by V. K. Ludwig
He palmed my chin and pressed his forehead to mine, letting his lungs gather a long breath. “You just go about your days as always. It’s not healthy to wait in idle. Neshta will help you but, trust me, I will always do everything I can to come back. Always.”
The chamber spun around me with how we danced and turned. Spin after spin, our surroundings darkened, and the drums faded away just as the soft trickle of water replaced it. Slightly musty, the scent of algae lingered in the moist air.
“Where are we?”
“One of a good hundred pathways we drilled into the rock but had to abandon because of unexpected water veins.” Dimness surrounded us as his fingers brushed along my thighs, lifting my skirt before a skillful finger tugged my panties aside. “I want inside you.”
“Now?”
“Now.” His fingers dug into my hips as he lifted me onto a wet boulder, and the leather of his loincloth slapped. “I want your scent on me when I ride out next sun. And you’ll carry mine, as a reminder to all males that you are claimed.”
I reached between us, wrapping my fingers around his length before I guided the throbbing crown to my entrance. “You’re making it quite clear that I’m yours.”
He gave a nip against my jawline just as he pulled me onto his thick cock, then his knot ripped an oomph from my lungs as he growled, “Mine.”
Twenty
Katedo
Mounted archers with double quivers attached to their saddles, at least five shimids with tall ribbon-decorated staffs in hand, and a rusty dunewalker that had been equipped with a sheet of palathium to offer cover… Jawline stiff, Sevja glanced over the warband.
Not ours.
Theirs.
“So much about this idea of funneling them together in their panic,” she said. “They knew we were coming. Probably had scouts lining the cliffs.”
“No need. Their shimids have beastsight.” Zerim pointed at the hekeshi circling above us, a type of gray-plumed hawk, undoubtedly regretting his choice to follow me here so he could watch this battle unfold. “They might have killed usthis to draw them in, using the birds to see us coming from miles away.”
Razgar tsked. “Those birds belong to beshkus.”
Hunters just like him, who used birds of prey to catch small game for them. A dying tradition since much of the knowledge had been lost when Jal’zar had tried to find permanent shelter inside Noja, but apparently alive and well among freeraiders.
“See how they dive down after some time only to return a little while later?” Razgar petted his own bird, which sat on the wide leather bridge at the front of his saddle. “They return to their masters to rest their wings before they’re sent into the sky again.”
“And their shimids watch us from above,” Zerim added. “Which means they’ll see every maneuver.”
My ears pricked at each shrill chwirk those damn birds screeched above us, thumb brushing over the bone handle of one of my kereks: a sharp blade, curved in a way it spun through the air and cut down my enemies, before returning to me.
“They can observe our formations all they want,” I said. “That doesn’t mean those illiterates understand them. Still, I want our archers to take those birds down first.”
Sevja braced her thighs against her saddle and rose slightly, scanned the far-right group for Faruk, and gave him a loving smile before she said, “The fact remains that we need to hit them fast and hard, if we want to make it through their formation. Our previous strategy will cause too many losses with the number of warriors we have.”
“I would have brought more, had I not expected a bunch of disorganized criminals.” Their orderly rows once more suggested that someone was leading them now. “We could pretend that we’re going to attack their flanks, so they’ll thin their middle. Thirty paces before impact, we let the two side groups rein up in front of us and sprint at their center.”
“Drive through them like a spear,” Sevja added. “Then split into the previously discussed formation from behind and cut them down.”
“Do that, and I’ll turn my warriors around.” Razgar’s hiss caused his bird to flap its wings, spanning almost as wide as the male was tall. “Everyone knows my inhibition level for bloodshed is rather low, but I don’t kill females and children.”
“If we don’t regain control over this plateau, they’ll come for the females of your tribe, Warlord Razgar.” Sevja lifted her chin, facing him head-on. “They’ll steal the females in heat and kill everyone who gets in their way. Everyone. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but this is much worse than what we’d anticipated.”
I nodded in agreement. “We should have taken care of them long ago, and now they’re a true threat to every tribe settling north of Noja.” But as much as I wanted to see them destroyed, I was with Razgar on this one. “We drive both warbands through their middle, kill as many warriors as we can, then round them up from behind and drive them toward those ravines so they can escape.”
Zerim reined Uruz, the yuleshi I’d helped him tame once, closer to Razgar. “Can you send your bird into the sky to circle them?” When Razgar only arched a brow at him, he added, “I’ll use his eyes to get a headcount.”
“Her eyes. Darra is female.” Razgar brushed his arm down along the bird’s chest, and the beast climbed onto it before he lifted her up, from where she thrust herself into the sky with a screech. “Takata, Darra. Takata!”
A shudder wrecked through Zerim as his irises disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the white of his eyes, his breathing labored. Not one of my shimids had ever developed the gift of beastsight, watching it was nothing short of fascinating.
Until an arrow cut through the sky.
It missed the bird by a hand-width, and Razgar’s roar echoed across the plateau. A sharp whistle followed as he called his bird back, but the arrows trying to kill the animal whistled louder.
Zerim jerked in the saddle. “Wh-what happened?”
“If they kill her,” Razgar snarled, his voice dripping pure venom, “I might just change my mind and bleed them all out.”
“She’s scared.” It was all Zerim said before he lifted his hand toward the sky, toward Darra, and closed his eyes.
The bird immediately dived with another screech, wings pressed closely against her body and swaying back. In one rapid descent, nothing but a flit to my eyes, she escaped a barrage of arrows. Right above the heads of the freeraiders, she spread her wings and glided back toward us.
“Darra…” Ashen, eyes rimmed with terror, Razgar stretched out his shaky arm for her to land, immediately checking the bird for injuries. “They’ll bleed for this.”
Zerim’s eyes connected with mine, sweat lining his forehead. “Something around four-hundred warriors. Could be more. I didn’t have enough time to get it more accurate than that.”
Four hundred.
I couldn’t let that number shake me.
Neither could I turn around and show weakness.
Not while everyone stared at me, that scarred warlord who’d never lost a battle, but even Rogon shifted nervously underneath me. Rather than riding Pekira, the new female I’d tamed, I’d chosen to bring the mount familiar with combat.
“We’ll pluck those birds from the sky, then cut through them as discussed,” I said, and gave Sevja a nod. “Put the drones out, and make sure they’ll hover close overhead or their archers will try to shoot them down.”
Metal spheres stacked on her lap, a rotation of her wrists conjured up the holographic programming chart. She rearranged the strategy map, confirmed the set-up, and the drones vibrated to life all on their own. They spread out and positioned themselves across the groups.
Underneath us, the ground shook as our warriors reined their yuleshis into their newly assigned positions, their eyes locked on the color-coding of the drones. A helpful technology where other types of communication usually failed, and each of my warriors was trained in reading it.
“Stay behind us,” I said to Zerim. “If something were to h
appen to you, your father would have my head.”
“Not even freeraiders kill shimids.”
“How many male shimids have they met?”
“I’ll be fine.” He tapped against the quivers on his saddle and grabbed his bow, his weapon of choice since he lacked a tailclaw for close combat.
Sevja waved upward, letting the drones send a beep across the plateau before she shouted, “Kash anem adi!”
Ride with me.
Rogon thrust himself into a sprint at the familiar command, leading the front of the attack. While many warlords preferred to remain at a safe distance, I’d always rode into battle head-to-head with my warriors. That was where I belonged. If I wouldn’t offer my blood for this cause, how could I expect others to do so?
With the open plateau before me, nostrils twitching at the clouds of ash and dust whirling up all around, I pulled my kerek from my chest holster. A strong thrust of my arm sent it toward the first line of freeraiders.
The blade whistled violence.
By the time they shifted their mounts, blood already gushed from their throats. At least seven of them pressed their hands to their necks, slipping off their yuleshis first before they collapsed to the ground in a tangle of twitching limbs.
Hardly did the bone handle return to my palm, did I send another kerek into enemy lines. The blade cut horns, split faces, and grazed shoulders, and the way their yuleshis sunk their heads in defense tossed many out of the saddle. The stampede of paws thickened the air with the smell of warmed earth, which mingled with the rust-tainted stench of blood.
The fft-fft-fft of arrows resonated our formation, though the wind carried most of them to the group riding to my right. I sent my kereks into the freeraiders three more times, hollowing out their center before lack of room didn’t allow for a fourth time lest the blade would cut my own warriors upon return. Above us, the drones announced a change in formation with a beep.
Lights flickered.
Somewhere, Sevja shouted orders.
A tug on my reins slowed Rogon down, his windpipes heaving exhaustion. Yuleshis welled from both sides, and soon formed an arrowhead in front of me.
It didn’t clash with the freeraiders.
It stabbed right into their center, cutting through their lines, turning the ground underneath me into a carpet of shock and shrieks. They raised the fine hairs on the nape of my neck and tingled down along my arms, sending a rush into my veins that called for violence, bloodshed, revenge.
The whistling of arrows died away just as the twang of bowstrings flared up. Beside me, Zerim nocked an arrow, aimed at the sky, tilted it to the left, and let the bowstring brush across his cheek. To the right of him, Razgar was in his element, driving his tailclaw into temples, eyes, and the occasional windpipe which ripped mounts out from underneath our enemies.
Our left flank thinned. Leather reins clasped between my fingers, I braced my other hand against the saddle, pulled my legs up, and balanced on Rogon’s back as I rose. Elevated like this, I let my gaze wander over the left flank, spine straightening with pride.
“Those bastards are fleeing for the ravines like the prey they are.” A grin lined my lips as I turned my head toward the right. My blood clotted into finger-numbing stillness, and weakness claimed my legs until I hit the saddle again. “Ambush right flank!”
Razgar’s panic-rimmed eyes caught mine.
A jolt wrecked through him when a force of riders broke through our right flank. Time slowed into nothing but flickering frames as he stared down at himself, at where a tailclaw ripped from his chest. Droplets of blood tainted the white feathers of his bird, who thrust herself into the sky just as her master slipped from his yuleshi into the rush of paws.
Underneath me, the familiar warmth of the woolen saddle disappeared. Head, rump, back… all of Rogon slumped to the ground. His roar sent a stutter through my chest, letting my heart stumble over one beat, two, until it pounded itself into a frantic rhythm.
Suspended in the air, I paddled my arms for something to hold onto. Mane, leather… anything. I hit the ground instead, spine first, and the impact wedged all air from my lungs. It was painful, but not nearly as much as how Rogon’s shoulder collapsed onto my lower leg, arrow protruding from his withers.
It must have pinched nerves or injured muscles because, no matter how he kicked his legs, he couldn’t rise. Against the pain searing into my knee, I rose to sit, gripped the arrow, and pulled it out. He immediately struggled upright, his pupils flicking with fear, but he remained by my side as loyal as ever.
One swipe of my tailclaw cut the girth on his saddle while I struggled myself up, gripped his headstall, and ripped it off so he might escape. “Kash!”
Ride!
He took off while everything around me descended into chaos, my muscles twitching at each whistle of a tailclaw, each wet gargle, each scream that brittled my bones. What was happening? Where was everyone?
Fighting the dread trying to creep into my head and cloud my thinking, I slowed my breathing and took in the scene. Whatever tailclaw came at me, I dodged before I drove my own into whoever dared to challenge me. What I lacked in youthful speed I made up for in solar cycles of experience.
“Urizayo!” Sevja stumbled against me, but quickly sturdied herself on my shoulder before she pressed her back against mine, taking on the position we’d fought in together many times. “They turned our own strategy around on us. Tricked us into thinking they would flee only to regroup on the right ravine from where they cut through our flank.”
A freeraider thrust his tailclaw at me, but I dodged it before I grabbed my dagger from my chest harness and thrust it into his stomach. One twist, and the stench of bowels permeated the air as he slipped off the blade and to the ground, feeding the thirsty ash with his blood.
Sevja kicked her heel into a male’s groin and sent him stumbling back before she threw a dagger into his neck. “They split us in two.”
And neither Razgar nor Zerim were to be seen.
Coils of horror tangled with my intestines until everything convulsed with shooting cramps. “They’re trying to drive us toward the left cliff. Both groups have to escape to the side so we can encircle them and gain the upper hand once more.”
Of the many qualities this female warrior had, I admired the way she immediately conjured up the strategy map the most. Not a single tremor showed on her fingers as she commanded the spheres to hover into their new position, guiding the warriors into the new tactic.
All the while, I pivoted around her. My tailclaw stabbed into brains, cut through throats, and sent those filthy freeraiders to the ground. More and more yuleshis fled the carnage, reducing us to body combat.
“Done,” she shouted over the screams and wails of the injured. “We best move—watch out!”
Something clanked against my horn.
A tremor ran from tip to root.
Like a solar flare, pain seared down along those sensitive nerves around the bottom. It shook my skull, burned across my brain, and stabbed so deep my thoughts scattered, and then… white. White to my left, above me, all around me. Nothing but faint outlines remained.
I shook my head.
Enough of my vision returned I watched how a tail flicked before me. Its claw must have dug into my horn, because a violent tug flared up the pain around my skull once more. I stumbled forward, looking straight at that arrogant grin of the freeraider who angled his claw high for a final strike toward my temple.
Old, rough bone pressed into my fingertips as I grabbed my kerek. As I thrust it toward him with one smooth swipe of my hand, a million pictures flitted across my mind. Kamenji. Mother. Jessica. If I died here this sun, at least I would with the comfort of knowing that she would feel... nothing.
No chord severing.
No haunting silence.
Only a period of grief.
Something poked against my temple.
But only for a second, until the pressure disappeared underneath the groan of the f
reeraider before me. The kerek sliced upward along his neck before it embedded itself in his lower jaw. He hit the ground without a single scream as blood gushed from his neck with each dying pump of his heart.
“Urizayo.” Sevja’s tug on my shoulder pulled me out of my trance-like state. “They’re retreating to the ravine.”
I steadied my stance, legs wide in case of another attack but most freeraiders around us fled like the scum they were. “Send whatever mounted warriors we have after them, and archers along the cliff to kill them from above.”
“Yes, my urizayo,” she said, and once more worked over the strategy map. “One sphere lost signal, so I’ll assign ano—”
A sharp inhale cut through her words.
Sevja rose onto her toes, legs bending into odd angles as if something had broken them in a dozen places. Her back arched, a shoulder pulled back, her mouth opened as if to scream but not a single sound made it past trembling lips.
Like that, she collapsed against me.
“Sevja!” My chest tightened and dark spots distorted my vision as I steadied her with one arm. The other, I brushed down her back in search of a blade, an arrow, anything.
There was nothing.
Until my eyes caught on Faruk, her mate, who kneeled before a freeraider less than thirty steps behind her. Two arrows protruded from his chest. Rivulets of blood ran down his torso, his body so void of strength it took him several seconds to lift his gaze to the enemy looming over him.
Fear gripped me like a vise.
No, this couldn’t happen again.
I angled Sevja away.
I gripped my kerek.
I lifted my arm.
Before I managed to throw it, the freeraider stabbed his tailclaw into Faruk’s temple. Everything that happened after, I’d experienced myself before.
Now I got to watch it.
Sevja choked as if something had dug its claws into her ribcage, ripping out her lungs, her heart, her very soul. She screamed then, a blood-curdling sound that, for a second, made me relive the worst moment of my life. I felt it, the indescribable pain of a severing soulbond, reminding me once more that zovazay was no blessing.
