by Auryn Hadley
"Ok. We'll hit them first, from the front. If they have leaders with half a brain, they'll pull into the ruins and set defenses. I want the 97th to push forward," she pointed along the path, "and hit them hard from the back."
"Soon as we start that, we're going to become the front," he told her.
"Yeah," Sal said, smiling cruelly. "That's why I want you to move around this way. Leave that ravine open for them. Give them the escape, and make sure they know it's there."
He nodded.
"When you get here, pivot, and push them out. Do not leave. As soon as they make the retreat, we're done. Pursue, but slowly enough to let them give you the slip. Once they're out of sight, move toward the mouth of the valley and head home."
"So, it should be just a bluff?" Nyurin asked, glancing between her and Major Doll. "Then why us?"
"Bodies," Sal explained. "None of us want to lose men, and you have enough bodies to look imposing. I also believe that the 97th can hold their own if things go bad."
"And what's the plan if things go bad?" he asked softly.
"Stay alive till we can get ya out," Cyno said behind her.
"I'll tell the men that your orders override mine. Sirs, you have the 97th."
Chapter 20
The sunlight turned dappled through the trees, the pounding of racing hooves blocking out the screams of enemies. Sal's mind was entwined with her brothers', sharing the senses and feelings of the others. Each became that much more deadly because of their link. Her mare charged, a Black Blade on either side keeping pace.
Sal stood in the stirrups, allowing Arden to flow beneath her. Together, the Blades were destroying the small unit of scouts. She could feel her brothers' kills as easily as her own, and it fed her bloodlust. She poured her need for death back into the link, driving them all for just one more.
Her blade swung, hitting a man across the back, and Arden's motion carried the resin deep into his flesh. The momentum tried to rip the weapon from her hand, but she pried it free, dragging the corpse forward as he fell. Cyno made a kill, then Arctic, and Sal was already tracking the next. She urged the mare on and swung again, this time keeping the arc shallow, and watched the Terran soldier fall. His head hung limply from his neck.
Archers! Risk cried into their minds.
Her head snapped around, following her brother's senses, but it was too late. The arrow slammed into her waist with enough force to knock her from the saddle. Sal hung in the air for an eternity before the ground met her. Hard.
When she opened her eyes, she was alone, their charge too fast to stop. She sucked in a breath and rolled to her knees, snarling at the sharp pain.
The arrow had hit just above her pelvis, but her armor kept the puncture shallow. The maast removed any fear that could have distracted her. Sucking in deep breaths, she shoved her sword into the scabbard at her back and grabbed the shaft. Squeezing her eyes closed, she took a long, deep breath, then pulled. Her flesh tore, the pain a seductive feeling to an iliri deep in the bloodlust.
Get up! Cyno yelled, and she knew the Terrans were coming.
Sal staggered to her feet, each step easier than the one before, and drew her knives. Leaves rustled close by. Sal's head turned, a hint of purple just visible through the brush. She had them.
Silently, she rushed the group of men. Charging them on foot, her knives held point down, she had to hurry – before they knew she was coming. Faster, she needed to be faster. Then she was on them. Her control was just a distant memory. All she wanted was to kill.
Blades swung, hers cutting first one man, then another, as she ducked and wove between the enemy's. She used their confusion as protection, never staying in the same place long enough for a human to take aim. Cyno appeared beside her, his growl matching hers, his attacks timed perfectly. For a moment, they danced, his mind caressing hers with each kill, his body bending around her seamlessly. Razor joined them, his double bladed staff whirling a bloody counterpoint to their rhythm until there was no one left standing.
It was over too soon and she roared her anger, looking for something else to kill. At their feet lay eighteen bodies.
East-northeast, Razor thought. Another group, and more in the old tower.
The three of them ran, leaping through the brush, knowing every second could mean someone's life. Eight of them, and it looked like nearly two hundred Terrans. Sal could feel the rest of their unit slowly clearing a path, trying to draw eyes to them, but every thought urged them all to kill faster, to kill one more. None of them tried to resist the desire.
An old stone structure loomed out of the trees and Cyno followed its wall with his eyes. We go up, he told Sal.
I'll clear the ground, Razor said.
Watch the tower, she reminded them, glancing at where it stood above the tree line.
They moved, Cyno just behind her. He grabbed her hips and she jumped, allowing him to give her the lift she needed to reach the top of the wall. When her feet hit the stone, Sal reached down, offering her hand as a fulcrum for his own ascent. Cyno jumped at the wall, his wrist slapping into her palm, and he scrambled to the top. Together, they checked their weapons then moved, keeping their profiles low. Below them, Razor slipped between the trees; they followed his path in their minds.
This wall ends at a roof, Cyno said. If they do na spot us before that, they will when we get there.
Take out the archers first, Sal ordered. Let the rest rush us. Razor can hit them and we'll have the height advantage.
Ayati, I love this, Cyno thought back, a feral grin on his face.
"On the wall!" a man called out and both assassins turned to the sound.
Sal fired first, grabbing the loaded crossbow from her belt, flicking the catch open, then dodging as she loosed the bolt. She ducked behind Cyno, who was pulling his own bow, and slammed her foot into the stirrup. Yanking the string upward, she shoved a bolt into the groove in a fluid motion. Cyno loosed, then moved back, and Sal leaned around him, finding one more target willing to look from the tower window. She squeezed the release, watching as the man simply sank out of sight, collapsing behind the stone.
Incoming! Razor sent them. A vision of soldiers rushing from the base of the tower gave more information than words could.
She shoved another bolt into her bow and flipped the latch, making it safe to clip on her belt, then ran. The screams began before she could see the threat with her own eyes, but Razor's senses told her all she needed to know. He lured them back to the wall, while from above, the assassins leapt into their midst.
They fell into the middle of a large group of men, blades flying. Sal could feel Razor's aim and ducked under the arc, twisting around his side to slice at a man too close. Cyno leaned around her, shoving his blade deep into a man's thigh and yanking it free. Flesh split before the sharp ceramic. Together, they became a formidable beast, every side protected, every angle lethal to approach. With the staff, Razor could reach men who thought they were safe. Cyno moved faster than any man Sal had seen before, darting out for quick strikes, killing a soldier with each foray.
The wound in her side slowed her, warm blood slowly oozing inside her armor, so Sal hung back. Her mind begged her for one more strike. When the Terrans began to pull away, she couldn't take it anymore, couldn't bear to see her prey fleeing. She growled, and her brother's voices rose to meet hers.
"Kill them," she ordered as she surged at the man closest to her.
His eyes widened at the sudden aggression, and he staggered back, not even offering to protect himself. She shoved her steel dagger deep into his chest, releasing it long enough to grab his head and twist. The snap of his neck reverberated in her arms as his body went limp. She removed the blade, wiping it against his leathers before taking a quick count of their kills. Twenty-three this time, but most were Razor's.
They're on the 97th! Blaec bellowed in their heads. Protect the pikes!
"You good?" Cyno asked, grabbing her.
"Yeah," she said, moving towa
rd the pikes' location, but he held her.
"You good, Sal?" he demanded.
She turned and glared at him. Even though he couldn't see her face behind the helm, she knew he would feel it. "I'm good, it's shallow, and I'm playing it safe. Cover my left, damn it, and we'll be fine!"
"Yes, Kaisae," he said, and together they began to run, Razor not far ahead of them.
The sound of combat was loud with nearly two hundred men fighting hard. Resin crashed against acrylic and men screamed in both fear and pain. Sal knew some were their friends, and she thought of Kinetry, urging the Blades to move faster.
Save the 97th! she ordered, scrambling up the shallow hill between them.
The Blades obeyed, reporting their positions as they raced to flank the Terrans, a determination coursing in them that none had felt before.
Shift, Zep, on the edge, Arctic behind center for sniping, Risk, Razor, Cyno, and Blaec, on me, Sal directed and they fell in beside her. Hit these fuckers hard. Show them what it means to fuck with the damned iliri.
They fell into ranks as they reached the crest, looking at the battle below. The 97th was pushed against the wall of the valley, pinned so tight they were interfering with each other's weapons. Nyurin screamed orders, but the Terrans were savage, shoving forward over the bodies of their own men just to push harder.
"Hold the line!" Sal screamed at them.
Somehow they heard her. Shields pressed closer together and the men leaned into them, millimeter by millimeter, regaining their space, and then their ground. Sal could hear the 97th below, screaming at their shield mates, "The Blades are here, hold the line!"
Kill them all, Blaec ordered, releasing the fury of the Black Blades on the men below.
Sal roared, and the men's voices joined hers, loud enough to cause the enemy at the back to glance over their shoulders. The Terrans yelled a warning, and the next line turned, thinking so few soldiers would be nothing to worry about. Then the elites hit them.
Each Blade fought like a wild animal. The rules of combat did not apply to them as they ravaged the enemy, ripping through men like a pack of wolves. Their growls and snarls were more terrifying than their blades. Bodies dropped and the iliri danced, always aware of the others' movements. With their minds as one, they passed between swords and knew to duck the thrust from behind, reacting as if they were part of the same monster. Each man guarded his brother's back. Each brother sought one more death. Each death meant one more friend would live, and the 97th cheered them on.
"Push them!" Sal called to the pike men. "Don't let them spread!"
And they obeyed.
A wall of blue shields and resin polearms began to press closer, each step a sign that there were less enemies alive to be a threat. Shift and Zep spun their horses in the midst of the chaos, dropping their lances and drawing swords to prevent harming their own men in the crush.
The shield wall was close now, only a few meters away. Sal saw Nyurin screaming orders from the front line. A Terran rushed forward, the movement drawing her feral gaze. She pounced, grabbing the man around the shoulders, hacking with her dagger at his throat. The violence of her hit caused the blood to spray, and it painted the shields before her. She looked up to find Kinetry's eyes peering desperately through the slit in her helm.
"They're all dead," he said.
Sal nodded, but her hands wouldn't release the man. She stood before the shield wall, breathing hard, trying to remind herself that she could not kill these soldiers. They were her friends, and didn't smell nearly sweet enough to be her prey. She released her last kill, letting the body fall to her feet.
Kinetry looked to the man beside him and said something, but Sal's mind refused to listen. "Sal." Kinetry said, dropping his shield to reach up for her helm. "They're all dead," he tried again, his fingers working the buckles and clasps.
She sucked in a deep breath as he helped her pull the helmet away. He smelled pure, natural. Her knees felt weak and all she could think about was another kill. "How many losses?" she asked, sinking to the ground.
"Fall back," Nyurin said. "Someone get them water – and anything else they need."
"How many damned losses!" Sal snarled at Nyurin.
"Three injuries that I know of. One is pretty bad, but I think he'll make it. No losses. You pulled our asses out in time."
She nodded. Shift, the 97th has a bad one.
I'm already on it, kid. He'll be out for a while, but I'll keep him sound. He's unconscious, but human.
"He'll make it," she breathed. "How's the 112th?"
Zep pushed Cessa beside her. "They got hit pretty hard."
"Ok, and where's my damned horse?"
"Where we left the 112th. You good to ride?"
She tried to smile, but it was a viscous look. "I am for now."
"You wounded?" Kinetry asked, stepping forward.
"She took an arrow at the start of this," Zep said. "Help me get her up. Sal, you're riding back."
She nodded. "It was shallow, Zep. I'm not dying."
"No, but it sure hurts like hell, demon."
Nyurin looked between them, then over Sal's head. She knew Cyno stood just behind her.
"Head north, reinforce the 112th, and get them out of here," Sal told Nyurin, bringing his eyes back to her.
He smiled and dropped his eyes. "Yes, Kaisae," he said softly.
"It's Sergeant," Sal corrected. "Just do not let this mission fail."
"You heard her!" the Lance Corporal screamed. "I want ten men to stay with the wounded. Get them stabilized and headed back to Prin. The rest of you, double time! Move!"
"Give me your hand," Zep told her.
Sal struggled to her feet, Kinetry assisting her, then reached up. Zep clasped her wrist and the pikeman her calf. When Sal jumped, they pulled her across Cessa's hip, Kinetry grabbing at her thigh until she was secure.
"I owe you," she told him as Zep turned the mare and cantered through the bloody field.
Chapter 21
They broke from the trees to find enemies still struggling to fight back. Sal's helm was somewhere in the field behind her, forgotten in her battle haze, which made it even easier to see the man standing defiantly before a group of Terrans.
Save him! she screamed into Zep's head, recognizing Blaz.
He reined Cessa toward the fight, Sal clinging tightly to his waist as the mare charged. Zep swung at the first man and Sal pushed herself away, leaping onto the second. Blaz hit the third. She pulled her prey to the ground, reaching for the dagger at her waist, but he shoved her away. Her wound broke open, and she snarled at the pain. Her hand snaked out, her fingers locking under the lip of his helm. She yanked him closer and, with the dagger finally in her grasp, plunged it deep into his chest as her teeth tore at his throat. Sweet. So sweet.
"He's dead," Zep yelled.
"He fucking hit me," she snarled, wiping the blood from her chin.
Blaz watched with a face devoid of emotion. "I think that's the last of them." He turned away, unable to look at her.
"Blaz," Sal gasped, aware of what she'd just done. She shoved the corpse away to follow him.
Then she saw it. Sprawled in the grass, a large black warhorse struggled to rise. His left front leg flopped unnaturally as he collapsed back to his side. Blaz spoke calmly to the horse, calling to him as he approached. Walking slowly, his hands out, his kept his movements easy to follow. A pale ceramic blade glinted in his fist.
"No!" Sal gasped, rushing to follow.
She reached the horse's side only a second after Blaz and grabbed his hand.
"I have to," he said. "It's broken."
"Not Rax," Sal pleaded. Blaz sucked in a quick breath, struggling to hold back his tears, and Sal pulled the blade from his hand. "I can fix this."
"No," he whimpered, "you can't. He's the last thing I have of her, and they fucking killed him!"
"Just let me try," she begged, dropping to hold Rax's head against the ground. Zep!
I got
Arden, Zep replied, thinking that was what she wanted.
I need your help. Shift?
Yeah?
Horse with a broken leg, can you fix it?
Arden? Shift's concern was obvious.
No, she's fine, Zep told him, confused.
It's one of the 112th. I owe him, Sal said.
I'll fix him, Sal, but horses aren't easy. Sedate it. I'm on my way.
Blaz shoved his face into Rax's thick mane and the tears began to fall. "You're ok, big guy. Just relax. We'll make sure you don't hurt, ok?" He looked up at Sal as Zep returned, Arden trailing at Cessa's flank. "It's broken, Sal. There's nothing to be done."
"It's not fucking broken," Zep called over to them, dropping from his mare's back to rummage in his saddle bags. "It's dislocated. He'll be out for a few days, easy, but we can fix it."
Blaz's face held a spark of hope. "You sure?"
"See how it flops? Carpus is out," Zep said, sounding like he knew what he was talking about.
"But..."
"Move over, I need to sedate him so I can see." Zep pushed Sal out of the way, leaving Blaz at the horse's head.
He leaned over Rax's neck and found the large vein, then pressed it. After holding it for a moment, he slipped a needle into the horse's skin, a flash of blood tinting the pale fluid in the syringe. Slowly, Zep pressed the plunger.
"Pain killer and sedative. Just pet him for a second until his breathing slows a bit."
"You a veterinarian?" Blaz asked.
"Nah," Zep said, patting the man's shoulder. "Just like horses more than humans. Someone needs to be the horse medic, right?"
"Evidently," Blaz said softly. "He really going to be ok?"
"If he's not," Sal promised, "I'll take care of it."
Blaz nodded as the stallion sighed deeply. Zep lifted the horse's lip, pressing against his gums, and made affirmative noises. When Rax barely responded, he moved around the horse and reached for his leg. Gently, his hand followed the bones, barely pausing as it passed over the break.
