by R. M Garino
Ossian defended Enid as she worked her bow. With his single edged sword, he swatted away a lunge and completed the circle. The Pledge stepped into the swing and struck Ossian on the jaw with the flat of his palm. A piece of Ossian’s tongue left his mouth as his teeth clamped shut and shattered. His adversary brought down his pommel and shattered Ossian’s collar bone.
Enid’s bow was cut in half as she tried to deflect a sword strike with it. Two of her fingers on her left hand sailed away into the air. An elbow then smashed into her nose, shattering the orbital bone and a large section of her cheekbone.
Angus completed his task, and leapt from the tree into the melee. Still charged with the energies he drew from the large oak, he slammed his fist into the ground as he landed. The earth erupted around him in an expanding concentric circle. Pledges and Pride mates alike were thrown from their feet. He lashed out as he stood, his sin’del extended into a point from each of his hands. He struck the first foe to regain her feet, and his energy sword ripped through her chest. She was gone before the strike made it halfway.
The other five assailants stood and dropped into the waiting stance. Angus attacked, feinting to the left and repositioning at the last moment. His target raised her sword to block. The blade of energy cut the weapon in two melted halves, but she twisted out of range. A knifes edge cleaved a jagged path across Angus’ shoulder, and another speared his calf from behind. He pivoted, and stabbed his sin’del into the chest of the one behind him. Using the shortened sword, his original opponent lopped off his ear and a chunk of his other shoulder.
A knife blossomed from the center of her chest before she could reposition for an attack. Enid stood behind her a dozen yards away, her arm shooting forward as a second dagger was thrown. Another enemy vanished seconds later. Thomlin engaged from the right, his blade dispatching a Pledge from the rear. Demona barreled into another, making Angus miss a strike. A heel smashed into his knee and his leg buckled as it fractured. He stopped his fall with his hands, his sin’del returning to its usual structure, only to receive a blow from an iron bound cudgel on his left hip. The impact spun him, and he landed on his back in blinding pain. As the Pledge raised his weapon, both of Nessah’s blades pierced his chest.
Angus lay gasping for breath through the agony of his hip, hearing a faint “Huzzah!” as though from far away. He fed energy to the damaged area and screamed as the bones knitted back together. Pushing himself upright after what seemed an eternity, he turned his attention to his battered Pride.
Denuelle was the most grievously injured, and was tended to first. Her connection to the node kept her on the field and removed the most life threatening elements of her wound, but it did nothing to ease her pain. She forced a weak smile as he helped her stand, but he suspected that it was more for Demona than for him.
Enid presented him her severed fingers, a hopeful, blood smeared look on her face.
“This is going to hurt,” he said, taking her ruined hand in his. He set the fingers in place and she cried out as they reattached themselves, her face buried in his shirt.
Once everyone was tended to, Angus sagged against the bole of the tree.
“Did it work?” Demona asked, holding out his own severed ear.
Angus nodded, taking the grizzly prize. “Yeah,” he said. “There’s a ten-minute delay in all of the feeds. It was the best I could do with the time.”
“Then it will have to be good enough,” Thomlin said. “Patch yourself up, and let’s get to the rendezvous point.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Earn Your Keep
Both halves of the Pride were tattered and torn as they met at the edge of the rock field. Arielle fell into Angus’ arms as soon as he was near.
“You look like hell,” she said into his shirt.
“Probably smell like it too,” he said, but he did not let her go. “Enjoying yourself on our outing?”
She chuckled and pushed away.
“We’re all having a grand time,” she said. “Got to beat up on some Pledges. How about you?”
“About the same,” he said. “Two packs.”
“Two? And you’re all still here?”
“Well, I gave them an earful.”
“And I gave them the finger,” Enid interrupted, wiggling the digits of her left hand. “Twice.”
Arielle looked her question at Angus when he roared with laughter.
Have I mentioned how beautiful you are? he sent to her. The swell of satisfaction at the back of his mind let him know that she appreciated the compliment, even though the conversation was lost on her.
They knew, from the com chatter, that both the Ninth and the Fifth were out of commission. Neither had survived their initial encounter with the unexpected forces from the Gates. That left the Eighth as their only competition. Unfortunately, from the supposedly private channels, Angus knew that House Fel’Mekrin were determined to see the Eighth win, and were running interference for them when they were not just letting them pass.
Already, there’d been a heated battle between Fel’Mekrin and Le’Manon because of this. Two separate groups of Le’Manon had cornered the Eighth, only to be set upon from behind. The coms were cluttered with angry accusations and denials from both sides. As a result, the Eighth was alone, but deprived of their Fel’Mekrin protectors. Events were as chaotic as Angus had hoped, but a knot of worry constricted his innards nevertheless.
There’s always a clear winner to the Gauntlet, Arielle sent. Usually it’s just one or two from a squad.
We’ll give them a better show this year, he sent. That’s for sure. I don’t think I’ve seen more than a dozen occasions where you had more than two representatives make it.
Do you remember Mer’Chien’s Seventh from a dozen years ago? Arielle sent. That was awful.
Oh yeah. Two from Mer’Chien, and two from Fel’Mekrin.
Now that was a quick, one-sided, sloppy battle.
I remember Logan’s year, too. Angus sent. He felt Arielle pull away.
He was the only member to make the field, Arielle sent after a moment. He provided a long and entertaining bout with his opponent before taking the flag.
Keep that in mind. So long as one of us is standing to take the flag, the win is tallied.
It was Angus’ intention to see most, if not all, of his Pride reach the field. As a group, they needed to give credence to their tactics, and to their union. So far, they’d been able to avoid contact with the elite forces. The pledges were far less of a danger to their combined numbers, but they knew that they could take many more head on assaults. They didn’t have much further to go, another few miles at most, if he had the lay of the land correct.
Let’s get moving, Gwendolyn sent. How’s the road?
Clear ahead for at least another mile, Nessah sent, and Ossian sent his much more succinct affirmation.
The Pride split up again. Arielle’s half resumed their trot along the path, while Angus’ disappeared back beneath the eves of the forest.
Judging from the estimates given, the Eighth was less than a quarter mile to their east. Central Command no longer had an accurate accounting of Angus’ half of the Pride; the chatter indicated that they had discovered his adjustment to the central array, but were as of yet unable to fix it. Several squads were actively combing the area in hopes of flushing them out.
Priority message coming across the coms, Nessah sent to the entire Pride as she listened to a channel the graduates were not supposed to have access to. All Elc’atar are being recalled to the parade field. Why are they pulling them back?
Odds are better there, Ba’ril sent. Their purpose is to make sure we don’t win, and thereby make them look bad. By pulling them back, they can encircle the flag. So far, we’ve evaded their dragnet.
And sent a shitload to the infirmary, Hironata added.
They’re not taking any more chances, Ba’ril sent.
Then that’s it! Enid sent. We’re finished. There’s no way we can push t
hrough that.
Have faith, Denuelle sent. The plan will work. Even with them all gathered in one place. Seven hells, it might actually work better that way.
You’re right, Demona sent. Our big advantage is surprise. If they’re all pressed into one space, we might be able to grab the flag before they regain their footing. Their numbers will be their weakness. They’ll have to coordinate their movements so as not to kill each other. We can pick and choose our targets.
I don’t like the idea of the Eighth at our backs when we move against the Elc’atar, Gwendolyn said. We need to remove them.
So, do we attack them as a full Pride, or half? Thomlin sent.
I want this done with, Gwendolyn sent. I’m not really in the mood for a fair fight right now.
All right, Thomlin sent. First rank hit the Eighth straight on. Second rank hits their flank as soon as they engage.
The Eighth will form a phalanx with their shields, Demona sent. Standard practice.
Time for you all to earn your keep, Caradoc sent. No more lollygagging in the shadows.
Remind me to show you our kill record, Doc, Denuelle sent.
Can the chatter, Thomlin sent. Everyone complied with the order, and silence descended among them.
Angus refocused himself, letting his higher mind run through separate permutations of strategy as his legs carried him around the trees and over boulders that littered the hillside. Through the coms, he was able to access the exact location of each member of the Eighth, and after a quick query to Ba’ril, knew the relative strengths and weaknesses of each of them. He traveled only six levels of causality before he satisfied himself that the plan he’d chosen would work.
You have to teach me that, Arielle sent, pulling him from his train of thoughts. The anxiety that had been building in him vanished on hearing her voice. I don’t think even the Le’Manon strategy Masters can do that.
The Magi can, Angus sent, trying to be a little bit humble. I’m an amateur compared to them. I usually only go five or six levels down. Gavin typically goes twelve. But I’ll show you everything I can before we go and join them.
We will go on to Reven Marthal, won’t we? she sent, a wistful note to her voice.
Of course we will. We just have to beat an entire company of Elc’atar, survive the A’gist, the Menace, the Feast of Night, walk the Sur, and then straight on to the capital.
Her laughter lifted his spirits and banished the last of his worry.
Just around the bend, Thomlin sent. They’ll be at the juncture before us, so first rank, start screaming the moment you see them. Second rank, come in quiet behind them.
A chorus of agreement answered him, and Angus’ second rank slowed to a more measured pace. From behind, the sound of running feet just reached them through the screen of trees, boots crunching on branches and stone reverberating through the earth. They let the other half of their Pride pass, and then sped up.
A communal “Oohrahh” broke out as Arielle’s squad came into sight. As one, the Eighth stopped and met the threat, standing shoulder to shoulder. As Demona had predicted, they overlapped their shields to meet the charge, their swords held behind them and raised above their shoulders.
The second rank of the Pride struck against their unprotected backs before the first rank was upon them. Ossian and Enid’s strikes were not fatal enough to remove Efrain and Aiyana, but as they tried to counter, Darien and Arielle disposed of them.
The two halves of the Pride faced each other over the empty ground, each member shouting their “Huzzah” into the face before them.
“That was awesome!” Darien said.
The eves of the forest exploded in a spray of branches as four Kal’Parev packs of pledges descended down both slopes toward the Pride.
“Form up!” Thomlin said.
“Keep the circle spaced!” Angus said, noting that Nessah took a position tight to Ba’ril’s left. “Let them through when they crest!”
The Kal’Parev Blades broke upon them with the force of their duty, and the Pride buckled. The circle they made bowed inward and collapsed as newcomers filled the empty space. Angus spun, redirecting his opponent’s sword and striking him just beneath the ribs. Beside him, Arielle dropped low and swung both swords, eviscerating the pair in front of her before impaling the Blade coming on their heels. Enid and Caradoc stayed close, him using a short sword to deflect an attack and her using a larger weapon to press her own. Gwendolyn was close by Thomlin, her sword snaking out and striking those who sought to avoid his more aggressive swings. Ti’vol stayed by Darien, swinging her thin sword into those who failed to take note of her presence, her uniform blossoming with even more blood stains from numerous strikes. Demona and Denuelle fought with their backs pressed together, using their swords and shields to protect the other. Hironata and Ossian fought with abandon, taking positions on Ba’ril’s flanks. He moved against his foes, his face a mask of concentration. He blocked the advances of a pair set against him with a flurry of blows, striking first one, and then the other in neck as he flowed between them. Nessah slid in close beneath her opponent’s guard, and with her pair of short swords opened bowels and veins.
Angus caught a blow from a club in his middle, and the wind was forced out of him in a rush of breaking bone. His sword fell and he dropped to his knees. His opponent swung again, and Angus felt the weapon’s passage through the air as he ducked out of the way. The Blade used the momentum and hefted the cudgel above his head. Angus stretched out his sin’del, and a focused bar of light erupted from his fist. The force of the impact blasted his opponent off his feet and sent him careening into a group of three Blades. The resulting pressure wave lifted around him in a circle that expanded outward. Pushing himself to his feet, Angus readied himself for the next wave.
Darien yelled out the first “Huzzah!” which the rest of the Pride picked up with alacrity. Weapons rose in the air with more cries of “Huzzah!” Every member of the Pride was bloody and bruised. Ti’vol was supported by Nessah, and Hironata helped Darien regain his feet. Several of Denuelle’s wounds had reopened, as had Ba’ril’s, and both required another round of healing.
As Arielle finished with him, Ba’ril switched his bloodied sword from his right to his left hand, which he extended to Angus.
“Well done, Kal’Parev,” he said as they clasped forearms. “That piece of magic saved my ass. I’ll follow your plans, without question.”
Angus tried to keep a blush from blossoming. Arielle did not even try, and shone with pride for him as she touched his fractured ribs with her sin’del.
“Thanks,” he groaned as his bones knitted back together. “Now for the hard part. We have to time it right or we lose the element of surprise. They’ll be gathered in ranks, most likely by House around the flag. Does everyone remember the plan?”
Once again, everyone stated their agreement.
“Ti’,” Angus said, giving her his best smile as he pulled her into a one armed hug. “You sure you’re up for this?”
Ti’vol saluted, trying to shore up her courage. “Let’s get ‘em.”
“Right then,” Thomlin said. “Let’s get ourselves a flag.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Immortals
Cavallo stood with his House, waiting, and trying not to let his irritation show as the sun slid toward the horizon. He wished that the scrubs would just get here already. He wanted this farce done with. It was insulting to be standing here, recalled from the field to hold a defensive position against a motley group of graduates. He was an Elc’atar Guard. They should have been left in the field to flush them out and beat them within an inch of their lives for such a flagrant disregard of protocol.
Command had reported that the Eighth had been removed from the contest. The combined Twelfth and Third had ambushed them just over a mile from the entrance to the Gates complex. That was almost an hour ago. Torches had been set around the perimeter of the parade ground. Where feck were they? Even half-trained garbage could
run a mile in less than ten minutes. The brats were probably working up the courage to face the justice they deserved. This was pathetic. He would be patient for another five minutes. Then he would demand that he be allowed to find them.
Cavallo checked the flag that nestled inside the fold of his uniform. Just in case, he told himself. Even if they did get lucky, he had ensured that they could not carry the day.
“About damn time,” Solandro said to his left, recalling Cavallo from his thoughts. Following his colleague’s gaze, he focused his attention on the hill that crested at the edge of the parade field. Fourteen ragged graduates walked shoulder to shoulder—they had the audacity to walk—holding formation in a long line.
They stopped just out of weapons’ reach. Theirs were drawn, but were not raised, nor did they drop into a stance. They were wet and filthy: covered in mud and blood, their uniforms in tatters, and bruises blooming across their faces. A few of the Elc’atar exchanged glances, unsure of what was happening. Indeed, it took Cavallo a moment to realize what was so unsettling about this group and the way they approached. This was an Areth’kon contest; everyone was expecting them to come charging in with a fool’s courage in an attempt to storm the defended position. The fact that they were not even in a waiting stance showed that the children did not expect a fight. They were not even giving the Elc’atar their full attention. The sin’dels of each bent toward the sickly little girl, as if trying to keep her erect. A leer, cruel and vicious, spread across Cavallo’s face. They hoped to negotiate. They were here to parlay. It was a shame, really, he thought as his gaze strayed across the young faces gathered before him. He had hoped Gwendolyn would take after Logan.
“Who speaks for you?” Gwendolyn said, her chin raised in a display of arrogant defiance that took years to learn. “Who is in charge of this company?”
