Scorpion

by Aleksandr Voinov

  He made the rounds, and was exhausted after the last. Each one tore at him. Better men than him had died. He’d just been incredibly lucky and unlucky to be alive when these had fallen.

  He limped over to one of the tents, where he saw Selvan curled up in the corner, sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion but looking better than he had. He’d come round; the slave was much tougher than he looked or acted most of the time.

  There, on three bits of bedding, lay more men. Scorpions. One was dead, but had only recently died, his chest half-covered with blood-soaked bandages. So recently that Selvan hadn’t put his armor back on to lay him down with the others. Pieces of armor had been cleaned, though, so Selvan might have been preparing him for it.

  But the others drew Kendras’s attention. One man was asleep, breathing evenly, the other was feverish. Both were wounded, one man in the thigh, the other in the shoulder, but they were bandaged and otherwise unharmed. After seeing so much death, life came like a shock.

  Dev, braids slick with sweat, tossed and turned, and Kendras knelt down, which was more complicated than he liked, and wiped the sweat off his face at least. Dev’s eyes opened, but didn’t see anything, filmed over with fever, possibly infection. He might die, too, and Kendras’s heart clenched at the thought. No wonder Selvan was exhausted.

  He settled between his two comrades, stretched his leg out and rubbed his knee, which was almost constantly hurting. And Riktan. He wanted to wake the man and tell him they’d both be safe now, but knew that he needed all the rest he could get with those wounds.

  They needed a medic. Not that any healer in the area wouldn’t have his or her hands full after the battle. Gods below, he couldn’t win for losing.

  He struggled to his feet and looked around the camp, but they were the last survivors. Three cripples, one slave, and the officer still missing. He headed for the burned-down fire in the middle of camp, then began to dig in the ashes with his bare hands.

  Once he’d dug an arm’s length into the ground, Kendras touched carved wood. His fingers traced the outline, then pulled the box free and wiped the sand and dirt off. The aged wood bore a carving of a scorpion, inlaid with bone.

  The memory. Kendras opened the top of his leathers and slid the flat box inside, then pulled the strings tight again. Four Scorpions alive and the memory intact. Maybe things were beginning to look up.

  Chapter 7

  KENDRAS went back into the tent, where Selvan was still fast asleep. He pulled some bedding closer for himself and settled back against the support beam of the tent. However he turned it, they needed help.

  He noticed that Riktan’s eyes were open and focused on him. Kendras lifted a hand, tiredly, giving the man a wave.

  “How are you doing, Riktan?”

  “Feel like… trampled by a horse,” the Scorpion muttered.

  “Funny you’d say that.” Kendras huffed. “Any idea where the officer went?”

  “No. Ask… Selvan?”

  “He’s out cold. Poor bastard held the camp since the battle.”

  “Always knew the slave had stamina.” Riktan grinned, but the tension in his features betrayed the pain.

  “Listen, I’ll go into Fetin and try to find help. I might be gone for a day or two.”

  “Understood,” Riktan said. “Need some money for that?” He waved Kendras over and pushed the blanket down. A bag of coins was fastened to his belt, so Kendras opened the knot and tied it to his own belt. “Keep an eye on him. He’s exhausted.”

  “Will do.” Riktan gave him a grin.

  Kendras forced himself back onto his feet, then went to mount the horse again.

  He rode carefully into Fetin, where darkness was settling, but work outside continued and neither gate nor wall had been repaired yet. Guardsmen kept an eye on the comings and goings, but Kendras passed through unmolested.

  He handed the horse over at one of the stables and proceeded on foot, asking around for a quack. A silver coin later, he had herbs for wounds and pain, a pile of bandages. He even found somebody who was willing to temporarily part with a team of oxen and a cart, but only in the morning.

  Kendras settled in one of the taverns, in an uncanny repetition of how he’d met Steel. This time, though, he ordered food, which was too expensive and clearly made from pilfered rations, but with the fields burned and trade disrupted for a few weeks, this wasn’t the worst it would be.

  He had finished his meal of eggs, ham, and hard dark bread when the door opened again and five soldiers stomped in, in full armor, swords at their sides. Three of them were females, and that alone would have given it away, but the reds and oranges they were dressed in, as well as their high conical helmets with the horse tails were unmistakable. Of all places to rest he would find the same one as the Flames.

  Their leader gazed around, and then her gaze fell on him. Kendras swallowed the last bite of the bread and put his knife down. Met the gaze, cautiously. He couldn’t afford to be anything less than respectful, even if that woman had killed the medic just a week ago.

  She walked over to his table. “Scorpion.”

  “Flame.”

  “There are two ways to do this. We walk you, or we drag you,” she informed him.

  Kendras paused as if to give this some consideration. “What for?”

  “We’ll tell you on the way.”

  “Well, then.” He stood, adjusted the peg leg and gathered up his supplies. “Lead the way.”

  The other two Flames looked like beardless youths, but he knew they weren’t. These were tanesh, the best of Fetin’s military academy, who had sacrificed their balls to join the Flames. Kendras hoped it had been worth it. They sure were pretty, not quite men, not quite women. This was one way to get around that old rule that no men could serve in the Flames.

  He hobbled along, four of them behind him and around him, the leader at his side.

  “You said ‘on the way’,” he said.

  “You’re a Scorpion. There are people that want to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  She quirked her lips. “I’m not at liberty to tell you.”

  They passed through the Horse Tamer Gate toward the Flames’ barracks, which were right next to the citadel. Kendras was struck by how many servants and slaves scurried around even at this time of night. The Flames must have had some bad losses themselves, and the slaves and servants were likely looking after wounded soldiers and horses. And that duty, indeed, never ceased.

  They entered through a door and continued along a corridor. Polished marble floors gave his peg leg problems, and at the pace at which they had him march, he almost slipped. One of the tanesh soldiers grabbed his arm just in time and steadied him.

  “We’re almost there.”

  Kendras ground his teeth together, determined not to show any of his discomfort or misgivings. He was reasonably sure that the Flames didn’t intend revenge. Both Scorpions and Flames had taken their losses, and the Flames at least were still functional. Strength in numbers.

  A last door opened, and his leg found purchase on thick woolen carpets. Kendras straightened, saw the Flames fan out and take positions near the door and in the corners of the room, snapping crisply to attention.

  This didn’t bode well.

  A woman turned around near the fireplace. Wild shadows danced across her dark skin. It was impossible to tell the color of her eyes, but somehow Kendras thought they’d be blue if she came close enough. She was strikingly beautiful, tall, her hair graying, but she was aging like the statue of a goddess in a temple, timeless and ancient.

  At least she wasn’t the Lady Protector, as he’d feared for a moment. The ruler of Fetin was white and much younger. But this lady’s embroidered silk robes, and the sparkling rings on her fingers indicated she was at least a member of the ruling household. Maybe an advisor? A high-ranking courtier?

  “They said there was a black man in the city. A Scorpion.”

  “That would be me, lady.”

  “
Yes, it would.” She motioned toward his leg. “Sit. You are uncomfortable enough.”

  “How long do you require me?”

  “Until I’m done with you.”

  That taught him to ask stupid questions. Kendras glanced around, but one of the tanesh had already brought him a chair. She preferred to stand.

  “What is your name?”

  “Kendras.”

  “How long since you were betrothed?”

  She knew the custom? Kendras frowned. “Eight, almost nine years, lady.”

  “Ah, yes.” She studied him, from his ruined foot to his eyes. “There was only one more black man in the Scorpions, is that correct?”

  “No, there’s also Dev, but he joined us four years ago. Right now, he’s lying wounded. And I’m not much better.”

  “No, I’m speaking of the other black man.”

  You’re purebred. I’m a mutt.

  “The officer?”

  She inclined her head. “Yes.”

  “What do you want from him?”

  “Many things. Right now, I’d like to know where he is.”

  “I don’t know.” What did a lady like her want from a soldier? Especially one that had fought against her home city and her guards just last week. Asking a Dalmanye made even less sense, but then maybe she didn’t know where he was from.

  “You would find the survivors, wouldn’t you?”

  “That is what I have been doing. A few lived, but he’s gone ever since the battle. I was shipped off to Dalman when the king refused to pay up. They might have taken him on a different ship, or he might be dead. He might be making his way here like I did. I just arrived this afternoon.”

  “Do you know why he didn’t fight for Fetin?”

  “No. He made those decisions alone.” Between him and the memory. Kendras had asked a few times why they’d taken one job but not the other that paid more. Right now he wished he’d paid more attention to the political dimension of why they served one and not the other.

  “Very well.” She nodded to one of the Flames. “Get the other agent.”

  Of all people coming through the door, he’d never expected to see Widow here. Let alone see the bastard bend his knee fluidly and bow his neck. And the pale, beardless appearance… was Widow a tanesh? Next to the others of that ilk, he looked like one.

  “Rise.”

  Widow straightened. “Your highness. I may have a lead.” He glanced over his shoulder at Kendras and gave a sharp grin before he turned his attention to the lady. Highness. But she wasn’t the Lady Protector. Family? Not her mother, since the Lady Protector was white.

  “I believe the ocean priests have him.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Apparently the priests purchased a number of warriors from the spoils after the battle. He hasn’t shown up on the streets, there’s no rumor of him, and unless he’s dead outside the gates….” Widow shrugged. “It’s a hunch, but a good one. I’ve followed much worse.”

  “Good. Pursue the lead. We need to know with certainty.” She turned to Kendras. “Do you know what interest they have in him?”

  “Only that he never took a job from them and kept out of their way.” This was getting stranger and stranger, especially as something in either her face or that of Widow told him that both of them knew. Or guessed. “But if the priests have him, we can get him back. The temple guard is a joke. We can break him out by force.”

  Widow scoffed. “You don’t know that the ocean priests own the Dalmanye king? You break him out, and the next thing you’ll know is that the king wants your head—and his. Pickled.”

  “Widowmaker, do you have a better plan?”

  “If it’s any better we’ll see when it’s worked.” Widow bowed his head. “The ocean priests have hired a competent mercenary to do something… interesting. I believe it has to do with Dalman’s succession, but he’s keeping his mouth shut about it. That’s how I met Kendras. That mercenary found him for the job.”

  “A blue-eyed man of Jaishani blood from Dalman. I can see how he’d appeal to the priests under the circumstances,” the lady mused.

  “Well, the mercenary will be a lot less enchanted now that Kendras here stole a horse and rode away without telling him.” Widow grinned. “Even though it gave me a reason to be on my way. I was tasked to bring him back.”

  “Then this meeting is auspicious.” The lady turned to Kendras. “You will rejoin the mercenary Widowmaker spoke of and find out if your officer is a prisoner of the priests. You will free him and bring him here.”

  Kendras stood, carefully. “I have other duties.” He noticed tension on the Flames’ features. They were only too ready to attack him if he kept disobeying. “The other Scorpions are wounded. I’m the only free Scorpion who can take over.”

  “This is easily solved. You will guide the Flames to your wounded. While you are on my errand, Kendras, they will receive care and food. Nobody will harm them.” Her tone made clear it wasn’t an offer. Hostages. Kendras gritted his teeth. He couldn’t win this. It wasn’t so much a job as the only way to go on.

  Selvan wouldn’t be able to cope on his own. Dev and Riktan needed care and rest, possibly for weeks. Apart from Selvan, he couldn’t trust anybody to do it. And he was the only Scorpion who could make that decision while the officer was gone.

  “How can I know I can trust you?”

  “You can’t,” she responded. “But you can know that I want your officer to be free and whole.”

  That was precious little to go on. The smooth, grim faces of the tanesh promised him a quick execution in the backyard if he kept resisting. That would help nobody. “If I don’t return, will the others be looked after?”

  “Yes. They will be whole and free too.”

  It was the best he could hope for. Still, it stung. The officer would have found a way out of the quandary, and would probably disapprove of a Scorpion being forced into anything, but Kendras was nothing if not pragmatic. “I agree.”

  “Good.” She looked at the Flames and nodded to their leader. “You will look after his comrades.”

  The Flame saluted sharply and stood at the ready.

  “I have utmost confidence that you will do what it takes to find, free, and return with your officer, Kendras. Dismissed.”

  Kendras gave her a quick nod, then turned, guarded by the Flames. Widow remained inside, probably to receive further instructions.

  This had taken a worrying turn, but at least the others would be safe. He glanced to the Flame officer. “There’s digging to do. I hope you have some good shovels.”

  Chapter 8

  HE’D NEVER have imagined that he’d end up one day watching Fetin’s finest dig graves, but that was exactly what the Flames did. Kendras sat on a tree stump, watching the soldiers shovel earth and stones.

  He’d said his goodbyes, done the rites as well as he could. He was exhausted and in pain, but both paled when he thought of Dev and Riktan, who were still struggling to heal. And Selvan, of course, who knelt on the ground, his face resting on Kendras’s thigh.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “There’s no other choice.” Kendras ran his fingers through the blond hair. “Much as I hate it.”

  “And what… about me?” Selvan turned his head to look at him. “I should be with you.”

  “The others need you more.”

  Selvan’s breath caught, and he curled his fingers tighter into Kendras’s trousers. But it was true. He needed Selvan to remember why he was doing this. What he owed his comrades. It was easier being strong when another man was strong enough to be weak.

  “Don’t leave.”

  “I’m only leaving to bring the officer back.” Kendras bent down and kissed Selvan’s brow. “And I’m not leaving Dev and Riktan in the hands of strangers. You’ll have to look after them. Like you did with these.”

  Selvan breathed deeply, clung to him now. And Kendras didn’t want to go. Every instinct told him his place was
with his comrades or to at least take Selvan, but he didn’t want to see what Steel would do to the slave. Selvan was also safer with the Flames. Out of harm’s way.

  “Are you done playing with your slave?” Widow asked, just jumping off his horse.

  “Maybe not. I might take him to the tent and fuck him there before we leave.”

  Widow measured him. “Is that before Steel fucks you again?” He grinned. “Always told him he has atrocious taste.”

  “He didn’t get me just for my pretty eyes.”

  Widow laughed softly. “No. Are you packed?”

  “Yes.” Kendras stood, adjusted the peg leg and bent down to Selvan. “I’ll come back, and I’ll bring the officer. Just look after the others.” He touched Selvan’s head again and then slid from the slave’s grip. “And show those Flames what being a Scorpion means.”

  Selvan knelt there for a little while longer, then stood, pensive, a little lost, maybe, but Kendras knew he’d gather himself and do what was expected of him.

  Don’t forget that weakness for Selvan is a choice.

  Kendras hobbled over to the horse. He had some money, a new glaive, sword, and other gear that he’d need. He felt a lot less helpless and exposed, even if his foot hurt no less.

  The Flames had their orders, and at least he no longer had to watch how they tossed the bodies into the mass grave. Or think about those they’d lost. Returning to Steel would be bad enough—he’d better keep his wits about him.

  He climbed onto the horse, then followed Widow down the mountain and back onto the road.

  The night was nearly over now. Dawn was gray and joyless. Widow pressed on until noon, and then they paused to rest the horses. Kendras took a lot of the herbs, knowing that Widow would likely not stop just because he was in pain. The little bastard couldn’t wait to get back to Steel.

  “How come you’re working for Fetin’s rulers and Steel?”

  “The less you know the better.” Widow frowned.