The thing gave a brief yowl, the first sound Lukka had heard it make, when Epha plunged her short sword into its flank. It rounded on her, and she pulled the blade free and danced away.
It’s so fast. Lukka had his own sword out, but he’d barely managed to take two steps toward Gedra before the creature had torn out her throat. Now he watched Epha back away, quick and careful, the monster padding quietly toward her. Lukka went to join her, but the sergeant held up a warning hand, face a mask of concentration.
The tripwires, Lukka realized. Epha had stepped back into her own trap, hoping to lure the cat after her. If it goes off, it’ll tear her to shreds. The metal hooks and wires were designed to bite through the tough skin of monsters, and he could only imagine what they’d do to a human body. Lukka pulled up short, watching as Epha waved her bloody sword at the creature.
“Come on!” the diminutive sergeant shouted. “Come and get me!”
The winged cat raised one paw, then stopped. It stood there, glaring at Epha, then turned away with a growl, head swinging toward Lukka.
It saw the trap! The damned thing was faster and smarter than it had any right to be. Lukka backed up, sword raised. If it pounces, and I duck, then maybe–
There was a snap, and Nik’s oversized bolt sprouted in the monster’s shoulder. It turned away from Lukka, yowling in protest, and launched itself into another gliding leap. Nik had jumped to her feet, winding furiously to reset her crossbow—she’s not going to make it!
“Nik, run!” Lukka shouted, knowing it was too late. “Epha, to me! We’re falling back!”
He wasn’t sure if Nik heard him, but she reached the same conclusion, tossing her bow away and bolting through the field. The monster flared its wings as it dove, catching up with her easily. It grabbed her by the throat, spear-like incisors slicing deep, but she was still struggling as it lifted her off the ground. Then it gave a fast, hard shake, just like a housecat with a mouse, and the sniper’s struggles subsided into shudders, her head lolling on a broken neck.
Epha leapt clear of the tripwires. Lukka pointed to the road.
“Go!” he shouted. “I’m right behind you.”
She hesitated.
“Go!” he screamed, as the cat dropped Nik in a heap and turned toward them.
Epha started to run. The monster, catching the movement, gathered itself for a leap. Lukka scrambled sideways, interposing himself, sword ready to jam into the thing’s throat. Even if it gets me, maybe I can take it down. Maybe, maybe—it was so fast!
Jirina. I’m sorry.
The monster descended, wings flaring. Huge, taloned paws reached out for Lukka, and he lunged, sword extending.
And then—
A flash of green light.
Chapter Two
Lukka felt–
Hunger, he’d killed the two-legs, but they tasted foul, all gristle and bone–
Pain, the bolt lodged in his shoulder, tearing at his flesh–
–and above all, a push, a red light in the back of his mind. A drive, forcing him to places he would rather not go, dangers he would rather not face, a foreign imperative–
destroy the city, break the walls, smash the towers, tear down the crystals, kill the two-legs, destroy, destroy, destroy
He opened his eyes and screamed.
***
Jirina stalked toward the Citadel’s infirmary, not running—that would compromise her dignity—but nonetheless moving so quickly that her young adjutant had to jog to keep up.
“He’s awake?” she said. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said. “At least, he was when the doctors sent me.”
“Has he said anything?”
“I’m not sure, sir, they sent me to find you straight away.”
“Have they told anyone else?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
They had. There was a staff lieutenant waiting by the door of Lukka’s sickroom, a prim woman with a notebook and pencil. Jirina fixed her with a withering glare.
“I’d like to speak to my fiancé alone,” she said.
“Of course,” the lieutenant said with a quick salute. “I’ll leave you two, just as soon as I’ve recorded the captain’s report of what happened.”
Jirina grit her teeth. “The captain can report later.”
“It’s important to get his initial impressions,” the lieutenant said with a bland smile. “General’s orders, sir.”
Those were the magic words that meant there was nothing further to be said. Jirina composed herself, smoothing her features, and opened the door. It was a private sickroom, with a single bed, reserved for important patients. A pair of doctors, one wearing the crystal-studded armband of the Arcane Corps, stood beside an elevated bed where Lukka sat propped on a heap of pillows.
Something in Jirina’s chest relaxed at the sight of him. He didn’t seem hurt, apart from a bandage on one arm and a scrape on his forehead, and he was awake and speaking to one of the doctors. She ruthlessly suppressed an urge to rush to his side. Father is watching. He’s always watching. The General disapproved of excessive displays of sentimentality.
“Jirina!” Lukka sat up straighter. “Thank the gods. Nobody is telling me anything–”
“Try to stay calm, Captain,” one of the doctors said.
“Was he badly hurt?” Jirina said, her stomach clenching again.
The doctors looked at one another. It was the Arcane Corps man who spoke.
“We don’t believe so. But there was an…event that we don’t fully understand, and he still bears the arcane residue. It’s a type of magic we haven’t seen before.”
“What do you mean, an event?” Lukka said. “Will someone tell me what happened to my team? Jirina, can you get me out of here?”
“Absolutely not,” the other doctor said. “You’ll need to remain–”
Scritch, scritch. The staff lieutenant had her notebook, pencil moving quickly. Scritch scritch scritch–
“Enough,” Jirina barked. She turned to the doctors. “Would you excuse us for a few minutes? I promise not to let your patient exert himself.”
After a moment, the pair of them decided it wasn’t worth trying to argue with the General’s daughter. They nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind them. Jirina threw a glance at the staff lieutenant, who kept up her bland smile, sitting on a stool in the corner. Her pencil was still poised above her notebook.
“Jirina, please,” Lukka said. “I remember—something. But it’s confused, and I don’t know…”
She caught his eye and flicked a glance at the lieutenant. Father is watching. For a moment Lukka hesitated, then nodded in understanding, straightening his shoulders and putting on a more formal expression.
“I have to tell you that things went…badly,” Jirina said. “Everyone on your team was killed except for Sergeant Epha.”
“They–” Lukka swallowed hard. “I see.”
“I would like you to tell me what happened. As much as you can remember.”
“Of course.” Lukka took a deep breath. “I got the orders instructing us to intercept the monster–”
He went through the story with remarkably equanimity. The approach, the devastated farmstead, their carefully planned ambush. It was only when he reached the monster’s actual attack that his professional mask flickered.
“The thing was…smart,” Lukka said. “It had figured out where we were, what we were planning. It grabbed Gox through a wall, tore him to shreds, then pounced on Gedra before any of us had time to react. Sergeant Epha tried to lure it into our tripwires, but it knew the things were there–”
“Excuse me,” said the staff lieutenant. “You’re certain of that? That the creature was actually aware of the traps and the danger they represented?”
“It certainly acted like it was,�
� Lukka said. “Like I said, it was smarter than any cat I’ve ever come up against.”
Scritch, scritch, went the pencil.
“Then what happened?” Jirina said. She fixed Lukka’s gaze. Be careful.
“Nik put a bolt into it,” Lukka said. “But that didn’t even slow it down, and it took her out before she could reload. I’d gotten Sergeant Epha clear of the traps and ordered her to retreat while I acted as rear-guard–”
“You were going to let it kill you so she could get away,” Jirina said, not looking at the lieutenant.
“Someone had to,” Lukka said. “Whoever next went up against that thing needed to know what it could do.”
Scritch, scritch.
Jirina took a deep breath. “And then what?”
“Then…” Lukka shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
“You can’t remember?” Jirina said eagerly.
“I can remember something,” Lukka said. “But it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Please tell us whatever you can,” the lieutenant said.
Jirina bit her lip.
“There was a flash of light,” Lukka said. “And then it was like…I could feel the thing. The cat, its…mind, its emotions. I could tell that it was hungry, and hurting, and that it wanted to…come to Drannith. To destroy Drannith. And at the same time, I think it could…feel what I was feeling.”
Damn, damn, damn. Jirina’s throat was dry.
“And how did it react?” the lieutenant said.
“It… I can’t really explain,” Lukka said. “I pushed at it, at the feeling that it had to go to Drannith, and I felt something snap. And then the monster just…pulled away.” He shook his head again. “That must have been when I passed out because I don’t recall anything beyond that before I woke up here. What happened?”
“Sergeant Epha went for help,” Jirina said. “When she returned with a squad from sector defense, they found you unconscious and brought you back to the Citadel.”
“Epha’s all right?”
“Some cuts and bruises, but nothing serious.”
“And…” He hesitated. “What happened to the monster? Why didn’t it kill me?”
“Perhaps it was more badly injured by Nik’s bolt than you thought,” Jirina said quickly. “Watchers on the wall spotted it taking flight from the farmstead, and it went to ground somewhere in the Third Ring. Teams are still searching for it.”
“I want to go back out,” Lukka said immediately. “I owe that thing, for Gox and Gedra and Nik. I want to be there when they take it down–”
The lieutenant closed her notebook with a snap. “I should report to the General,” she said. “Captain Lukka, thank you for your time.”
“I can deliver the report,” Jirina said, trying not to let her desperation show. “I’ll see Father this afternoon.”
“He asked me to deliver my notes personally,” the lieutenant said. Before Jirina could object, she opened the door and hurried away.
“What in the name of all the gods is going on?” Lukka demanded.
“Later,” Jirina said. She hurried to his bedside and kissed him, and after a moment he responded, hands gripping her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Lukka, I don’t have time to explain. I love you.”
“Jirina!”
She was already pulling away, heading for the door.
***
Jirina had lived in the Citadel all her life, and she knew its passages and stairways better than almost anyone alive. It was full of shortcuts and byways, little tricks that only someone who’d spent her girlhood poking through its disused spaces would know. As a result, she managed to beat the staff lieutenant to her father’s office by at least five minutes.
Unfortunately, this didn’t make any difference, because the desk outside General Kudro’s office was manned by Colonel Bryd, who was his usual cantankerous self. When Jirina arrived, trying not to seem out of breath, he fixed her with a dismissive glare.
“I need to speak to him,” she said. “Right away.”
“The General is working on urgent business,” Bryd said, steepling his hands. He was a tall man and kept his blond hair in a long queue as if to make up for the receding hairline at the other end. “He’s asked that no one be admitted.”
“My father–” Jirina began.
“You’re welcome to wait,” Bryd said, with an expression that indicated he wished she wouldn’t.
Jirina defiantly took a seat on one of the hard, uncomfortable chairs that lined the antechamber. When the staff lieutenant, still carrying her notebook, arrived a few minutes later, Jirina got up again. She bristled when Bryd waved the lieutenant through.
“I thought you said he was occupied on urgent business,” she said.
“That was his urgent business,” Bryd said with a nasty grin. “Please feel free to keep waiting.”
It wasn’t long, at least. The lieutenant emerged only a few minutes later, and the General’s voice followed her out.
“Colonel? Is my daughter there?”
“Yes, sir,” Bryd said.
“Send her in.”
“The General,” Bryd said, “will see you now.”
Jirina was already stalking past him. Her father’s office was on the very top floor of the Citadel, with windows on three sides. He had a massive slab of a desk, and a corkboard on his wall full of tacked up maps and notices. Other than that, the room was nearly empty, an example of the kind of spare discipline the General wished his officers to emulate.
General Kudro, commander of Drannith’s Coppercoats, was no longer in the prime of his youth, but he had not allowed himself to go soft. His shaven head gleamed as though it had been polished, and his mustache, though it had gone gray, was still thick and stiffly waxed. He wasn’t a tall man, but his presence was such that he loomed large in in every conversation. His voice was a deep bass rumble, polished smooth from shouting orders across a hundred battlefields.
Jirina drew herself up in front of his desk and saluted, hand over chest. Her father nodded acknowledgement. His desk was empty, she noted, except for the notebook the staff lieutenant had delivered and a single sheet of paper.
“Captain.” He never spoke to her informally while he was on duty. And these days he’s always on duty. “I take it you’ve just come from speaking with Captain Lukka.”
“More or less, sir. I was kept waiting for some time by Colonel Bryd. May I again point out his insolent–”
“Colonel Bryd was following my instructions,” the General said. “I wished to go over the captain’s report for myself, before you added your…opinion.”
“Sir, with all respect–”
“And if you had been able to get to me first, Captain, what would you have said?”
Jirina paused. “That Captain Lukka appeared genuinely confused about what happened at the farmstead.”
“Indeed.” Kudro tapped the notebook with one finger. “And that his report substantially matches the one given to us by Sergeant Epha. What was it?” He flipped the notebook open to another page. “ ‘The captain and the monster were connected by a line of green light, and after a few minutes the monster turned and left.’ ”
“We don’t know what caused the effect,” Jirina said. “It could be something about this particular creature–”
“You’ve read the same reports I have,” the General said. “The descriptions of this new…infection.”
“Our information is unreliable.”
“On the contrary. Our agents all agree on the basics. Humans forming an arcane bond with monsters.” He pronounced the word as though it were something distasteful. “Those humans subsequently expressing sympathy for their monsters. Even going so far as to leave their settlements and dwell in the wilderness with them!” He snorted, shaking his head. “We knew it was only a matter of time before the
sickness came to Drannith. I will not allow it to gain a foothold here.”
“Sir.” Jirina schooled her face to stillness, though her heart was racing. “You know Captain Lukka. You’ve known him for years. In all that time, have you ever had any reason to believe him less than loyal to this city?”
“Of course not,” the General said. “I would hardly have agreed to your marriage otherwise.”
“Then why should we think he’ll be disloyal now? If anything, this effect might work to our advantage. If he can communicate with monsters, then perhaps–”
“There is no perhaps,” Kudro snarled. “And there will be no communication, because there is nothing to communicate with. The monsters desire nothing but the destruction of humanity. They do not make bargains. And the only thing that holds them back is the iron-hearted bravery of every man and woman in the Coppercoats. We are not Lavabrink, hiding in a hole, or Skysail, fleeing from confrontation. We are Drannith, and we face the hard truths.”
Jirina stared at him, saying nothing. The General tapped the notebook again and it slid to the side. Even reading upside down, Jirina could make out the heading on the paper underneath. Detention notice for Captain…
She kept her gaze on her father’s face.
“In this case, the truth is that Captain Lukka is compromised,” he said. “Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment. And believe me when I say this is far from easy for me. You know I considered your fiancé among the leading lights of the Coppercoats. In a few years, with some experience, he might even have aspired to be my successor. But none of that can be allowed to blind us to the danger he presents.”
“There’s no evidence he presents any kind of danger!”
“Except for his unknown, unprecedented arcane connection to an extremely dangerous monster of a type never before catalogued?” Kudro said. “Really, Captain.”
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