Without a Front: The Warrior's Challenge (Chronicles of Alsea Book 3)

by Fletcher DeLancey

  Both women turned, catching her staring.

  Cursing the flush that warmed her face, she continued into the living area. “The shower was wonderful, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Opah’s tone was a little cooler than it had been earlier, and Vellmar felt it keenly.

  She sat in the chair opposite them and leaned forward. “I didn’t mean to stare. I just never expected to be in the Lancer’s personal quarters on my first night.” Damn, that sounded even worse. “I mean, ever,” she amended, and closed her mouth in frustration. She was making a complete dokker of herself.

  To her immense relief, Lancer Tal smiled at her. “Nervous?”

  Not trusting herself to say anything intelligent, Vellmar simply nodded.

  “So am I,” Opah said. “I’m afraid this won’t work.”

  Vellmar forgot her own worries in the face of this admission. “If my empathic strength can help make it work, then you have all of it I can give.”

  “We appreciate your willingness to serve,” said Lancer Tal. “Especially on such short notice and in a rather unusual situation. Have you done a triad Sharing before?”

  “No. So I don’t know how this works.” And she really didn’t want to do anything wrong.

  “Salomen and I will make the core connection. You’ll extend it with a hand on our necks. So get close enough for an easy reach; you may be holding up your arms for a while.”

  As they crossed their legs beneath them, Vellmar stood up and moved her chair over until it touched the front of their seat. She slipped into a cross-legged position and hesitated, unwilling to make the first move.

  Opah brushed her dark hair to one side and forward over her shoulder, baring the base of her neck. “Go ahead.”

  Vellmar tentatively reached out.

  “I won’t break, Fianna.”

  Startled by the use of her first name, Vellmar let the full weight of her hand come down.

  “Better.” Opah gestured toward Lancer Tal.

  It took more determination to put her hand on the Lancer’s neck. Vellmar half-expected a defensive block, but Lancer Tal merely gave her a sidelong glance and a quick nod of approval.

  “Ready?” she whispered.

  “As I’ll ever be,” Opah said. They lifted their hands toward each other.

  “Vellmar,” said Lancer Tal without looking at her, “don’t worry if you see something unexpected. Just remember that for us, it’s normal.”

  Before Vellmar could ask, their hands slipped into place and the connection was completed. She slammed her eyes shut against the explosion of sensation, barely managing to keep her hands in place. What in the name of the Goddess…?

  She could feel everything. Not just the emotions of other Alseans in the building, but the life force of all the creatures around her, from the mice in the walls to the nightwings hunting on the grounds outside. Even as she gasped at the impossibility of it, her awareness expanded further, until she felt the whole city throbbing in her senses, a cacophony of life bombarding her with empathic noise that she could not separate into its component parts. She was overwhelmed and frightened, until a soft calm enfolded her as the other two soothed her entrance to their Sharing. She floated in a gossamer web of the most intimate emotions, her individuality lost in the entity their Shared feelings had created. Here were emotions she had never experienced before, and she marveled at how flat and featureless her own life had been compared to the brilliance of this. She had taken part in enough Sharings to know that some part of this was normal, but what she felt now could not be compared to any prior experience.

  “Don’t try to control it,” a voice said, and it took her a moment to identify it as Lancer Tal’s. “Just relax, Vellmar. Let us do the work. We won’t let you fall.”

  “I know.” It was impossible to be a part of their minds like this and not be certain of her own safety. Right now she trusted them as much as her own mothers.

  “Salomen, try the test.”

  They took flight, soaring over an emotional landscape that was strange and exhilarating and oddly familiar, covering an impossible amount of distance, and yet Vellmar knew it was normal. She had seen this before, or some part of this Shared entity had. They came to a stop, hovering over a place packed with Alseans, and from the largely unguarded emotions pouring out, she guessed it was a tavern full of drinkers getting relaxed.

  “There he is, that damned little zalren.” Opah’s triumph cut through the self-doubt like a knife severing a knotted rope. “Andira, we can do this!”

  “You can do it. I don’t know Gordense well enough to recognize him emotionally.”

  The pleasure that came through their connection made Vellmar feel warm all over. She didn’t know the history of this, but she was certainly enjoying the ride.

  “We had to test our focusing ability,” Lancer Tal explained. “We wanted to see if Salomen could locate someone other than her family. We’re too familiar with them. Our minds go to Hol-Opah almost automatically, so it’s not a good indicator. We had to look for someone our minds would not normally be drawn to.”

  “Who did you choose?”

  “Gordense Bilsner. The father of the would-be assassin.”

  “Damn,” Vellmar said. “That’s not the first mind I’d go looking for.”

  “But it’s proof of concept,” Opah said. “Let’s find Herot.”

  They left the tavern behind, soaring over fields and villages, and Vellmar soon realized that they were flying a search pattern.

  She didn’t know how much time they spent searching Blacksun Basin, but a selfish part of her hoped it might never end. The sensation of soaring on their senses, of feeling impossible things, was far too glorious to give up. When they showed her how to filter out the emotional presence of life-forms other than Alseans, she was simultaneously exhilarated by the knowledge and power, and disappointed to be losing her awareness of all those creatures. Sensing a hunting vallcat had been thrilling, and she hated the thought of actively shutting out her awareness of any more such encounters. But this was a mission, not pleasure, and she gave the Lancer and her bondmate as much of her focused strength as she could.

  When they had covered the entire floor of the Basin, they made a great circuit and scanned the inner mountain slopes as well.

  “He’s not here.” Opah’s disappointment was heavy.

  “We didn’t think he would be,” said Lancer Tal. “We just had to rule it out. Now we move on.”

  In the pause, Vellmar opened her eyes for the first time, wanting to see these two extraordinary women with her normal vision. What she saw made her gasp, and she snatched her hands away without thinking.

  “It’s normal,” Lancer Tal said. They hadn’t moved, sitting there as if their glowing hands were nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Not for me!” Vellmar tried to will her heart rate down. Great Mother, that had scared her halfway to her Return! But now that the shock had worn off, she looked closer, fascinated by the sight. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “Did you feel any pain before?”

  “No. Was that happening before?”

  “It happens every time. You didn’t see it earlier, but it was stronger than usual before you broke the connection. Your empathic strength is helping. So if you can rejoin us, we can certainly use you.”

  “This is what you warned me about.” Now she just felt foolish. “You could have given me a little more detail.”

  “She’s not always good at detail.” A smile flitted across Opah’s face before she asked, “Will you join us again? Please?”

  As if she could refuse a request like that. “I’m sorry. I was just startled.” Her hands touched their necks, and there it was again, that astonishing explosion of awareness. “Goddess above! I don’t think I’ll ever get used to
that.”

  “Neither can we,” Opah said. “It stuns us a little, every time.”

  Vellmar sank happily into the warmth of their welcome, surrounded by a depth of emotions that already seemed familiar. “Where do we go from here?”

  “South,” said Lancer Tal.

  They took off, moving beyond the populated areas of Blacksun Basin and flying high over a landscape dotted here and there by a sprinkling of Alseans. Then there were no Alseans at all, and they were moving up and over the first range of mountains. Vellmar let her filter slip for a moment, hoping she might find a treecat, and was instead amazed to realize that she could actually sense the trees themselves.

  “I never knew,” she whispered.

  They flew rapidly across the mountains, passing over sparsely populated lands, then slowed as they moved over the first larger town. Finding nothing there, they swung west for some distance, then turned south and east, the first leg of another search pattern. Steadily, they pushed on, and Vellmar began to wonder if they would go all the way to the ocean. But the Shared vision dimmed too soon, and she opened her eyes to see the glow fading from the women’s hands. They sat up straight, breaking their connection, and Vellmar brought her own hands back into her lap.

  Never in her life had she experienced anything so extraordinary—and that on top of an inconceivable intimacy, given the rank of her companions. She stared at her hands, feeling awkward and out of place. Her own limited emotions were a poor fit after the depth and glory of their Sharing.

  “Damn, damn, damn!”

  She looked up in surprise as Opah slumped back against the chair.

  “It was a long shot, tyrina,” Lancer Tal said gently. “But we didn’t fail by any means. This works—we were almost to the sea. And we’ve ruled out a significant part of southern Argolis.”

  “Yes, so now we just need to rule out the north, east, and west parts, and then we’ll find Herot’s body on Pallea!” Opah’s fear and frustration were palpable; she hadn’t brought up her front.

  Vellmar uncurled her legs and stood, knowing that she no longer belonged here. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” she began, but the Lancer put a hand on her leg.

  “Sit down, Vellmar.”

  She sat.

  “Are you tired?” When she hesitated, Lancer Tal gave her a knowing look. “The truth.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But not overly so.”

  “Can you Share with us again?”

  “Of course.”

  The Lancer turned to Opah. “Then we’ll rest for a few ticks, and after that we’ll do it again, and again, until we can’t anymore. And then we’ll take a break while I round up every member of my Guard with a high empathic rating. I’d like to avoid that if I can, because it means making this far more public,” —she gestured between the two of them— “but if that’s the only way, then so be it.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry; I’m just feeling so damned helpless.”

  “I know. But you’re taking action, Salomen. That’s not being helpless.”

  Vellmar watched them and belatedly remembered that Lancer Tal had called her bondmate tyrina. “Great Mother to us all. You’re tyrees. That explains a lot.”

  Lancer Tal looked at her sharply. “It should also explain why Salomen’s safety is as important as my own, so I know you won’t be jeopardizing it by speaking where you should not.”

  “Of course not.” She was insulted and didn’t bother to front it. “I’m sworn to your service, even if we haven’t had the ceremony yet. I’ll swear myself to Raiz Opah as well if you’d like.”

  Lancer Tal’s expression did not change. “That should be Salomen’s choice, not mine.”

  Vellmar turned to Opah, whose eyebrows were at her hairline.

  “Can you serve two people at the same time?” Opah asked. “I don’t know the whole warrior code yet. I’m just accepting the oaths of my own Guards tomorrow morning, at the same time you’re making yours to Andira.”

  Fahla, the woman was a newborn winden when it came to her position. Vellmar’s regard for her took on a protective edge.

  “Yes, I can,” she said. “My primary duty would be to Lancer Tal, but I would have a secondary duty to you. And before you choose, you should probably know that I already decided I was serving you, before we Shared. I just wasn’t going to do it officially.”

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a smile flicker across the Lancer’s face, though Opah was taken aback.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Partially because you’re my Lancer’s bondmate. Serving you is a means of serving her. But also because…well, you’re the Bondlancer, or you will be, but you’ve treated me like a regular guest. You act like we’re equals.”

  “Aren’t we?”

  Vellmar would have laughed, but Opah was serious. She really thought that way. “Ah…no. You’re the Bondlancer. Nobody is your equal except Lancer Tal.”

  “So you want to unofficially serve me because of a title I don’t yet hold.”

  She felt the dismissal coming and leaped to stop it. “No, that’s just why I was surprised. I would expect the first producer Bondlancer in generations to be very careful about the image she presents—about being seen as strong. And maybe you’re too worried about your brother to be concerned with your image, but I’ve just Shared with you and I don’t think that’s it. You don’t care about your image. I respect that.”

  Opah shook her head in bemusement, but the Lancer laughed softly. “She figured you out within a tentick of meeting you, Salomen. For what it’s worth, I’d recommend you accept her service.”

  Vellmar found herself the object of an intense scrutiny.

  “Tell me something about yourself, then. I know the histories of my own Guards, but nothing about you.”

  “My mothers are both warriors. I chose my birthmother’s name because I couldn’t imagine it any other way. She taught me everything I know about handling blades.”

  “Which is quite a bit,” Lancer Tal interrupted. “Go on.”

  “I graduated from the Whitemoon Sensoral Institute, trained under Colonel Debrett at Whitesun, moved through four different assignments in five cycles, and ended up at Koneza a little over a cycle ago, where I headed a unit of nine Guards. And then I got the promotion of my dreams and came here.”

  Opah looked amused. “I see you also have the warrior characteristic of leaving a great deal out.”

  Vellmar blinked. What else did she want to know? “Ah…I’m not very good with a disruptor, but I make up for it with my blade handling. I’m not afraid of hard work, and I expect the warriors in my unit to perform to their full potential.” She frowned; the amused look was still there. “My mothers taught me to trust my instincts and not accept things at face value, which is why I knew you were more than you appeared. Most people stepping into a position of power would feel a need to reinforce and defend it, but you don’t. You show yourself as you are, and that takes a level of strength that I can honor.”

  She must have said something right. The amusement had been replaced by respect.

  “And I can honor a warrior who sees beyond the surface. I accept your service, Lead Guard Vellmar.” Raiz Opah looked at her bondmate. “Does that mean she’ll swear her oath tomorrow, with the rest?”

  “No, she’s not free to offer you a public oath. That’s reserved for one oath holder only. This is a private oath.”

  “Now is as good a time as any,” said Vellmar. “Might as well do it before we tire ourselves out any more.”

  Raiz Opah watched her for a moment before nodding. “All right.” She uncoiled from the chair, moved to an open section of floor, and stood waiting.

  Vellmar slipped out of her own chair and stood before her, then realized that she was missing a major comp
onent of the ceremony.

  “Wait a tick, Vellmar.” Lancer Tal walked over to the bookcases beneath the windows, opened a wooden case, and turned with a sword grip in her hand. “You’ll need this.”

  She tossed the grip to Vellmar, who caught it with ease and held her breath as she examined it. The Lancer’s sword! She was going to swear an oath of service to the future Bondlancer with the Lancer’s sword! Her mothers would burst with pride when she told them.

  It was plainer than one might have expected. No gems, not even in the pommel where the main counterbalance weight was set, and no special engravings other than Lancer Tal’s family crest, one on each side. Even those were small and discreet, serving mostly for orientation. By holding the grip so that one of the crests faced upwards, the user’s hand would be in the correct position once the blade and crossguard extended.

  At first glance, it seemed to be a simple sword of little worth, but Vellmar knew better. Two things gave it away: the stylized Y on the pommel and the teffalar wrap. Teffalar trees did not reach maturity until they were a hundred cycles old, after which the bark could be harvested only once per tencycle. When processed into thin, pliable sheets, it absorbed vibrations and sweat, never slipped, and took a lifetime to wear out. It was a rare, highly regulated product, and most warriors able to afford a teffalar wrap wanted the world to know about it. These grips were usually dyed and decorated to advertise their provenance, but Lancer Tal’s was the original bark color, a rich brown with black and orange speckles scattered across its surface.

  Back in her quarters, still sitting in a crate she hadn’t yet unpacked, was a holobook of Yulsintoh swords. The image on the cover, and the first hologram to pop up when the book was activated, was of this exact sword. Vellmar would not have been surprised to wake up and find that she was dreaming.

  Holding her arm straight out to the side and the grip parallel to the floor, she thumbed the control and smiled at the familiar sound as the blade extended. Faster than her eye could see, the blade sections shot out of the grip, assembling and sealing themselves into a seamless whole while the crossguard flipped up and out, protecting her hand. Less than one piptick after pressing the control, she held a fully formed and flawless sword. Though she understood the mechanics, it never lessened her awe for the sheer beauty of the result—and this sword was exquisite. Had she not already known it was a Yulsintoh, she would have guessed it by the perfect balance.