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

by Fletcher DeLancey

  “Parser is not really alive,” Vellmar pointed out.

  It was true. The day of the challenge, the Council had reconvened once the Lancer was known to be safe. With the blood still darkening the floor of the chamber, the Councilors listened to Colonel Razine present her evidence. Then they heard Herot Opah’s testimony and an unexpected testimony by Councilor Zalringer, one of Shantu’s closest allies, who had quickly switched sides when his leader fell.

  The judgment of the Council was swift. By unanimous vote, it recommended that both Parser and Shantu be stripped of their caste. Yesterday afternoon the merchant and warrior castes had held their own votes, with conclusive results. Parser was now outcaste, a broken and nameless man who was not likely to survive prison without the protection of his fellow merchants. In fact, they were the ones most likely to kill him, in vengeance for the tremendous dishonor he had brought upon their caste.

  For Shantu the result was even more horrifying, at least to Vellmar’s way of thinking. He was one of the great heroes of the Battle of Alsea, the commander of the Pallean forces who had beaten back the Voloth in the worst fighting of all. She had been sent from Koneza to Whitesun for that battle and knew just how bad it had been. Shantu was a ferocious warrior and a brilliant commander. Alsea owed much to him.

  But all of that was lost. Denied a proper pyre, he was buried like a mere carcass, his body left to be eaten by worms. His name would be erased from the archive rolls, and it would be as if he had never existed. Already this morning’s news stories were referring to him as the Challenger. He would be recorded by the history books, but not the way he had planned.

  She glanced at her wristcom, the motion not going unnoticed by her sharp-eyed companion.

  “Your leave starts in half a hantick, doesn’t it? Planning to beat up on Senshalon again?”

  Vellmar smiled at the phrasing. “Perhaps later. First I have an appointment at the healing center.”

  “Good luck with that,” Lancer Tal said shortly. She did not make eye contact.

  The remainder of their walk passed in silence, with Vellmar cursing herself for ruining what had been a remarkably intimate conversation. Lancer Tal had lost much of her reserve during that frantic night of preparation for a life-or-death moment, and it had carried over into their day-to-day relationship. But since her stay in the healing center, she reacted badly to any mention of Colonel Micah. Vellmar should have known better.

  “Enjoy your leave,” Lancer Tal said when they reached the base border. She turned toward her own quarters without another glance.

  Vellmar stood looking after her. “I will,” she said.

  CHAPTER 59:

  The return

  Aldirk waited impatiently as the supercilious desk clerk checked the schedule. “Yes, here you are,” the man announced. “You may pass through.”

  Grumbling to himself, Aldirk went through the archway into the secured area of the healing center. “You’d better appreciate this, Colonel,” he said under his breath.

  He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. He had signed the schedule in a moment of euphoria right after the Lancer had miraculously avoided death, and now, five days later, he had to make good on his impetuous promise. It was yet another proof that haste never led to anything good. Surely he should have learned that lesson by now.

  Colonel Micah’s room was full of the scent of hyacot twigs. Lancer Tal had brought a bowl from her own room during her stay here and had asked Aldirk to make sure it remained full for as long as was necessary. It was certainly a far better scent than the acrid stench of narnell root.

  The colonel was lying on his side. The healing staff had been turning him regularly to prevent the formation of sores, and Aldirk thought it was just like the man to be in an inconvenient position for a Sharing.

  “I suppose it could be worse,” he said, shrugging off his rain cloak and hanging it by the door. “You could be on your stomach.”

  He approached the bed, taking in the pasty skin and the limp facial features, and wondered why the colonel didn’t just finish the job. This man had already Returned, for all practical purposes; surely everyone could see that? The Lancer did, he knew. After the challenge, she had spent almost as much time in this room as in her own, and since then she shut down at the mention of his name.

  The memory gave him the added impetus to crouch into an extremely uncomfortable position, line up the energy points, and press his forehead against Colonel Micah’s.

  Many cycles ago, he had Shared with his brother while his older sibling slept. They were discussing what the difference might be between a conscious and an unconscious mind, and like the scholars they were, they decided to experiment. He hadn’t liked the feeling then, and he didn’t like it now. The darkness was heavy and pressing, and when he emerged above the surface, he found nothing but a distant impression of the man he had argued with so many times.

  All right, Colonel. This is the one and only time I will do this. I know you want to Return, and Fahla knows I shouldn’t stand in your way, but you are needed here.

  Do you hear me? Lancer Tal needs you.

  He projected his memories of her, recalling every time she had spoken with him about the colonel since his injury. One by one he retraced the memories, from that first call in the middle of the night, to the day he had spent in Redmoon, to their flight back to Blacksun and the way the Lancer had insisted on accompanying Colonel Micah into this very room. He recalled setting up appointments for the entire Opah family to Share with him, and the look on the Lancer’s face four days ago, when she had so clearly given up. Then he went back to the beginning and started over.

  After a few repetitions his mind wandered, and thinking about making those appointments for the Opah family led to the memory of Raiz Opah’s face on his vidcom unit, calling because the Lancer had disappeared. Because somehow, Lancer Tal had known to prepare for a challenge that no one else had remotely anticipated.

  I wonder if you would have caught that one. You’re just barbaric enough to have thought of it.

  I still watch that recording and shudder. The blood stain won’t come out unless the floor is refinished, and the Council voted to let it stay as a reminder. How disgusting.

  You would probably approve.

  He stayed in the link for several more repetitions, until the vibration of his wristcom broke into his thoughts. He had set it for the end of his time slot, and with considerable relief he ducked back into the darkness, relaxing and letting his mind return to his own body. Groaning, he straightened up and rubbed his aching back.

  “Perfect,” he grumbled. “I’ll have to pick up paincounters on the way out. Probably your idea of a joke.”

  He plucked his rain cloak from the hook, threw it over his shoulders, and shut the door behind him.

  Vellmar waved at the desk clerk as she breezed past. She’d been here often enough that the staff knew her by sight, and no one stopped her as she ducked through the arch into a familiar corridor. She strode along the curving hallway, counting doors out of habit, and walked into the colonel’s room.

  “Good morning, Colonel Micah,” she said as she hung up her rain cloak. “Ready for yet another Sharing?”

  He was on his side this time, which made things a great deal more difficult. She walked over to the bed and took a giant straddling step, spreading her legs as far as she could without losing her balance. She knew from prior experience that her back would be killing her if she didn’t lower her center of gravity as much as possible when Sharing from this angle.

  “If I were you, I’d be desperately tired of this by now,” she said, sliding her hands into place. “People coming in at all hanticks, day and night, Sharing with you whether you like it or not. It must be a pain.” Shifting her legs a little farther apart, she lowered her head—and stopped in shock as his eyes opened.


  They stared at each other for what seemed like half a hantick, with Vellmar so stunned that she could not summon up her powers of speech. At last she cleared her throat and said, “Ah…Colonel Micah? Welcome back.”

  He made no answer, simply watching her with a furrowed brow. Awkwardly, she pulled herself upright, fetched a chair from the side of the room, and sat next to him. He hadn’t moved.

  “I don’t know if you remember me,” she said. “I’m Fianna Vellmar. You promoted me to the Lancer’s Lead Guard.”

  At last he nodded. “I remember you.”

  His voice was raspy and dry, barely more than a croak. She immediately cursed herself for six kinds of fool and punched the healer’s key on the bedside vidcom.

  An assistant healer appeared. “Yes?”

  “Colonel Micah is awake.”

  His eyes widened. “We’re on our way.”

  She looked back at the colonel. “There are a lot of people who will be happy to see you, Colonel. And one in particular that I need to call right now.” She reached for her earcuff, thought better of it, and picked up the vidcom instead.

  Lancer Tal answered the call almost instantly, her face tight with fear. “Vellmar? What happened?”

  Vellmar could not stop her grin. “There’s someone here you need to see.” She turned the unit to face the colonel and heard a gasp.

  “Micah!”

  “Andira,” he croaked, and seemed capable of no more than that. Vellmar turned the unit back just in time to witness the most beatific smile she had ever seen. The Lancer was lit from within.

  “Tell him I’ll be there in fifteen ticks. And tell him to stay out of trouble until I get there.”

  “I will.”

  “Salomen!” Lancer Tal shouted, just before the screen went dark.

  Vellmar put the unit down and grinned at the colonel. “The base is twenty ticks away. I guess she’s in a hurry.”

  The door flew open, admitting a herd of healers. They swarmed over Colonel Micah, checking his signs and asking questions that he couldn’t answer, until finally Vellmar barked at them that the man couldn’t speak, for Fahla’s sake, and when were they going to give him some water? At that his eyes found hers again and crinkled slightly.

  “Don’t worry, Colonel Micah,” she said. “We’ll take care of you.”

  He nodded just as a cup and straw were thrust under his chin, and closed his eyes in gratitude as he drank.

  Ten ticks later, the healers were gone, Colonel Micah was sitting up in bed, and Vellmar could not believe this was the same man who had looked half-dead just a few ticks earlier. He had been given a cup of juice and a piece of fresh bread, and was now brushing his teeth with groans of pleasure and spitting into a bowl she held for him.

  “Great Mother,” he said, wiping his mouth after polishing off another glass of water. “You have no idea how good that felt.”

  Vellmar tried to imagine not brushing her teeth for eight days and decided that she never wanted to know what it felt like. “I’m sure Lancer Tal will be grateful for your consideration.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Getting comfortable in your role already, I see.”

  Oh, shek. She had gotten too used to speaking with him in familiar terms while he was unconscious. Horrified at her lapse, she lowered her head. “My apologies, Colonel. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “How many times have you Shared with me?”

  She looked up again, feeling no censure from him. “Ah…I’m not certain. Three times in Redmoon, and then two more before the Lancer’s challenge, and after that—”

  “The Lancer’s challenge?” he interrupted.

  She hesitated. “You’ve missed quite a lot, Colonel.”

  “Then perhaps you should fill me in while we wait for Lancer Tal.”

  It was an order, not a request, and she tugged her chair closer. “Where do I start?”

  “Start with our mission. Was Gehrain hurt? I never found him in the basement.”

  “Gehrain is fine. He just had a twisted ankle and a minor concussion, and complained about being held for observation to anyone who would listen.”

  The colonel smiled. “That sounds like him. Anyone else?”

  “Not so much as a scratch.”

  “Good, I’m glad I was the only one.”

  “Herot Opah was a bit banged up, but nothing serious. He’s in custody at Blacksun Base right now.”

  “Did we complete our mission in time? What happened with Parser?”

  “He’s finished. But it turned out that the warriors in that house weren’t Parser’s. They were working for Shantu.”

  “Shantu!”

  “Yes, Parser and Shantu were in it together all along. So Lancer Tal managed to avoid Parser’s trap, but she was still caught in Shantu’s.”

  His eyes widened. “You said the Lancer’s challenge, didn’t you? You couldn’t mean…” He trailed off, his poorly fronted alarm jangling her senses.

  “Ritual challenge of combat,” she confirmed.

  He slumped against the stack of pillows. “Spawn of a fantenshekken! Nobody would have anticipated that. I can’t believe the Council allowed it.”

  “They had to. The ritual challenge predates the Council.”

  “So he caught her by surprise and forced her—oh, Tal,” he groaned.

  “He didn’t surprise her.”

  His gaze snapped up to hers. “She knew?”

  Vellmar nodded. “Don’t ask me how. She called me in the middle of the night and said she needed to find a way to win a sword fight with a superior opponent. We spent every tick before the Council session practicing. She beat him because he thought losing her sword meant she’d lost the fight. He was thinking like a sword fighter, but she was thinking like a combat fighter. That’s what we worked on.”

  He stared at her for an uncomfortable moment. “She knew, and you helped her.”

  “Ah…yes,” she said hesitantly.

  She was warmed by his sudden burst of pride as a broad grin transformed his face. “Trust Tal to see what no one else could. And I am taking full credit for bringing you to our unit. Well done, Vellmar.”

  “I only did my duty.”

  “I hope you don’t mean that.”

  At first she was startled. Then she thought back to that night, when she and Lancer Tal had gone to the mat again and again, working out the best moves to disable from both inside and outside the reach of a sword.

  “No,” she said. “It was more than that.”

  “Good.”

  Vellmar cocked her ear toward the door, hearing footsteps pounding down the corridor. She recognized the stride. “I don’t think Lancer Tal knows you’re not supposed to run in a healing center.”

  The door opened, and Lancer Tal stepped into the room, her gaze going straight to the bed as she came to a standstill.

  “Micah,” she whispered.

  Lighter footsteps came behind, and Raiz Opah squeezed into the room around the unmoving bulk of the Lancer’s body. She also stopped, her head turning as she looked from Colonel Micah to Lancer Tal and back again.

  Vellmar stood up. “It was nice to speak with you, Colonel.”

  He tore his gaze away from the Lancer’s and gave her a smile. “Thank you. We’ll talk soon.”

  She nodded, picked up her rain cloak, and scooted sideways to get around the Lancer, who was still doing an excellent imitation of a statue. Closing the door behind her, she looked up to find Nilsinian and Dewar flanking the door while Ronlin stood across the hall.

  “Don’t let anyone else in unless the Lancer specifically asks,” she told them.

  “We won’t,” Dewar said. “He’s really all right?”

  Vellmar’s smile was enormous. “H
e’s really all right.”

  Micah could not take his eyes off Tal. She looked visibly older than when he had seen her last, and was that just eight days ago? Impossible.

  She was still standing there, staring as if she were afraid to get any closer, and he summoned a smile.

  “So I hear you beat Shantu in ritual combat.”

  His words seemed to loosen her limbs, and she closed the distance between them. “I don’t want to think about Shantu right now. Micah…”

  She clasped both of his palms, then shocked him by kissing his cheek before resting her own against his. It was a gesture of familial affection that she had often given him as a child, but never since her Rite of Ascension. Tentatively, he pulled one hand from their clasp and stroked the back of her head. “I’m all right,” he whispered.

  “I know.” She pulled back, keeping a firm grip on his hand and offering a trembling smile. “I am so glad to see you.”

  He looked at her sadly, feeling much more than that through their touch. “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

  “Worried is not even the word.” She took a sharp breath, her eyes brimming with tears. “Frantic, desperate, so shekking scared that I could hardly function, but I had to, and I had to do it without you.” The tears spilled over. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, do you hear me?”

  “I won’t,” he promised, and her face crumpled.

  “I can’t believe you’re awake,” she said in a choked voice. “I can’t believe it’s finally over.”

  Salomen came up behind her, and Micah watched with oddly dry eyes as Tal turned, wrapped her arms around her tyree, and made tiny little gasps that broke his heart. Salomen rubbed her back, soothing her with a gentle touch as she looked over at Micah. “It’s good to see you, Colonel. You’ve been more missed than you can ever know.”