempt to dislodge her and she slid an arm around his throat and held tight. The crowd roared, but whether it was because of what she was doing or something one of the others had done, she didn’t know or care.

  Rather than try to choke the champion, she used her arm to stay with him, drew her blaster, and shot him in the back of the head. He fell and she released her grip and shoved herself clear to land in a crouch and look for her next target.

  Zeekat barreled in from behind one of the warriors and swept his legs out from under him. The massive alien flailed and landed heavily on his back. The cat ran on and Johnny lurched forward to finish the job.

  The Dreth recovered enough to defend himself, raised both hands to deflect the guard’s dive, and hurled the man across the arena. He rolled to his feet and Stephanie lunged to use Zeekat’s technique to knock him down again.

  Unlike the feline, however, she didn’t keep running. She landed on top of him and punched him in the head. He started to raise an arm, so she stamped a boot down on it, ground the heel into the elbow joint, and punched him again.

  It took several more blows before he lay still, and she used the blaster to stun his other arm and both legs. A quick sweep of the battlefield confirmed that the boys had the other three champions under control.

  It took only a few minutes before these were down as well. Once again, they gathered their opponents together and turned to face the judges.

  “Team Morgana is victorious.”

  The next Dreth family was not so sure of its decision to support the Witch. They sent eight champions and the warriors had clearly learned from the two fights that had gone before. Instead of standing together, they separated.

  The cats remained with Stephanie and Lars raced across the arena to deal with the second group with Avery, Johnny, and Brenden at his side. Vishlog and Frog stayed with her. Against eight, she made sure she used her blaster early.

  Magic would make this so much easier, she thought when her arm went numb from a stun shot aimed at her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Vishlog hammered his opponent with a stun stick and worked the weapon from his stomach to his head. He flicked Stephanie a quick grin and strode toward the Dreth that had picked Frog up by the throat. She drew her blaster and fired four quick shots into the Dreth champion’s chest who thought he’d found her alone and perhaps vulnerable.

  With him disabled, she looked around. Bee and Zee had their third opponent well in paw, so she glanced across to see how Lars was doing.

  “Vish. I’m gonna need a boost,” she shouted when she saw that three Dreth still stood and Brendan was down and moved like a beached fish.

  He drove the stick into his opponent’s side and turned as she sprinted toward him. Frog dropped like a stone and she pointed to where their teammates were fighting on the other side of the arena.

  “There!” she shouted as she leapt and Vishlog caught her foot and heaved her toward where Lars had been thrown into the arena wall.

  As she careened forward, she realized she wouldn’t make it.

  “Dammit,” she muttered, drew a small part of her magic, and used it to give her a boost. It should have been enough, but she began to descend three-quarters of the way across the arena.

  “That shouldn’t be happening.” She frowned and drew more energy, but it was sluggish and she needed more to carry her the distance than she thought she should. “Damn.”

  Two of the Dreth looked up. The third dragged Brenden from the ground, swung him by the foot, and released him to power into the wall above Lars’s head. Her anger threatened to turn into rage and she forced herself to pay attention to her next two opponents.

  The anger tipped into fury that boiled through her, but she had greater problems. The two Dreth who had seen her approach now raised their blasters and showed their fangs in humorless grins.

  It made her want to shatter them into small pieces, and she tightened her hold over the urge to drop her blaster and use magic. They had other battles to fight.

  She bared her own teeth in return and noted that they tracked her progress toward them. “I don’t think so, you hairy sons of bitches.”

  Drawing a little more magic, she created a shield beneath her feet and made it broad enough to cover both warriors. It was none too soon. Blaster fire pounded into the shield a second before the barrier slammed into the Dreth.

  It crushed them and she bounded clear and raced toward the third champion. Behind her, the shield dissipated and the two Dreth rolled slowly to their feet. She ignored the sound of their movement and fired her blaster as she closed.

  Her target hurled himself to one side, rolled under the shots, and scrambled to his feet once again. She raised her weapon, only to find it had fired dry, and she cursed.

  Stupidly, she’d forgotten to recharge it during the last break. Throwing it to one side, she prepared to receive the charge and debated whether or not she needed more magic to survive it.

  Avery answered that. He launched himself from the side, tightened his arms around the Dreth’s calves, and hauled him to the ground.

  He fell as she reached him and she hurried over to where Lars slowly helped Brenden to his feet. The two Dreth she’d landed on were already moving toward them.

  “Are you boys, okay?”

  The team leader draped Brenden’s arm over his shoulder and they gave her two shaky thumbs-up. When he saw the two Dreth approach, he propped his teammate against the wall and patted his chest.

  “Hold my beer.”

  The man gave him a crooked smile, fumbled for his blaster, and dropped it as soon as it cleared the holster.

  “Stay there,” Lars shouted and stepped beside Stephanie as she turned to face the oncoming champions.

  “Is he okay?”

  “He needs a healer or three and a week’s recovery.” Behind them, Brenden slid down the wall and toppled onto his side. “Maybe three weeks.”

  Rage stormed through her and she tucked her chin to her chest and fought to keep control of the magic that wanted to escape. She didn’t have enough to let it do that, and what she did have was behaving so erratically, she didn’t know if she’d be able to keep it under control.

  “I will kill them.” She growled in menace and Lars laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “Easy there. We have more after this. We don’t need it yet.”

  The magic flared and he snatched his hand away quickly. “Not yet, okay? Keep it together a little longer. Please?”

  Stephanie directed some of the magic to shield Brenden and brought more to her hand. “I’m not helpless.” Her tone was edged with a snarl and he groaned.

  “Screw it.”

  One of the warriors raised an eyebrow. “Is that an offer or challenge?”

  And that was all it took. She launched forward and formed the magic in her hand into a hammer. With a scream born of frustration and the effort of keeping the magic from breaking loose and becoming something more destructive, she swung.

  The glowing blue weapon collided with the leading Dreth’s armor and he roared in pained surprise. She grunted, slowed the hammer, and brought
it back for another strike. This time, her adversary was ready.

  He drew the long blade at his belt, deflected the blow, and brought his own weapon forward in a counter strike. Magic flared and a shield formed between her and the blade.

  Lars bounced his stun stick off the other champion’s head and he sagged to sprawl in a huddle at his feet. He looked at the Dreth who confronted Stephanie. “Hey! Tark for brains, quit picking on a girl.”

  The alien turned toward him. “Do you think you’re more of a challenge?”

  “Well, there’s only one of you, so I guess that’s a yes—unless you need to outnumber your opponents.”

  The crowd recognized the insult with a goading murmur, and the warrior turned fully to face him and brandished his sword. “How many pieces do you want to be buried in?”

  The guard drew his blaster and shot him in the face. He continued to fire until the Dreth thumped down and lay still and the sword fell from his hand. “How about we don’t bury me? I’d probably poison the ground for miles around.”

  He nudged the fallen warrior with his boot. “Hey. I asked you a question.”

  When he didn’t respond, Lars surveyed the battlefield.

  On the other side of the arena, Vishlog delivered the punch that knocked his opponent over Frog’s crouched figure and followed to land on top of him. The two cats had pinned their opponents, only one of which was still moving. Bee used the other as a cushion.

  Every time Zeekat’s prisoner moved, the black-and-white cat would leap onto the offending body part and bite it—except for the head. That, he’d jump on, leap off again, and pivot to slap it before he returned to sit on the Dreth’s back.

  The feline seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Johnny delivered one more punch and stood to give his adversary a solid kick for good measure. When the alien did nothing more than groan, the guard dusted his hands and staggered over to Brenden.

  Frog sprinted across the arena, his eyes fixed on Stephanie as a warrior had snuck up behind her. Before Lars could make out what he was about to do, the smaller man barreled into the back of the Dreth’s knees and brought the attacker down on top of himself.

  She raised her hammer and advanced and the guard squirmed out from under the Dreth and flung himself onto the warrior’s chest. “I’m on your side,” he screamed as she brought the weapon around.

  It arced through the air and Frog cringed. In an instant, Stephanie blinked and it was gone.

  “Frog?” she asked, and he made a “ta-da” gesture with his hands, his face as white as milk.

  “The one and only.” His voice shook.

  “I almost killed you.”

  He grinned. “Yup.”

  “I... You...”

  His grin faded and he held his hand out. “Yup. Are you gonna help me up? ʼCause my legs are shaking so bad I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

  She held her hand out and hauled him to his feet. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Aw, Steph. You say the sweetest things.”

  Lars approached and gave him a clip upside the head. “Fucking dumbass.”

  “I love you, too, man. Don’t tell me you weren’t worried. You always say ‘fuck’ when you’re worried.”

  “Fuck you,” the team leader retorted and turned away to help Johnny with Brenden.

  “And your sense of humor crashes.”

  Lars flipped him the bird and he looked at the sky. “Aw, man...we fought through the lunch break.”

  “And we’re not done yet,” Stephanie told him and looked for the others.

  Across the arena, Vishlog put Zeekat’s victim out of his misery by knocking him out cold and whistled for the cats. Zee pranced around him but Bumblebee stalked beside him like he was looking for something to kill.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Lars shouted and took two long strides to kick the blaster out of the hand of the warrior Johnny had downed.

  When he’d punched that Dreth to unconsciousness, he checked to see if Johnny was okay with Brenden and looked for Avery. For a moment, he couldn’t find him, but one of the downed Dreth moved and a hand appeared.

  After another lurch, a second hand appeared, and Avery dragged himself out from under the felled warrior. “Sorry, man, but have you seen how much those fuckers weigh?” he said when he noticed his audience.

  Lars helped him up and they returned to Stephanie.

  This time, they left their opponents where they lay and walked over to join their teammates and face the judges.

  “Victory to Team Morgana.”

  When she looked at the judge’s stand, she noticed six extra figures standing at the back of it. It didn’t take much effort for her to recognize the colors belonging to Clans Hachtech, Endrageth, and Echgrech—all of whom stood in opposition to the Dreth following her.

  The Dreth senator for House Hachtech turned away from the judging panel and smiled. “Houses Hachtech, Endrageth, and Echgrech thank you.”

  “Uh oh,” Frog murmured. “That can’t be good.”

  Stephanie narrowed her eyes and glanced over at where Brenden and Johnny were leaning on each other and Lars had his arm around Avery’s back. “Let’s get these guys to the healers before they decide to start the next match early.”

  They reached the shade of their support station and settled onto long, low benches so the healers could do their work. V’ritan inspected the food that was brought to make sure it was safe to eat, after which he made sure they actually ate.

  “You have three more houses to fight,” he told them, “and they are your strongest opponents. You will need all your strength.”

  Stephanie ate, her eyes dark with emotion and her magic surging and restless. The Meligornian studied her with concern, but one look at her people told him why she might look that way. Brenden was the worst and the healers suggested he be kept from the field.

  Lars pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No can do,” he told them. “We need to fight with her. The Dreth need us to fight with her.”

  Vishlog grunted in agreement and drew a hissing breath as the healer stitched a sword gash. That was one weapon that had slipped through the armor. Looking around at them, V’ritan sent a request to the ship for replacements to be made.

  When a drumroll signaled the end of their break, they rose to their feet. Before they reached the door, the judge’s voice boomed out over them in amplified resonance.

  “Houses Hachtech, Endrageth, and Echgrech have requested the right extended to the clans involved in the first battle—that their forces be merged and this battle be fought as one engagement.”

  “Hrageth’s balls and Tegortha’s stench. They have no honor.” Vishlog growled in pent fury.

  “That request has been granted. Team Morgana will face the Houses Hachtech, Endrageth, and Echgrech in one final confrontation. Opponents have five minutes to decide on their team composition and take the field.”

  “That’s cheating,” Frog exclaimed, and Vishlog shook his head.

  “Technically, it is barely inside being respectful but ethically, it’s a crime. They can try to hold their heads up but I will punch them down soon enough.”

  The team rumbled its agreement, and Marcus stood.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Stephanie demanded when she noticed him.

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not fit enough.”

  He walked forward, sealed his armor, and checked his weapons methodically. “They are your greatest opponents and they’ve had the day to see what the team can do. They want to ensure they win.”

  When he looked at Jaleck, the ambassador nodded in agreement. “You will need all your people in the field for this.”

  Marcus took his place with the team. “So it’s settled then. I’m fighting.”

  The healers made one more round to check that the team was healed enough to face the coming fight.

  “We need to ensure we keep
enough in reserve for when you come off the field,” the leader healer explained.

  As soon as they were done, Stephanie led them into the arena. On the other side, House Echgrech’s champions emerged.

  “Nine,” Lars murmured.

  “It’s nice to know they believe in a fair fight,” Frog grumbled.

  “It would only be fair if that was all they were fielding,” Vishlog told him. “As it is...”

  They watched a second group of warriors emerge. These wore the colors of House Endrageth.

  “Nine, again.”

  As the highest-ranking, House Hachtech had chosen to send its champions out last. When they reached nine, they kept coming.

  “Twelve,” Lars counted.

  “Fifteen. What the fuck?” Frog exclaimed a few moments later.

  “It looks like it gets better,” Johnny said when more stepped through the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Twenty.” Vishlog was not impressed.

  “Twenty-one,” the team muttered and counted together.

  House Hachtech hadn’t held back. Its expression of disapproval was clear. If a house dead set against a decision sent eight or more, House Hachtech’s disapproval was off the scale.

  “Twenty-two...twenty-three...”

  “That has to be close to all their warriors,” Vishlog murmured.

  “Twenty-four.”

  The Dreth in the stands above them gasped.

  “It is all their warriors.” Vishlog’s voice was a cross between disbelief and horror. “They must have sold their souls to the Tegortha.”

  “Or the enemy,” Stephanie stated in a voice that carried darkness.

  Lars glance at her. “Steady. We don’t need Morgana yet.”

  “Twenty-four.” Vishlog’s eyes narrowed. “They really hate us.”

  “How can you tell?” Frog asked and sarcasm dripped from every word.

  The Dreth didn’t seem to notice. “Because they’re laying it all on the line,” he replied. “If we win, they won’t be able to look anyone in the eye for a generation, so shallow will be the well of their respect.”