The Remnant

by Paul B Spence

  The sudden silence was a shock.

  Tebrey's ears rang from the gunshots. He could faintly hear the gurgling breath of dying men. Make sure they're really dead.

  Are you okay? Hunter asked anxiously. The sound of crushing bone suggested that Hunter was taking no chances.

  Tebrey inspected the cut on his arm. It wasn't deep, but it was painful and bleeding freely, running down his arm to make his hand slick on the pistol grip. I'm okay. Nothing major. He slid the pistol into the holster and turned from the sickening gore around him. We need to get out of here.

  Get the sergeant. I'll stand watch.

  He nodded. Hunter had come through the fight unscathed. So much for worrying about his safety. Tebrey quickly stripped one of the dead men of trousers and moved into the back room. McGee was still sitting up against the wall. He looked terrible. "Can you walk?" Tebrey asked him.

  "I don't think so," the sergeant said with a sob. "I'm sorry, sir. This is my fault. Just leave me."

  "Nonsense, man. Pull yourself together. I didn't just rescue you so I could leave you here. If you can't walk, we'll carry you." He sheathed the knife and stooped to help the man get the trousers on. "Sorry," he apologized. "I know this must hurt."

  "You can't carry me and fight, too."

  "I may not have to," Tebrey said. He was thinking about what he had seen of the guards' reaction to Hunter. He picked McGee up, mindful of the sergeant's injuries. Tebrey's left arm hurt from where the sword had caught him, but he didn't think it would be a problem, not for the short while he had to carry the man. The sergeant barely weighed anything.

  Everything okay? Hunter asked.

  Yes. Let's go.

  The guards in the house courtyard had heard the sounds of fighting. They thought they were prepared to fight whomever came out of the house, but nothing could have prepared them for the sight of the giant black beast that came bounding through the doorway. Its eyes glowed green in the darkness, and light glittered from the metallic teeth and claws. Its fur was spiky with matted blood.

  It was something out of a nightmare, a beast of legend walking among them, meting out justice. In the early light of morning, the sky grey and turbulent with storms, who could blame them for running away? Their captain had other ideas, though, and whipped them into a line in front of the gate.

  Tebrey glanced overhead at the storm. Lightning was striking across the city, and he had no sympathy for the men who had done what they'd found inside. None of the other prisoners in the house had been alive. The men had busy with their torturing.

  "Hunter, kept an eye on McGee." He sat the sergeant down by the door to the house. Hunter moved to block his line of sight from the guards, just in case they had crossbows.

  Tebrey counted over twenty men. He could sense their fear as he walked toward them, a bloody apparition. They stirred, but held their ground. The rain started falling harder as he walked.

  "Hold it right there," their captain shouted.

  "You should run," Tebrey said in return. He kept walking.

  The man laughed. "You're outnumbered. Surrender, and I'll make your death merciful."

  "Funny, that's what I was going to say."

  Tebrey stopped sixteen meters from the milling men. That should be close enough. He holstered his caseless pistol and knife. He wanted to make an example of them. No one was going to take his people and get away with it.

  "You don't have a chance," the man said.

  "Then why am I still alive?" Tebrey asked, spreading his arms to show he wasn't holding a weapon.

  "Some of my men are hesitant about that beast down there, but you're just a man."

  "Am I? Tonight, I am the Lawbringer, and you have been judged." Tebrey knew some of the men would live, at least for a few days. They would repeat what he said. It would serve his purpose.

  "To hell with your law. We're the law in this city."

  "Not anymore." Tebrey drew his positron pistol as the man started forward. The shielded packet of antimatter hit the captain just below the breastbone. The actinic flash lit the courtyard as matter was annihilated and the gamma pulse flash-boiled his torso. Tebrey shot every third man as fast as he could pull the trigger, and the night exploded into flying chunks of radioactive gore and screams. The men he didn't shoot were still too close to the gamma bursts to live. Many of them were badly burned by the radiation; all of them received a lethal dose. They'd all be dead within three days – three days of agonizingly slow death.

  That should send the right message, he thought. Not a man was still standing, although many of them were screaming as they thrashed on the ground. Another shot from the pistol blasted the gate from the wall.

  Are you sure you weren't too close?

  I might be sick for a few days, but my implants will scrub out the radiation. I didn't get much at this range anyway. I'll come back and get McGee. Leave the dying and wounded. I want our enemies to know what we did here.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Once she was done cooking, Ana awakened Christopher, who quickly ate and then took food to the other guards. The cooking fires warmed the small kitchen. The old house had gotten quite cool overnight. The light from outside the window was wan grey through the turbulent clouds. They were finishing up breakfast when a shout from outside brought them to their feet.

  Ana stepped back and politely allowed Mason and Bauval to lead the way to the front of the house. At first all she could see were the backs of the other people; just about everyone was taller than her. Then she saw the tall form of Hrothgar come in the door. She gasped when she saw him, for he was covered in gore, and carried an even bloodier form in his arms.

  He carefully placed the form on the floor and stood. Streaks of blood smeared his face, but he still smiled tiredly when he saw her. He stepped carefully past the others, who were gathered around a pale, battered body on the floor. It took her a moment to recognize the form as McGee. He had been treated badly.

  "You didn't wait up all night, did you?" Tebrey asked her with a smile.

  She wanted to touch him, to assure herself that he was real. Instead she asked him about Hunter.

  "He's fine. He wanted to bathe in a fountain just down the street. Can't say that I blame him." He looked a little unsteady.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I'm tired," he replied. "There is something you could help me with, if you don't mind." He gestured her back into the kitchen. "The others are going to be busy helping the sergeant for a while. He's in bad shape."

  "I can see that. What can I do for you?" she asked.

  "I'm afraid I didn't come through it unscathed, my dear." His voice wavered a little.

  Ana thought he looked paler than usual. "Are you hurt?"

  "Cut my arm," he mumbled. "Would you mind helping me clean it? I'm worn down so much I can't see straight. I don't think I can do it myself."

  "Let me see," she said.

  Tebrey quickly but carefully stripped off his jacket and shirt, mindful of the fresh scabs on his arm. The clots had stuck to his shirt and the wound began to bleed freely again. He sat quickly, before he fell down. He'd lost more blood than he had realized.

  Knowing that he was worried about the wound didn't make her feel better.

  Ana carefully washed out the long cut on his muscular arm. It wasn't down to the bone, but it was well into the muscle. He smelled of sweat and blood, and yet she still felt her pulse racing at feeling his skin under her hands. She lightly traced the scars on his arm. There weren't as many as she'd expected. Once the wound was clean, she packed it with boiled tea leaves and tied a strip of toweling around it.

  "Ouch!" Tebrey exclaimed. It was the first sound he had made since she began. "What are you doing?"

  "Tea leaves will stop the bleeding," she said. "I boiled them not an hour ago."

  "Hurts like hell."

  "Sorry. I didn't know what else to do. You need stitches. You should drink something, and eat."

  "Food sounds good. I'll be okay with
out stitches, at least for now."

  Ana made him a cup of tea, and a plate of bacon and toast that were left from earlier. "I'll be right back," she said while he was eating. She had remembered that there were still pastries in the parlor from the other afternoon. Was it only yesterday? she thought to herself on the way back to the kitchen. It seemed to her like it had been longer.

  Hunter had come in through the back door while she was out.

  "Ana, would you mind looking in the cold box and seeing if there is still some meat left for Hunter?" Tebrey asked.

  "Okay," she said. She placed the pastries next to him on the table and went to find food for Hunter. There was a lot of meat in the box. "How much?" she asked.

  That ham hock would be fine, Hunter thought to her.

  She smiled and got the meat out for him. It still filled her with joy to receive the thoughts of one such as Hunter. It was like she was living a legend. "Should I cook it?"

  "He'll eat it like that," Tebrey said. "It's been cured."

  "Okay." She handed the meat to Hunter, who took it gently in his jaws and walked over to the corner to eat. Ana walked back over to Tebrey and tenderly began to wash the rest of the dried blood from his face and neck. At least that blood wasn't his. She brushed back his hair from his face and traced the curve of his ears.

  He caught her arm with his right hand. Her touch had electrified him. His fingers wrapped around her small wrist with room to spare.

  "I need to take a bath. Heat me some water?"

  She nodded, unable to speak. Her heart was beating wildly again, and she felt weak in the knees.

  Tebrey's eyes searched hers for a moment, and then he pulled her close, his lips closing on hers, softly at first and then fiercer as she responded to the kiss by pressing against him. His hand found the curve of her back, and she moaned as his fingers caressed her spine.

  He pulled his lips away, and he rested his forehead against hers so he could look into her eyes. "Hello, beautiful," he said softly. She blushed and ducked her head away, but he lifted her chin to look into her eyes again.

  She smiled hesitantly and pulled back.

  Tebrey released her reluctantly and sighed. She could tell that he didn't want to rush things with her, but the feel of her lips and her body pressed against his... She quickly stopped those thoughts before they could go any further.

  He was tired and thoroughly worn out. He couldn't have made love to her then even if… Not yet, anyway. That could wait.

  He sighed again and smiled ruefully. He was thinking that she was too shy.

  He reached out and touched her face. His expression was so unguarded and full of wonder that she was almost embarrassed. If she had ever had any doubts about how he felt, that look quelled them. She could feel the intensity of emotion that was driving him.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  She laughed; it was almost a silky purr. "I'm just grand," she said giddily.

  "So," he said. "How about that water? And then I probably should stitch this up and get some sleep."

  Sergeant McGee was aware of being back in his own bed.

  A distant rumble of thunder rattled the glass in the window. He could see raindrops striking and running down. It looked to be coming down fairly hard. He was trying to remember how he had gotten here. The other beds were empty.

  "How are you doing, Sergeant?" Mason asked him as she came in and sat next to the bed. She dipped a cloth in cool water and laid it on one of the burns.

  He licked his lips. The expected pain hadn't come. "Wha–?" he said groggily. "Is the commander okay?"

  "He's fine, McGee." Bauval said from the doorway. "The cat's fine, too."

  "Good." It seemed there was something he should ask, but couldn't think of it.

  "Are you okay?" Mason asked again.

  "Fine, I think," McGee said. "I should feel like shit, but I don't. I remember being in so much pain I wanted to die, but now I don't."

  "Tebrey had a few pain meds squirreled away in that medical kit of his. We gave you a little before we cleaned the wounds. We had to debride the burnt flesh; sorry, but it had gotten infected. We think your implant was damaged or overloaded. I'm afraid you'll have scars there."

  "I can live with scars."

  "Did you tell them anything, Sergeant?" Bauval asked abruptly. "After they captured you?"

  "No, I didn't tell them anything," he said. "I couldn't even understand what they were asking me." He realized that they didn't know he had abandoned his post. He felt terrible for having done so. He hoped they would never find out. He wasn't sure he could face the shame. He didn't know what had come over him; it had been like a compulsion. He'd never done anything like that before. He never would again.

  "Well, the important thing is that you're back and safe."

  McGee was unconscious again, his head lolling to one side.

  "Are you going to stay here awhile?" Bauval asked.

  Mason nodded. It pained her to see what had been done to the poor man. She had to ease his suffering if she could. She carefully placed another cool, damp rag over the burns.

  "He'll be okay."

  "I know." She turned and smiled at Bauval. "I was just thinking that we got lucky this time. Things could get really bad here, Pierre."

  "They won't. Tebrey will make sure of that."

  She smiled. "No more conspiracies?"

  "Nah, I'm too tired for those."

  "Get some sleep, then. I'll be fine."

  "Wake me if you need anything." He stumbled off to bed.

  "The Lady Varakana to see you, my lord Marquess," his steward announced.

  François raised an eyebrow in wonder, but gestured his approval for her to be admitted. He hadn't seen his sister in months; she hadn't visited him in his home in years. He had no doubts as to what the visit was about. The news of what had happened to her men was all over the city.

  "Brother," she said as she entered. "Could we speak alone?"

  He searched her face, and then nodded slowly. "Guards, leave us." The men behind the screen stepped out and left the room with bows. He could see their reluctance, but they didn't question his orders.

  "What brings you to my home, sister? Not that I mind."

  "You know why I'm here," she said. "This is an outrage!"

  François sighed and walked over to the sideboard. "Would you like a drink?"

  "No, thank you."

  He mixed himself a strong glass of liquor. "Maybe you could enlighten me as to what exactly you are outraged about," he said. "Then maybe I can help."

  She snorted. "I'm sure you've heard that my home near the waterfront was attacked. Many of my men were killed. More are dying, and no one can tell me what poison was used on them."

  "Poison?"

  "Only six of my men survived the attack. They are dying. My healers don't know how to treat it."

  "What are the symptoms?"

  "Brother, let us drop the charade. I know that it was your men who attacked my house. I even understand why. I can respect the response, although the savagery of the attack makes me question what I knew about you. It is the poison that bothers me. That isn't like you. My men should not have to suffer an agonizing death because of our disagreements."

  "And what of those your men tortured? Did they deserve an agonizing death?"

  "That was just business," she replied. "Interrogation is never an easy thing."

  He searched her face, but little remained of the girl he had known. "I can't help you, sister. I suggest that if you don't want them to die in agony, give them the mercy stroke."

  "Do you really want to escalate our disagreements?"

  "Varakana, you know I never wanted us to disagree about anything, but I truly can't help you. It was not my men who attacked your house. I don't know what was done to the survivors. I would suggest that whatever you did to precipitate the attack, you should avoid doing again, lest it be worse next time."

  "Worse? Two score of my men were torn apart. The surviv
ors are badly burned and have some sickness that cannot be cured."

  "And what do they say of what happened?"

  "They are delirious."

  "Tell me."

  She walked over to the window and looked out over the city. "What they say is impossible."

  "That a Lawbringer has come?" he asked.

  She turned on him. "So you do know!"

  "I know there is a Lawbringer here in the city, yes."

  "Impossible."

  "I'm sure your spies have told you that already. You know that he and his company are my guests. If you were stupid enough to attack someone under his protection, then you got what you deserved."

  "They said they were struck down by lightning, François. Such things cannot happen," she pleaded. "You know it can't. Please, just give me the antidote."

  "Pardon me if I think that you seem unduly concerned about your men."

  She looked away. "My youngest son lies dying from this poison."

  "Jerrod?"

  She nodded.

  "I'm sorry, sister. I truly am, but I didn't have anything to do with the attack."

  "What would you have me do?"

  "You could throw yourself upon the mercy of the Lawbringer, but it sounds as if Jerrod was poisoned by the lightning. There may not be an antidote for that."

  "Mercy!" she spat. "He'll be begging for mercy before I'm finished with him."

  "Varakana," he said quietly. "He is a guest of my house. Think before you act."

  "You'd side with another over one of your own blood, again?"

  "I've always done what I thought was right."

  "You'll burn with the rest of them. You're nothing but a sniveling coward." She turned to leave.

  "One day you may regret what has come between us, sister."

  "I regret nothing except that I ever considered you family," she said vehemently. "Don't think to stop me. I made preparations in case I didn't return from our meeting."

  "Go in peace, sister, but heed my warning about the Lawbringer. I can't protect you if you do something foolish."