Xan gestured to the man, and they started off.
They’d made it ten feet before a rock came flying through the air. It hit the Warlord’s temple with a solid thud. Xan turned in time to see him take one staggering step before he righted himself.
Blood trickled down his cheek and already a knot was forming. The Warlord didn’t speak, didn’t do a damn thing. If it hadn’t been for the blood and that one staggering step, Xan might have wondered if he’d even noticed.
Others noticed.
The crowd that had yet to clear.
And Syn.
She was already striding in the direction the missile had come from and she stopped in front of the small cluster of soldiers. “Who did it?” she demanded.
Nobody spoke.
Syn crossed her arms over her chest and said again, “Who did it?”
When the silence continued, she smiled. “If that’s how you want to play it, fine. I will ask one more time, and if I do not get an answer, the lot of you are confined to quarters for an undisclosed amount of time. You will leave only for job rotations, which will be latrine duty for the next six months. You will not leave for meals, you will not leave for your free day, you will not leave for any reason unless your dormer catches on fire. Am I clear?”
A few nodded.
“All right. Let’s try this again. Who did it?”
The culprit didn’t step forward—he was shoved forward with enough force that he almost fell flat on his face. As he righted himself, Syn studied him.
Xan did the same. Young. Just barely old enough to be considered an adult.
And he looked pissed as he faced the Captain. “What the hell is the problem?” he demanded, his voice angry.
“There are several of them,” she said, her voice as cold as winter ice. “The first is how you’re addressing me, soldier. The rules in this camp haven’t changed—you address your superiors in the proper way. I’m rather certain ‘What the hell is the problem’ doesn’t qualify as proper.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. He shuffled his feet and looked away. “I apologize, Captain.”
“That’s better.” Then she gestured to the bound Warlord. “I believe there is another requiring an apology.”
The man’s jaw dropped. Several others echoed his surprise. “You want me to tell that bastard I’m sorry?”
“You should. You assaulted a man in restraints—those restraints render him helpless.”
“He’s a fucking Warlord,” the soldier spat.
“Yes. And we expect Warlords to attack the helpless. However, we aren’t Warlords, and I will not tolerate any soldier of mine attacking somebody incapable of defending themselves.”
A dull red flush stained the soldier’s face red. “I’m not apologizing to him. He’s nothing but a fucking animal.”
“So you have no problem throwing rocks at animals, then?” She curled her lip at him and said, “If you wish to engage in violence, then perhaps I should have his restraints removed, and you can face him in the circle. Get as bloody and as violent as you want. Would that suit you?”
The color leeched out of the soldier’s face, leaving him white.
“Well?”
He glanced from Syn to the Warlord, skimmed the faces of those around him. Most wouldn’t look at him. Too many had the same mind-set as this soldier, Xan realized—nothing was too dishonorable, nothing was uncalled for when it came to the Warlords. But some looked as irritated as Syn.
“I’ll take your silence as a ‘no.’ What’s your name, soldier?”
He stuttered it out, still staring at his feet. Syn backed away and gestured, “You’re confined to quarters for a period of two weeks. You’re on latrine duty for the next month. You’ve lost your free day for the next two weeks.”
As he left, Syn faced the others. There was still a very large crowd, people meandering away at a slow pace, as though they couldn’t bear to miss a second of the drama. The captain raised her voice and said, “Let it be known—the next person caught assaulting a prisoner will have to deal with me, and I can assure you, you will not like the consequences. Additionally, with the exception of my team, if there is even one soul here in the next three minutes, the entire fucking camp will lose their free days for the next month.”
That cleared the area. Within the allotted three minutes, the common area was empty, save for Syn, her team and the Warlord.
Man doesn’t even seem to notice he’s bleeding, Syn thought, heaving out a sigh as she turned to face him.
He didn’t look at all affected by the blood. There was a goose egg swelling up on his temple and she imagined it probably hurt like a bitch, but he gave no indication of discomfort. Hell, he barely gave an indication of life. Striding toward him, she glanced at one of the soldiers in the escort and said, “Fetch a medic to the west hall, if you would.”
She looked back at the Warlord and inclined her head. “I’ll apologize for that, Warlord.”
“Would you?” he asked, cocking a brow.
He had a deep voice, she realized. She hadn’t really noticed it earlier. Deep, smooth . . . her heart skipped a beat and she was horribly afraid she might start to blush. Horribly afraid somebody had noticed—
Noticed what? She gave herself a swift mental kick. In a flat voice, she said, “Yes, I’ll apologize. We do not mistreat prisoners.”
“A few moments ago, I was a guest.”
Something glinted in his eyes—heated interest. The sight of it had her reaching deep, very deep, for control. It was enough to strike terror into her heart. No witch ever wanted to catch the attention of a Warlord.
Syn had to resist the urge to back away—get as far away from him as she could. Preferably hide behind Xan.
Settling on the strength of will that had served her well most of her life, she just gave him a cool smile. “I imagine you’re quite aware of your status here, Warlord.”
Turning on her heel, she continued to make her way to the west hall. She wasn’t going to throw his ass in the detention center—yet. He’d saved their lives, and imprisoning him wouldn’t rest easy on her honor.
But she would have him heavily guarded while she spoke with Kalen and tried to figure out what to do. And if Kalen wanted to make it easier on her and just make the call, she was all for that.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Bron and smiled tightly at him as he fell into step with her.
“Interesting company you’re keeping,” he said.
Syn grimaced. “Tell me about it.”
“I get the feeling this could get very, very ugly.”
“You and me, both.” Syn sighed and shoved her hair back from her face.
TWELVE
“What in the hell are we going to do with him?” Syn demanded some twenty minutes later.
Kalen sat at his desk, staring at a monitor with heavy intensity. “The Warlord isn’t my chief concern just yet, Captain.”
“Maybe he should be,” she bit off.
“You know, I’m getting very tired of being told how I should do things, what things I should do, what things I shouldn’t do.” He flicked a glance at her and then focused on the monitor once more.
“Damn it, Kalen . . .”
He held up a hand. “Relax, Syn. Just give me a minute—Egan is fine-tuning one of the sats and he’s trying to bounce an updated therma-map of the strike zone . . . There.” A pleased smile curled his lips and he gestured to Syn. “Come here a minute.”
She joined him behind the desk, absently resting a hand on the back of the chair as she bent over and peered at the image. Therma-maps showed signs of life, by displaying colored specks for any life force. All of the demons had a distinctive life-signature. Ickado demons were vivid, dark red—so dark a red it was almost black. Jorniaks had an orangish yellow signature on the therma-maps, and Raviners were orange. Humans and Warlords were displayed as reddish purple, undifferentiated. Their genetic makeups were pretty much identical, to Syn’s disgust.
&
nbsp; Lifeless body forms were black.
Right now, the only colors she could see on the therma-map were reddish purple and a lot of black. The black was all centered in the strike zone. She pushed a button on the monitor, widening the range. Off to the west and north, she saw a few clusters of demon life. But not much—nothing compared to all of the black in the center of the strike zone.
“It worked,” she murmured, a pleased smile spreading across her lips.
“Damn straight.” Kalen was smiling as well, a wide, rather savage grin that echoed the glint in his eyes. “Damn straight.”
Thinking of Lo, her smile fell away, and she sighed. Backing away, she stared at the window. Flicking her hair back away from her face, she murmured, “Too bad I didn’t have this strike of brilliant thought before we lost Lo. And others.”
“We only now had the means to do this, Syn.”
Feeling the weight of his gaze, she glanced at him and shrugged. “Maybe we could have pushed harder from the supplies. Maybe we could have planned better—”
“And maybe the bastards back east could have done better to help us out,” Kalen said, his voice gruff. He shoved out of the seat and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You know as well as I do—there is no guarantee of safety here. Hell, not anywhere. Lo knew what he was doing, and it was no less than what you would have done, what I would have done.” Gently squeezing her shoulder, he added, “And he’d be damned happy with what we managed to do today. Lives were saved today, Syn, because of your idea.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. He spoke nothing less than the truth and she wanted to take comfort in it, but she couldn’t. Not right now. The wounds from all the losses were just too new.
Forcing a smile, she looked at Kalen and asked, “If you’re that pleased with the results, then maybe you’d like to deal with the Warlord for me. It would be a reward of sorts.”
“No.” Kalen curled his lip. “If I say so much as two words to him, I’m going to gut him, and I’d like to know why he bothered to help us before I kill him.”
“It was worth a try.” She started for the door, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll update you if I learn anything.”
Not that she expected to learn much.
As she started toward the west hall, she ran through all of the other chores awaiting her attention. She had to get together a team to go gather information on the damage in the forest. They had managed to clear out the areas with the heaviest demon infestations; according to the reports Kalen had pulled up, they’d managed to kill quite a few.
Now they just needed to evaluate the damage, and figure out how to kill the rest of the things.
She managed to put together the recon team before she reached the west hall. Bron had already selected men and once she got on the comm-unit, he gave them the order to head out.
By the time she reached the west hall, the majority of the soldiers were finishing their daily rotations. With the exception of those on active guard and scout duty and those in food prep, most of the camp was done with work for the day.
And little surprise—many of them were gathered at the west hall.
She could have happily gone her whole life without having this mess dumped in her lap. Shouldering her way through the crowd gathered in front of the hall, she mounted the steps and turned to face the soldiers.
The low rumble of voices stopped and all eyes moved her way. She met the gazes of those standing nearest and then moved, from one row to another to another. “Did I request your presence?” she asked, singling one of the fighters out.
“Captain?” He blinked.
Cocking a brow, she repeated, “Did I request your presence? I’m thinking I didn’t. So why are you here?”
He glanced over her shoulder and gestured toward the front of the hall. “Well, we heard you all caught a Warlord,” the fighter said.
“We didn’t catch him. He walked right up to us—after he assisted in a Raviner attack. That doesn’t explain your presence here. Leave.” She raised her voice and called, “All of you—leave. If you are not here at my orders or orders from the commander, you don’t belong here.”
A rush of whispers lifted in the air. Syn narrowed her eyes. She was getting damn sick and tired of having her orders questioned today.
With a disgusted sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest and did a quick count. Probably close to a hundred people were there and more were trickling in. Fine, you idiots. Have it your way. She glanced over her shoulder and caught the eye of one of the guards.
It was Kiri, a wiry, redheaded female with a big mouth, a quick temper and an even quicker pulsar. “Kiri, call the security detail. I want an entire squad dispatched to this location.”
Kiri pulled her comm-unit off and made the request as ordered. While she did, Syn faced the crowd. “Anybody still in this area when the security squad arrives will be detained. They will be placed in detention—screw being confined to quarters, because apparently that isn’t enough to deter you.”
She hadn’t even finished speaking and probably a tenth of the group had already disappeared.
Those lingering shot her varying looks of surprise and anger.
One of them, a medic, pushed free from the crowd and said, “With all due respect, Captain, I wasn’t made aware this area is off-limits.” She gestured to the soldiers and said, “We just want to know what is going on.”
“And when the commander and I have an answer, we’ll make it known,” Syn snapped, not bothering to temper the edge of her voice. “Have you all forgotten what you were told when you arrived? This is a military unit, and you will carry yourselves accordingly. If you were serving in the AMC, would you dare go to your commanding officer and demand an answer?”
“You’re asking us to blindly go along with whatever you say,” the medic bit off.
“That’s generally how it works.” Syn jumped off the steps and faced the medic. “This is not a democracy. It’s a military base—the commanding officers make the decisions. You all follow—if you don’t like that, you are allowed to leave. There is no penalty for deserters here. You are all here of your own free will. But there damn well is a penalty for disregarding a direct order, and you’ve been ordered to evacuate this area.”
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the sunlight flashing off clear plastin—the shields the security squads carried. She hadn’t called for riot gear, but apparently somebody had deemed it necessary. And it just might be, she realized.
Please don’t let it come to that, she prayed.
She should have just executed the Warlord, she realized. Just ended him and been done with it.
For some reason, though, the thought made her belly twist.
She’d killed before. Always in the heat of battle, but still, this was just a Warlord. This was the enemy. Killing him would have saved her this headache, wouldn’t have left her wondering if she was endangering herself, Lee, Elina . . . not to mention the rest of the camp.
Killing him would have been easier.
Yet even thinking about it left her feeling cold and queasy.
Confusion flooded her, and she shoved it aside, focused on the medic. The door behind her had opened, and she was being watched—she already knew by whom. Her body recognized Xan’s presence easily. She took some comfort in it.
“Security is here.” Raising her voice, she called out, “Last chance. Either disperse or spend the night in the detention center.” A mean smile curled her lips. “And since there’s a whole hell of a lot of you, you will not go into the few cells created for human prisoners. You’ll go to the pit where we used to hold Jorniaks.”
The pit was huge and it would hold all of them. But it wouldn’t be fun. The pit was exactly that—a huge pit where the prisoners would need a ladder to reach the bottom without breaking bones, and without a ladder, it wasn’t possible to escape it.
As they dispersed, she turned and mounted the steps. Xan met her halfway, eying the retreating
backs of the soldiers. The hostility in the air wasn’t lost on him. “Was that wise?” he asked quietly.
“Maybe not. Ignoring it would be even less wise.” She took a deep breath and said, “We shouldn’t have brought him here, Xan. It was one huge, motherfucking mistake.”
This was not how she wanted to handle this mess.
“What else were we to do?” he asked. He shook his head. “The commander wouldn’t have let him go—his presence raises too many questions. But could you have killed him? He helped us.” Xan brushed his fingers down her cheek. “Some of us—you—could have died without his aid. Could you have killed him?”
Syn muttered, “I wish I knew.” Muscles knotted in her neck, and all she wanted to do was sit down. And bathe. Damn it, she wanted a bath, to get rid of the blood and gore still splattering her clothes from the earlier Raviner attack.
The most she’d been able to do was wash her hands, face and arms. But she needed a bath; she needed to burn these clothes. It was a luxury that would have to wait. Turning, she gestured to the highest-ranked in the security squad. He approached, his face void of any emotion.
“Contact your officer—I want a security squad in this location around the clock for the time being. I’ll clear it with the commander. Nobody save the assigned squad, the commander or one of his seconds are allowed in this area unescorted until further notice. I’ll draft up a notice once I’m done here.”
“Yes, Captain.” She stepped away as he made the call.
Unable to put it off another second, she went inside.
The prisoner stood at the far end of the west hall, staring straight ahead. He didn’t seem at all concerned with his current situation. The soldiers guarding his sorry hide might as well not have existed for all the attention he gave them.
But when he saw her, his demeanor changed.
A smile curled his lips, and he inclined his head—an oddly regal action.
“Captain . . . It is Captain, yes?”
Syn ignored him. “You realize that I’ve got about fifteen hundred men and women in this base and most of them would just as soon slit your throat as look at you, correct?”
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