by K. F. Breene
“Shanti thinks there are citizens—“
“He knows what I do,” Shanti interrupted in the interest of time.
The Captain turned to the young man on his right. “Bring up Leilius.” To Shanti he said, “Any reason to believe these people have your coloring?”
“Leilius would stick out like a tree among bushes if so,” she said with a smile. “But no. The Inkna are from near my neck of the woods, but their people wouldn’t be farming out here. They probably moved in and took over, similar to what they are trying to do with you. Whoever was here first still works the land. So…”
The Captain nodded. Apparently the coloring was bronze skin and dark hair, like him. It was a hot climate, so that made sense. Natural sunblock prevented constant sunburns. She should know, she had to be covered most of the time.
Leilius skulked up a few minutes later, looking sheepish and happy to see Shanti. He didn’t feel like he belonged in this battle-hardened crew twice his age. Shanti understood where he was coming from, but he was just about to earn a reputation, whereas she never would. She didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.
“Leilius, I need you to change into poor man’s clothes and travel up the road,” the Captain said without preamble. “Blend in. Find out everything you can. If you get into trouble I will know. Go.”
Leilius got changed with a fearful glower and took off at an easy walk, seemingly an average boy going to market. Shanti got caught in a moment of panic as his slouch carried him down the road, away from her protection. His thin body bent like a reed in a gale as he trudged, fearful but observant. He was ready for this—he needed to learn to operate on his own—but he was so young. Shanti still owed him for her life, but more than that, he and her Honor Guard were as close to friends as she had in this strange land. They were shining lights in a year of solitary darkness. Even Sanders, as much as he raged and bickered, was someone she cared for. Was someone she wanted to see safe behind his large stone walls. She was so afraid she’d lose someone else she cared about it choked her, closed her throat until sweat beaded her forehead. She pushed the feelings down, trying to get control, and felt a pulse of relief ping through her body.
It was Cayan trying to ease her mind. He was about as deft as a deaf man learning to sing, but the thought of it did help. She wasn’t a mother bird, and she needed to remember that this was a war. There would be casualties. She needed to stay focused.
If they killed Cayan, though, she would tear that city down around their knees without mercy. If they had killed Sanders, same result. Then she’d beat them bloody with their own limbs.
“Easy mesasha,” Cayan murmured.
Shanti took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Hope and wait.
It was two hours before Leilius came back up the road, a dead bird clutched by the feet hanging at his side. As he approached, his slouch more prominent, he handed up the large fowl in embarrassment. “I was offered this by a woman trying to marry me off to her daughter.” He shrugged. “She was pretty but older.”
Cayan’s gaze was calculating as he motioned for someone to take the wedding bribe. “What did you find out?”
“The Inkna aren’t well liked. I was told to think twice before moving closer. They killed the old government and started making changes right away.” Leilius dug his hands into his pockets. “The farmers are nearly starving, the working man is little more than a slave, and the foreign people are rich. Those that are beautiful, or gifted in a necessary craft, are doing well, though, so no one has tried to kick the Inkna out.”
Cayan ignored the young man’s hands. “Could you see the city walls?”
“I went in. That’s what took me so long. There is a large metal gate. Inside—“
“The gate is up?” Sterling asked.
“Um, yeah. A couple guys are—“
“Details, please,” Shanti said in a low tone.
Leilius straightened and took his hands out of his pockets. He probably thought Shanti was going to kick him. Cayan gave her a brief glance before Leilius focused once again. “Two men on each side, but lazy. Inkna—they are light and small—but they are bored. I don’t think they get much action. And inside there is a large area with traders stalls. If that gate were to close, there are a few places to sneak in, but only for a few at a time. That gate has to be open for us to get through with enough to pose a problem for their guards. They all have wicked looking swords and beady eyes.”
“Are the guards inside our coloring or Shanti’s?” Sterling asked.
“They are all Inkna. Small but maybe fast. Just like the ones that came into our city. A few loiter around the trading stalls, making trouble for the younger girls.” Leilius’s jaw clenched briefly before he went on. “A few dot the walls, and others wander around the inside of the city.”
“Are any outside?” Lucius asked with a focused stare, leaning forward on his mount.
Leilius shook his head. “Only those originally from this land are outside. They would scatter if we came through. Or take up arms with us. They really aren’t happy. Desperate, too. That girl’s mother wanted me to take her daughter away back to my land. I look poor, but she still wanted me to take her.”
“You only look poor for your country. Those rags are made from new fabric with holes cut in them,” Shanti muttered. “Someone actually poor can tell the difference.”
Cayan looked at the sun, deciding.
“Sanders doesn’t have much time,” Leilius said quietly. The Captain let slip a blast of power. When Leilius stopped cowering, he said, “I heard rumors that four soldiers were originally taken, but one died. One captured soldier in particular was giving the guards a hard time, and the guards were giving them all they had. It sounded like Commander Sanders. He doesn’t have long, though. The local people are shaken. There’s screaming.”
The Captain’s blue eyes glowed slightly. Power wrapped around him in tight bands, flirting with Shanti’s power, gathering might. “Then we go now. It means we will be running home in the dark, but if we wait until morning, my men might be dead.”
“We won’t need to run home. There won’t be anyone left to chase us,” Shanti said in a voice she hardly recognized.
A few men looked at her with wide eyes. They’d just remembered the girl who laid waste to a tide of Mugdock. She was brimming with power and anger, ready to unleash her wrath and give a town back to the people that rightfully owned it.
At the Captain’s command everyone mounted. He reached a hand down for Shanti.
“No,” she said, meeting his sky blue eyes, hopefully not for the last time. “I need to be first and on foot. When they see us coming they are going to come at us with every Warring mind they have. Or whatever they have that’s similar. I need to be on foot for that. Plus, I am going to inspire some townspeople to take up arms.”
The Captain looked at her a long time before he said, “Stay alive.”
She winked, excitement bubbling. With a manic grin that would make Sanders proud, she turned and started running.
The Inkna had stolen her home and killed those she loved. It was time for revenge.
Chapter 38
Leilius saw S’am starting to walk and fell in beside her, caught up in her presence like a small ship in a giant wave. He didn’t want to file back in with everyone else; they snickered at him constantly, wondering if they would have to play nursemaid to the boy in soldier’s clothes.
It must have looked odd, a young man and a woman, walking in front of a team of horses, a small army at their backs. But if she worried, she didn’t show it. Head held high, long braid the color of wheat swinging behind her, S’am drew her sword in one clean, practiced movement. A thrill coursed through Leilius, ending in a tingle at the base of his balls. The adrenaline was kicking in. Soon he would have to fight. Kill people probably. It was necessary, though—he couldn’t have the Inkna ruin his home and turn his friends into slaves—but he hated killing. Even in revenge for what they were doing to San
ders.
The busy intersection lay ahead, teaming with farmers and their livestock, desperate mothers and fathers trying to trade for enough food to feed their families. The road they were on intersected another, each corner replete with stands of fruit, grains, or merchandise, all gathered in the hard packed dirt. Faces looked up in alarm and surprise, eyes taking in the approaching war men with their rich clothes and furnishings.
Leilius had never been so embarrassed in all his life, even in the rags he wore. He hadn’t realized he had so much. He’d never known what it was like to go a day without food, or to wear the same slips of fabric for months on end. These people had nothing, and here he walked, the richest man alive in their opinions, with nothing to show for it.
It had taken a trip into the city to realize exactly what S’am had always grumbled about. He had been instantly humbled.
S’am swung her long, curved blade. The people standing by the sides of the roads caught that gleam, entranced by the wicked beauty of it. Their gaze rose slowly to hers, fear and hope warring on their countenance.
“My people were killed by the Inkna,” Shanti boomed as she slowed, standing in the center of the small square. Cayan halted the progression behind her, drawing notice, strong and straight on his purebred stead. Leilius felt absurd standing close to these two, but he straightened his back nonetheless, S’am infusing his body with the buoyancy of certain victory.
“They were murdered in cold blood while protecting children. While protecting the elderly. Because we would not surrender our way of life to their schemes. And now they have captured and tortured my friends.”
Her voice trailed away, gathering the silence to her, captivating those standing and staring. No one dared move.
“You, townspeople, are safe,” she went on, as a strange feeling crept into Leilius’s body. “You will not be hurt. You can go back to your homes now without worry. Or…you can fight back. You can reclaim your freedom by your own hands, with your own blades. Fight with us, or run to safety. Either way, we are friends.”
Leilius raised his head and looked around in wonder. He felt…exhilarated. Like he could rule the world. Like he could take up his blade, like she said, and reclaim what was his! It wasn’t even his, aside from Sanders, but he felt like he should fight for it anyway! And he would!
“Fight!”
It took a second to realize that the ecstatic voice was his own. Gazes turned to him now, matching his euphoria. Wanting a piece for themselves. Shedding uncertainty, he put his sword in the air, pumping it high as he said again, “Fight!”
Men started to smile. Women stood, clutching their children, the hard light of hope kindling in their eyes.
“Fight!” The crowd started to chant with him. “Fight!”
Swords appeared from behind stands, knifes from under bags of grain.
“Fight!”
“We go!” Shanti yelled, stepping forward, Cayan immediately behind. Her eyes were glowing a soft violet; the Captain’s shone a pale blue.
“Fight!”
She was walking through them now, staring straight ahead, a fierce battle Captain at her back.
“To war!” the Captain boomed in his deep, commanding voice.
“FIGHT!”
Chapter 39
Shanti projected a feeling of security as she walked, only enough to entice the most ardent in their vengeance. It was delicate and well laid. Eyes were bright as they looked at her, but then gazes shifted upward. Eyes went wide.
Shanti didn’t have to turn around to know what they were looking at. Cayan, with his hair pulled back and secured at the nape of his neck, sat atop his horse like a bronze statue of power. He embodied his position and the power that went with it. He was just and right, a sword of death in his hand, heading into battle.
He was upstaging her and it was slightly irritating.
Leilius yelled again, pumping his sword, looking around the crowd, their ringleader. She’d accidentally caught him up in her net, but it was the exact thing these people needed. Someone on their side, looking nearly like themselves, ready to reclaim what was their right.
Shanti searched ahead of them, but without knowing these people well, and across the great distance, she couldn’t tell minds apart, whether Inkna or not, and she couldn’t feel Sanders. But then, Sanders was probably way underground. She would have to be nearly right on top of him to feel him through that much earth.
That was no problem, though; she could get that information when she got her hands on one of the disgusting, money-grubbing bastards who held this land prisoner.
A hundred yards from the black, gleaming gate she could make out faces. Two men stood to either side, in addition to the uniformed guards, waiting with hands at their sides, crisp black shirts and black pants hanging still in the windless afternoon. Another black clad man stood atop the wall to either side, also wearing black. No arrows. No swords. Mental warfare. Bring it on.
“Cayan, shield yourself,” she yelled. “When they hit us I am going to take them down screaming. I want them to panic, knowing someone stronger is knocking on their door. Scare those that fight with them.”
“Understood,” came the graveled reply, thick with confidence. “Give ‘em hell.”
Chapter 40
The pain snapped off like a light going out, dousing him in pitch black. Through the haze Sanders realized something was happening. Shapes moved, shouts. Maybe they were finally going to kill him.
Thank God. He was done. He only hoped they’d use a knife. He couldn’t handle any more pain to his eyes, skull, hair follicles, face, or chest. He knew that each black shirt had a different way to inflict pain, and he knew how hard they could push before they had to switch. Usually by the third one he was blacking out. He couldn’t even answer questions if he tried. He couldn’t think or understand after the first two slaps of pain. It was his city’s saving grace in the end.
“What is happening?” Betty asked, spraying spittle in irritation.
Ah Betty, that ol’ bitch. He was patient and seemingly pleasant. Sanders’ severe hatred for him was the only thing keeping him sane. The desire to give some back was the only thing waking Sanders up into the fog of agony, keeping his mind from drifting into the soft embrace of death.
One of the Black Shirts answered in gibberish, which meant they had switched to their own language. Well, they weren’t going to finally kill him. Joy. He would live to hurt another day.
All the Black Shirts ran out of the dungeon, followed by anyone else standing around. Weapons were pulled out and yells and shouts filled the halls. Something was indeed happening. Dare he hope the Captain was coming?
“What are you smiling about?” Betty asked in his crisp tones. He was standing close to the bars, looking into the gloomy cell, trying to make out Sanders’ face.
“You better hope she isn’t here. She has a mean temper.”
Chapter 41
A blast hit Shanti, the combined power of six men equaling three-fourths of her own power. These men had to be their best, designed to bring an enemy to their knees so the gates could be lowered. Cayan’s power pumped into her, making her stronger, making the scrape against her shields nothing more than an irritating distraction.
“Bring them down, mesasha—the men are wilting!” Cayan roared.
The gate shook violently, metal creaking, then began to lower slowly. Shanti picked up her pace, grabbing six minds as she broke into a run, clutching them with her and Cayan’s combined might, and then crushing, slow but complete, the city drenched in their screams before they dropped.
A wave of fear engulfed her, the chain of the gate now rattling franticly while the guards struggled to get it down.
“Forward!” Cayan yelled behind her, hooves picking up the pace.
Shanti burst through the lowering gate and speared the man operating the crank. He slid off her sword in a boneless heap.
Horses streamed past her, the Captain with his giant sword cleaving the enemy in h
is way. His horse knocked down and trampled anyone directly in front. Lucius was off his horse and by her side, sword out, watching her back as she turned to the city, mind spread out, scouring for a mental attack while hunting for Sanders.
“S’am!” Leilius stepped beside her, out of breath. He was sweating and his eyes were wide. He had a bloodied knife clutched in a white knuckled grip. “What do I do?”
“Hide that knife. Blend in. Act—continue to be scared. Find Sanders. I will follow your progress and meet you there.”
“Yes S’am.”
Lucius’ sword whipped out in front of him to make short work of a screaming Inkna in a red cloak running for the gate.
“Those wearing black have mental abilities,” Shanti warned. “Those in red or yellow are safe to approach on sight. Get someone to man this gate, then we find Sanders.”
“Yes, S’am. Following your lead.”
Shanti searched, huddling next to a stone wall, using her Gift more precisely. Cayan’s men couldn’t shield. They would be useless if even one Black Shirt lurked. And the Inkna were great at lurking, hiding their presence so as to use their Gift in secrecy. It was cowardly, but much more effective.
“Ready.” Lucius stood poised, balanced, coiled for action.
She and Lucius headed further into the city, trying to stay central until they either knew where Sanders was, or Shanti could identify more Black Shirts. Amazingly, the city didn’t hold as many troops as she expected. When the villagers and traders scrambled away or took up arms, it was a little less than two to Cayan’s one. The Inkna were vastly outmatched, however. The Spurna, Cayan’s people, were larger, stronger, and fiercer. They feinted and stabbed, or cleaved, or picked a body up and broke its back. It was vicious and nasty, utterly brutal. No one would be spared.
